”Dick and Lizzie: Soul Mates; or what?”
Editor: Roderick Whitney Stillwell
Senior Staff Writer: 00Buck
”Dick and Lizzie: Soul Mates ... or what?”
OR:
"I Shot 'em Fair an' Square Judge; Honest!"
by; 00Buck
Back in 1962, Chad Mitchell of the Kingston Trio wrote a waggish little ditty about Lizzie Borden. It became a classic.
According to Chad’s tongue-in-cheek lyric, the press of Fall River, Massachusetts (circa 1892) is portrayed as having eschewed Lizzie’s legal defense argument, by publishing a rebut:
“…Oh, you can’t chop your papa up in
on the mice; on the mice.”
Perhaps the underlying reason why the, ''Texas Chaney Saw Massacre’, seems to have legs like, “Ol’ Stewball”, is that something about it resonates in a way that even those in the media can sense. The ’general pop' twigged to the irony immediately; but that constituency has learned from experience that it has be patient with the media; to wait and see if the pundits, “The Cadge Cadre”, can get on board before ‘long-headed’ historians, with credentials, kick them off the train for being a sawbuck shy of the fare; again.
In the meantime, up here north of the 49th, anticipation is driving us crazy.
If one renders a snippet or two from the VP’s defense as briefed to Brit Hume on FOX [1] last Wednesday afternoon (Feb. 15), and redacts from the VP’s words to a hypothetical paste up of how his private, unabridged, crib notes might have appeared as he punched them up on his Blackberry before sitting down with Brit, these notes might have looked like, well something like, this… tell me if I’m wrong… [Square bracketed comments are my own 'thought bubbles']
“A bunch of us boys was out exercising our Constitutional Right (the parts of the thing that still apply to me; anyway) to bear arms by hunting down a covey [sleeper cell] of quail; a covey I’m told [by Intelligence sources] that was rife with some of
This was a carefully planned operation. Intelligence sources had warned me that these so called, “quail”, presented flight risks. When you consider that, and put it together with my confidential CIA profile on them which indicates they always wear ‘camo’, they are ‘foul’, and they appear to have an unabashed loathing of having us on their turf under any pretense, well…me and the boys felt we’d taken just about enough attitude from these four flushing ingrates, and that we had all the justification we needed to go down there and pepper their bottoms with a hot load of # 6… give'em a little 'tune-up', y'might say.
(Note to self: Quail:… they remind me of doves. I hate doves; … just pigeons with nattier plumage. Best not let Brit get me started on (ugh) doves…)
The world needs to have confidence in the leadership of the
That is the real story as I see it, Brit. Having shot an old friend in the heart with a fully choked load of monogrammed munitions [gratis; C-I-L and the NHRA] only deserves to be considered as a possible sidebar. It doesn't deserve all this 'brouhaha,' amid accusations that I tried to hush it up for political reasons. [And because it made him look, well… stupid]
Now, as I’ve demonstrated to the public so many times in the past, I am not someone who makes excuses, or needs to; and I’m getting fed up repeatedly not apologizing for that fact that I’ll be damned if I’ll apologize for anything. No biggie; its just my endearing little way of saying GFY to busybodies, and it works just fine for me. This is just another case where I find myself moved to make the same point.
And let’s keep in mind, Brit, I only gave old Harry a flesh wound. [In the heart] The accident might be attributed, at least in part, to my being momentarily overtaken by zeal [blood lust]. Being a sporting gentleman at bottom, and with my reputation for fair play [2], you need to understand I was only aiming to plug a rogue quail in the back as the mangy coward tried to flee in terror. Maybe the thrill over-amped my pacemaker for a couple of tics …. (though, I’m still not convinced those
I’m here to suggest people need to learn to appreciate that this whole thing was nothing more than an unfortunate accident; “I just didn’t see him “… awww shucks, Brit; what is the big deal here? Look at it this way: my decision to shoot was, in a manner of speaking, just the result of some faulty intelligence. (Note: try to blame it on the dogs)
So whaddya want? I should expect a summons to
Besides, it happened in
So; what’s keeping Canadians in suspense, you might ask?
