Dick Cheney Confessionals, Vol. II

by Smiley McGrouchpants

               "Man, that time I got into a fist fight with Casey Kasem — that I'll never forget!  We were at one of those $1,000-a-plate political fundraisers — for a sheik, an emir, or someone out-of-state, I can't remember — and I had gotten back in line for the buffet table, to get more potato salad.  Lo and behold, there was Casey, all decked out in a tux with his wife Jean, fresh from her bit part in the T.V. show Cheers, and towering over him.  I tapped him on the shoulder.   'Hey, Dick, how are you doing?' he said in that mellifluous voice, well-known to radio listeners across America.   His wife Jean beamed a smile at me.   'Great, Casey . . . say, I just heard that Negativland disc — ' (their controversial U2 disc had come out, featuring an outtake of Casey's played over an instrumental cover of 'I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For') ' — what's up with all that bitching over the little old ladies writing in to you to make "Long-Distance Dedications" to their dead dogs?'  He grew instantly annoyed.  'That's not what it was about,' he started to say.  Jean's smile faltered, but, what a trouper, she plastered it back up there with hardly a moment's notice.  'I mean, geez, Casey,' I cut in, not wanting to hear it, and eager to get his goat, 'it's one thing if the listeners think that stuff is crap . . . but you're the one hawking it!'   'I don't think it's crap,' he seamlessly cut in, smooth as butter — which seemed to help bolster Jean's smile some.  'I was just having a bad day.'   At that, I all but guffawed, helplessly.   'A bad day? Man, you flipped your lid!'   Suffice it to say, in the scuffle that ensued, I got in a few good ones before Casey broke my jaw.   I sued him for $1.2 million, got Jean's phone number, and . . . I got my potato salad!"