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July 15—Pulseless
Dick Cheney has no pulse. Or soon won't. And not in the way I would, tastelessly, prefer. The toad has had five heart attacks in the last thirty years, and he's getting some piece of his black heart replaced that means he'll no longer have a pulse. Frankly, I'm stunned he had one in the first place.
The BP oil spill finally got capped—and it only took eighty-seven days. Hooray? I suppose they want a round of applause now. Pardon me if I am less than enthusiastic. It's what they call the sound of one hand clapping. The other hand is holding my nose while I hold my breath waiting for the cap to fail.
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