Dick Cheney has become a cliché. Public mention of his name evokes a groan of frustration and disgust as surely as old comics could get an automatic laugh by saying “mother-in-law” or “Brooklyn.”
But the Vice-President is no laughing, or even groaning, matter. The latest revelation--of his refusal to comply with government rules about handling classified information--evokes either a “What else is new?” shrug about his penchant for control and secrecy or apoplectic rage in unjaded bloggers.
The theory that the VP’s snarling is an act to make Bush look lovable has past its expiration date. There is too much evidence that Cheney is a heartfelt son-of-a-bitch, absolutely sincere in his efforts to run the country like a police state and have us invade Iran or any other country that looks at us crosswise.
The irony in all this, among others, is that he is the first self-selected, unelected, totally disconnected person to serve a heartbeat away from the Presidency.
When the ’08 candidates get around to picking their running mates, voters would do well to keep the Cheney nightmare in mind. It’s no laughing matter.
Damn straight. The guy is a worry.
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