When Jenna Jameson met Dick...Cheney, that is.

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Yesterday, in a speech to the members of a lobbying group known as the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, confirmed mediocre quail hunter and allegedly inept Vice President of the United States Dick Cheney trotted out some well-worn talking points in a clumsy attempt to justify President George W. Bush’s intention to send 26,000 additional American troops to Iraq. (When, in fact, 58 percent of Americans think our troops should be home by 2008).

Cheney’s bluster and bombast covered familiar territory: Leaving Iraq makes us less safe at home, setting a timetable for U.S. force withdrawal invites certain military disaster, anyone in the U.S. Congress who questions the plan to add more troops to the meat-grinder is actually undermining their mission (read: Ms. Pelosi, you are a commie-pinko-fascist-with-marginal-fashion-sense) and last, but not least, that more troops are necessary to win the war in Iraq.

Mr. Cheney’s ability to pass bold face lies couched in faulty syllogisms off as political and military gospel is both truly sublime and utterly ridiculous.

The Iraq War is lost. So, the fact that Mr. Cheney thinks that 26,000 more troops will win the conflict is like me thinking that buying more DVD’s of porn star Jenna Jameson (of which I have many) will exponentially increase my chances of sleeping with her. (Which I, as of yet, have not).

Yet, while struggling to quantify this latest round of desperate rhetoric from a morally, politically and spiritually bankrupt leader, my mind flashes on an equally important and relevant truth – Dick Cheney and Ms. Jameson have a lot in common, actually.

In Wicked Pictures 2000 release Dream Quest, Ms. Jameson, in a tour de force performance, hooks up with a merry band of fairies (no, not that kind, Gen. Pace, you intolerant blowhard) to travel to the realm of all our dreams.

In this world of nocturnal imaginings, Ms. Jameson encounters the evil Vladimir, a tyrannical ruler who displays no tangible human emotion and counts myth and innuendo, lies and fable as absolute truth. (Sound like anybody we know… or even worse, like anybody who 62 million people voted for?)

Vladimir also retreats, whenever there’s trouble, to a dark, subterranean dwelling, replete with A.C., hi-def tee-vee and a putting green. A secret hideaway eerily similar to Mr. Cheney’s “undisclosed location.”

Vladimir is on a mission to destroy humankind’s ability to engage in wild, kinky and fulfilling sexual fantasy. In a moment of unadulterated passion, the brave and stalwart Ms. Jameson decides to take on Vladimir with every fiber of her surgically enhanced being.

So, as the Democrats bandy about the right tone to strike, the right message to send and the right sound bite to disseminate about the war, about a potential withdrawal, and about the future of our country as we know it, the titanic struggle between Vladimir and Jenna…I mean between Mr. Cheney and Congress…continues.

Let us hope, for all our sakes, Ms. Pelosi and co. take a page from Ms. Jameson’s book and kick some megalomaniac ass.

Then again, maybe the real solution lies with Mr. Cheney and wife Lynne. Maybe, if they watched a few hours of Ms. Jameson’s best work (I can lend them whatever they need) and spiced things a bit up in the Vee-Pee suite, then maybe Mr. Cheney wouldn’t be so inclined to send young women and young men (like my best pal Jimmy, Jr. from Bed Stuy – rest in peace, bro!!!) off to die in Iraq for no good reason whatsoever with such orgiastic fervor.

Peace, in the Middle East.

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