Hey America, it’s me, Bristol coming to you live (and most certainly edited) to give you, the public, a very important public service announcement about what happens when you, the bored daughter of Alaskan royalty, decide to get drunk and make maverick (aka no jimmy hat) sexytime with hotty boy toy Levi Johnston in the back of Papa Todd’s pickup.
Now, imagine for a moment, if you were not the famous daughter of Alaskan legend $arah Palin, and didn’t have moose piles of money layin’ around, and your hair went from being silky smooth and beautiful to ugly and frizzy, and all your decorative animal carcass furniture was magically taken away by invisible, probably liberal, hands??
Then maybe you too would think twice (which is one more than once!) about whippin’ out the hooha every time Levi gets a hankerin’ and mom’s off shootin’ mammals or makin’ a quick buck in the mainland.
Or you my li’l pistol, may find yourself miserable and alone, wearing a plain white t-shirt with no fancy designer labels, and nothing but a ratty sofa and precious li’l miracle of Jesus to call your own.
So please America, take it from Bristol and PAUSE BEFORE YOU PLAY…
Then feel free to have tons of meaningless, unprotected sex, and if you’re gross, and not famous, and also pathetically poor, probably go ahead and have that abortion too.
Or keep your precious li’l miracle of one drunken night of bad judgment, use Mommy’s money to launch your very own one-woman abstinence-only crusade (encouraging people to do the opposite of what you did), and remain the famously unwed teenage mother of the next weirdo-named (accidental) heir to the Alaskan throne.