People are Like Cake

There are all kinds. Some are store bought, dry, yellow, disgusting blobs of artificial flavors, colors, preservatives, and just don't taste very good. But some store bought cakes are moist, fresh, and delicious; but still, not necessarily the tastiest. Then there are homemade cakes. Some mean well, but just don't quite have what it takes. Maybe they were left in the oven too long, or weren't baked with enough love, or a rubber bladder fell in the batter and inflated in the oven making that weee waaah sound like in that episode of the Little Rascals. But some cakes...some cakes are a chocolate delight, with real whipped cream icing blended with chocolate chips and nuts, and smeared in between the layers of chocolatey goodness. The kind of cake that stirs up pleasant memories of childhood (the ones in between being accosted with wire hangers and polyester leisure suits, and brussel sprouts). The kind of cake that makes you remember your first French kiss, when you hesitated after and decided that a cootie shot was unecessary.

But even the nasty store bought cake has someone who wants it, who finds it to be the French kissinist cake ever. And there are some who think that the cake that makes me go ga-ga tastes like a dog's butt. My mom always says, "That's why they make chocolate and vanilla."

Dick Cheney likes cake. It's probably made with asbestos, dioxin, crude oil, and $1000 bills, with buckshot mixed in sludge icing. But he likes cake, and that should count for something. You let me know what that is when you find out.