The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight

Well, Dick Cheney has earned the dubious distinction of becoming only the second U.S. vice president to shoot someone while in office. The first? Aaron Burr, of course.

I wasn’t going to comment on the quail hunting accident on Saturday in Texas in which the veep dinged a friend, but then things got a little strange.

Accidents happen, of course.

But here you have the second most powerful man in America sending someone to a hospital ICU with shotgun wounds and the White House runs for cover. It was left to an enterprising local reporter to contact the property owner before the story broke and the White House finally confirmed it 18 hours later.

Can’t these people do anything right?

The blogosphere is crackling with the story (the new report lambasting FEMA and practically everyone else for the Katrina debacle is just so predictable) and the reactions to Deadeye Dick's exploit run the gamut.

Joel Achenbach in washingtonpost.com:

I find the story reassuring. Cheney is a man who doesn't just talk the talk. No, if he's going to send American soldiers into harm's way, where they might be shot at any moment by a deranged fanatic, he's also going to do the same thing to his close personal friends. He's giving his hunting buddies a taste of life in the Cheney Era, when you count yourself lucky just to get out alive.

And Michelle Maklin:

Unfortunately, this is very bad news for the White House--and not just because of the inevitable late-night jokes that will inundate the airwaves over the next week. The Dems will exploit this accident to smear Cheney as incapable of being trusted, weak of mind, etc. The resignation rumors will fly again. And the biography of a man who has served this country so well and so honorably for so many years will be overshadowed by a single, ill-fated hunting mishap.

(Historical footnote: Unfortunately for American history, Burr was a good shot. Burr had been dissed by Alexander Hamilton and challenged him to a duel on the Weehawken, New Jersey, palisades on July 11, 1804. He mortally wounded the brilliant politician-statesman, who in turn fired into the air after being hit either as a reflex or to purposely avoid shooting his rival.)

* * * * *

All of this brings to mind a song that I adored as a young 'un and once knew by heart. The signer-songwriter was famous 1950s wacko Tom Lehr:

The Hunting Song

I always will remember,
'Twas a year ago November,
I went out to hunt some deer
On a morning bright and clear.
I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow:
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow.

I was in no mood to trifle,
I took down my trusty rifle
And went out to stalk my prey.
What a haul I made that day!
I tied them to my fender, and I drove them home somehow:
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow.

The law was very firm, it
Took away my permit,
The worst punishment I ever endured.
It turned out there was a reason,
Cows were out of season,
And one of the hunters wasn't insured.

People ask me how I do it,
And I say "There's nothin' to it,
You just stand there lookin' cute,
And when something moves, you shoot!"
And there's ten stuffed heads in my trophy room right now:
Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a pure-bred Guernsey cow.