Dick Cheney is in the news again, so I thought I would celebrate by re-posting this completely accurate and painstakingly researched article I wrote about him a year or so ago.

A Place for My Stuff

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“You’re going to love this one, Roscoe,” Dick said as he popped open another longneck. “It’s from a microbrew called Freedom Rings in Jasper. They have a really good pale ale.”

He brought the bottle to Roscoe’s lips, then tipped it back slowly. Raccoons can do a lot of things, Dick thought, but their paws weren’t very adept at handling a cool beverage.

Dick smiled as he watched the sun dip over the trees that lined his Wilson, Wyoming, home. There was a time when he was the most powerful, influential man in the world, when he might stroll into the Situation Room after breakfast to watch the shock and awe rain down on Baghdad and think to himself, “This is my war.” Those were heady days, and it was hard to remember everything about them. Did he abuse his authority? Maybe. Did he overreach himself? Sure. The great ones…

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