It would seem that Levi Johnston’s 15 minutes of fame would have come and gone by now. Once his would-be mother-in-law, Sarah Palin, lost her bid for vice president, you’d have expected that the somewhat hunky, hockey-playing, self-described “f-ing red neck” former boyfriend of Bristol Palin would have settled into his normal life in Wasalia, Alaska, doing whatever it is they do up there. After all, he’s not really famous for anything other than knocking up his teenage girlfriend.
I suppose he could have become a role model for teen parents, chatting up birth control (or abstinence, as Bristol has been) and personal responsibility.
But instead, the 19-year-old is kissing and telling and trash talking about his infant’s grandparents — and has landed on the cover of Vanity Fair. Because that’s how you get noticed nowadays; you dish dirt. Or you pose naked for Playboy (and Levi had been weighing an offer from Playgirl. Can’t say what he looks like nude, but he cleans up very nicely in some pricey designer togs in VF’s photo spread).
I’m not getting paranoid or anything, but I’m starting to feel that it’s a really crappy time to piss someone off, whether you intended to or not. It’s just that nowadays your misdeeds, real or perceived, are going to land you on a confessional TV show, the cover of a magazine or someone’s blog.
Now, I’m not fan of Sarah Palin but whatever you think of the former Alaska governor, Levi’s take on his son’s grandmother isn’t pretty:
The Palin house was much different from what many people expect of a normal family, even before she was nominated for vice president. There wasn’t much parenting in that house. Sarah doesn’t cook, Todd doesn’t cook — the kids would do it all themselves: cook, clean, do the laundry, and get ready for school. Most of the time Bristol would help her youngest sister with her homework, and I’d barbecue chicken or steak on the grill.
OK, I’m going to cut Sarah some slack; there isn’t a lot of cooking in most dual working family’s homes, let alone a family of seven, including a baby with Down’s syndrome, and with a mom who was governor and also running for vice president.
Levi also says that she and her husband, Todd, fought a lot and that they slept in separate rooms during the Republican National Convention. “There was a lot of talk of divorce in that house … times when Sarah and Todd would mention it and sound pretty serious.”
Well, Levi, welcome to marriage; the threat of divorce is all a spouse has sometimes! Not that he’d know; he ended up not marrying or even living with Bristol, the 18-year-old mother of his son Tripp. Tripp, however, does live with the Palins; I’m guessing Levi’s going to feel a little uncomfortable around the Palin table at Thanksgiving or the party for Tripp’s first birthday in December.
Still, it’s hard not to wonder what people are saying about any of us — and where they’re saying it.
Forget what your mother told you about not saying anything if you can’t say anything nice; you’ll never get famous that way.
I’m no celebrity and it's unlikely I or most of us will ever be (despite the 31 percent of American teens who truly believe they’ll be famous one day). Most people probably couldn’t care that I once snapped at a co-worker (she was being rude), or that I served some pretty horrible sauerbrauten for an Oktoberfest dinner years ago that provided an evening’s worth of jokes, or that I once screamed “I hate you, too!” to one of my kids so loudly that child protective services should have come knocking on my door the next day (although my neighbors gave me odd glares for weeks afterward). But there’s always a circle of people who know of you and are interested in all your dirty laundry. You never know when someone — a former husband, boss, friend or neighbor — is going to snap and dish on you.
A lot of bloggers have been hand wringing about oversharing about their children, family and love interests. Should they be using their kids for blog fodder? How much should they tell about their love life? Can they badmouth their ex? But it seems like this crazy celebrity-obsessed culture, when anyone can become famous by going all negative — like Perez Hilton and now, Levi — someone’s going to want to capitalize on any juicy tidbit. Even, perhaps, yours.
I don’t really have plans to become rich and famous, but I do believe there’s at least one book in me, and — who knows? — maybe some movie rights. And, let’s face it; I’ve had Dooce-like fantasies with my blog. But I’m starting to reconsider. I’d hate for someone from my past who holds a grudge against me — yes, there are some — just waiting for my 15 minutes so he or she can sell all the nasty bits of my life to People or Gawker or Perez.
No, I’ve decided that no one’s getting famous off of me that way; they’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.
Stripping for Playboy.
Do you believe there's more negativity and snark nowadays?
Do you think people will do anything to become famous?
Is it OK to slam your family is such a public way?
