Just Leave Him There, Luke.

Former Vice President Dick Cheney (god, it feels good to say that) arrived at Obama's inaugural ceremonies today via wheelchair. So he's now, quite literally, hell on wheels. The Bush administration's dark lord of the Sith, known as "Angler" to his friends, a man so unhealthy that he has heart attacks in his knees, has met his match - a Ryder K150 moving box. Yes, the thing that's "more machine than man," as wise Jedi would tell you, pulled one of his remaining organic muscles attempting to move a box. But in fairness, all those phone records and torture memos and ignored warnings of bin Laden's terrorist attacks and fabricated WMD intelligence just have to weigh tons. I don't think I could've picked them up either.

So, like his mentor Darth Vader, Mr. Cheney has been felled by something far less powerful than any of his former allies. My friend made an astute observation this morning: "Leave the wheelchair, Luke, the Death Star's about to go!"

Mr. Cheney's body will not be cremated in the forests of Endor, as speculated. Instead, he has announced his desire to spend his retirement planning for the inevitable and much feared mineshaft gap.