Anna Nicole Smith, RIP

In what feels like a fitting end to a twisted tale of fiction, Anna Nicole Smith has been found dead in her hotel room.

But Ms. Smith was not a work of fiction; she just played one on TV. Everything about her was...there is no other way to say it...larger than life. From her most notable physique, to her television series—from her stereotypical ditz-iness, to her marriage and subsequent widowhood with its incumbent oversized inheritance—the gal lived the vida loca in a way that virtually defined the self-absorbed media generation we live in. It is Anna Nicole’s world, and we just live in it.

Or is it better to say that we are a world of Anna Nicole’s? Her life certainly had its tragic moments and Hollywood glamour. Anna's tabloid appearances were marked by the excesses many crave, and seemed to be interrupted only by those who would "out-Anna" her. Paris and Brittany have certainly tried. We view their wretched experiences in slow-motion reply again and again. They are the court jesters of our age—the minstrels that entertain us and then move on, having failed to truly move us at all.

Today, however, we take pause. One of our clown-princesses has left the stage with a final, tragic bow as she follows her son, so recently departed. Regardless the excesses and comic faults, we find it is easy to believe that she did love her son--perhaps even cherished him. But it is evident that she lacked the ability to fully understand that love or communicate it through deed and sacrifice. Perhaps now, joined again—loose the mortal coil so fragile and flawed—mother and son may find peace in the arms of grace.

Now, Paris and Brittany (et al) will be forced to compete with Anna's bizarre mix of truth and calumny, the rage of media fervor that will no doubt drip red with the salacious details of her final days, and the coming conspiracy theories that will spare us not. Unfortunately, I suspect that they will compete very well indeed.

Anna Nicole Smith, dead at 39--Frebruary 7, 2007. She is survived by her four-month old daughter. RIP.

- Huckleberry