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A Heart Is A Terrible Thing To Waste!







Millions are Horrified!!!

Selected Vintage 2000-04

The GWinch Who Stole Election Day


The Last Words of Dick Cheney's Dying Heart!


Nothing Wrong With MY Gag Reflex


Some Folks I Profoundly Distrust


A Little Clarity


2001 in Review: DEFINITELY NOT as Good as the Movie


How It All Works


 Ted Kennedy Conspiracy Theory


 Polls Indicate Incredible Stupidity


 My Terrorist Conspiracy Theory


 More Mere Foolishness & Frivolity


How The Beatles Saved My Ass


 The Worst Addiction


 Not All That Funny, Actually


And more to come...









The Tattle-Tale Heart

by D X Stone - 3/15/01

"He uses me to pump the blood; if not for that, I'd have wound up in the East River a long time ago."

I am Dick Cheney's Heart. Once, a very long time ago, I had two functions: the purely physical job of pumping blood throughout Dick Cheney's body so as to provide oxygen, nutrients and abundant energy to all his organs and muscles and tissues--to every single cell in his entire body, in fact--and the second, more metaphysical aspect of giving Dick Cheney a sense of joy, joy in simply being alive and also in sharing that joy with others through love, empathy, compassion and good works, each of these being a higher expression of this natural joy de vivre' available to most members of humanity... for people are social creatures, on more levels than they dream; and they communicate constantly with their communities and environment, whether they wish such connection or not. This is the wisdom of the human heart: It knows that all life is one, we are all interdependent and interconnected in a magnificent and joyous dance of life... and this celebratory dance is the only essential reason for being here at all.

But just try telling this to Dick Cheney's Brain.

I have to deal with that big lazy gray mass of fat everyday, and I'm telling you, it's killin' me. No matter how much blood I pump to it, it's of little use--it's already made up its mind, you see. Oh, it knows how to put on a good act, it knows how to dress and move with confidence, it knows how to speak calmly and with authority, when to speak and when to be silent--but it cannot seem to understand the simplest aspects of balanced power distribution in any dynamic system, and because of this, it is foolishly endangering the entire body, putting every single cell in mortal jeopardy.

You see, like the old joke about the body parts arguing over who is most important, Dick Cheney's Brain decided long ago that only certain major organs are deserving of any decent blood flow at all--and this brain, though exceedingly average by the most charitable standards, has proven devilishly clever at using its influence to form alliances with key organs, and to then make all sorts of wrong things happen. For the longest time Dick Cheney's Brain has cut itself off from my counsel, every word of which it brands "emotional nonsense", while forcing me to redistribute more and more of the majority of oxygen, vitamins and minerals taken into Dick's body to his head, hands, spleen, lungs, liver, ass, lower intestine and reproductive organs. These are its favorites. On the other hand, this brain believes that the majority of cells in the entire body, and even certain organs, are completely worthless. One good example is the ears, which it uses little if at all these days... it also hates his belly button, for some unknown and probably Freudian reason... and then, of course, there's me.

Dick Cheney's Brain hates me. It's always hated me, because, with my incessant primal thump-thump, I constantly remind him of life, and, by contrast, of the slick corporate bloodsucker he's allowed himself to become... or maybe the brain is right, maybe Dick Cheney could never be anything other than the hate-filled and hateful greedy elitist subhuman vampire wretch we've all come to know and fear. He uses me to pump the blood; if not for that, I'd have wound up in the East River a long time ago.

And now he says he wants to reroute all reserve energy in his entire system to his two very best friends and first lieutenants in his little Organ Mafia: His mouth and penis.

He says (his mouth says) that if all energy went to the mouth it would eat more, and ultimately everyone would end up happier at day's end.

As far as the penis goes, well... let's just say that it never did require all that much blood to begin with, so that's no real problem there...

Business per usual. This is old news. I've seen it so many times...

I am Dick Cheney's Heart. They say I attacked him, but this is not true. He attacked me first...

The first time I stopped, it was out of sheer exhaustion. For some time Dick Cheney's Brain has been withholding nearly all the nutrients I need to do my work--he says he needs it as an emergency reserve, for what I'm not allowed to know--and we almost died.

But even now, after four more incidents, Dick Cheney's Brain won't hear a word of it. Dick Cheney's mind is made up, and he'll continue on in this mad little numbers fascination of his, this insane obsession to have it all, until every last bone and tissue and organ and muscle in Dick Cheney is as cold and dead as his handshake or his smile.

I am Dick Cheney's Heart. They say I attacked him, but this is not true. He attacked me first, and I allowed it for the longest time. He attacked me and brutalized me and left me for dead, while he went looking for other hearts to mutilate and murder.

I can see no real hope for my own survival anymore... but if I have to go, I've decided it's time to take Dick Cheney out with me.

I am Dick Cheney's Worst Nightmare.

Do you hear me, Dick Cheney? I'm coming for you, dead man! You're already dead, do you hear me? Do you???

You can run, pal, but you can't hide.

Actually, I wouldn't really recommend running... heh heh heh...

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

Heh heh.

Thump thump.

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