To begin, we will review some of the emotional dynamic that developed between President and Vice President immediately following the terrorist attacks on 9/11.
America was under attack, the country faced uncertain political and economic turmoil, and I was in the oval office. The lights dimmed low and a tv playing unending soap opera reruns, I ran my fingers through the President's hair and grumbled reassurances. George turned his head in my lap to peer up at me with eyes fatigued from weeping into my trousers.
"It wasn't supposed to be me" he cried. "Jeb is the smart one. Everyone knows it. Even momma likes him better... she says they named the wrong one after daddy!" We had this conversation weekly for the next 7 years, and it always ended the same way. With the President weeping into my lap, and me battling chronic diaper rash from all the moisture. I asked David Satcher, then Surgeon General for his diagnosis, and he labeled the ailment "athlete's crotch".
Next Cheney switches to lighter memories of his term as Vice President, taking a few friendly jabs at his gaff-prone partner George W. Bush.
Back in January 2002 the President had a big scare. If you recall, he passed out after choking on a pretzel while watching a football game, leaving me terrified that I was so close to being forced into the executive chair. I felt the way Jeff Dunham might feel if his luggage was destroyed. Like I was going to have to go out on stage alone, without my hand up an idiot's backside.
But all was well and we had some fun at the President's expense. I had the White House cafeteria serve soft pretzels with a knife and fork to George, and bowls of pretzels popped up everywhere with notes like "beware" on them. Once I even picked out an obese paige and dressed him in a suit, then introduced him to George as a new Secret Service agent in charge of pre-chewing his food. Everyone burst out laughing, but like all good jokes it went right over George's head. The President shook the paige's hand and asked if his new Agent would be chewing all his food, or just the pretzels. Unbelievable.
Here we manage to gain some insight into the developmental mind of young Dick Cheney, and how his views on torture were formed at an early age.
I am disgusted by all this opposition to torture. It is quite effective, and can even be good fun! I learned about the application of pain to extract actionable intelligence at a very early age. Once when I was seven I beat the soles of my mother's feet to determine where my Christmas presents were hidden. And you know what? Every single year she sang like a bird, and always gave accurate intel.Strangely absent is the much-anticipated story of how he died back in 1997, and managed to remain in political prominence despite the greatest possible handicap. He also dodges nearly any mention of his hunting accident in 2006, making only this ominous comment of the victim Harry Whittington: "He knows why it happened". Cheney's reluctance to address his untimely demise and other controversial topics is only serving to increase speculation that he is developing the world's first full length posthumous autobiography. Here's hoping.