What Would Cheney Do?
That should be the question we ask ourselves, moving forward. I believe in moving forward, but there are still things about this story that nag at me.
When the story broke the next day, for instance, Ms. Armstrong said at first she thought Cheney had suffered some sort of heart ailment when she saw the security detail moving in.
Why then, is Dick "Dick" Cheney insisting Katharine Armstrong was the best person to talk to the media... based on the fact that she witnessed the entire event. She obviously did not if she had some misconception about Cheney's condition, unless he fell to the ground after firing the shot (which he didn't mention).
She doesn't give that impression, either. She says Cheney remained "close but cool." Now, I believe that. Look at all of the sundry carnage he's created, and without a flinch!
Later, the rest of the hunting party that didn't decide to cram into the ambulance (Cheney's excuse for not going to the hospital) sat down to dinner at the Armstrong ranch. Probably had a nice quail dinner. Personally, I'd recommend a delicious Madeira marinade, (although this is a much easier recipe) then serving the game birds with a nice Semillon, a Sauvignon Blanc, perhaps. This is an excellent, reasonably priced label, btw, and I'm not paid to make the recommendation. Nosir.
Oh, maybe a Beaujolais Villages or perhaps a Merlot? Then again, you could serve a decent Pinot Noir with about anything and no one would complain! Well, let's talk recipes and wines some other time.
But who has time to make all these decisions at such a time? Armstrong said Cheney's demeanor at dinner was very worried about Harry Whittington.
I think if I had shot my "friend" in the face with any weapon which would require flight to the emergency room, I would find myself eating jerky and soft drinks from the God-Damned hospital vending machines. If able to eat at all.
So there are still questions... Such as What Would Cheney Do under the following circumstances.
You're a college student, albeit a very poor one. And no (heh!) I don't mean lacking funds (if you know what I mean). You're a major league asshole, some might say, and have a couple of DWI's under your belt. And you're a terrible student. Let's say you're an "F" average.
But there's a war on, and it threatens to draft you into the ranks of the awful little people who serve their country when called upon. You have a couple of choices, now. Think about this carefully.
You could just try harder. You know, hit the books. You could ( * gasp! * ) just enlist and buck up. Hell, if you enlist, you'll probably be able to finish in some kind of Army school and end up with an Engineering degree or something.
Or you could simply marry your sweetheart and get her knocked up right away. Hey, you might only be a few years away from your first heart attack! Go for it! Right?
You've been drinking. OK. So you had a beer with lunch (but, uh, that was five hours ago). Now it's rush hour, and you're really into a news story that's on the radio. You turn a corner, and you're blinded by the sun. When you hear a thump, its seems like you've run over something. When you pull over to check the tires, you notice a body in the street.
For whatever reason, maybe you're the Vice President of the United States, and you've had four heart attacks, and you like to take a little nip now and then (which might not be so good for the ticker). Maybe you just have an ambulance and your own private staff of EMTs. Whatever. Do you send them on their way with the body and drive off?
Maybe it's better if you just kind of play it low-key. Have your secret service detail tell the police to just go fuck themselves or something if they come to the door. You've got to have time to pull yourself together, for Christ's sake. You're very worried.
Besides, there's a wonderful dinner waiting for you at home. Wines and everything. And you've already checked in with the boss.
This one happens over a period of time. So you bet your ass you've been drinking.
The price of oil continues to climb and the limp-wristed "conservationist" types (you know what I mean) keep insisting on the nonsensical notion that we're going to run out of oil. That's a laugh, but not the point. Ha!
Your former employer is already doing great after you've left them (with a considerable financial stake in the outfit, I might add). Your current connections are about to get them off the hook -- while appearing to hold them to account -- on a laundry list of asbestos claims, and you've been able to secure billions of dollars worth of work for them. So you're keeping the momentum going, anyway. Which is good, because as an oil services company, they're going to be stuck when the old tap runs dry. All of this diversification makes it look as though you believe the aforementioned LWC's.
So now "you" have crafted a new energy policy after having a number of secretive meetings with secret energy industry executives. And if you want to know who they are, go fuck yourself.
Executive Privilege, you assholes.
So a couple of years after you make building new nuclear power plants in this country for the first time since Three Mile Island the centerpiece of a new energy policy, a couple of them (not really very far apart) appear to have leaked several hundred thousand gallons of water contaminated with radioactive tritium.
If you start thinking inward, and wonder what you might do, you flunk. Take your conscience out of this. Loser.
You'd better bet your answers would be different from Dick "Dick" Cheney's.