Why I hate Sarah Palin, yet secretly long to be like her

So as I procrastinate on writing my sermon for tomorrow, I am reminded that my initial blog indicated that I might be taking some shots at Sarah Palin.  I wouldn't want to be called a liar, so here it is.

So Sarah Palin has a reality show...how did this woman become a celebrity, anyways?  She doesn't appear to have enough intellect to keep her lips from moving as she reads, and yet somehow she managed to get into politics, become a presidential running mate, become a best-selling memoir author AND get a reality show which sold for a million dollars an episode.

I have a theory, and I base this theory on my own morbid fascination with the woman.  Here it is: Sarah Palin is the human equivalent of an accident site.

We have all had the irritation of being stuck in a long line of traffic, watching the red and blue lights flash on the other side of the highway, indicating that we are indeed stuck in a line of rubberneckers: arseholes who slow down and gape at accidents in the hope of seeing blood.  We tisk, we curse, and then when we get to the accident site, we do exactly the same thing.  There is no point trying to deny it: we all succumb to the temptation to cast a sidelong glance at disaster.

Sarah Palin is an accident.

I am drawn to her like I am to the sight of blood, although I am repulsed by both.  Through the sheer force of her mindless, chirpy optimism, she has gouged out a career.  If her rambling speeches are any indication of her abilities in other spheres of life, I wouldn't trust her to find her way out of a pillow fort without a map, and yet she writes books, drives a car, owns a gun, and frolics and prances like any other member of the human race.  I mean, she even put Alaska on the map for Pete's sake! (admit it, the fact that Alaska even exists barely impinged itself upon your consciousness before she came out of it).  And here's the kicker:

Sarah Palin is a millionaire.

Yes, despite a string of political and public appearances that can only be described as farcical, this woman just keeps getting bigger.  She can't string together a coherent sentence, and yet she is laughing all the way to the bank.

And then it hit me.  She may actually be brilliant.