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Dick Cheney’s Blog

This Obama relation explains the part of me that tires of waterboarding kittens

By Dick Cheney

Bio & Blog

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When I first heard this news that Barack Obama is my eighth cousin, I dropped the 11-inch fleshing knife and vomited inside the Musk Ox corpse I had just spent 4 hours skinning. Completely ruined!

To be honest though, I saw this coming. There has always been another side of my countenance — an unexplainable Jekyll character that I’ve struggled to suppress.

For instance one time at the mall I came across a small girl in pigtails whose mother had just run into a store. The girl had one of those giant multi-colored lolly pops that humorously dwarfed her tiny head. Of course I didn’t hesitate at the chance to teach the girl a valuable lesson about the fragility of our freedoms. I snatched the lolly out of her hand, but some unnameable force prevented me from shoving the little girl to the ground, as is my customary post-lolly stealing practice.

I cocked my arms, ready to send the girl on a one-way trip aboard the Cheney express. Destination: the floor. But upon thrusting my arms forward through the air, it was like pushing against a brick wall; I couldn’t do it. Fortunately she tripped over my leg and tumbled to the ground just the same.

Another time near the end of the movie Philadelphia (homo Mary’s selection for Cheney movie night), a secretion was emitted from an orifice in my facial region. I immediately collected it in a makeshift vile – a rhino toenail – and rushed the family into the Walter Mondale fallout shelter. Anthrax testing on the secretion proved inconclusive.

And just last week at a private meeting with George about bombing targets in Iran, and what types of biological weapons to lace in, I got this weird feeling inside my ribs. “What if we didn’t invade Iran?” I said, “Think about all the innocent civilians who could get hurt! What if we pursued –” (At this point, I felt my normal consciousness fade out. I became trapped inside my own body, a paralyzed observer to the blasphemy it was producing.)

I returned to consciousness when my ears heard “diplomacy.” I was utterly humiliated, but luckily George had long since taken his mid-meeting nap and did not here my nonsensical babbling.

10/18/2007 8:42 PM, Washington DC
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