Dear Levi Johnston,
‘Sup, Levi? (Do you mind if I call you Levi? Do people still say ‘sup’?) We have to talk, woman-to-man. Or woman-to-child, if you wanna split newly-sprung chest hairs about it. Here’s the thing: you are not supposed to be famous. In no conceivable way, under the holy Hollywood letters and all the pristine, historical greatness they represent, were you ever supposed to be a celebrity.
Let’s get real here: you knocked up a political candidate’s teenage kid. Now, I know you didn’t get real far in that whole school thing, so I’m going to break down the important parts of this letter into lists. Stop me if you need an explanation or a nap or a bologna sandwich:
What Knocking Up a Political Candidate’s Teenage Daughter DOES NOT Mean:
1) You are a model
2) You are an actor
3) Your opinions on things are of interest to people
4) Your name should be in magazines for more than a day
5) You should sleep with Lindsay Lohan (shut up, you know you were about to hit that with a social-climbing vengeance!)
What Knocking Up a Political Candidate’s Teenage Daughter DOES Mean:
1) You are a daddy
2) You’re probably about to be well on down the road to alcoholism
And that’s it! That’s all.
Now, listen, I don’t mean to be harsh because the thing is, I don’t even blame you. The whole idea of what merits the station of “celebrity” in this culture has become so twisted and distorted in recent years that you can’t /i>really be held responsible for that sense of celebutard entitlement you felt when you first saw your picture on the news.
We live in a sad, weird time where people are no longer satisfied with 15 minutes of fame; the quest to turn that into numerous paid interviews, a book deal, and a reality show is now the order of the day. It’s an ugly scene out there and real talent is increasingly getting lost in the shuffle.
But you can be the future, Levi. You’re young, white, male and (as we all know now) you’ve got a sweet little ass and with those things, the sky is the limit for you! Break the cycle! Reject the dirty, tainted, meaningless, tabloid-driven brand of nouveau-fame! You’ll be better off, as will the rest of us.
What you need to do is this:
1) Get rid of the bodyguard. You don’t need a bodyguard. The only thing anyone could possibly incite enough anger in people as to make them want to harm your fetus-face is the fact that you are arrogant enough to have a bodyguard. Ergo, you’ll be safer without him.
2) If you promise full-frontal, full-frontal you must deliver.
3) Go hang out with your baby.
4) Go back to school.
5) Embrace the less-is-more philosophy of hair products; there’s really no excuse for a young, straight dude to go all glam-goop with his coif.
6) Don’t ever let yourself be photographed next to Jon Gosselin again.
I really hope this reaches you, dearest Levi. And I hope you take my words to heart. Be all you can be and all that jazz.
Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen
