The Absolute Moral Degeneracy of Cindy Sheehan
American Digest ^ | August 22, 2005 | Vanderleun
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But, just as the media glow given to Cindy was at its brightest, the inevitable started to happen. Emerging in the background and, as usual, on the blogs, we learned some rather unsavory details about Cindy Sheehan's long love affair with a politics that would have revolted her dead son. We began to see she was not really honoring her son's memory, but using it.
We began to learn details about her less than noble ideals concerning the fate of Israel, and all politically incorrect others that the Left would gladly send packing from the face of the Earth, if they could only get someone else to make the bombs and pull the triggers. And we began to understand, just a little at first, but with ever growing clarity that what we were seeing was not a mother lost in grief, but a woman who had fallen deeply in love with her son's death and all the wonderful things it could do for her ego. Her son had become just a tool for the advancement of her own poisonous politics. His heroic death had allowed her, as nothing else in her life would have allowed her, to rise from obscurity and be launched into that brief and burning sub-orbit of "Today's media darling" according to, well, the Today Show itself.
Her son had died for a country that, we discovered, she had long despised and which now, in the main, despised her. Her family had denounced her. Her husband had walked away from her ever-expanding bad craziness. For all that is known, the stress of having a daughter glorified and vilified contributed to the stroke of her mother.
All this had happened and, if it were not for the media and the minions of moveon, Cindy would have been a broken and lonely woman. Only by pimping her son's death endlessly to any camera that would focus on her, to any show that would have her on, did Cindy find and keep her precious self-validation whole. And it was "My Precious" to Cindy because, at last, she had become 'real.'
Cindy was real because she had been on television telling her tale of grief, over and over, weeping, over and over, and all the time swearing the one thing that all scoundrels swear when they are working night and day for themselves -- "It's not about Me, it is about My son, My child, My baby." I'm sure we'll see that, in some variation, as Chapter 1, Sentence 1 in the forthcoming Cindy book and made for TV Cindy movie. They will be along in good time. They always are.
I've seen reports from many that as soon as summer is over it will be the end of The Cindy Show as the vultures rise up from the trees above the Crawford circus camp and glide away to the next 24/7 News miracle; that soon it will be "Cindy Who?" That's not true. Cindy has risen beyond our mortal plane, and, by injecting her personal tragedy and metastasizing mania into the cerebral cortex of the country, we'll always remember "The Summer of Cindy." Our shame is that we'll remember it as a nation long after we've forgotten the name of her heroic son and the brave and selfless manner in which he gave "the last full measure of devotion." He was the man known as "Army Spc. Casey Sheehan, killed in Iraq on April 4, 2004."
So spare me the pleas for sympathy and the nickel-and-dime condemnations from barren and arid souls who can no longer comprehend the meaning of Duty, Honor, and Country because they have none of them. Ask me not for a feigned compassion for this disturbed female narcissist. I have reached the outer realms of compassion fatigue with this latest ghoul raised up out of the Sixties cemetery.
I'm saving my compassion and praise and prayers for the soul of the man known as "Army Spc. Casey Sheehan, killed in Iraq on April 4, 2004." Died for his country, died for his ideals, and died trying to rescue his friends and brothers-in-arms. Died, indeed, to defend the right of his mother to use him as a tool to advance political ideas he never would have agreed with. At the start of "The Cindy Show," I was amused. Now I'm just disgusted. It disgusts me that Army Spc. Casey Sheehan also died so that his own mother, Cindy Sheehan, could use him as a stepping stone to her own proto-celebrity; as a way for her to drink deep at the fountain of perpetual funding. |
