It's not that I am really obsessed with celebrities. I'm not. I don't read People or UsWeekly, and only sometimes click on the salacious headlines in the celebrity section of the online Arizona Republic that try to lure me in with all sex, all the time. (For example, the headlines as of this minute include: Britney's No Lesbian, Mischa Barton's Nude Fury, and Courteney Cox's Nude Pride. My father works for a classy news organization, no?)
It's just that celebrities often make for good conversation. I like to think of myself as being loving and compassionate and able to mourn with those who mourn, and so it is with great sadness that I report that Anna Nicole Smith has died. I say "report" because I might have a window of about two minutes after I post this during which this still might be news to someone.
This is why I'm sad: What a crappy life.
Like I said, I am not obsessed with Miss Smith and don't know all the details of her sordid experience on this earth, but what I do know makes me very, very sad for her. Lawsuit after lawsuit (thank you, but I'll pass), paternity issues, depression and anguish over her son's sudden death, marriage for money to an old geezer (sick!), paparazzi galore (eckk), substance abuse, dieting controversy, weight struggles. And, and by this I mean no disrespect to the dead, she was pretty much Floozy Central. How could that bring anyone happiness? Poor Anna.
I was at a funeral yesterday for a woman who died unexpectedly at the very young age of 46. Her funeral caused me to reflect again on the transition that is death and how there is a certain peace associated with it that I welcome. I am not anxious for my loved ones to die, but I find a degree of beauty in the process.
I'm really hoping that for Miss Anna Nicole Smith, there is a peacefulness and that she has a better go of things in the next life. I'm rooting for her.