And so it goes

The big news of the day?  The political sham relationship between Bristol Palin and Levi Johnston has ended.

"I still hate you."

Ah yes, the fairy tale engagement, which only happened because John McCain for some reason chose Sarah Palin as his running mate, is over.  Bristol Palin can go back to caring for her son (and perhaps her other son), and Levi Johnston can go back to doing whatever people do in Alaska, I don't know, fish?

Throughout all of this nonsense during the campaign, I think I felt the worst for Levi Johnston and Bristol Palin (well probably Trigg, actually).  Here are two teenagers who have sex like all teenagers do (except me) and whoops, they get pregnant.  What then should have been a completely private matter between the two of them and some sled dogs becomes a national news story; they are no longer allowed to decide if they want to keep the baby and are forced to marry probably the first person they've ever slept with.

For political purposes, this chucklehead Levi Johnston gets paraded around the RNC as an example of I have no idea what, and every move this guy makes is pretty much dictated to him for three months because he had sex with his girlfriend.  Then, the campaign ends, the baby is born, and he can go back to his hockey.  

The tumult that political children go through is pretty much never-ending; Chelsea Clinton went through a pubescent nightmare in front of the country among others.  But Bristol Palin?  What could she have ever expected in terms of press and notoriety, a photographer snapping a picture of her having some spiked cider at the Iditarod?  She wasn't groomed like the Bush daughters and Chelsea Clinton were, always having to be on guard and always knowing there was a next step up.

Ah, young love... oh, wait, I mean young fucking.  That's right, young fucking.