In the Circus Maximus we call 21st century pop culture she was a force. She was the crazy cousin/ neighbor/girlfriend you'd make an effort to see no matter what. There was something perversely alluring about this redneck teenage mom turned stripper turned Playboy Playmate turned model turned media magnet turned heiress turned Supreme Court litigant turned another blonde tragedy. She was a scrapper and a clown. Surrounded by a cast of characters and situations that made us say things like "there by the grace of God go I".
Monroe, Mansfield, Stratten, etc. The collective memory is littered with her kind. And what they all had in common were the humble trashy beginnings and their rise to bizarre stellar notoriety juxtaposed with people they should have never been allowed to get close to (i.e. Kennedy, Sinatra, Bogdonovich). Face it, we all rooted for her to get that money; and when she strode the steps of the United States Supreme Court people were doing spit takes all over the world. We didn't think she could top the TrimSpa Anna Nicole, but she did. Then things got sad and picked up speed to this inevitable denouement. The autopsy and paternity fight are going to jockey for lead position with Iraq, Libby and disaster movie weather on the evening news for months to come; and we'll watch. Because why? We can relate more to the crazy cousin/neighbor/girlfriend than we can to the bigger tragedies we have to wake up to each morning.
Rest in peace
Vickie Lynn Marshall; you were a hoot.
In the Circus Maximus we call 21st century pop culture she was a force. She was the crazy cousin/ neighbor/girlfriend you'd make an effort to see no matter what. There was something perversely alluring about this redneck teenage mom turned stripper turned Playboy Playmate turned model turned media magnet turned heiress turned Supreme Court litigant turned another blonde tragedy. She was a scrapper and a clown. Surrounded by a cast of characters and situations that made us say things like "there by the grace of God go I".
