Sex, Drugs and No Rock 'n Roll

I have a confession to make; and please don’t think less of me for it...

I’m addicted to the whole Anna Nicole “how did she really die/where should she be buried/who’s the daddy” saga. I know. Sick, right? Back in the day the mister was obsessed with the OJ Simpson trial (that was after being glued to the Ollie North scandal). He worked in sales at the time so would conveniently arrange his schedule around afternoons with Court TV. I didn’t get it at all. I mean that trial was very serious stuff, and I didn’t see the entertainment value in it. It was an appalling event.

Well, Anna Nicole is my OJ Simpson. It’s a train wreck and I can’t stop looking. I’m not saying her story isn’t horrendous; her son died suddenly and far too young. She died suddenly and far too young. Her life was one big cry for attention and her death appears to be the same. She led a troubled life and that didn’t stop with her death. It’s all sad ~ very sad.

But it’s also a soap opera observing the hearing deciding where she should be buried play out on national television. It’s like The Anna Nicole Show never got cancelled. The judge is hoot ~ a New Yorker in Florida with a laid back manner, a quirky sense of humour (he calls the lawyer for Anna’s Mom “Texas”) and yet surprising humanity (he makes a point of picking up the pace as the afternoon wanes on because people in the court have families to get home to). The lawyers are cutthroat and crafty. The players – and they are players – each have their own version of what happened and what should happen and what she would want. Intrigue enters in as bank accounts and sex and drugs all become part of the narrative. All that’s missing is the rock ‘n roll ~ although Anna’s biological father does kind of have Elvis hair… What’s interesting is that they have wandered so far afield you forget that the only issue that should be decided here is just where this poor soul should be put to rest. And in the big scheme of things – does it really matter? She’s gone.

I think the next chapter will be the important one (with probably even more craziness) ~ who is going to raise that poor orphaned little girl? And although, television only serves as the background to my day (really – I’m not sitting and staring at the tube, hanging on every word), I have a feeling I’ll be tuning into the cable news networks in the afternoon to see if Zsa Zsa’s husband really is the father…