“I don’t think she’s a good interpreter of my mom. I think my mom is way hotter than that.”
- Bristol Palin discusses Julianne Moore‘s portrayal of Sarah Palin in that HBO movie, Game Change. Bristol went on to say that “I think she doesn’t have that accent. It’s kind of silly, but my mom’s awesome.”
Are we really doing this, Bristol? Is this seriously going to happen?
I didn’t see the movie, so I can’t really comment on Julianne’s acting (though she is a good actor, so, you know, there’s that), but as for the comment that Sarah Palin is “way hotter” than that? Girl. Bristol, honey. No. Just no.
I know. I hate talking about Bristol Palin, too, and it’s a genuine hate—it’s not one of those things where you love to rag on the person, so you constantly go on and on about them (ahem, Lana Del Rey), I legitimately do not like talking about Bristol Palin. I think she’s a messed-up, backwards fool with abhorrent social ideas and a self-centeredness that could make even Paris Hilton look like an admirable humanitarian.
What I do want to talk about, however, since I went ahead and did it anyway, is Bristol’s face. On Dancing With the Stars. Because it looks even further tweaked than it has in the past, and I’m thinking Little Mommy went and got a facelift for her stint on DWTS‘ Allstars Whateverthef-ck. Compare: this is Bristol on the show the first time around:
And then this is from when she got her major “dental surgery”:
And finally, this is Bristol now, on this season of Dancing With the Stars:
And I’m not talking, like, major overhaul or anything, but it definitely looks like she’s been … well, tweaked. Again. And for that? Well. I do what I do every single time I have to write about Bristol Palin—I laugh. Because that’s what she makes me do, guys. Because she’s so dumb.
According to sources at TMZ, Levi’s gotten wind of just how bad a parent his ex-fiancee Bristol Palin is, and he’s hopping mad. But how mad is he? Well, he’s mad enough to drop posing in man-panties and impregnating other women and naming his offspring after a gun for five whole minutes, and he’s allegedly filing for primary custody of his and Bristol’s only son, Tripp.
If the case goes to family services, God only knows what kind of field day they’ll end up having. Bristol herself has admitted (ON REALITY TELEVISION) that she’s doing a horrible job parenting her son, and the idea of a child being raised via a reality TV series probably throws up all sorts of red flags as it were. In either case, things don’t look so good.
My opinion, however, is that neither of these idiots could parent a child to save their lives (let alone run their own lives as responsible “adults”), and that neither of these idiots should have the ability to procreate any more. What you’ve got here is two overgrown children who both figuratively and literally—respectively—live in their parents’ basements and who are playing tug-of-war over the only thing that’s really going to continue giving them any fame: the poor, exploited child who’s nothing more than a parrot for hateful speech and actions. Way to go, guys. You win at life.
But who knows. I’m not going to even say that Levi has the kid’s best interests at heart here, because honestly, this could all just be another elaborate plan hatched by Levi in order to get people talking about him once again. Maybe he doesn’t even care that his son says “faggot” or whatever and curse like a sailor. It’s probably that, you know?
“You’re going to talk about me if I’m in my little life in Alaska or if I’m in L.A., so I might as well just have fun with it. I just think that god provides opportunities like this, and you can either go out and do them or not do them.”
Bristol Palin on the recent announcement that she was chosen for the ‘Dancing With the Stars’ All-Star cast. Because, you know, people really, really care when her son’s got some new homophobic slurs that they need to hear, and to witness Bristol’s bad dancing and equally-bad parenting. Sure.
Thing is, Bristol? Here’s a little reality check—your mom’s no longer all that relevant, and you’re even less relevant than she, so no—people wouldn’t be talking about you if you were in Alaska because THEY’D FORGET ABOUT YOU. As it is, you’re in L.A., all up in people’s faces and televisions, and you’re a mockery to responsible young adults trying to make it on your own. You’re a joke and that’s why people are still talking about you.
If, for some strange reason, you find yourself not wanting to watch one minute and 38 seconds of Bristol Palin‘s parenting, let me summarize for you: Bristol takes her son, Tripp, with her to visit her sister, Willow. Tripp, who is four years old now (Bristol is 21, just so you know), is in that adorable “I hate you” stage that most children go through. Bristol tries to get him to stop saying it by telling him that God is watching him, but she starts laughing before she can finish. Tripp looks like he’s about to start a big ol’ hissy fit, and Bristol and Willow keep laughing. After another “I hate you,” Willow tells Tripp that if he doesn’t stop, she’s going to wash his mouth out with soap, and Tripp replies with “go away, you f-ggot.” Yeah. That’s still apparently funny to Bristol and Willow though, and then Bristol admits that she’s “doing a terrible job disciplining Tripp.” Right.
Look, I know that kids will hear bad words and repeat them, and I get that sometimes it’s kind of funny. But there’s a line, you know? One time, a kid that I was babysitting had apparently heard the word “shit” recently, and she kept repeating it. She’d just play with her toys and say it, over and over, and I explained to her that she shouldn’t be saying that word, but it was hard to keep a straight face when this tiny little toddler looked at me and exclaimed “shit! Shit!” But this other time, this other kid I was babysitting had heard someone say “adios, fat ass,” which is something that people say, I guess, and when she repeated that, it was definitely different. There was no laughter because what she was saying was mean, even though she didn’t know it, and there’s no chance that I was going to have any part in egging that on.
