He is, to many, Satan personified. And those are his fans.

Call him a conniving dirt bag; a torture-advocating, murdering son-of-a-bitch; a tool; a rosy-faced career bastard; an unrepentant Lazarus who wouldn’t die (no matter how many heart attacks he had); a blood-sucking f**k-wad (hyphen?).

To some he is a hero.

He is a wizen Lord Darth Sidious (Vader’s mentor), who has consistently operated behind the scenes, treading perilously close to the line between official and criminal behavior. History will judge just how close – and how often - he came to crossing that line.

As a Vice President he makes Al Gore look like a blithering, short pants-wetting, cub scout. It has been speculated that he is the puppet-master who pulled George Dubya’s strings for eight years. Perhaps the analogy of having Georgie on a leash is more apt. He may – hell, he is – a lot of things, good and bad.

I will say this. Cheney has balls. He, of all the administration’s power-manic lackeys, isn’t afraid to step up to the plate – right or wrong – and take responsibility for what he has done.

I don’t like Cheney; I believe that there’s a special place in hell warming just for him. I do however admire his tenacity; his ability, in the face of the defeat, to face up to what he has believed in and take responsibility, as he did, publicly this week.

That’s the sign of a good leader. No history re-writes for Dick. He would have made a good president.

Time Magazine, a limp noodle of its former self, lost its edginess a long time ago and mores the pity. The purpose of the designation “of the year” was to create controversy, disagreement, discussion, introspection, argument. Not solicit a yawn.

Awarding the title to Obama is like naming Beyonce the female vocalist of the year; it makes for a safe politically correct MTV-like award and elicits a “so what?” response. That’s the problem at Time – they’ve forgotten what sells magazines.

Putting Cheney on the front cover with his crooked smirk, perhaps giving us the finger, would have had tongues wagging well into the New Year. And magazines flying off the shelves.