Because websides is totally taking off and because the intern market is bone dry, I'm going to be opening this thing up a bit to other contributors. I pandered for submissions... here's what we got so far. I know this is horrible. But its also fun. Ideas? Hate Mail? Send here
"Oh America, Oh Anna, the metaphysical poets dreamed you up centuries ago, and then you were born, in Oklahoma, or wherever. You were, on the outside, what we are, on the inside, like Michael Jackson, or Inside Out Reese's Peanut Butter cups (trademark copyright copyright). When I first heard you collapsed I, like everyone, was like "allright, allright, I'll watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force, enough with these hoaxes! Don't you know we have a war going on?" But then, with some investigating deep into the internets I found out you were totes dead. For real. This morning as I walked out of my apartment it seemed like the city was mourning you: the sky was gray, and an angry, metal wailing filled the air, a mechanical cry. But that is probably from the construction because they are tearing down every building around me, but not mine. In fact, they just put a washer/dryer in the basement! Score! New York’s boobs are at half-mast today. Namaste, Anna Nicole. Namaste."
- Rudy Huxtability
"You may have known her from her promotional work for Trimspa, or perhaps her short lived yet highly classy show on the E! Channel. Well, I knew her from "Skyscraper," "To the Limit" and an assortment of other soft core porn movies that I only had to lower the volume on occasionally so my parents would not get wise to the fact that I was actually watching something with Anna Nicole Smith in it. She touched out hearts and penises in ways that many others have and will, but she had a kooky white trash thing going for her that is rare in these times. She was like the Pam Anderson of the South but with a fluctuating weight problem. Everything else was basically the same.
Some may suspect foul play, but that is not the point. The point is the world has lost a shiny, spangled, jean short wearing gem of a woman who likely died of drug intake or an assassination attempt from the Weight Watcher people. Those bastards will stop at nothing. Well friends, I have news for you. She is not really dead. She lives on in our hearts and minds and the inevitable reruns that soulless programming Nazis are bound to air in the coming months, but then abruptly stop once we have lost interest. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Rest in Peace my dove. Rest in Peace."
"She died? What a bitch."
"Dear Vicky Lynn Hogan,
I am writing you a note I wanted to write 14 years ago but even though now its too late I am sending it anyway. Where I grew up there was a grocery store on my corner called dealers. For real, that's what it was called. It sold rancid meat, candy, and magazines. My parents didn't allow me to go in there so, duh I hung out there all the time. In 1993 I was eleven. I was walking to pizza hut with my friend Kelly to get our free personal pan pizzas in exchange for our America Reads! cards or something. We stopped in at dealers for some candy, probs those sour straws, the red kind. Kelly dared me to steal a playboy (she's married now but still a total homo). I'm pretty sure I stuffed it up my insanely dope columbia jacket that said Bugaboo! on the back of the collar. You were playmate of the year. It didn't change my life or anything, but I remember it.
- k (the new intern)
"Anna Nicole Smith has died. Trimspa is reviewing whether to keep her as a sponsor. Though no one at the company could be reached for comment, sources close to Anna say she now weighs less than when she was alive."
- diorsuks (to be fair, he felt really bad after writing this)