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Now That She’s Dead, We Got Nothin’ But Love

11 February, 2007, Sunday
    “When I found out at work that she died, I actually gasped. I didn’t realize how much I liked her until now.” – ‘Lizzy’, in a  gossip blog comment

Anna Nicole Smith keels over unexpectedly, and we reward her with an outpouring of sympathy and respect. Or maybe we just feel guilty.

Gone are the once ubiquitous, unflattering pictures of fat Anna cartoonishly posing in ill-fitting, clingy dresses, that accompanied so many articles criticising her for her multitude of societal crimes.

Now it’s all soft-focus, professionally-lit glamour shots of flawless beauty that grace the columns and blog posts written in gentle, heart-sick tones of shock and sorrow.  

Women are bereft by the terrible sadness of a lonely, confused woman leaving behind an infant to an uncertain future. And men, demonstrating a gaping hole in Hallmark’s bereavement card repertoire, are offering their own tributes by tenderly declaring that Anna Nicole was still hot enough to fuck. 

There is just nothing like an early death to remind us that, celebrities, no matter how irritating, no matter how seemingly useless a fixture they may be in our lives, are still human beings just like us. And we kinda miss them when they’re gone.

Paris Hilton, I hope you are paying attention.

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One comment

  1. This just in Anna Nicole Smith is still dead. The media is nuts with the continuing coverage, the baby, who’s your daddy? Where will the body be buried? Is there no end in sight? I hope Anna and Elvis are popping ludes, smoking a J, and screwing their brains out.



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