That kid is mine.......
The father of Anna Nicole’s baby is me.
The death of anyone is a tragedy, especially when a frenzied media seems to have contributed.
Especially tragic is the death of Anna Nicole Smith, who, if born in 1967, was only 40 or pushing 40.
No doubt she was truly heartbroken by the death of her son, but who was stroking whom?
We’d catch snippets of Entertainment Tonight airing the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth of Anna Nicole, smearing the heavy mascara on her eyes.
Over and over again the footage replayed; ET was playing the Fox-card: worship of fame and notoriety, huge bazooms spilling out of her tiny dress, a camera that loves tears.
Who watches this stuff? Surely not us. The ET snippets interject when we stop the taped news to get another entree. And it was always Anna Nicole whimpering.
One wonders how sincere this actually was? Hairman and his wife are clearly sad, but they aren’t always crying.
Seems ET was playing a part too — it was always the same footage over-and-over again: weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
So now we have a grandiose patronage dispute: some young unshaven punk loudly declaring he’s the father of the baby, and a strident L.A. attorney demanding Anna Nicole’s remains be preserved.
And the hilarity of Zsa Zsa Gabor’s elderly husband claiming he might be the father.
Well, they’re all wrong.
I roared the LHMB into the sanctity of her plush bedroom, and between satin sheets we engaged in a torrid sex-tryst, mano-a-mano smothered in boobs.
All the way to the Supreme Court, baby! That kid is mine!
The death of anyone is a tragedy, especially when a frenzied media seems to have contributed.
Especially tragic is the death of Anna Nicole Smith, who, if born in 1967, was only 40 or pushing 40.
No doubt she was truly heartbroken by the death of her son, but who was stroking whom?
We’d catch snippets of Entertainment Tonight airing the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth of Anna Nicole, smearing the heavy mascara on her eyes.
Over and over again the footage replayed; ET was playing the Fox-card: worship of fame and notoriety, huge bazooms spilling out of her tiny dress, a camera that loves tears.
Who watches this stuff? Surely not us. The ET snippets interject when we stop the taped news to get another entree. And it was always Anna Nicole whimpering.
One wonders how sincere this actually was? Hairman and his wife are clearly sad, but they aren’t always crying.
Seems ET was playing a part too — it was always the same footage over-and-over again: weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
So now we have a grandiose patronage dispute: some young unshaven punk loudly declaring he’s the father of the baby, and a strident L.A. attorney demanding Anna Nicole’s remains be preserved.
And the hilarity of Zsa Zsa Gabor’s elderly husband claiming he might be the father.
Well, they’re all wrong.
I roared the LHMB into the sanctity of her plush bedroom, and between satin sheets we engaged in a torrid sex-tryst, mano-a-mano smothered in boobs.
All the way to the Supreme Court, baby! That kid is mine!
posted by BobbaLew at 7:49 AM
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