Yesterday saw a raft of editorials and MSNBC TV segments that enviously praised the British for being unafraid to criticize Margaret Thatcher in the wake of her death. If only we’d had the same callous gall after Ronald Reagan passed away, they lamented.
Of course, as the Daily Mail reports, there’s criticism and then there’s combustible hatred:
Hundreds took to the streets as macabre ‘Thatcher death parties’ were held late across the country last night, organised by critics of the ‘Iron Lady.’
In Bristol, seven police officers were injured – one seriously – as violence erupted at a street party of 200 people and officers were pelted with bottles, cans and rubbish.
Riot police were deployed in Brixton, south London, as the crowds, which had been drinking since 5pm, started to become more aggressive, while in Liverpool flares and fireworks were set off outside Lime Street Station.
Consider this the next time you hear that it’s the American mental health system that’s lacking. The crowds, as the Mail notes, were comprised of people “many of whom were too young to remember her as prime minister.” At least the rioters didn’t burn down a random furniture store this time. In fact, it seemed they couldn’t do much of anything, including put words together. (One of their poetic chants: “Maggie Thatcher, Maggie Thatcher, she’s not living anymore, she’s not living anymore.”)
I’m one of those twenty-somethings too young to remember Maggie in her prime. But I’m certainly aware that Thatcher was a brass-knuckled fighter who rejected pointless consensus. Looking down on us now, it must make her chuckle that her sharpest haters are so pathetic, impotent, and degenerate.
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