Anna Nicole Smith
Kim du Toit
February 11, 2007
7:05 AM CDT
I was half-watching Bill O’Reilly’s show on Fox TV the other night, and the topic de la nuit was the untimely death of Anna Nicole Smith. O’Reilly, of course, proceeded to enrage me with his lordly condescension: “I don’t know anything about her—I have other things to worry about: the war, the economy and other important things.”
Yeah, you supercilious prick; “important things” like the weekly “Body Language” piece on the attitudes of famous people and what it tells us. Gah.
But that’s not what we’re here for today.
I always liked Anna Nicole Smith, because she was what used to be known as a “good time gal”: larger than life, a zest for living, a soap-opera lifestyle, and all the things that make women hate her and men be fascinated by her.
And of course, there were her two crowning assets:
I don’t care about all the wailing and weeping about her morals, lifestyle and what have you. She started off as a counter girl at the Dairy Queen in Mexia, Texas, and anyone who’s ever been to Mexia (and other towns like it) will not begrudge inhabitants of said towns the opportunity to escape them any way they can.
That Anna Nicole had two such opportunities (her boobs, and marrying a billionaire) is not a cause for envy, in other words, but a cause for appreciation. Look: you can only make money four ways in this world: earning, stealing, marrying or inheriting. She earned hers with her best asset(s), and married into some more.
Then, she blew it all away with drugs. Oh well. In the grand scale of things, Anna Nicole’s was an inoffensive life: she gave us something to look at (did she ever), something to laugh at (her lifestyle and antics), and now something to shake our heads over (her untimely death). Compared to other truly reprehensible lives, she was quite harmless.
Let that be her epitaph. Or maybe a better one would be: ”She had the world’s finest breasteses.”
R.I.P.
Weekend Women
