I GOT SHOT-FACED WITH DICK

Cheneyquaildick. You heard that here first. That's what this ought to be called. Another Whitehouse Whitewash from the people who believe that everyone else should take responsibility for their own actions.

I'm not sure I've heard a bigger bunch of birdshot in all my life. Two days after the Gasbag Dick is kowtowed to on Fox News for "remorse" without ever having to say "Sorry."

During his statement, Whittington said the past weekend involved "a cloud of misfortune and sadness that is not easy to explain, especially with those who are not familiar with the great sport of quail hunting."

He said he sent his love and respect to Cheney and his family.

"My family and I are deeply sorry for everything Vice President Cheney and his family have had to deal with," he said. "We hope that he will continue to come and seek the relaxation that he deserves."

So, here's a novel thought. As a cradle Catholic and the bane of elements within my own local Charismatically-crazed parish, LOST has always had trouble with the Fundavangelical concept of "The Rapture" you know, that all of the good folks with the good sense enough to have uttered the phrase that pays for all eternity and have "accepted a personal savior and invited Him into" their hearts will one day disappear into eternal paradise together like some synchronized swimming marathon. Oops, digression. Along with Rapture, LOST has always poo-poohed the Faustian idea of mere mortals making deals with the devil, the bargaining away of one's soul for personal, temporal gains. Well, this Administration has finally forced me to rethink that last one. Nothing would explain this gaggle of amoral misanthropes who wreak havoc with impunity for personal gain and call it altruism better than a monumental, blockbuster deal with Satan whereby the entire 5 or 6 levels of the GOP Leadership inked a deal with ol' Scratch; you know, a kind Diabolical Collective Bargaining Agreement, whereby they get away with anything, including the near homicide of big donors, and the latter wind up apologizing for causing harm to them.

Well, what if thats right, there WAS a big Luciferian package deal, and say, next Tuesday, at midnight, the deal goes, ahem,South, permanently. As in, all of the soul-sellers are called to their new eternal home. Maybe uber creepy Tim LaHaye could write a new series of books - the "Dragged Off" series, starting out with the first one, where, Wedesday, everyone wakes up in DC, and K Street is a ghost town. All the big lawbbying establishments are virtually empty. Toney townhomes in Georgetown quiet. Fox News showing test patterns and/or snow. Ditto CNN. Limbaugh doesn't show up for work. The White House is more eerily silent than the Haunted Mansion after closing time. And the only clue to the missing are these blackened, vaguely people-sized circles on the ground and a faint, but cloying smell of brimstone in every locale. Except for Rove's li'l half acre. That place looks like it imploded, and the rubble is in the form of a perfectly shaped pentagram.

Okay, a guy can dream, right?