Discover more from Trashberg
The quiet horrors of Cally Gingrich
Every day of my life I wonder what she and Newt talk about when they're alone.
It’s time to talk about something that has weighed heavily on my mind for years now. It’s time to talk about this.
Before we get too deep, though, a quick note: If you’re reading this in Gmail, I urge you instead to open this edition of Trashberg in your browser. The below warning has been staring me in the face for the entirety of this post’s construction, meaning that Gmail is almost certainly cutting it off fairly high up. You’ll need to go here for the full experience.
As a quick refresher, Newt Gingrich is the former House speaker who is a huge part of the reason things are as fucked up as they are, and Callista is his third wife and former mistress. His first wife was formerly his high school math teacher, which is neither here nor there but is just generally a fun thing to remember.
Now, casual followers of Callista Gingrich’s social media already know of the more overt horrors held within. There is the alarming overuse of the FaceTune app, which is normally used to smooth out blemishes but can also be used to remove any indication that Newt Gingrich has a neck.
Skin like a fine velvet—just stunning.
In one instance, she even appeared to go so far as to FaceTune her darling Newt’s arms.
There are also the unsettling shots of her cooking enormous pots of chili in funeral attire.
Something which, I hasten to add, has indeed happened more than once.
And of course, there is the occasional, if subtle, implication that she has taken it upon herself to finally murder Newt.
While all of this is perfectly upsetting in its own right, there is one aspect of Cally’s Instagram in particular that rewards close observers with a mounting sense of dread. I know of no way to describe it other than The Cally.
The Cally is Callista Gingrich’s signature shot. Its rules are thus:
Cally must almost always be wearing some variation of pink. Pink is for girls.
Newt must almost always be wearing some variation of blue. Blue is for boys.
Only one may vary from this color scheme at any given time, and even then, the only acceptable alternative is a pale yellow. Yellow is genderless.
One of them absolutely must be wearing sunglasses, though ideally both gazes will remain hidden.
Newt is on the viewer’s left. Cally is on the right. There can be no exceptions.
Cally will be FaceTuned while Newt’s pores will mostly be left to the wolves.
Smile. Bare teeth.
And finally, golf cart background preferable.
This is not something Cally dreamed up recently. According to my research, she began perfecting this shot as early as 2014. And when viewed within the larger context of her Instagram, the reappearance of this particular arrangement is easy to overlook. Each one is separated by shots of the Pope, Newt’s dinner, all the things Cally holds dear. But take notice of the repetition just once, and The Cally quickly become all you can see. Your dreams become an endless scroll of plastered smiles on smooth Callies and sweaty-faced Newts, boring into your innermost self as you pray for relief.
But, please, don’t take my word for it. Observe.
You probably think it’s about to end, right?
So, what does this all mean? And what are Newt and Cally trying to tell us? Is there some hidden message that makes itself apparent should one view these images in their totality?
Perhaps we are meant to view the phenomenon not as a vertical scroll, but as some sort of video message delivered in parts. In which case, we must make those parts whole.
But while difficult to look at and generally upsetting—no, this does not seem to be the answer.
Perhaps the solution runs even deeper, and we’re meant to warp an already distorted reality one step further.
Now we seem to be getting somewhere. One thing that stands out here is the stunning uniformity of Cally’s grin. Though it may occasionally shift an inch up or to the left, its proportions remain exact. Something that cannot be said for Newt’s own varying lengths of smirk.
Curiously, though, should you combine the entire library of images into one in an effort to find the average, it’s Newt’s smile that actually remains the most visible.
Let’s take a closer look.
In fact, two specific qualities remain largely consistent. And should we zero in on those two aspects even further, a mysterious truth emerges.
What will survive of us is smirk, as the poet did not write.
At this point, you may be thinking to yourself that I’m simply overanalyzing things, or as one friend so ignorantly put it, that Cally is simply a woman who “knows her angles.” But there is more going on here, surely. If history tells us anything, it’s that Cally is entirely deliberate when it comes to presentation.
Knowing one's angles does not account for composition or color scheme or Newt. There are no accidents. I do believe we’ve broken major ground here, but the whole truth of The Cally has yet to be seen in full.
And while there’s no real indication that the below tweet is related in any way, there’s also no indication that it isn’t. So with that in mind, I will see you all on Friday.