Tuesday, February 27, 2007

How Many Blondes . . .?

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since the curtain fell on Anna Nicole Smith. (NOTE TO BLONDES: A curtain didn’t really fall on her. That’s not how she died. You don’t have to step away from the window). Yet the sideshow continues unabated. Funny how that happens in America. We value many people more in death than in life. Okay, I guess that happens in Vatican City, too.

Since she was (is?) such an easy target, I refrained from blogging about her demise, or her life as an icon of stupidity. But, you know . . . it’s my job.

My first shock came when my beloved said, “Poor Anna Nicole.” I heard a vertebra pop as my head snapped around. “What the fuck do you mean, ‘poor Anna’?”

But he’s not alone. The world is fascinated with this tragedy. And saddened by the loss . . . of . . . of . . . OF WHAT, people?!?!?

Granted, she’s a tragic figure, but this is Darwinism at it’s finest. She was dumber than a box of hair! And other than getting skinny for a big payday (don’t kid yourself—she didn’t do it for her health! And I bet you a million that Trim Spa wasn’t the only thing slimming her down.) what did she ever accomplish? Or try to? (Being a GUESS model sooooo doesn’t count.)

Anna Nicole Smith lead with her greatest assets—literally. There was nothing else there. When she was coherent, which was seldom, she STILL didn’t make any sense. But there’s nothing like a good train wreck, huh? Just don’t act like it’s a tragedy. Or a shock. We all saw it coming.

Growing up in Texas, we’re no strangers to golddiggers. Ever watch the Miss Texas pageant?

But the paternity issue? CRAZY. Okay, first of all, how many different guys did she fuck without using protection? We have people coming out of the woodwork claiming to have slept with her during the time she became pregnant. And then there’s the dead man’s sperm theory. Ewww.

God, I hope for little Dannielyn’s sake that the fastest swimmer had some brain cells in there, too.

So, Anna . . . Godspeed. You’ll be happy to know that all the boys are still fussing over you. At least now you can stop taking all the drugs “‘cuz it hurt yer head to think so much.”

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