Memoriam

She was a bimbo, an idiot, frankly, someone who was famous merely for being famous.

She's getting as much press as Gerald Ford got when he died, more than Molly Ivins, more than Milton Friedman. She contributed much less to society than any of the three.

Like many people, I am strangely sad, touched by the death of Anna Nicole Smith.

I wasn't a fan; I never found her all that interesting, or even worth discussing. But yesterday when I saw the news, I was stunned.

Maybe it's that her life just seemed so sad. She had a lot of money, but money doesn't buy class or sophistication, wisdom or happiness. It might be able to rent it for a time, but not permanently.

Any bit of happiness she might have had seemed fleeting.

It's sort of strange, being interested in the over-the-top life, and now death, of this quasi-celebrity.

I suppose it's because, no matter how flakey she was, she didn't deserve to die so young.

Sad, I guess, is the only word that aptly describes the sentiment. Sad.