Quick! Who's Levi Johnston?

My initial impression of Levi Johnston, when he was first introduced to us as the father of the 'inglourious basterd,' sorry, grandchild, of soon-to-be-ex Governor Palin, was L-O-S-E-R. Jobless, lacking a high school diploma, and packing his private parts into places they didn't belong, he was the poster child for Slacker Nation, Iditarod chapter.

Oh, sure, he was cute, in a hockey jock from Wasilla, Alaska kinda way. But his social networking page [facebook, myspace, whatever. . .] revealed, or rather, confirmed, his redneck persona. Here was a young buck who admitted in public that he wasn't ready for fatherhood, a confession which truly embarrassed a girlfriend whose pregnancy was past the point of no return. And no doubt pissed off her mom and dad, whose own marriage may have started off in a similar fashion.

His mother's arrest for drugs a few months later only confirmed a direct DNA link to his questionable decisionmaking skills.

But I just read a profile on the kid in GQ, a magazine, by the way, that should change its name to Gay Quarterly. The first evidence I encountered was the writer, male, of the Dating Life column, who confesses to having issues with his dates, female, because of their unfortunate choice of attire. His concerns are those which only someone of Christian LaCroix's persuasion could appreciate. "When your blind date shows up in the wrong top and last year's jeans, what's a way too fashion conscious. . .guy to do."

Come out of the closet, if you ask me.

Levi can be found tucked way in the back of this homoerotic issue [faux or not], one that features Bruno on the cover, buck naked. How I ever found the article about Bristol's sperm donor in the midst of so much distracting Austrian flamboyance is a miracle.

There are the required butched up photos of Levi with a flirty, come and get me look, wearing high end camo and carrying a rifle like a decorative accessory on his shoulder. I turned the page before suddenly realizing that the handsome, boyish hunter wasn't some New York model, but Levi himself in his element. Damn. He's telegenic. He's also featured shirtless changing his baby boy's diaper. It's a shame we don't get to see him in hockey pads and skates.

During the interview, Levi sounds like a real Let's Eat Grizzly For Breakfast outdoorsman. "I killed a big ass bear," he announces to his lawyer/publicist/buddy. Something he's been doing since he was a kid. This skill makes him perfect for one of those Saturday morning cable shows about fishing, hunting, and camping. By his own estimate, according to the article, he possesses "as much fishing, camping, and hunting experience as anybody my age in the country, if not more."

Mr. Johnston, Babe Winkelmann is on hold.

Here's the problem. I had a friend who received a classical education, meaning he could read Aristotle in the original Greek and speak Latin in casual conversation. I was suitably impressed until he said, "Yes, I've been trained to be Roman Emperor, but the job is no longer available."

Levi is more than well equipped to be an 18th century frontiersman, a trailblazer who could map the wilderness and claim virgin territory for his country. Until you check the calendar.

Despite the challenges, the article's writer suggests, rightly so, that someone ought to give Levi his fifteen minutes of fame. He has that certain je ne sais quoi which makes reality stars so fascinating. Why not find a way to let him do what he's been training for all his life? And make a little money in the process. Tiger Woods was playing golf at two. Levi has been shooting game and skinning hides almost as long. Playing hockey extremely well, I might add -- although he quit before his last year of high school eligibility, because what's her name was p.g., a guaranteed college scholarship killer. Part of the problem these two lovebugs had was being home-schooled. In the same house. Apparently when they were studying together, there was nobody monitoring study hall.

Meanwhile, it sounds like Levi may have actually loved the girl who dumped him for a chance to travel the country and promote a life of abstinence, while evidence to the contrary has been mewling and puking in her arms. Or at least he loved her as much as an unexamined life can muster up.

"I think we were in love. I wasn't one to stick with a girl for three years if I wasn't."

This story ain't over yet. They were texting each other during his interview.

And the fat lady hasn't been seen anywhere near the building.