By Staff
Leada Gore, Editor
Anna Nicole Smith is dead.
I know this because it’s been all over the news – both television and print – since her death a few weeks ago.
We’ve learned more about this former Playboy centerfold than we ever wanted to know.
Like the proverbial train wreck, people just can’t seem to turn away from her story. She was the prototypical small town girl with big dreams who married and had a child too young, became an exotic dancer, married a 90-year-old billionaire and became a world-famous model. Just the typical girl next door, except for the billions of dollars, a reality show or two and the general nuttiness of her life.
While she was at best semi-famous during her life, she’s a huge celebrity now after her death.
Otherwise legitimate news channels have spent days discussing such important topics as who is the father of her baby, who was her boyfriend and where she would be buried.
I’ve heard some new announcers say the Anna Nicole saga has led more people to make sure they have wills in place to spell out their last wishes. I don’t know if that’s true, but I can tell you I’ve learned a few things from the happenings:
I’m not sure why everyone is so fascinated with Anna Nicole, other than it keeps us distracted from truly important topics such as the escalating violence in Iraq, genocide in Africa and problems here at home.
But for me, I’m done with Anna Nicole. Enough for the baby drama, the courtroom battles and the endless videos of her acting like she’s Marilyn Monroe. Enough.
In the words (sort of) of the late, great Lewis Grizzard, Anna Nicole is dead and I don’t feel so good myself.