A.N.S.(P.V.S.)R.I.P.

by David Pardue

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In a rant that all but guarantees his eventual place in hell, contributor David Pardue decides to adopt a contrary position on the national mourning of Anna Nicole Smith.

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"Individuals in a persistent vegetative state (PVS) have lost their thinking abilities and awareness of their surroundings, but retain non-cognitive function and normal sleep patterns. Even though those in a persistent vegetative state lose their higher brain functions, other key functions such as breathing and circulation remain relatively intact. Spontaneous movements may occur, and the eyes may open in response to external stimuli. They may even occasionally grimace, cry, or laugh. Although individuals in a persistent vegetative state may appear somewhat normal, they do not speak and they are unable to respond to commands."

-- National Institutes of Health definition

I know. Her body isn't even in the ground yet. It still has to be autopsied and biopsied and triopsied so that the cause of her death and the cause of her child's birth is determined -- she'll be dissected then disseminated on the evening news, or at least by the time Access Hollywood and E.T. go out.

I didn't know her, and I probably would have happily walked down the street without even recognizing her (seems impossible, I know, but I really have a talent for that). But dammit. Friends of mine are telling me they're "obsessed" with her and her untimely death. Some of them are plying me with outlandish theories of poisonings and murders and villainous lawyers, stories related in hush-hush tones that belie obvious and palpable excitement.

I'm just not all that shook up about the death of Anna Nicole Smith. At best, goodbye, oh person I didn't know. At worst, good riddance, person I'm oh-so-glad I didn't know. I caught bits and pieces of her show on E!. I saw someone with no perceivable skills, talents, or abilities stumbling around in a daze. She seemed confused by the words spoken to her, and overwhelmed by the responsibility of simply taking care of herself. She whined and cried about everything, no matter how small. She tripped over herself. She popped pills with abandon. She seemed to fall into naps quite easily and quite happily. Heck, if it weren't for her lawyer, and her hairdressers, and the rest of her barnicle-like entourage (don't think they were doing it for her -- they were in it for the paycheck), she probably would've never woken up from some of those naps a long time ago.

I know this is probably cruel to write this; however, I can't help but recall the death of another Floridian that made national news -- Terry Schiavo. It's not hard to imagine someone waving a balloon in Anna Nicole's face and getting the same vague lack of response from her. Anna Nicole, it was your time to go. There was evidence of the "minimal consciousness" that identifies an official diagnosis of a persistent vegetative state. Like Schiavo before you, someone was bound to pull the plug eventually.

America, you're next. If I see more evidence of this "minimal consciousness" that allows you to get this obsessed over a know-nothing, do-nothing celebrity who's in the news for nothing other than being in the news, then I'm pulling the plug on you too. The plug to your goddamn television.

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David Pardue is author of the forthcoming movies Dawn/Juan, Eels on a Submarine, and Rainbows & Unicorns. He lives in West Hollywood and is currently spending his time trying to convince various Hollywood producer-types that they should come forth his god damn movies already. Previously, he played the roles of a reincarnated Hunter S. Thompson and a medicine man with one hell of a patient.