Babysitting is, I’m sure, a whole lot different than being a parent, but I can’t imagine watching your child call someone a f-ggot, especially when it’s clear that he has at least some grasp that the word is hurtful, and laughing. I would imagine that the conversation that would follow that would be a very serious one.
The show debuted last night, and media outlets all over the world are already claiming it to be complete and utter crap. Yay! Here’s a recap and review, courtesy of Yahoo!:
In the first episode, Bristol moves from Wasilla, Alaska to Los Angeles, allegedly to “show Tripp what’s out there.” (Because three-year-olds are so interested in the wider world.) She moves into a pre-fab Beverly Hills mansion and is joined by her 17-year-old sister Willow, who has come to help with the babysitting. The episode ends with an incident that was widely publicized during the show’s filming, in which Bristol goes out to a bar, rides a mechanical bull and gets in a fight with a heckler. The man calls her mother “a whore.” The following exchange in which Bristol concludes that he must be “a homosexual” did not air. (See the video here.)
The critics point out that Bristol’s parenting challenges aren’t quite the same as most people’s. Her childcare issues, writes Robert Lloyd in The Los Angles Times, “stem from not wanting to hire ‘some random baby-sitter,’ not from a lack of wherewithal.” Lloyd also points out that we see Bristol and Willow shop for groceries and clothing, “without Tripp…presumably looking after himself back at the mansion.” Lori Rackl of the Chicago Sun-Times notes that “The trio move into a Beverly Hills mansion where Bristol has to teach Tripp things like the difference between a bidet and a water fountain. No one said being a single mom was easy.”
Perhaps more disturbing for fans of the adorable, scene-stealing Tripp, Bristol’s son with her teenage-years boyfriend Levi Johnston, is the single mom’s willingness to torch Tripp’s dad on national television. Alessandra Stanley, reviewing the show in The New York Times, writes that “the show’s promos show Bristol putting Johnston’s memoir ‘Deer in the Headlights,’ on a range and firing at it with a rifle, saying, ‘This is for all the single moms.’” Stanley says that “Much of the narrative revolves around Bristol’s attempts to shame her ex-boyfriend into seeing his son.”
And if you thought this write-up was more toward “scathing” than “flattering,” this is what the New York Times had to say:
“That big sister-little sister dynamic [between Bristol and Willow] has some real-life resonance, but the “Teen Mom” poignancy is undercut by the palatial surroundings.”
And from the Washington Post:
“Even if you have a lasting grudge against all things Palin, there’s no payoff here. It’s a new low for anyone who makes the mistake of watching.”
And my personal favorite, from the Chicago Sun-Times:
“With the exception of the bull-ride-gone-bad scene, Bristol’s day-to-day life isn’t very interesting. Neither are the occasional shots where Sarah Palin pops up to offer homespun wisdom and maternal advice…. What we’re left with are Bristol and Willow shopping, squabbling and engaging in vapid conversations. In other words, the Alaskan Kardashians.”
Well. I guess we’re talking about some serious must-see TV here, guys. Would it be a crime against humanity if I actually tuned into the next episode? Because I’m kind of curious about this particular trainwreck-type thing that one of the most narrow-minded bitches in “Hollywood” wants to show us. You know. Just so I can mock it profusely.
You know you’ve struck a nerve when even J-Woww tweets insults at you. But the thing that most amazes me is how few people actually addressed the points I made in my recent blog post. They were pretty simple. Conservative women like my mom get grief because people think they can’t make decisions without their husband, but Barack Obama gets applauded for changing his mind on a huge issue after consulting his wife and young daughters. The double standard amazes me.
Pop culture needs a little bit of debate. It needs a little bit of disagreement. … But what you won’t find is any disagreement about things like gay marriage or abortion. For those folks, there’s one way to think, and anyone who disagrees is stupid, hypocritical, hateful, or bigoted. … If you read the almost 3,000 comments after my controversial post, you’ll see some of the most terrible words against me, my mom, and my entire family.
You’ll see hate in the name of love. People claim they’re just trying to protect the right of two people to love each other – a right I don’t contest, by the way – and then spew the worst words imaginable at someone they disagree with. If the agenda is love, why do you hate so intensely? You’ll see bullying in the name of tolerance. Around Hollywood, there’s lots of concern and great initiatives to try to encourage more kindness in this world. Then why do I get so many messages telling me I should die?
Oh, now Bristol‘s an anti-bullying feminist who wants you to … I don’t know what. I don’t get where she’s going with the Obama thing. Yeah, she makes a good case about bullying, and it’s definitely not OK to bully someone for, you know, bullying, but that’s basically what she’s been doing this entire time, now, hasn’t it? Telling gays that they shouldn’t get married because it’s “unnatural” and suggesting that those who are gay are puerile and immature and haven’t grown up yet? It’s like, “Wait. I’m sorry, what?”
The post goes on to further ostracize people for disagreeing with her (and in this case, I’m not talking about those who are infinite hate-mongers who can only insult and call her “fat” and “stupid” and “retarded,” because those who can’t make a point during an argument without swearing and insulting and carrying on don’t make much of a point either, I’m afraid), and you can read it in its entirety here.
All I know is that it’s pretty damned convenient that Bristol’s in the process of putting the final touches on her new reality show, Life’s a Tripp, right? … No? Complete coincidence? Right. I totally thought so, too, but I had to ask my husband to be sure.