Dick Cheney Mystery Theater

What does the future hold for Vice President Dick Cheney?

America Wants To Know brought in a team of experts to answer that question, and we have to tell you, it's been chaos around here.

If you read this blog regularly, you know we've had Lt. Columbo following the vice president around ever since that report of a plot to blow up tunnels under New York was leaked to the press.

That has worked out well, mostly because the choking cloud of cigar smoke creates a nice background effect for Madame Lyubitshka, the fortune-telling gypsy woman who spends her days consulting a crystal ball at a table covered with a fringed shawl while sipping a cup of something brackish that she swears is herb tea.

Sparing no expense, we also brought in a psychic medium, two dowsers (when you deal with Dick Cheney, you have to be ready to track down leaks), and a petroleum geologist taking a break from chasing caribou out of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

On the very first day, Madame Lyubitshka had a vision of special counsel Patrick Fitzgerald. The federal prosecutor has been investigating for years to find out who leaked the identity of covert CIA operative Valerie Plame Wilson to columnist Robert Novak. Recently we learned, without a crystal ball, that Fitzgerald knew the identity of the leaker from the very start of his investigation. For reasons unknown he continued to question administration officials, eventually indicting Vice President Cheney's former chief of staff, Lewis "Scooter" Libby, for misleading investigators.

Madame Lyubitshka waved her hands over the crystal ball and made a high-pitched humming sound. "Chaaaaaaaay-neeeeeeee," she wailed softly. "He is after Chaaaaaaaay-neeeeeeee!"

"Ma'am, if you don't mind," Lieutenant Columbo interrupted, "I'd like to have a look at that crystal ball. My wife collects crystal, and..."

"Of course!" Madame Lyubitshka said, rising from her chair. She waved the lieutenant over with a grand gesture.

"Look at that," Columbo said, gazing into the orb. "Isn't that amazing. Patrick Fitzgerald is going to try to indict Dick Cheney for orchestrating leaks of classified information to the press. Isn't that something. I wish my wife could see this."

"Preposterous, Columbo." The voice belonged to the petroleum geologist. "I was hunting with Dick Cheney not two weeks ago," he said, pulling the collar of his polo shirt open and displaying the red wounds, "and he told me the president signed an executive order that allows the vice president to declassify classified material whenever he thinks it's appropriate. So it's not even possible for him to leak classified information. If he releases it, it's not classified."

"Hmmm," Columbo said. "So what you're telling me is that the vice president is above the law."

"We're at war," the geologist said.

"Right," Columbo nodded. He looked at the crystal ball. "Who's this?" he asked, pointing at a man in a suit. Madame Lyubitshka peered into the glass. "It is Cesar Conda," she called out. "Vice President Cheney's assistant for domestic pol-iss-seeeeeeee."

"I seeeee," Columbo said. "And who is this?" He pointed to another man in a suit.

Madame Lyubitshka gasped. "Eeeee-vil," she said, "It is....It is....Jack Abramoff!"

"The lobbyist who pleaded guilty in the influence-peddling scandal?" Columbo asked. "Meeting with the vice president's assistant for domestic policy?"

"And I see another man!" Madame Lyubitshka wailed. "Another lobbyist! A colleague of Abramoff! His name is Patrick Pizzella!"

"What do you know," Columbo said, riffling through his notebook. "Doesn't Patrick Pizzella work in the Department of Labor?"

"It is growing cloudy," Madame Lyubitshka said.

At this point, America Wants to Know had to come up with another hundred bucks.

"I can see it now," Madame Lyubitshka moaned. "The man Abramoff....he spoke to the man Conda....he wanted the man Pizzella appointed to a high post in the government, where vast quantities of silver cross many palms."

Lt. Columbo made a note.

"You'll never get Cheney," the geologist said, "His fingerprints are nowhere. He studied under the best."

At that moment, the psychic medium let out a shriek and rose from the sofa. She walked to the doorway of the living room and turned around to face the startled group gathered around the small table. Staring at them with a filmy gaze, she lowered her head until her chin was nearly on her chest, then thrust her arms in the air, making the V-for-victory sign with each hand.

The petroleum geologist fell to his knees.

"My fellow Americans," the psychic said in a deep, throaty voice. "I have a message for Dick Cheney."

"Who is it?" Madame Lyubitshka whispered to Columbo.

"I think it's President Nixon," Columbo whispered back.

Madame Lyubitshka advanced nervously to where the psychic was standing and courtsied deeply in front of her. "Your majesty the president," she said in a quavering voice, "Dick Cheney is not here."

The psychic drew her mouth into a straight line and stared beady-eyed at the gypsy. "Can't you get a message to him?" she asked.

"Your majesty," Madame Lyubitshka said, "I'm a humble fortune-teller, not a psychic."

The psychic shook her head impatiently. "Well, can't you put it on a blog or something?"

Yes, as a matter of fact, we can.

"All right, then," the psychic rumbled. "Here's what I want you to tell Cheney."

And this is President Nixon's message to the vice president:

Listen, Dick, the country's at war. There's not a Republican in the 2008 field who's got the guts to see it through. You know you can raise the money. Hell, you've probably already raised the money, I've seen you flying all over the country. You know you can win. And you've got to win. You can't let the country be destroyed by terrorist thugs just because these panty-waist Republicans are too chickenshit to stay the course. You can do it. Just say you've got a secret plan to get out of Iraq. Come and see me tomorrow, we'll go over it precinct by precinct.

Then a hot breeze blew through the room and all was still.

Well, it's late and America Wants to Know has to drive these people home to Beverly Hills now, but if you see Dick Cheney, let him know President Nixon left a message for him.


Copyright 2006

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