Either Sarah Palin is seriously considering a return to electoral politics, or she’s satisfied with her continued role as a psychobomb lurking on the fringes of the discourse, occasionally popping off a new geyser of insanity every now and then just to see how everyone else, specifically liberals, will react. I suppose we could apply either motive to her eulogy of Margaret Thatcher in The National Review, titled “The Grocer’s Daughter,” but one thing’s for sure: it was a screed that was almost entirely about Palin herself than a tribute to Thatcher — not surprising given Palin’s notorious reputation as, among other things, a narcissistic self-promoter and national instigator.
In fact, the essay (clearly ghost-written) reads like one of those awkward confessions that begin with, “I have this, um, friend and, errr, no one understands me — I mean, my friend. Not me. Did I say ‘me?’” In just about every paragraph about the late former British Prime Minister, we could easily substitute the pronouns and proper names with Palin-specific names and pronouns. She was clearly using Thatcher’s death as a means of comparing herself to Thatcher for her own weirdo, grifter motives, which appear to include setting herself up to be The Next Thatcher. The Iron Punchline. The Chick-Fil-Lady. Put another way, Palin basically wrote that she and Thatcher are the same — look at all these examples! — therefore she deserves to be taken just as seriously.
Let’s break it down. [continue reading here]