USA Today, March 18, 2013

    No apology from Cheney
    An "interview' with Mr. Undisclosed Location himself (written, of course, in
    rhyming Dick-ensian verse).

    By Bruce Kluger and David Slavin

    When it comes to assessing his role in American history, former Vice President Dick
    Cheney takes a page from Elton John: "'Sorry' seems to be the hardest word."

    On Friday, the Showtime network premiered its much-anticipated documentary The
    World According to Dick Cheney, a meticulous two-hour flashback to the eight-year
    reign of, arguably, the grumpiest vice president in U.S. history. The response to the
    landmark film has been nearly unanimous. While most critics agree that it is
    exhaustive (and, at 110 minutes, even exhausting), they likewise conclude that the
    mammoth undertaking is missing one crucial element: contrition.

    Directed by R.J. Cutler (whose credits include the 1993 backstage Clinton
    campaign expose, The War Room), the film features a full-frontal Cheney fielding
    hard-hitting questions on everything from waterboarding to infighting with President
    George W. Bush to his much alleged overreach for power. Yet, through it all, The
    Man from Wyoming remains unrepentant. "If you want to be loved," he remarks at
    one point, "go be a movie star."

    We've known this about "Vice" for years. As his unofficial, unauthorized biographers
    (you can still buy our 2008 book, Young Dick Cheney: Great American...on eBay),
    we learned early on that if you wanted answers from this dude—honest, compelling,
    newsmaking answers—you just had to make them up.

    Here, then, is our exclusive "interview" with Mr. Undisclosed Location himself
    (written, of course, in rhyming, Dick-ensian verse). Our one question to Cheney:
    "Why can't you just say you're sorry?"

    My rep is in shambles,
    It's hurtin' for certain.
    But I should get thanks!
    (Just ignore Halliburton.)

    I don't say, "I'm sorry,"
    that isn't my style.
    I'd rather just flash you
    my sinister smile.

    Besides, if I give up
    my aura of myst'ry,
    I'll join all those dweebs
    in the dustbin of hist'ry.

    Those teary-eyed clowns who,
    the second they spoke,
    turned into the butt of a
    Letterman joke.

    Like Anthony Weiner,
    whose graphic flirtation,
    despite his remorse,
    was a Twitter sensation.

    Or Eliot Spitzer,
    whose X-rated love
    would cost him his rep
    (and his gig as The Gov).

    Like Bob McNamara,
    whose penance for 'Nam
    would backfire as big
    as a megaton bomb.

    Like Clinton! Like Edwards!
    How can you admire
    two guys who says "Oops!"
    while their pants are on fire?

    Like Nixon with Checkers,
    Like Lance with his juice,
    "My bad" doesn't fly
    when the logic is loose.

    Ask hikin' Mark Sanford!
    Ask Tiger, ask Mel!
    Excuses don't work
    and repentance don't sell.

    Who cares if I ran with
    unlimited powers?
    When scholars look back
    I'll be "greeted with flowers!"

    My soft spot for torture?
    My war on the cheap?
    I'd argue they made me
    one butt-kicking Veep!

    There's zilch to be gained
    from some sad mea culpa
    (unless you enjoy
    getting beat to a pulp-a).

    So, no, I'm not sorry,
    not one little trace.
    Not even for shooting
    my friend in the face.