Hell, I am not Gandhi over here. Let's face it. It's a poor one that I am, to be sure.
Cheney is not dead. But he is slipping. He knows it's time to take the long hot bath mentioned in Godfather II. Yes, he's getting ready to do the Frankie Pentangelli about his Big Oil/Halliburton days. What's a Frankie Pentangelli? This is a Frankie Pentangelli:
But Dick will not be finding himself under any bright lights; not like his former boss Ronald Reagan.
Reagan, it was said, was slipping into Alzheimer's, and so, "I don't recall" became his mantra. Those who were alive during the days of the Iran-Contra investigations remember Ronnie's continuous inability to remember the Shennanigans that led up to the mess. Of course, it would take a primer of ten pages to describe what went on down there. That's because the history has been, all-but erased.
Big Dick's path of least resistance is his ailing heart. A device of some sort has been attached to it, which is code for "leave me the fuck along I don't want to answer any questions about Big Oil or my part in the deregulation."
The heart thing of course, will lead to a brain malady which will disrupt his memory without having to suffer the indignity of a courtroom or a congressional hearing.
For the meantime, we can dream, can't we?