An open letter to the "real" media:
Hello. My name is Alex Richmond, and I get paid to recap The Anna Nicole Show. I take umbrage with the barrage of negative press ANS has gotten from sources like CNN and EW and even daily papers because, well, that used to be my job. It seems that every reporter with a jaded outlook has hopped on the bash-wagon, and the phrase most used to describe the show is "train wreck." I won't be using that phrase, and all other "respectable" media entities, well, you may get lives now and go back to reporting the real news. You know -- the news you used to get Pulitzers for? Important news, one that actively affects citizens? Instead of sitting back and bashing a new TV show that a few million people watch, try reporting on some of the fascinating but scary stuff that's going on now. Like, there's a war on? And the stock market isn't doing too well? And, you know, major airlines and communications companies are filing for bankruptcy, and there's tons of scandal but few repercussions for many of the higher-ups, and our government is allegedly telling staffers to take vacations now before we launch an attack on Iraq? Instead of asking tough questions about important issues in our world now, you waste column inches critiquing a highly-rated but largely inconsequential reality show rip-off, and its audience -- sometimes without even WATCHING the show. WTF? Please stop trying to do my job, and get back to doing better work at yours. "Love," Alex Richmond.
Anna, in a royal blue tight turtleneck sweater and ice-blue eye shadow, faces the camera and says, "For most people, a house becomes a home when you move in, or hang a picture, or even mow the lawn. For me, my house didn't become a home until I brought my husband over." Do I even have to remind you that her husband has been dead for five years? Yeeps.
Anna, Anna, glamorous Anna, Anna Nicole!
Anna, in an American flag bandanna head-wrap, honkin' Jackie O sunglasses, and sweats, "woo-hoo"s and kvells over her lovely new home. Howard Stern is there, in a red hoodie. She playfully socks him in the arm. He cringes and shrinks away, calls her a bleep, and shows her the pic from the Guess? party. She says she looks like a "porker," but adds that she can lose the weight, whereas Howard can't go back in time and straighten out his crooked tie, which the photos caught. Wow, these people really have no friends. No one, not one person at this party, told Howard his tie was crooked? I told the hostess at the place I had brunch that she had lipstick on her teeth -- not one person can mention a crooked tie? Anna VOs that she and Kim and Daniel are all happy in the new home -- and Kim, bring all this stuff in here! Kim is the burro in this house. Anna unpacks one box and screams for another. Meanwhile, the lone mover, who looks like an extra from Staying Alive, brings in the black panther statues. We have panthers, people! It could get tackier than this, but the bar has been set pretty high. If a glass-topped panther table emerges, well, I can die happy. And if I died right now, I'd be happy. Anna gets in really close to the camera and says she isn't "slurring" her words, it's her "retainer" that's to blame. Wow, good one. An invisible retainer. Does the retainer make her nod off, too? And crawl onto a diving board and wiggle? Sure it does.