Today we pause to mark the birth of a woman of brilliance, approaching genius (steathily, from downwind, so she can suddenly leap up out of nowhere, seize genius’ face and declare, “Got your nose!”).
As anyone who’s spent time at Wo’C knows, s.z.’s is a unique voice: witty, insightful, ironical, but never petty or mean-spirited. Her kindness, empathy, generosity, and integrity have meant more to me over the years than I can say, and I feel both proud and privileged to call her friend. (I’m less proud of the time I called her “Bilbo,” but that was a simple, honest mistake involving two bottles of Jaegermeister, some Wet Naps, and a Leonard Nimoy bootleg and it could’ve happened to anybody.)
Her unfailing sympathy for the powerless and the disadvanged among us is a testimony to her huge heart and tremendous decency, just as the vomit, poop, and hairballs decorating her once pristine home is evidence that her head periodically turns into a giant sucker.
The fact that s.z.’s acute intelligence (and intelligence training) has allowed her to expose many a wingnut prevarication has helped to make the blogosphere a slightly less hospitable place for lies, smears, and distortions. And though she rarely alludes to it, it should be noted that during her years of government service, she did more to actually protect and promote the national security of the United States than all the windy, vainglorious words ever pecked out by the likes of Max Boot, V.D. Hansen, Instapundit, the Powerclowns, Ralph Peters, Hugh Hewitt, and the sum total of Townhall combined. (However, in all fairness, it should also be noted that the staff of NRO has been much more effective in promoting the sales of Funyuns and Japanese schoolgirl porn.)
I tried to think of a proper way to repay s.z. for all the snarky goodness she’s provided us over the last two-years-and-counting, but this is the best I could do. So it is in a spirit of tremulous humility that I offer you a treasured Presidential heirloom: the very same teddy bear that Barbara Bush gave her son George when he was a wee tot of 24, and though the gift dates to a time when he was young and foolish, still, the future president seems to have gleaned many valuable life lessons from it. He also seems to have spilled a lot of beer and cocaine on it, so you might want to give it a few squirts of Resolve before letting Yodie and Flossie rip its farting guts out.
Happy birthday, Sheri.