Bat’s All Folks…

If I had a bat. Sometimes, when I cannot sleep—which is too often, frankly—I make a mental list of who I would want to give, what I like to call, a “little wood shampoo.” That list can involve anyone from that guy who accused me of stealing a bagel all those months ago (remember?) to that fat United Homeless Organization guy that chills in front of Republic on Union Square and harasses women all day long.

Today, I have come to the conclusion that Dick Cheney needs the bat. I was watching him on the news, playa-hating on Obama, and trying to undermine him at every turn, and really, behaving in what I feel is a pretty treasonous manner. When did the old “giving comfort to the enemy” claim that he, Rummy, Condi and all of those Republican senators and congressmen had cooked up to cower the Democrats, lose its validity, exactly?

I mean, really. Has Cheney no shred of decency left in his withered and stitched-up body? He bullied that Texas sock puppet for eight years and drove us in to a ditch so deep that we have been forced to reassess every aspect of our lives. Every purchase must now pass a certain test. Do I really need it? Can I wait to buy it? And that sucks.

This guy has been on the wrong side of every significant policy decision for nearly a decade. He couldn’t have been any more wrong if he had set out to be wrong. He is the George Bush of being wrong, if that makes any sense.

Today, while he was busy pre-pimping his new book, he said he wished that we had bombed Iran before he left office. No, seriously. That’s his “regrets…I’ve had a few” moment.

Because when I look at how Obama has begun to staunch the bleeding, and has made it about a bagazillion times better for those of us who actually leave the country on vacation, I think to myself, “wow, now seems a like as good a time as any to bomb a country that seems to be on the precipice of a revolution anyway.”

And then I think about the bat.