I don't care how she died, I don't care what killed her, and I don't care what was in her refrigerator. I don't care about her son, I don't care about her ex-husband(s), I don't care about her mom, her dad, her dog, her cat, or anything! I don't care who fathered the kid she had while her other kid was dying of whatever the hell he died of--and I don't want to know what he died of, because--
I DON'T CARE!!!
Another half-assed celebrity got utterly flensed on something and died--what about it? Anna Nicole Smith's primary talents were:
1) big breasts
2) marrying that rich guy
...and that's it, end of fucking list! She got so intoxicated that threw up while unconscious and choked on her own vomit. It's a dumb-ass way to die but the only thing tragic about it is how utterly fucking stupid it is.
I don't ever root for anyone's death (well, I did give a satisfied smile when I learned that Yassar Arafat had died) but I'm not going to shed any tears or express any regret over the death of a stupid overinflated celebrity who never did a single god-damned worthwhile thing in her life and died because she was utterly incapable of exercising any self-control whatsoever.
And I'm sick of the goddamned media shoving it down my thraot, too.