Whoa! Total surprise today.
Giant sinkholes are swallowing cars? Damn.
Oh yeah, and the murder of Anna Nicole Smith by her greedy lawyer/boyfriend. So sad, coming only months after the death of her son and less than a week after Barbaro's.
Let me just say a few words to help the healing process begin so we can move on to the death of Britney Spears.
I'll miss a lot of things about Anna Nicole Smith.
I'll miss the way she would get together with Courtney Love and Andrea Yates for playdates, having a few, and talking about life as feminist icons, while their kids fell over and smacked their heads on the pavement.
"Get over yourself, pooker-poo," she would gently urge her crying spawn. "How're we gonna make babies together someday if you're all cryin' and shit?"
I'll miss how she used to get stuck under the coffee table trying to find her little dog.
I'll miss how she made Paula Abdul seem normal.
I'll miss the way she would go to Old Timer's Day at the ball park and seduce Darryl Strawberry and then call him everyday for the next 7 months demanding hush money.
But most of all, I'll miss her hygiene.
Now the coroner's office will set about the grim task of determining what happened while resisting the urge to play with her hogans. Was it booze and pills? Swallowing cars? Jewish lawyer/boyfriend? Has anyone spoken to the Kennedys or the Clintons? Are we sure she's dead? We will soon know or never know.
After all that, it's off to the taxidermist for her final stuffing and mounting before her final resting spot amongst the memorabilia in the Vegas Hard Rock. Farewell ANS! You lived your life like a candle on a cake. Stuck in the butter and eggs and sugar, waiting to be snuffed. As long as I have a pillow and my wife's makeup to paint it, I'll never forget you.