Dick
Cheney & Other Illusive Wildlife In The Grand Tetons
22 September 2010By Jane Stillwater
After seeing the wonders of Yellowstone, what could
possibly be more impressive than that? The Grand
Tetons! Wow!
And I saw my first moose today -- four of them,
actually. They were peacefully standing by the Snake
River, drinking martinis and wearing Raiders T-shirts
(just kidding).
Then my next stop was Jackson Hole, where they have a
store that sells the world's best ice cream. "No, no,
no! The world's best ice cream comes from Russia,"
somebody said, and we were about to come to blows over
this but then the conflict got resolved when we
discovered that apparently the people who make MOOS
ice cream also come from Russia. I'm so glad I don't
live in Jackson. I'd eat a MOOS every day.
Then while I was happily gawking at all the tourists
in Jackson -- who in turn were gawking at the
Million-Dollar Cowboy Bar, the Snake River Grill, the
Wort Hotel and phony cowboy leather jackets for sale
for thousands of dollars each, Jackson got hit by a
humongous thunder storm and I had to run for it,
catching the city bus to keep out of the downpour.
"I hear that Dick Cheney lives around here," I
commented to one of the other passengers -- and, boy
howdy, was he ready to spill!
"I hate Dick Cheney!" he said. "When I was a kid, I
used to throw rocks at his house. But now he lives out
in the high-and-mighty part of town and you can't even
get close enough to hurl."
Hey. I hate Dick Cheney too!
"That man is responsible for killing almost as many
women and children as Stalin." Well, maybe not THAT
many. But close -- if you count all the American GIs
killed in his totally unnecessary foreign wars and the
million-plus dead Iraqis and Afghans....
"That Cheney is such a cold fish. I bet that ice runs
in his veins," continued my home-grown political
analyst -- as I enthusiastically nodded my head.
"But what pisses me off most," I replied, throwing in
my two cents worth too, "is that he pretends to be
such a Wyoming cowboy. Ha. A Spandex cowboy maybe...."
"No, Cheney's not a cowboy. He's an oilman, just like
Bush. Wyoming is one of the largest producers of coal
in the world. And there's oil here too. Cheney's got
his fingers in all of that. The man is a vampire,
draining Americans of every cent he can get."
I couldn't argue with that. Plus there was a full moon
last night. "So. Tell me. Where does Cheney keep his
crypt?"
"Sorry, lady -- you look like a nice person and all
that, but for all I know you could be with the CIA.
I'm not gonna tell."
"Not even if I promise to buy you a hot caramel sundae
from MOOS?" Faced with that kind of suptle
interrogation technique, the man broke down and
spilled the location of Cheney's secret vampire crypt
to me, right there on the bus. But a lot of good
that's gonna do me -- I forgot to pack any garlic.
PS: My next stop on this trip will be Salt Lake City,
where I'm scheduled to hear the Mormon Tabernacle
Choir sing -- and then it's on to Bryce National Park.
"Nothing around me but Rockies and sky...."
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