So the Creepy Veep goes out and shoots a guy, and then decides he shouldn't tell anyone about it.

That would be moral leadership, I guess.

Listen, I understand hunting and hunting accidents. They taught hunter safety courses through the schools in Clovis, N.M., where I went to high school. I think that's a good thing, mind you--there's a better chance that the person signing your hunter safety card actually knows what he (and let's face it, "he" is the only appropriate pronoun here) is doing. And I've hunted. I don't think I ever actually killed an animal, but I've shot at pheasant, quail, rabbit and squirrel. And I don't feel one bit bad about it. Responsible hunting can be a rejuvenating, even spiritual experience.

Then there's whipping around with a 28-gauge shotgun and filling your friend's face full of birdshot. That's not fun, rejuvenating or spiritual. It's sad.

I don't doubt that the Creepy Veep never meant to shoot Harry Whittington. From a purely political standpoint, it would be a dumb idea. Whittington is a lawyer who is also a Republican...that there's gold. By all accounts, Whittington was where he shouldn't have been and the Creepy Veep didn't look before he shot.

That is a textbook example of non-responsible hunting.

Oh yeah, and the Creepy Veep didn't have the required permit, either. So much for the rule of law. I've always suspected that certain folks in this administration sit around late after midnight and crank up the old Anthrax chestnut "I Am the Law." Nowadays, what with the spying scandal and all, they might be segueing into Judas Priest's "Breaking the Law." If things continue on their current path, they'll probably be blasting Accept's "Balls to the Wall."

But I digress.

Perhaps the most disturbing element of this episode is that when the local sheriff's deputies came around to the ranch to talk to the Creepy Veep about the shooting, the Secret Service wouldn't let them in. The official word is that the boys with the earpieces hadn't heard that the Creepy Veep's people had "negotiated" a deal whereby he would talk to the authorities. So the deputies came back the next morning. That's pretty sweet. I hope I get to negotiate a deal with the cops the next time I go and shoot someone.

Well, eventually it all got sorted out. The sheriff declared the shooting an accident (duh) and the Creepy Veep fled. Without talking to reporters or anyone else. Just like he's done every other time he gets in hot water.

There is a pattern here. Ever since 9/11, the Creepy Veep has claimed to be living in an "undisclosed location," even though he and his wife recently bought a spot on the Chesapeake not far from that palatial estate featured in The Wedding Crashers. In other words, he encouraged the Prez to say stupid things like "bring it on" and then cowered in a cave (or a 8,000 square foot house or whatever). Not unlike the Prez (and my dad and lots of other guys), the Creepy Veep figured out a way to stay out of Vietnam. Unlike my dad and lots of other guys, the Creepy Veep and the Prez feel no compunction in sending hundreds of thousands of Americans not as fortunate as him into harm's way.

This latest episode is yet another manifestation of the chicken hawk syndrome. In plain truth, the Creepy Veep is not a stand up guy. Anyone with a shred of decency would have come right out and told folks (that would be you and me) what happened. Sure, it was important to get Whittington to the hospital and make sure he was (relatively) okay. And yes, someone did call the police (though, of course, that went nowhere fast). But to have to be shamed into reporting the shooting to the press--and by extension, the American people--is the height of cowardice. That the White House has a policy covering this very sort of incident (the press is to be given as much information as possible as quickly as possible) makes the nearly day-long silence that much more appalling.

The man some like to call the Prince of Darkness shot someone. He got scared. And he did exactly what the Prez did on 9/11--he fretted and frittered until someone stepped in and told him how to do the right thing. Back in the summer of '69, a certain senator from Massachusetts got a little schnockered and drove his car off a bridge. He got out, and Mary Jo Kopechne did not. He waited until the next morning to report the incident. And to this day, a large portion of the public considers that a black mark on his soul. As much as I admire Ted Kennedy for his work in public life, I can't say I disagree with that assessment. He was wrong for driving drunk, and he was wrong to wait until morning to go to the police. The same goes for the Creepy Veep. He should have talked to the police immediately and he should have had his office inform the media as soon as facts could be ascertained.

One wonders what would have happened if Whittington had died---or does die, as he isn't out of the woods yet. My guess is everything would go down much the same way. The Creepy Veep has the backbone of an invertebrate. As always, I'm glad to know he's in charge.

During his Boy Scout days, Jon Worley earned the rifle and shotgun merit badge.