the river

Dick Cheney needs to make a pilgrimage to India before he dies, and I fear his time is running out fast.

Even the most skilled western doctors can't keep a heart so hard as his ticking forever. The lotus of his heart chakra is upside-down, closed, and petrified. He needs to soften it, and turn it right-side up so it can open.

He needs to divest himself of his clothing and wear the white robe and sandals to visit the ghats of Benares, to see how real people live, die, and travel to the next life. If he doesn't do this, he's in danger of being reborn as one of Michael Vick's dogs.

He desperately needs to then join an ashram whose directors can counsel him regarding his new diet of rice, fruits, nuts, and vegetables, and direct him in his daily activities of yoga movement (asana), proper breathing (pranayama), prayer, ritual, and meditation. He might meditate on the pain he has inflicted on others, and on the ways in which he has ruined their lives, and be washed in the river of his own tears of shame and remorse.

His prayers should be addressed to a power great enough to forgive him for his sins, which are many. In this way he may progress far enough before dying to cleanse himself of at least some of the iniquity he has gathered to himself by engaging in sadism, butchery, warmongering, and megalomania coupled with hysterical self-justification.

There's hope for everybody. Even Dick Cheney.