Dick Cheney confuses me whenever he trots out of his undisclosed location to play the Glad Game. My mind cannot juxtapose what I know about him with wild-eyed optimism and form a coherent picture. For instance when he said that, "The Iraq insurgency is in its' last throes", I had to laugh or bust a mental valve.
Maybe, deep down (bunker-down), he is a Pollyanna Whittiern optimist with a sunny disposition that works hard. Perhaps it is remarkable self control which masks this unshakable cheerfulness so thoroughly (WMD in Iraq thoroughly) from his public presence.
Allow me to adorn Mr. Cheney with a top-hat and cane and London suit in your imagination. Picture a stage with a big-band on it and a spotlight on his optimistic countenance. As he snaps his fingers and the band sparks up, picture him grabbing the microphone with both hands and singing:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think hell move that rubber tree plant?
Anyone knows an ant, cant
Move a rubber tree plant.
But hes got high hopes, hes got high hopes
Hes got high apple pie, in the sky hopes
I think that a song and dance routine are all Mr. Cheney has left. I think I preferred the young Cheney to the old, sweaty, rhinestone-covered jumpsuit Cheney. Las Vegas Cheney seems like he's going through the motions trying to dazzle the crowds with celebrity alone these days doesn't he?
No comments:
Post a Comment