Zombyboy at Resurrection Song.

How wrong would it be to suggest that Casey Sheehan’s death was the best thing that ever happened to his mother, Cindy? To see her reveling in her new celebrity is to see a woman who has found her place and calling in life, no matter that it came not only at the cost of her child but also in spite of whatever the volunteer would have wanted to have said in his own memory. See, no one–not even his mother–can claim divine knowledge of what Casey would want to say to us if he could still speak.

Michele smells somethin’ cookin’.

I smell impending disaster.
Or at least something worth grabbing a bucket of popcorn and turning on CNN for.

Rob at Wizbang turns the tables.

Why won’t Cindy meet with Qualls?
Why does Cindy have all sorts of time for political big-wigs like Al Sharpton and celebrities like Joan Baez but not one minute for Qualls?

Jeff is…well, being Jeff, and what more do we want really?

And of course, make sure the cameras aren’t trained on the White Supremacists when “soft-spoken, grieving anti-war Mom CINDY!” launches into her conspiracy fantasies about “neocons” hijacking foreign policy to benefit their true masters—Israel—at the expense of their puppet proxy, the US government. Because chants of “death to the Kikes”? Might make Barbra and her big-monied Jew friends uncomfortable.

Oh, and any sympathy I may have expressed for Mrs. Sheehan a couple weeks ago, has been completely sucked away by her words, actions and the company she’s chosen to keep.