Northern exposure

Like many of you, I was shocked at the news that the guy who almost married Sarah Palin’s daughter was going to pose nude for Playgirl magazine.

Who knew that Playgirl was still around? I though it fizzled out in the ’80s with other tacky rags like “Oui.”

Wait, there’s more; this story is disturbing on other levels as well.

Who on God’s earth wants to see Levi Johnston in the buff? His sole claim to fame is knocking up Palin’s daughter.

He couldn’t even complete the second half of the double play; he didn’t even get hitched to Bristol, whom I believe is named after a city in Connecticut. For that matter, I believe the father of her child is named after a brand of blue jeans.

Can this tale get worse? As Sarah would say, “You betcha!”

The news story said that “To get ready for his close-up, Johnston is training three hours a day, six nights a week at an Anchorage gym with a local body builder.”

In other words, instead of looking like the pudgy, untoned kid he is, he will look sort-of hunky for the photo shoot. Whatever happened to truth in advertising?

You know the day after the pics, he will go back to Ding Dongs and Dr Pepper.

Yet he will carry around copies of Playgirl and show them to impressionable girls in dingy Anchorage bars (yes, I know that is redundant), who will think they are getting the chance of a lifetime with Someone Glamorous.

Sad. Very sad.