You can find Dick Cheney here

[DancingBear]

Dear Mr. Cheney,

Someone asked where I could find you – here are my directions. Go far below the basement, zoom past the streets and gutters, and head for the sewers. Look deep within these bowels of stench for a creature devoid of heart but full of hate. Cavorting with the rats and playing in the filth that no caring human being would be caught dead in, the beady-eyed snake bastard of your chase will appear. The disgust on your face will fall on blind eyes, for this creature knows nothing of good vs. evil. His world is measured in careful dollops of “I win, you lose”, and heaven help the fool who brings reason to a gunfight.

He hears not the rattle of death gone by, nor the rattle of death to come. As one thousand and one families prepare to live life one person short, he spits out the words that all of us knew were coming. “If you want more dead, vote for the other guy.” Fear rules - hope is washed away down the makeshift canals he lives in. Soldiers are disposable. They take the bait, unlike Dr. Death, who gave the gun away when it was his turn. He remembers little of the time he could have served – a quick roll in the hay with the Acid Queen, and baby makes five. Deferments. This matters little now, for within the sewers the bastard puffs his chest, befitting one who forsakes body bags for bodyguards, and who feigns toughness from beneath the streets. The coward in the armor plated flag yells “c’mon tough guy” to the world, and the druids in his audience piss their pants in excitement, all the while peering safely from below ground.

We have reached the nadir now – there is nowhere else to go. Winning means so much to this piece of human garbage that he will accuse another human being of being possibly complicit in the deaths of thousands more of his countrymen. For what, you ask? For the insatiable appetite that Dick Cheney has to sit atop the shit pile of his own making. For money, for power, for control - the greedy reptile will play King Of The Hill with rules that heretofore no one thought civil. Fuck the Marquis de Queensbury, baby, ‘cause it won’t be long until it’s lying time.

Kon, kon, the kiddy kon kon
Walk on gilded splinters

We watch in stupefied awe as the bastard makes the claim, and realize the Iron Fist looms closer with each day. America ends in November if the wrong choice is made, and she lives on if we make the right one. The task is daunting, and we work against great odds. We have few friends above ground, for they have been threatened with banishment to the cesspool, and unlike Cheney they cannot survive. So they lie, and lie, and spin and lie. The task is ours, and ours alone. We must seal the sewers and let the bastard die of hunger. That death, unlike the one thousand and one others, will be just.

[DancingBear]

1. kick

:kick: