On this day in 2006 Neo-Con pin-up and all round supporter of corrupt business practices and use of slave labour, Dick Cheney, went for broke and shot a man (Harry Whittington) in the face.
Harry Whittington: Cheney thought I was a quail.
The two men were part of a hunting party at a ranch in Texas, ostensibly shooting at quail. The incident occurred in the late afternoon after what might or might not have been a boozy lunch. The facts, as they often are when a man has been shot in the face, are hazy. First reports were that no booze had been drunk, then “maybe a beer or two”, then “I only had one beer” or “I did not have a beer”, and “there was lashings of beer and spirits!” We do know that later that evening, after having shot a man in the face, Cheney had a few cocktails to
celebrate calm his nerves. The poor lamb. This is what we do know, or think we know, or in the words of Cheney’s good mate, Donald Rumsfeld “As we know, there are known knowns. There are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns. That is to say we know there are some things we do not know. There are also unknown unknowns, the ones we don’t know we don’t know.” It’s fair to say that we know there are unknowns about that day on a Texas ranch, but there are undoubtedly unknown unknowns too. Anyway, here goes!
There were men shooting quail. They had lunch and beer. Maybe. They went out to shoot some more. Whittington shot a quail. Whittington went to retrieve his quail. Cheney saw another quail. The quail was near Whittington. Cheney shot at the quail and missed. Cheney shot Whittington in the face. And breathe!
The shooting was of course an accident. Cheney had no reason to shoot Whittington in the face and he did not mean to shoot him right in the face with his big gun. And awful as the accident was – three days later Whittington suffered a heart attack because some of the shot that did not hit him right in the face got lodged in his heart and caused a cardiac incident – there was a big apology in the aftermath. Naturally, as is the right and proper etiquette in incidents of this kind, Whittington apologised for being in the way of Cheney’s gun, getting shot in the face and causing a big ole media hullabaloo for poor Mr Cheney. Naturally, Dick did not apologise in public or private for shooting Whittington in the face and making him have a heart attack, because in order to do that he’d have to have been a half decent human being.
All’s well that ends well. Mr Whittington recovered from being shot in the face and has had the good sense to have nothing further to do with Dick Cheney, especially not when he’s carrying heat.
Today is the birthday of right-wing vapid totty, Sarah Palin. Ah Sarah! How shall I revile, thee? Let me count the ways. You know all about Russia because you can see it from Alaska, you thought your allies were North Korea, which is an easy enough mistake to make if you have shit-for-brains, you charged rape victims for rape kits when you were mayor of Wasilla, you fired a Police Chief, a
Sarah Palin makes a strong first impression
State Trooper and anyone else who didn’t fawn over you and have basically shown throughout your short rise to infamy, that you are a chancer, a pretty vile excuse for a human being who is very good at spreading hate and ignorance and very little else.
There are other things that contribute to making you a human being beneath contempt, but one doesn’t need to delve into the personal and your private hypocrisies to understand that your rise to prominence says something very troubling about the public’s collective psyche. I can no more wish you happy birthday, Ms Palin, than I can sprout wings and shit on your head, but two days in a row of hating on the birthdays of the rich and famous? That’s a little too much hatred so …
Today would also be the birthday of a lovely man and a wonderful father by the name of Eamonn Bruen. He was born in Castlerea, Co. Roscommon and eventually joined the diaspora and moved to London where in the 1960s his first and much-loved child was born, a daughter, who just happened to be me. Eamonn spent some of his youth singing in a show band and had a voice that was somewhere between Tom Jones and Otis Redding. He introduced me to Otis and Johnny Cash, for which I am truly thankful. The
No photos of Eamonn available, but he looked a lot like Rod Taylor, so this will have to do
last Christmas present I bought for him was a compilation of country and western hits, as like many an Irishman before and after him, he loved a bit of C&W. He was handsome, funny, bright and the most terrible piss-taker in all the world. He was also the best daddy a girl ever had and proof positive that not only sick and twisted demons from the bowels of hell were born on February 11th. Happy birthday daddy! Your little girl still loves you!