When George W. Bush went in for his colonoscopy on Saturday—insert joke about brains, head, ass here—Richard "Lon" Cheney was king for a day. He got to wear the crown, sit on the throne, bounce the beach ball with the globe on it up and down, phone down to the kitchen for pretzels and beer.
More important than any other perk to Cheney was that he got what he always wanted—keys to the Oval Office. Though Cheney has been de facto president these past six years, until last Saturday he never actually got to sit in the hot seat.
Speaking of hot, I was sweating more than usual last Saturday, knowing this killer was within arm's reach of the nuclear codes. Alas, days later, the Clown Prince is back on the throne and, unbelievably, I'm breathing easier. At least now I can concentrate on questions that matter, like: How much longer did you say these two guys will hold us hostage? How many more lives can they ruin before we're released?
Bush and Cheney have already ruined my life. Every day I (still!) wake up with a sick feeling in my gut knowing that they're running the show. You'd think a person would get accustomed, or inured, to the abuse, but I haven't. Each day is a fresh new kick in the gut, a fresh new wave of nausea. I'm sure neo-cons and their fellow travelers must smile at admissions like this. I can picture them rubbing their hands and muttering, "Good, oh, good… things are going exactly as we planned!"
I take small solace in knowing I am not alone in having my life ruined by Bush and Cheney. Indeed, for once in my life, I walk in step with the vast majority of Americans who have collectively figured out that these two guys are rotten to the core. And guess what? We figured this out with no help from the mainstream media. Indeed, the failure of our "free press" during these benighted years will ultimately be the biggest story of this era; it's already the subject of a timely new book, When the Press Fails: Political Power and the New Media from Iraq to Katrina (Univ. of Chicago Press).
Be that as it may, the vast majority of us have come to loathe Bush and Cheney. And that's the real legacy this pair will leave behind: hatred. They have made Americans hate again. We haven't hated like this since Dick Nixon or LBJ.
While Nixon seemed genuinely perplexed by the hatred he inspired—at least in his more reflective later years—Bush and Cheney seem to enjoy spreading the hate around. What other explanation is possible for the fact that, with a second term in irreparable tatters, they threaten to veto legislation that would provide health insurance to 3 million American children while also pushing for war with Iran? They are pissing on the leg of 75 percent of Americans and they look gleeful while doing it. Hell, Bush looks like he's not had this much fun since prep school. This is not leadership. This is the behavior of sociopaths.
After a week's escape to an island far away, I began to feel my "old" life returning to me. During my respite I read no newspapers, tapped into no Internet sites, watched no television, heard no radio babble, learned nothing about whatever paltry opposition the Democrats in Congress have finally decided to mount, heard none of the Bush/Cheney lies. And I've been home for one day only to learn that (no surprise) I didn't miss a damned thing. Under Bush and Cheney, it's Groundhog Day every day.
Or, as we used to sing at camp when I was a relatively innocent and apolitical boy: "Second verse / Same as the first / A little bit louder / A little bit worse."
