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A bastard shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD; even to his tenth generation shall he not enter into the congregation of the LORD. (Deut.23:2)–King James Bible
Well it seems that the latter-day Joseph and Mary trophies of the religious right-wing pro-life movement have been tarnished and their lackluster bronze has turned a gangrenous green, which is starting to show through the shoddy, flaking shiny gold paint (applied so gingerly for their RNC debutante debut). It seems poor Tripp (a quite apropos name considering his conception in itself was a stumbling gaffe) will remain a bastard after all (meant in the biblical sense only–I’m sure he’s a swell little feller).
It appears that John McCain’s hearty handshake, the Christian Radical Right’s unconditional love for the life of Bristol’s illicit gestation and GILF-y Grandma Palin’s half-cocked shotgun were not enough to let this hitching go forward without a hitch. After the campaign folded so did Levi’s schwag bags full of NHL tickets, signed WWF memorabilia, cold hard cash and whatever else it took to keep his pot-smokin’, sh*t-kickin’, rabble-rousin’, redneck mouth shut. After months of awkwardly stuffing his broad-shouldered hockey bad-boy body into formal designer duds (gratis of the Sarah’s heavily abused RNC slush fund) he can finally lose the tie, throw on a Natty-Light-stained hockey jersey, put on his trusty, well worn cup, blast Winger’s “She’s Only Seventeen” from the speakers of his shiny new red Chevy Silverado pick-up truck (the obvious ride of an unemployed high school dropout) and go raise some hell in the Land of the Midnight Sun.
It’s all not really that surprising, actually. Much like the real-life aftermaths to all the really awful reality shows that we hate ourselves for watching and obsessing over (see the Bachelor, Joe Millionaire and Flavor of Love), once the season ends all the principle players go their separate ways (only to be pointed and chuckled at in chance encounters at the local 7-Eleven or Texaco Station).
Meanwhile, Bristol is allegedly “devastated” by the loss of her baby-daddy and would-be hillbilly-heroin-in-law (Sherri Johnston–currently out of the clink). I’m sure it was quite a whirlwind romance that led to tiny Tripp’s being conceived in illegitimate, underage sin, most likely to the tune Danity Kane’s “Damaged” (after Levi talked our little Juno Lynn Spears into raiding Mommy’s old kush stash, being a good Christian and helping him keep warm… really warm… without the use of any of those silly pagan penis protectors). Yup, a good old-fashioned wholesome courtship.
To be honest, I’m still not quite sure how the fundamentalist fringe came to embrace this disgrace in the first place (I’m only passing judgment by their own standards here: Hosea 5:7, Hebrews 12:5-8). Not only did they forgive and forget just because the fetus was spared but paraded these two about in front of the entire RNC like they actually had something to be proud of. This Cult of Life which has taken a stranglehold on the Republican Party also cheered as poor little Trig was being exploited as a token, passed around from person to person for photo ops like a little special-needs hot potato (he was even held by a very reluctant Cindy McCain, who looked a mite perturbed about the possibility of an upchuck incident on her 300,000-dollar ensemble, and eventually soundly licked by his adorable older sister Piper Palin–awwww!).
What about now that the fruit of Bristol’s desecrated loins will not to be consecrated in ad hoc holy matrimony? Will they abandon her to the eternal flames of hell or find yet another way to rationalize championing her coerced commitment to carrying a misbegotten child to term in defiance of the Law of their Lord? More importantly, how do they spin this ill-fated turn of events to elect their Goddess-Head Rapture-obsessed lipstick laden Pit Bull soccer-mom idol in 2012? Is this really the party of family values? If so, where is the “family” or the “values”? What is the sound of a party imploding?