Exit Dick Cheney

So, there I was at about eleven o'clock on Tuesday night. I had just settled into an easy chair The Daily Show with a glass of Sam Adams Black Lager in hand. I hadn't watched any of the coronation, I mean inauguration, events, so I thought I'd get John Stewart's take on it. I had just taken a drink of my beer, but I never got a chance to swallow it. Some primal reflex kicked in and I spewed it across the room and onto my TV screen. Dick Cheney in a wheelchair?!

I had to rub my eyes. Was I seeing that right? Yep, there he was. He'd allegedly hurt his back and had trouble walking. Damned convenient, wasn't it? I searched my mind for an explanation of why he would do that. Maybe he was trying to create some sympathy for himself lest they think about prosecuting him for his misdeeds. Naw, that doesn't really ring true. Maybe he wanted an excuse not to show Obama respect by standing. Hmm, that sounds more like our Dickie. And what was with that cane he was carrying? I'm guessing it was one of those James Bond type of devices that fired a shotgun shell. That way if you messed with him, you'd end up with a face full of bird shot. Or perhaps it was something more sinister, like those old KGB umbrellas with hypodermics loaded with cyanide hidden in the tip. In the words of Bugs Bunny, what a maroon. Why doesn't someone do us all a favor and turn off that pacemaker of his?