“Yawn!” So Dick Cheney likes to cool his gout-filled heels at a hunting club where his good ol' boy buddies (in New York State, that is!) think it's cool to fly the flag of the
Vice President Dick Cheney is embroiled in yet another hunting-related controversy.
The vice president made a daylong hunting trip on Monday to the Clove Valley Rod and Gun Club, an exclusive mountainside establishment on 4,000 acres in Union Vale, N.Y., about 15 miles east of Poughkeepsie, in Dutchess County. Only members and their guests may hunt on the property; an annual membership is said to cost tens of thousands of dollars.
Reporters who covered Mr. Cheney’s visit on Monday — including Fernanda Santos of The Times — were not permitted to enter the grounds of the hunting estate. But at least one eagle-eyed photographer captured images of a Confederate battle flag — about 3 feet by 5 feet in dimension — hanging in plain view in a garage attached to the club’s headquarters. The Daily News captured images of the flag.
In a brief interview this morning, a spokeswoman for Mr. Cheney told us that neither the vice president nor anyone in his entourage had seen the flag.
“Until this issue was raised by the press last night, no one in our office was aware there was such a flag,” said the spokeswoman, Megan M. Mitchell. “The vice president did not see a flag, nor did anyone on his staff traveling with him in New York.”
Asked whether Mr. Cheney had an opinion about the flag’s being displayed, Ms. Mitchell replied, “Bottom line, he didn’t see the flag.”
What in the fuck is everyone so upset about here? That Cheney gets his shriveled rocks off on playing tough-guy by hanging with a bunch of Deliverance wanna-bes with a barely-concealed “We hatez n*ggers” fetish? Folks...that's his peeps.
The last folks who give an amoeba's turd about him.
That's the BASE!
Frankly, I was surprised by how quickly they managed to purge the garage of the massive vintage noose and charred-cross collection normally stored in there.
Must've sent the ol' shreddin' truck up there the day before. The drunken, face-blastin' little scamp!
(And if you don't get the “Dreadlocked Ice-T” reference, my friends...get thee to your late-nite, bad movie cable channel, or Netflix trash queue for this ghastly gem.)—LowerManhattanite