When we look back on it and wonder where Cheney’s fall began, it’s probably going to go back to a time about four years ago right before we invaded Iraq. That’s when he had a chance to abort the mission. He was the only one around who’d been involved with a war before, albeit short – the only one mature enough to know what would happen. But that’s just a fantasy. He’s also the one that had brought the cry of war along with him, from the halls of the oil companies and the think tanks where he and his friends had spent eight years being sick together.
Four years ago, he was a believed person – pontificating in a voice several decibels lower than most. In early 2003, he could have stopped them short – instead he fanned the flames. Within a few months of his war’s inception, he was having war council meetings with his Chief of Staff, not about Iraq, but about covering his tracks as the fabled WMD’s failed to materialize. It wasn’t going well, and some hot dog Ambassador was throwing tacks in the road. He had another chance to do the right thing, but it was too late. He couldn’t take the criticism, so he spit back with dirty tricks and talking points.
He’s still talking with his deep voice like someone on high, but the sound of a crash is beginning to break through and slowly building in volume. Next week, he might get lucky and dodge a bullet, or maybe not. But that sound of cracking stone is getting louder and louder, and becoming more and more inevitable. We’re definitely beyond the end of the beginning. We have probably passed the beginning of the end. And we may be even closer to hearing the crashing finale than we yet know…
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