What ‘Dastardly’ Dick did to Harry Whittington, attorney at law and an officer of the court, is a literal 'meta-morph' of what he has done to Constitutional Justice in the US, and to International Justice, Sovereign Rights and Personal Freedoms. Cheney’s rationalizations, his personal absurdity, and his blithe self-satisfaction, combine to define a virtual ‘homage’ to Peter Sellers', “Jacques Clouseau”. Blake Edward's, “Pink Panther”, series uses slapstick parody because this is about the only way to portray a character so perfectly, so homogeneously, so geometrically, so symmetrically, so sublimely, OB-tuse.
We’re waiting for another Chad Mitchell to immortalize Dick’s exploits/adventures among the ‘Quail-Quada’, and capture the big picture in such a way that the medium fits the message… in other words, as a burlesque or a humouresque. The tale is screaming to be set to music. And us Canucks do love our music ... which is why we gave y'all Celine... before too much damage got done to it.
With deference to the American Corporate Media Ensemble (ACME), I deeply empathize with their dilemma. Everyone understands; just trying to describe Dick Cheney in simple prose makes you feel retarded, ashamed, and dirty; ...dirty, much like rape victims feel when they have to appear in open court to testify; especially when the defense gets around to suggesting that they, the victim, brought it on themselves.
With a subject like Cheney, journalistic prose can seem an effete thing; like a henna rinse: adequate for accenting hues and showing off hilites, but to treat a 'dyed in the wool' biotype of Diablo Himself, the, “Abomination of Desolation”, incarnate, and harbinger of Apocalypse, you need to paste and texture the page with Gamblin® Artists’ oils; then set fire to it while its still wet. Outfit paper boys with NOMEX®, if necessary.
Not having risen to this pitch, yet, explains a lot as to why the US Corps media appears (to us) to have been letting him get away with things that, if inserted into Woody Allen’s, “Bananas”, would ruin all hope of maintaining the necessary, “suspension of disbelief”. It couldn’t succeed even if billed as farce.
“Let him get away with things???!!!@&*$ ”, y’all might ask/exclaim/protest.
When us folk up here see what he's on about, what he has done to American people, we have to ask ourselves; “Is there some sort of problem with overcrowding in
Blandished at each step of the way by his unctuous, “Slip Slidin Away”, routine every time an emergent crime against humanity, justice, and civilization itself, tracks back to him, the American Media Circus Clowns are about as convincing as they would be if they were pretending to stone Mike Tyson to death by flicking Jiffy-Pop at him. Surely, writers could slam their keypads a lot harder than they have been; show the world there is still a corps of reporters with some grit and gristle; that there are still some leftover ‘stuffins’ in the carcass of the old turkey; corporate takeovers notwithstanding.
If an adult male got caught molesting a child the way Dick Cheney has been abusing the Children of America, and smarmily, “taking the Fifth”, every time some 'bleeding heart' got inquisitive, (a seditious act sufficient to get your phone summarily tapped without a warrant, apparently) that man would long ‘ere have got lynched up the handiest branch on the block, and before the cops could come fetch him… assuming they would bother to intrude at all. Ticket scalpers could make millions. News anchors would pay to do the colour commentary.
I think we all understand that ascribing demonic possession, or being not too subtly influenced by Satan, is more fanciful than factual. At least, it’d be hard to prove. But a good case could be made that he is the, "Grand Turk & Imperial Wizard of the Loyal Order of Ghoul", when considered at the level of human beings; at the level where people call one another mom, or dad, or son or daughter; brother or sister, aunt or uncle; families and friends; neighbours like Bill and Alice and their 3 rotten kids, Bernie and Marcie and then there’s what’s his name, you know .... and like that.
Beholding Dick Cheney on his public progress, profiting from, verily feeding off, the remains of 2300 Proud and the Brave boys and girls [sic] who got shot in, blown out of, and summarily fallen in their 'camo', (as if dressing up in it made them statistically dispensable all of a sudden) ...fallen for no earthly reason other than to sacrifice their future and their flesh to his tribe of corporate cannibals inc., creates the physical sensation of having a wet, partially decomposed, quahog [3] slide down your neck.
According to
00Buck
[1] http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2006/02/20060215-3.html
Interview of the Vice President by Brit Hume, FOX News
Vice President's
[2] “Fair & Square Rules of Engagement”, D. Cheney, (unpublished military ms.)
RULE 1A – “Shoot ’Em FAIRly quick and SQUARE in the back.”
Shucking (opening) quahogs can be frustrating, esp. for the novice... no shit.
posted by 00Buck at 6:35 AM
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