Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Abscess Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

We can all relax now, and go back to ranting about how Sanjaya Maladroit hasn't been evicted from American Idol yet, despite being the most unbearable "singer" since Nelson Eddy. (I don't know who is voting for him, but I have noticed that for two hours after the American Idol broadcast each week, you can not get tech support.) The autopsy results are in for Anna Nicole Smith Marshall Stern Birkhead Denk Hatten Morehead von Anhalt Gabor, and to our National Relief, the cause of her death has turned out to be Natural Causes.

Specifically, she died of "an accidental overdose of prescription drugs." Darlings, what could be more natural? When a creature behaves according to it's nature, that's Natural Causes! I suppose you keep meticulous track of how much chloral hydrate, diazepam, and methadone you take each day? Let me tell you, once that chloral hydrate kicks in, it's pretty damn hard to keep track of anything, even who is impregnating you.

I try to avoid most prescription drugs myself, as you never know which ones react badly with alcohol, and I react badly without alcohol. I had a terrible Brush With Death myself a few years back that came from mixing vodka with chloral hydrate. I'd been knocking back the vodka tonics all evening with Bea Arthur (I adore all The Golden Shower Girls, although after Betty White clocked poor little Leslie Jordan with a skillet on Boston Legal, I no longer allow her near my kitchen.), and then I misunderstood my doctor's instructions, and thought he'd said I needed some "Choral Hydrate", and I ended up inadvertently drowning the baritone section of The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They hushed it up, of course.

There's been a lot of ballyhoo about an infected abscess on Anna's lovely and spacious behind. Some people seem to think that Foul Play must have been involved, although, apart from Chevy Chase being in it, it's a perfectly good movie. The giant albino in that film, Whitey Jackson, always got my knockers in a twist. Anyway, there are those who ask why no one noticed that abscess and did anything about it.

At first blush - a facial reaction outside Anna's range - it would seem that someone should have noticed, given the amount of foot traffic that butt saw. Why didn't "Prince" Frederic von Anhalt Gabor, for one, notice the abscess as he extracted his withered puss from between her cheeks? What this fails to take into account is the tremendous amount of territory that needed to be examined to find one tiny little raw, infected abscess. Are you likely to find one lone caribou when flying over Alaska in a state of bliss? Besides, in recent years, Anna's lovers, husbands, boyfriends, Gabor husbands, and delivery men were all probably keeping their eyes tightly closed all the time she was naked, out of respect. And anyone who did see it, probably mistook the abscess for Bobby Trendy. (By the way, why the hell hasn't Bobby Trendy put in a claim to be little Dannielynn's daddy yet? What is he waiting for? I'm perplexed.)

Given all the bizarre substances in her body - prescription drugs, silicone, von Anhalt sperm - I just hope little Dannielynn wasn't on the interminable list of people she was breast-feeding. Just how well do chloral hydrate, diazepam, methadone, and milk react with silicone anyway?

It was reported that she'd also been ill with the flu, the infection, and chronic idiocy for sometime, but had resisted going to a doctor because, and I am quoting Howie Stern now, "She wanted to avoid the media frenzy." That certainly worked out for her.

So now the results are in, and we need never bring her name up in the media again ever! She's been reunited in Media Hell with the man she always claimed was her One True Love, darling little J. Howard Marshall II, a fairy tale ending to one of the greatest love stories of all time. All America is now sobbing worse than darling little emotionally unstable Ashley Ferl in a Ryan Seachrest-Sanjaya Maladroit manwich. The Headless Indian Brave is beside himself. (How does he do that?)

As for me: although my personal pathologist started my autopsy sometime ago, saying "Why wait till the last minute?", the results aren't in yet. Stay tuned. Until then,

Cheers darlings.


Willy B. Good said...

I wonder if that ass abscess was caused by cheeky Howard constantly kissing it. Good to see Prince has finally taken a dna test to prove to sceptics like you he really did have it in him to be a daddy.

ps- Doug's cousins down here thank you very much Tallulah for employing the scoundrel as they were very worried about his future.

Tallulah Morehead said...

How nice to see that, while I was enjoying a cocktail, a Good Willy has slipped in again.

Little Prince Gabor had it in him to be a daddy? I think you have that ass-backwards. Hmmm. Maybe he had her ass backwards, in which case, he's probably not the daddy, but Bobby Trendy just woke up.

Speaking of that Little Prince, who doesn't love "The Little Prince"? Antoine was St. ExSUPERie! The Little Prince lived on asteroid B-612, and Prince Von Anhalt Gabor is a big asteroid himself, and probably in need of a shot of B-12. For that matter, I tend to get asteroids myself, if I sit in one position for too long.

Anyway, it's always lovely when we have time travellers like Willy visit us from Tomorrowland. Little Dougie says to say hi to Scotty & Carolyn, his NZ cousins. But why would they worry about the future, when that's where they live, so they always know how tomorrow turns out?

Cheers darling.

Jim D. said...

Nice observations, Dahling!

I, for one, am praying for the day when Anna Nichol Smith is no longer mentioned anywhere, anytime, anyhow! It is not fair. I hardly hear anything about Lindsay Lohan anymore. What ever happened to equal time?

Tallulah Morehead said...

You and me both Jimbo. Anna has lowered the bar, and if little Lindsey, Britany, and Paris want the tabloid space, they're simply going to have to sink lower to crawl under it.

Perhaps a multi-state killing spree. Britany could pull an Andrew Cunanin, and drive cross-country, maybe letting her babies do the driving, and leave a path of dead bodies with shaved heads in her wake, and climax by shooting Donatella Versace.

But maybe not. Donatella is so anorexic that she would make a very difficult target. How do you shoot someone who is thinner than the bullet?

Cheers darling.

Anonymous said...

Why slam Nelson Eddy, one of the best baritones there ever was? What's YOUR problem?

He was more interesting than you could ever be, hon.