Jul 25, 2007

Julius Cheney

Being a Work of Fiction in the Shakespearean tradition.

The setting: A political speech given by Cheney, attended by a large group of press, senators, and White house operatives. Behind the scenes, various men of substance discuss our failing leadership and the President's deferral to the Vice President...

Then, Bush, I have much mistook your passion;
By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried.
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Bush, can you see your face?

No, Powell; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection, by some other things.

'Tis just: And it is very much lamented, Bush,
That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,
That you might see your shadow.
I have heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome,
except immortal Cheney, speaking of Bush.
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wish'd that noble Bush had his eyes.

Into what dangers would you lead me, Powell,
That you would have me seek into myself

for that which is not in me?

Therefore, good Bush, be prepared to hear:
And since you know you cannot see yourself
So well as by reflection, I, your glass,
Will modestly discover to yourself
That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Bush:
Were I a common laugher, or did use
To stale with ordinary oaths my love
To every new protester; if you know
That I do fawn on men and hug them hard
And after scandal them, or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Shouting heard from the crowd, angry

What means this shouting? I do fear,
the people Choose Cheney for their king.

Ay, do you fear it? Then must I think you would not have it so.

I would not, Powell; yet I love him well.
But wherefore do you hold me here so long?
What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently

Well, honour is the subject of my story.
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cheney; so were you:
We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the terror's cold
as well as he:

For once, upon a raw and painful day,

The troubled towers crashing to her shores,
Cheney said to me 'Darest thou, Powell,
now Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was,
I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews,
throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy;
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cheney cried 'Help me, Powell, or I sink!'
I, as Lincoln, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of America
upon his shoulder, The old leader bear,
so from the waves of Tumult Did I pull the tired Cheney.

And this man Is now become a god,
and Powell is A wretched creature and must bend his body,
If Cheney carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Iraq, And when the fit was on him,
I did mark How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world
Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Americans Mark him
and write his speeches in their books,
Alas, it cried 'WMD, Condoleeza,' As a sick girl.

Ye gods, it doth amaze me
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world
And bear the power alone.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Bush, is not in our stars, But in ourselves,
that we are underlings.

Bush and Cheney- what should be in that 'Cheney'?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Bush once that would have brook'd The eternal devil
to keep his state in America As easily as a king.

The speeches are done and Cheney is returning.

Re-enter Cheney and his Train

Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights:
Old neocons who are easily sated with coin.
Yond Powell has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.

To the Senate:

Are we all ready? What is now amiss
That Cheney and his senate must redress?

Harry Reid:
Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Cheney, Harry Reid throws before thy seat An humble heart,--


I must prevent thee, Reid. These couchings and these lowly courtesies
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children.
Be not fond,To think that Cheney bears such rebel blood
That will be thaw'd from the true quality
With that which melteth fools;
I mean, sweet words, Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning.
Thy peaceful brothers by decree are banished:
If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for the war to end,
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.
Know, Cheney doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied.

Harry Reid:
Is there no voice more worthy than my own
To sound more sweetly in great Cheney's ear
For the repealing of this wrongful war?

I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Cheney;
Desiring thee that Harry Reid may Have
an immediate end to this war.

What, Bush!?

Pardon, Cheney; Cheney, pardon:
As low as to thy foot doth Powell fall,
To beg end to this madness.

I could be well moved, if I were as you:
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshaked of motion: and that I am he,
Let me a little show it, even in this;
That I was constant this nation not fall to terrorism,
And constant I do remain to keep it so.

Great Cheney,--

Doth Bush not kneel when he comes to beg?

Hands! Speak for me!

Webb first, then the others and Bush stab Cheney

Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.

Some to the common pulpits, and cry out
'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!'

What I have I done in the name of freedom?
People and senators, be not affrighted; Fly not; stand stiff:
ambition's debt is paid.

Bush stabs himself, falling over the dying Cheney

Et tu, Bush?

Rove, Condoleeza Rice, Gonzales, Rumsfeld and a host of other cronies scurry, cockroach-like for the exits.

Joe Wilson:
Fates, we will know your pleasures:
that we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time
And drawing days out, that men stand upon.

Keith Olbermann:
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Grant that, and then is death a benefit:
So are we Cheney's friends,
and Bush's friends, that have abridged the time of fearing death.
Stoop, Americans, stoop, And let us bathe our hands in traitor's blood
Up to the elbows, and besmear our copies of the constitution:
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place,
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads,
Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!'

Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

So oft as that shall be,
So often shall the knot of us be call'd
The men that gave their country liberty.

...and the people in the streets rejoiced, and the soldiers were called from the fields of war back to their homes, to protect the homeland.


angry ballerina said...

Wow. Damn kid. I...yea....shit.....

angry ballerina said...

Wait! oh never mind, I got nothing.....

Fade said...

ab- lol

angry ballerina said...

well I was going to make a comment about how my bust is much more attractive, but then I got all pissy bc I know I'm not as creative as you, so ya. Fuck off.

Frederick said...

I was thinking he was more of a Sulla...or was that Nixon?

Fade said...

Sulla was extremely effective, and his policies actually temporarily benefitted Rome, bloodthirsty tho he might have been.

And of course, Sulla relinquished his power towards the end, and ran off with his secret gay actor lover. I don't think we can expect Cheney to EVER give over the reins of power willingly. But with Libby out of jail, Cheney may yet have time to frolic in the aspens..

Sulla or Caesar are really bits of a stretch for Cheney. Unlike them, this Piece of Shit we are saddled with never had the balls to lead men into combat. His bravest moment is calling Secret service on Americans who speak their mind to him or telling another politician to go fuck off.

Or of course, drunkenly "accidentally" shooting his friends while blowing away farmed game (might as well be tame).

supergirlest said...

no thee didn't just soil thy shakespeare in that way!

old hack said...

anyone ever notice that Bush's haircut since about 2006 has sharply resembled alexander the great's.


old hack said...

It's so sad how artfully we as Americans used to speak compared to the gibberish we use today.