Cheney is the laughing stock of America now. The way things work in Washington, that might be just what it takes to stop him from his present collision course with Iran.

The accident was bad enough. Getting a guy whom he shot, while hunting in Texas, to take the blame was, well, just one bit too much. Trying to prevent the public even knowing about it was brain-dead.

The best way to demolish a dangerous man is to make him look stupid. He whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make foolish.

IN PRAISE OF JOURNALISTIC OVERKILL.

Once again, the American public is disgusted, outraged, and thoroughly fed-up with the media and its absurd hyperventilation over a non-news non-scandal like the vice president of the United States being involved in a garden-variety hunting accident.

Nearly a week has gone by since Cheney's unfortunate misfire, and the reading public, in web postings, e-mails, and old-fashioned snail mail, is growing increasingly heated in its denunciations of the Fourth Estate's eternal fixation on the trivial. The most commonly heard refrain seems to be: Don't journalists have anything better to report on?

To these high-minded folks, I can only respond: Are you insane?

Of course Cheney's misfire was going to become the hot story--and not just because it's a damn site less terrifying to obsess about than a nuclear Iran. ]

While a bird hunting accident might not be the stuff of which great scandals are normally made, this particular incident has all the makings of a perfect political storm.

Admittedly, some of the reasons for this are base and cynical; others, however, have an almost Shakespearean majesty to them.

Taken altogether, they create the sort of classic scandal that no self-respecting political watcher--much less Beltway journalist--would ever dream of ignoring.

For starters, let's give the grumblers their due. The vapid, sexy nature of the subject most definitely lends itself to saturation coverage.

The vice president of the United States shot a man, injuring him badly enough to require hospitalization and subsequently provoke a heart attack.

The storyline may not have the sex appeal of, say, Britney Spears driving around with her baby on her lap.

But it has infinitely more sizzle than the average Beltway story on which your average political reporter spends his or her days.

Just as key, this story also requires zero policy expertise and has no tedious policy implications that could muck up the juicy narrative. (VP + gun = disaster.)

It is hardly a secret that Washington journalists tend to prefer a scandal that involves a politician screwing an intern than, say, screwing with the Medicare budget.

The latter story not only requires a specialized knowledge base, often involving a complicated brew of figures. (Are we looking at the five- or ten-year budget numbers? Medicare A and B or just A?

Are the figures indexed for inflation?) It also causes readers' eyes to glaze over within a couple of paragraphs. By contrast, Cheney plugging an innocent bystander with birdshot is a topic that even the most brain-dead nutjob with an opinion and a web connection can hold forth on.

But the salacious predilections of the media are just part of this story. Helping to drive the narrative is the way Cheney's mistake and the president's response fit so perfectly into the prevailing negative caricatures of both men.

BOY GEORGE - CHENEY'S DANCING MONKEY

In this corner you have Darth Cheney, the scariest man in America, the kind of guy you can imagine killing an Iraqi insurgent or a smart-mouthed TV producer with his bare hands.

As such, jokes like Jon Stewart's parental warning not to let kids go hunting with the VP or "he'll shoot them in the face" ring too true.

Whatever your antagonistic feelings toward our genial president (and I have plenty), the image of him gunning down an old man in a field just doesn't have the same resonance.

What gels all too well with W.'s image, however, is the White House's deferential, let-Daddy-Dick-do-whatever-he-thinks-is-best response.

I'm sorry, Andy Card gets a phone call from Texas saying there's been an incident with the VP's hunting party, and the chief of staff--while clearly told that Cheney himself wasn't harmed--doesn't bother to find out whether the VP was involved?

I mean, if the incident was important enough to merit a phone call, wouldn't it have occurred to someone to ask whether the team of highly paid professionals at the White House press office should possibly, maybe, provided-it's-ok-with-the-VP-of-course get involved--especially since, as Cheney has noted, he didn't have any press people traveling with him?

It doesn't take a screaming liberal Bush-hater to see how the White House's no response feeds the image of Little Georgie as Cheney's dancing monkey.

In an even more poetic vein, the events in question fit perfectly into the grand literary tradition of the hero's tragic flaw. For Cheney, as with so many kings through the ages, this is obviously arrogance.

The man cannot stand the idea that he should in any way be accountable for anything to anyone--much less the weak, sniveling, unwashed mass of voters he ostensibly serves. (As if the notion of Cheney serving anyone isn't laugh-out-loud funny.) Seriously.

The man could be caught on film slow roasting babies over a burning, swastika-adorned crucifix and he would simply shrug, sneer, and growl something about national security and the unitary executive theory.

With W. the fatal flaw is harder to pinpoint, if only because there are so many options to choose from.

But the inestimable Ryan Lizza makes a compelling case that W.'s incuriosity and cluelessness are the defining characteristics highlighted by this little episode, and I'm inclined to agree.

One can only assume that W. was too busy on the Stairmaster or out looking for some brush to clear in Rock Creek Park to be bothered with whatever trouble Cheney might be getting into out on the ranch.

Finally, returning again to the biases of the media, it doesn't take a p.r. genius to know that journalists have spent the last five years being annoyed by the Bush administration's penchant for secrecy.

Political journalists crave access and information the way women crave chocolate. But when it comes to any story that could potentially cast this administration in anything less than a rosy glow, the media know that the Bushies are more likely to start handing out free Snickers bars than straight answers.

So for Cheney to follow up his ill-fated shoot by refusing to comment on the matter for several days--even as White House flak Scott McClellan unsuccessfully struggled to make it look as though the VP wasn't giving everyone the finger--was a move guaranteed to provoke some unflattering coverage.

None of which is to say that Cheney, Bush, or anyone else involved in this little debacle necessarily will suffer lasting damage. (Except poor Harry Whittington, of course.)

But just because a scandal doesn't bring down an administration doesn't mean it isn't instructive or illuminating--not to mention absolutely worthy of media overkill.

Sometimes a hunting accident is just a hunting accident. Other times, it is the perfect metaphor for why the nation's leadership is such a disaster.
Michelle Cottle @ New Republic