Look, Ms. Maureen Dowd, you sweet little lick of orange marmalade… the Cheney “indoor voice” is now amplified for outdoor use. Don’t tell me to shut up! No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do. Especially a New York Times columnist composing coy copy from the chair of a Ladies-Who-Lunch-Bar Stool.

 MAUREEN - DELICIOUSLY AT WORK

Your liberal louche mind-set better soak that up and grid your loose loins for further assault. 

I’m a man with a mission. And I choose my mission with utmost circumspection. I was able to realize five draft deferments for myself during the Vietnam War---fighting indigenous gooks in steaming jungles was not a mission that fit into my life plan.

Retirement is now a word or state of existence I will not recognize. It’s not fun anymore. How can you give up a game where you were puppet master of the known universe and not mourn over the loss of such an elite job description? Forty years of this nirvana has grown some recalcitrant calluses on the hull of this ship of state and no exfoliating scrubs at the spa can remove this hard earned toxic epidermis.

But hell, I can’t even raise up my merry band of hunting partners any more. One minor mishap, and one insignificant gunshot blast to a face later, and I find I was associating with a bunch of girly-men who wouldn’t have the balls to waterboard their mother for more allowance money. I will affirm that the whole event concluded satisfactorily for me. The man whose face I almost blew off was intelligent enough to know he had to apologize to me and I accepted his remorse as genuine.

But enough of the past. What’s done is done. What’s over is over. Sure, I read the August, 2001 security brief in a timely manner when it was put in my hands but decided that the imminent threat presented there about Bin Laden, if true, would be the show stopping event the administration needed to take out the big policy guns it was holding in reserve. Into the recycle bin it went (happy Al Gore!) and so we moved on.

And so, we still have to move on.

As I told Sean Hannity, and millions of listeners, …”there’s a problem out there nationally…we are 7.5, almost 8 years now away from 9/11. And a lot of people would like to forget it and believe that the threat is gone and diminished, it’s gone disappeared.”

I further established with Hannity the grave concern I have regarding the entire “torture” imbroglio:

“Barack Obama and his administration are no longer going to ask our guys tough questions when they are captured. Now, maybe we won't behead their people when they capture them."

In deep psychic penetration of my crystal ball I’ve been able to extract the forces of a future, which in all it’s revelatory drama... I lay out for humanity:

  AMERICA– IT’S INEVITABLE

NUCLEAR “TATOOS” – FUTURE FASHION TREND

_______________________________________________________

Addendum:

 To Jesse Ventura, I offer congratulations on producing an insight, I readily concede, I would have found you too dumb to come up with:

“ -- I'll put it to you this way, you give me a waterboard, Dick Cheney and one hour, and I'll have him confess to the Sharon Tate murders.”

How’d you know that I was Godfather behind that hit!

Call me we’ll talk.

To Jim Cramer, you big crybaby, weeping pay back because much-much-much brighter-than-you Jon Stewart showed you up as a jackass on national TV?

Call me we’ll talk.