I was hatched on a cold, Nebraska day, January 30, 1941. It was the first of two fateful events for our country that year. The second took place in December.
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I remember the spring of 1951 when I was 10 years old. My strategy to invade the playground was in question. I had to find a way to eliminate the other children, so I told the school principal, "Tommy and his friends have a hidden stockpile of water balloons." And while the school administrators were busy searching, I was able to change the school charter to my liking and usurp the power of the principal. Even at 10, I was not to be fucked with.
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By my senior year in college, I knew exactly what I wanted: Mexico.
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It was not easy being President Ford's Chief of Staff. Tripping over an ottoman every week was funny when Dick Van Dyke did it, but not when Ford did it. Little did I know that working for a klutzy, former frat boy jock was preparing me for a future "special needs" President.
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Thanks to my leadership as Secretary of Defense, we won the Gulf War and declared "Mission Accomplished" in a record 18 seconds. 42 days later, when the war actually ended, I reflected on the victory, leaned over to General Schwarzkopf and whispered, "I think my daughter is gay."
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My tenure as CEO of Halliburton would've been one of the happiest times of my career if I were capable of emotion. I discovered that the corporate world's disregard for morals and ethics was even more appalling than I'd hoped and that Tuesday was lasagna day at the cafeteria.
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I had just survived my 94th heart attack and shed a layer of skin when I heard the news that Saddam Hussein was found hiding in a giant hole. I asked National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice, "What kind of insane, evil man hides in a secret, underground bunker and tries to run a country?" Condoleezza just stared at me and said nothing. Bitch.
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Apparently, it was wrong to shoot a lawyer friend in the face. I Googled it.
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The mounting stress of war-time politics and Condoleezza's endless piano recitals affected all of us in the White House. Some members of the administration could handle it; some could not. When Donald Rumsfeld walked up to me and said, "We must stop the leprechauns," I knew it was time for him to go.
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In the meantime, my plan to choose the most ineffective Attorney General was working brilliantly. Alberto Gonzales' performance surprised even me. He seemed incapable of accepting responsibility. You have to respect that.
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The human year of 2007 was almost half over, and the President continued to make decisions without my knowledge. The winds of change were strong, and I knew that regaining my absolute dominion would take time. So, to keep my focus, I waterboarded my cat.
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On June 5th, my displeasure with the President's behavior reached a pinnacle when my faithful henchman Scooter Libby was sentenced to 30 months in prison. I met with the President several times to discuss my displeasure and insist on a pardon for Scooter, but the President perpetually changed the subject to Harry Potter. This would've been frustrating if it weren't for my relief that he'd finally grown out of his Spider-man phase.
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The National Archives and The Committee on Government and Oversight Reform were demanding that my office turn over classified, national security information. I was always very upfront about my secrecy, but they became restless. I used to say, "These guys want my ass more than Senator Larry Craig." That joke always killed at the prayer breakfast.
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During my final week as "Vice President", I finally told the President how upset I was about his insubordination and attempts to do things behind my back. He turned to me, cocked his head and said, "Tough titties, Dick. Like, what're ya gonna do about it?" I just smiled.
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This is brilliant. HILARIOUS!
This is beyond funny! My husband came into the room to see what I was laughing to hard at!
OK... this was pretty damned funny. Kudos!
Thanks for the "enhanced comedic techniques", Beth! Great stuff...
Very funny! And tragic! I hope his story ends with some serious jail time.
Very good, indeed.....
Brilliant!
Novel--right?
You kno wher his book needs to be attached to the door of the building with half moon on it is all going to be for crap
Does it gotts pictures too?
YUP! Pop-ups.
OMG
i'm gonna love this book
The horror.
The horror.
Anyone that purchases this rag of a book is guilty of treason. We should not reward this despot by buying and/or reading his tome of lies. There is no decency in this man, he has proven himself to be a coward and for masterminding the torture procedures a war criminal. Be gone with you Dick Cheney, be gone with you, we do not need, or want, to hear, read, or see you anywhere on the free side of prison bars.
Beth's version, above, is much more entertaining and truthful. Also a much better value. Not only don't you have to waste the money on Dick's version; you don't have to waste all that hot water showering afterwards.
excerpt: "I am your lord Cheney, kneel before me!"
I'll consider buying cheenee's lieBook when it comes in double ply, is quilted, and has his face on each sheet.
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