Some Day My Prince Will Come

And then he'll demand a DNA test.

I saw this evening that "Prince" Frederic von Anhalt Gabor is suing the Fox News Channel and insane American TV nutcase Bill O'Reilly, because O'Reilly called him a fraud for claiming to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's final baby. Freddy Gabor is suing for $10,000,000, so I guess he's run through Zsa Zsa's money.

Since O'Reilly called Freddy a fraud, Prince Not-Remotely-Charming says people give him dirty looks when he goes to the grocery store. (What the hell is a "Prince" doing in a grocery store in the first place? Doesn't he have servants, or at least a foul-tempered, middle-aged Hispanic woman, to do for him? Even in England, where they have real princes, you don't run into Prince Andrew at Von's. I suppose you might glimpse Prince Edward entering Ralph's, but only through the rear. I've certainly never seen Prince Charles in the Piggly Wiggly, which oddly enough, is his pet nickname for Lady Camilla.)

"They say, 'Look, here comes the fraud.'," Mr. Gabor said, "I get lots of e-mails from people bad-mouthing me. It's very embarrassing." Am I supposed to believe this has only just started happening to him? I would think he'd been causing hysterical laughter wherever he went for years. Well, going public with this lawsuit will certainly put a stop to that.

I never thought someone could ever sue Fox News and Bill O'Reilly, and I would be on Fox's & O'Reilly's side, but you, my wacky darling, take the fruitcake. "Prince" Freddy dear, those people calling you a fraud, pointing at you, giggling, whispering, mocking you, guffawing at you, and rolling on the ground in uncontrollable glee, laughing their brains out at the very sight of you, may very well never even have heard of Bill O'Reilly. You couldn't pay me to watch anything on Fox News, and yet I think you're a fraud, a sad, sad fraud. All it really takes to find you hilariously revolting is to know of you. To paraphrase a beloved old song:

To know, know, know you,
Is to laugh, laugh, laugh at you,
And I do, and I do, and I do.

I'm amazed that you find your emails, or indeed anything, embarassing. You proudly married Zsa Zsa Gabor, a woman some 31 years older than you. You went on TV to announce with more pride that you cuckolded your wife, something most men prefer to keep quiet, and then told the world that you had a lengthy affair with a brain-dead, gold-digging whore whose body has now caught up with her brain, and you have now become one of a gaggle of pride-challenged men claiming paternity of Anna Nicole Smith's beleaguered infant. For Heaven's sake, you were on Bill O'Reilly's TV show to brag about bagging the buxom gold-digger-turned-corpse in the first place. Given all that, I naturally assumed that you are immune to embarrassment. Whatever your emails are, for sheer humiliation, they can't possibly compete with what comes out of your face every time you open your mouth on camera.

What did you expect? Congratulations? Envy? An invitation to mentor young sleazeball-wannabes? Did you perhaps think you'd get a ton of emails all saying, "Good going! Smear more humiliation on that Hungarian ditz you married. Cheat on her often and publicly. We know it wasn't cheap, whoring sex with Anna; well, not just cheap, whoring sex. We all know what a brilliant conversationalist she was. We love you! If my son doesn't grow up to be the next Bobby Trendy, then I hope he becomes the next Prince Freddy von Anhalt Gabor!"

You know, I also admitted in my earlier flogging (The Elusive Tragedy), that I fathered Anna's ultimate child, but I at least had the common indecency to be ashamed of it.

Poor Zsa Zsa. (Words I never thought I'd utter.) I hope for her sake that she's in a coma.

It's a long and honored tradition in Hollywood that we female stars marry European royalty and get ourselves a title. I did it myself. Since 1929, I have been Countess Tallulah Morehead Knight Thalberg Tepes of Transylvania.

My prince was the late Count Vlad Tepes, who was 500 years old, and who survived the centuries by drinking the blood of the living and serving Satan. (As an employer, Satan has great benefits, but a lousy retirement package.) He died the morning after our wedding night of a severe Sun allergy.

Clearly I did one Hell of a lot better than Zsa Zsa.

Cheers darlings.