gossip columnists expressed surprise at the frail, malnourished appearance of noted political icon and tarted-up pitbull Sarah Palin. "She looks like she's on the road to Karen Carpenter-hood," said someone. "Is she now writing for a pro-ana site?" asked some other person.
But no. Truth is, Sarah and her brood are writing a fitness book. It's a family-inclusive tome, with Todd, Track, Bristol, Willow and Trig contributing. The foreword will be written by Tripp, and the afterword by David Brooks. The book is due out sometime next year.
Below are excerpts from the proposed MS. [Note: this is pre-publication; there may be editorial changes, as well as stylistic changes. Book is in early stages. MUST CREDIT DRUDGE, because no one else wants the credit. Thanks, Marcy, for leaking me the galleys.]
From 'Introduction' [MUST CREDIT DRUDGE]
Which is not to say I wanted to look like Tina Fey. It is well known that I run. I exercise. I am often photographed in running shorts, and I am in Alaska. Cameras move very fast here. Because of the cold weather, the lame-stream media hates to be here, so when they are, I have to move quickly to keep the camera focused on me. Television is a visual medium, right? And with all the snow up here, I have to be in constant motion to keep the camera's interest, moving, constantly moving, otherwise any appearance of me on camera would look like I'm in an Ingrid Bergman film. Too bleak!
The only time I sit still is for a FOX News segment! I sit in front of a camera in a shack just behind my house, and I talk at the stagnant camera, and do Kegels while I'm talking.
[Editor's note: She means Ingmar, not Ingrid. Please correct.]
[Editor's note: Although Ingrid made some fine films.]
Sure, I was fat. I was a fat fatty, and I'd never danced before, but so what, I danced, right, I had a kid and I danced and OH YEAH I had a mother who RAN FOR EFFING PRESIDENT. Or Vice. Whatever. I had a mother Vice. AND SHE SUPPORTED ME WHEN NO ONE ELSE WOULD. And oh yeah, this is a fitness book, so blah, danced, lost weight. Of course, giving birth helped with the weight loss. OMG, do you know how much weight I gained while pregnant? I ate whole crates of ice cream. Seriously. When I was pregnant it was like, oh wow, I have an excuse to eat anything I want! So I did! The best thing about being expecting is that you expect your next meal immediately, no waiting, nom nom nom. Speaking of NOM, I oppose gay marriage. It's good exercise.
Do on 'Dancing with the Stars,' I received a lot of death threats. None of them came true. I really hoped to be like Jesus, but there's still hope: I'm on 'Dancing' again y'all! I might get killed yet! Then I'll be like Jesus, except with a kid, and I'm unmarried, and I'm an example for all young women ever so I'm even BETTER than Jesus.
[Editor's note: Perhaps we should not allow Bristol to discuss Jesus. Please encourage her to compare herself to Mary, or else emphasize that her mother ran for office. Thx.]
From 'Chapter 5: All of Them, Bitch' [MUST STOP CREDITING DRUDGE. SERIOUSLY. STOP. DISENGAGE]
The best exercise you can do, and I know this from experience, is to do an interview. Truly, if you don't have a journalist handy, just grab a friend and encourage that friend to ask you questions. Walk as you answer. Press your hands together, and walk, and speak nonsense. The pounds will melt away!
[Editor's note: Clarification! Must be clearer on questions asked. It's an exercise book, not a oh holy christ my career is over isn't it.]
... so I said 'All of them.' And that's all you need to do: Walk with confidence, temple your fingers, and jerk your head in pointed ways. You'll burn calories! And you'll firm your abs!
[MUST CREDIT I DON'T KNOW CREDIT HUFFINGTON POST OR SOMETHING. MUST NOT CREDIT DRUDGE]
From 'Chapter 10: Snowballin' [SWEAR TO GOD: HUFFINGTON POST. OR NYTIMES.COM]
Yeah Greta called me First Dude. Pretty cool. Shit--sorry, didn't say shit. I meant shoot. Shoot, that was cool as fuck. I ride around on a snow mobile and what I do is I shift on my ass so I'm working my glutes, my abs, and who the fuck knows what else. Shit. Shoot. Edit the shit out of this--I don't want curse words. You can edit right. Its why we hired you. Or not hired you, since we're doing a submission thing and your lucky to have a book people will buy. Edit this. I'm writing gold here. Sarah
[Editor's note: This isn't a book. It's a fiasco. I thought I'd find the next Proust. Seriously. "Fitness with the Palins." Seemed simple. Edit this, I thought, and it will make the company enough money, and I'll get promoted, and my next assignment will be 'Find our next Chabon.' But no. What am I supposed to do with this? 'Greta called me First Dude'? Seriously?]
From 'Chapter 13: My Chic-fil-A [MATT DRUDGE NO LONGER CARES WHO YOU CREDIT. HE DID NOT EXIST FOR THE PAST FOUR YEARS. MATT DRUDGE BLAMES JAMES O'KEEFE FOR THE CONFUSION]
The best thing to do for health is to eat at fast food restaurants. Hate gays! Eat at places like Chick-fil-A and hate everyone. The hate counteracts the calories, so each deep-fried chicken sandwich you eat, you burn off calories by expending energy hating other humans.
If you're lucky enough to be eating these delicious chicken sandwiches in a state not near Russia, they'll be hot sandwiches.
[Editor's note: That can't be the last line. Let me review David Brooks' afterword so I can see what I can do with this book. The family really thinks fast food... know what? Forget it.]
[MUST CREDIT HUFFINGTON POST]
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