Dick Cheney's street credibility just went sky high, yo (as cousin Braydon might say). Yes, it was an accidental shotgun wound to an old crony--er, friend of Cheney's. The Veep probably wishes he'd spent another weekend at a secure undisclosed location. Yes, it was "only" a pellet gun (buckshot), not an AK or a Gatt. But there is still some question about whether or not the Veep had a valid hunting license. And you gotta wonder what would happen to somebody Cheney DIDN'T like out there in the duck blinds. ("Hey, get my .44 Magnum with the silencer. I think I saw John Kerry on the other side of that creek.")
In all seriousness, the real problem here is--once again--the arrogance with which The White House treats the media and the publid at large. An administration used to writing its own rules and not being seriously challenged by anyone can reasonably expect to delay reporting the story, to deliberately underreport the seriousness of the injury and to just skirt over any potential legal peculiarities tied to the story which is exactly what the White House did. After all, once you've told a few whoppers in order to invade Iraq--a war Dick Haliburton Cheney still figures to profit tremendously from--then a misadventure with a shotgun on a ranch really is just small potatoes.
I Just Don't Care About the Olympics Anymore
When I was a little boy, I used to look forward to the Olympics. My favorite was the summer Olympic games. Remember when they had the winter and summer games in the same year? (It wasn't that long ago--the games split years starting after 1992).
I used to root for the American athletes to win the gold, especially in sports in which we were supposed to be underdogs. I also enjoyed seeing the athletic exploits of some of the tiny countries that would send a few delegates to the game. Sometimes a country could only afford to send one or two athletes to compete in one sport, and I would always root for that country to do well. Jamaican bobsled anyone?
Now, sadly, I just don't care that much. I've watched maybe 20 minutes of Olympic coverage so far. It's not just any one thing, but a combination of many things that have taken the excitement out of the games for me: the lack of live events, the attitudes of the modern, pampered athlete, the infusion of too many pros into the team sports (particularly hockey and basketball), the need to turn every competing athlete's story into a sappy melodrama. It's all too much and yet, somehow, not enough.
I don't yearn for too much drama at the Olympics. I don't want a repeat of Munich or even Atlanta. But I do think that all the great iconic moments of Olympic history are already past us. I might be wrong, but will there ever be another Jesse Owens sticking a knife in the notion of Aryan athletic supremacy? Is there going to be somebody with the political convictions of a Tommie Smith who will take a stand while on the medal stand? Is anyone enough of an underdog to necessitate a "miracle" like the 1980 gold medal-winning U.S. Men's Hockey Team? There's always a chance I guess...that's why we watch. But I'm not counting on it and frankly, I don't feel like I'm missing anything. To athletes like Bode Miller who'd rather booze it up and party than give their all for their country, the salute I give is one with my middle finger and my remote control.
Who knows what's next on this blog? Just keep reading...
Peace.
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