Well, I’m with Dick Cheney on this one, and I can’t believe the media can’t find something more significant to talk about. Why do I say this? Because I grew up hunting.
One time I was hunting with my cousin, Bobby, and we were hunting quail, and we were young — 15 or so. We shook up some quail and they started flying all over [you know where] as they do, and we started shooting at them as if we were sitting in a revolving chair firing away. When the smoke settled, we realized Bobby had hit me with a few buckshot. I was OK. Two months later a buckshot pellet dropped out of my nose.
I hope Whittington heals, which to me is the real story here.
Politicians are having a field day, of course. The funniest question I’ve yet heard is whether you’d rather hunt with Dick Cheney or ride over a bridge with Teddy Kennedy.