We are seeing in this episode another of our periodic culture clashes between those who came of age before the '60s and those who came after. Cheney was born in 1941 and reached mature adulthood before it became the fashion for men to bare their souls, emote and talk talk talk. Cheney is like a brainy Gary Cooper. He's everything a Wyoming male was supposed to be -- self-contained, serious and unflappable. But here's a hint for the flower children: That doesn't mean he has no feelings. Of course he is devastated by what he did. He said as much to Brit Hume. The image of his friend Harry falling is one he cannot get out of his mind.
Cheney's kind of emotional reserve and privacy is pretty much a lost virtue in our flamboyantly demonstrative age, and that's unfortunate. Those who easily showcase their feelings are often charlatans and manipulators (Oprah, call your office). The more we demand that people -- particularly men -- share their deepest fears and regrets, the more we will be inviting the worst sort to lead us.
Also on the Cheney topic, David Limbaugh has some choice, hard-hitting rhetoric against the MSM jackals.