THE PALIN CODE – CRACKED! | A Damsel in Distress



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Meditating the other morning after Pilates, this hinky revelation filled my spiritual consciousness.


You guessed it: The whole like totally "Gay-in-Denial" subtext to the Sarah Palin story!


It’s Psych 101, really, and I’m embarrassed it only just now hit me.


It has to do with like President Bush nicknaming his Veep “Turd Blossom” and stuff.


It’s ALL in a name. THE names, in fact.


So – The Palins!




Sarah’s” a name in the Bible.


Todd” (too-gay TWO d’s instead of one), “Track,” “Trig,” “Tripp,” “Bristol,” “Willow” and “Piper” don't occur in either the Old or New Testament.


Right off, Sarah goes all, “I’m in the Bible and you’re not.” She’s like got biblical authority name-wise and the rest of the family are named for trailer-trash infidels so I go like, “Mom, you’re spooky!” and she goes all, “I’m not your mom, Tramp.”




“Meaningless coincidence,” you say? Sarah was born to devout Catholic parents who deliberately named her from the Bible. (She later converted to devout Pentecostal. She’s devoutly flexible. But always Right.)


She married an aggressively butch physical laborer named Todd with two d’s (wink, wink) and a disco van Dyke (a moustache cum goatee). Here’s a closeup of a van DYKE, wink, wink).




With me so far? See where this is going? (I couldn’t believe it either. Meditation is powerful!)


“Tod” is confident, sufficient. “Todd” is affected, insecure and screams “I’ve got TWO d’s!”


Plus Todd’s all up in van-Dyked L.L. Bean plaid lumberjack-and-Levis drag (in candids) and looks TOTALLY eager to “Vogue” at the drop of a Madonna track while Sarah’s out there field-dressing a moose in the tundra or something.


“Track” being the name of a Palin son. Oh, YES, Razorbabies!


The MEN in Sarah’s family are Todd, Track, Tripp and Trig!


Get it? With the “T’s?” SO cute. So contrived. Like the Duggars and their “J’s.” (Space forbids exhaustive examination of the ancient esoteric symbolism of the letter “T” with its crossed-phalli implications both for warfare and manly love.)


Todd, Track, Trig and Tripp are pseudo-priapic-but-actually-diminutive, even ridiculous, fake names for males unless they’re in boy-bands or being subtly emasculated by their women. Or they’re pets.


Real men have names like Fred. They DO NOT frame their lips with van Dykes.


(Sarah, Americans saw through this whole trick-name coverup back in the day.)




Rock, Guy and Tab. Still, and to their credit, no van Dykes.


The Palin WOMEN, on the other hand – Bristol, Willow and Piper – are named for (respectively) the beautiful Alaskan Bay where Bristol was conceived in a motel (as weren’t we all?); a wistful tree symbolizing weakness and sorrow (“weeping willow”); and a small but feisty private aircraft (Piper Cub – ANOTHER diminutive name, but an exquisite piece of machinery ready to take you higher if you can grab her. So like me, in many ways. I sense a bonding with Piper, though somewhat older than she.)


Sarah (Biblical authority and matriarch) is the family’s real breadwinner. Everybody else is named like a pet or a plane. “Here’ Track! C’mon, boy! Frisbee”


I couldn’t BE more distressed about the Palin’s intra-familial psychodynamic.


Except for Piper. She’s the one to watch. The rest are as predictable as sunrise.




Yet even Piper exhibits potentially disturbing qualities in this capture. Is she finishing off a bag of Corn Nuts or contemplating something far darker re: Trig?


Which brings us to “Levi” Johnston – ANOTHER Alaskan male named for a butch marketing brand (rugged blue jeans) and self-described “fucking redneck” which is pretty butch too.


Levi’s the father (with Bristol) of the bastard Tripp. Don’t you LOVE Levi? He’s writing a tell-all book about the Palins and I’m all, “He can write!”




Girls? If you ran into this cutie at the rail at Cajun’s . . . would you or wouldn’t you?


How’s about if you knew he had an illegitimate son, his own surname tattooed on his left forearm as a reminder, and a book deal?




But just when you think Levi escaped the Alaskan curse of testosterone-validating tags like Todd, Track, Trig and Tripp – it gets WORSE!


God help me and cross my heart, Levi’s bodyguard is named “Tank.”


(Bodyguard? At Levi's age? The only people who hate him are the Palins. This CAN'T be good. What does he know that we don't? Can't WAIT for the book.)




“I baptize thee ‘Tank’ in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy
Ghost. That’s right, my son. ‘Tank.’ ”


Seriously. You couldn’t get by with a bodyguard named “Tank” in a Chuck Norris flick.


Speaking of Hollywood scripts and names and stuff . . . maybe you SHOULDN’T revisit the story of Sarah in the Bible. Unless you want to know the ugly underlying archetype for the Palin family dynamic and why therapy isn’t an option.


It’s all in the NAMES!


Next up, Razorbabies?


Hidden esoteric implications in the name, “Huckabee.” (First syllable alone portends treacherous subliminal territory . . . but we’ll go there . . .)


Or my name isn’t, you know –






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