It seems everyone else was hitting it, why not me? Sure, Larry Birkhead has been shown to be the father using a DNA test, but they had O.J. nailed with all kinds of DNA and didn’t manage to convict him.
I mean, I’ve been to the USA lots of times…maybe I got drunk one night and Anna Nicole Smith fell on me or something and I’m the dad. I do have two children, so I know I’m not shooting blanks.
It seems I’ve got just about as much chance of being the father as Frédéric Prinz von Anhalt. What a joke. Maybe she fell on him, too?
Seriously, people, what the heck is this poor child to think of her mother when she grows up enough to figure it out? It’s not like she won’t see it, is it? When half a dozen men come forward claiming they could be the father of this baby girl, what the hell sort of (expletive unnecessary) soup was the poor girl conceived from? Holy spuz-a-palooza.
It’s pretty obvious to me that the woman must have spent more time on her back than she did on her feet. Maybe I tripped on her when I was getting out of the shower in my hotel or something, if she was just there lying down anyway.
Of course, there probably wouldn’t be such a fight if ol’ J. Howard Marshalls hundreds of millions of dollars weren’t involved. Seeing as how the sole living heir of Anna Nicole Smith is Dannielynn (and what the fuck was she smoking when she came up with that name?) and whoever has the kid will obviously have access to all of that cashola should Smith’s estate win the never-ending lawsuit. The kid is worth more than her weight in gold. And I suppose if she gets the money, there will be no shortage of people wanting to fall on top of her.
So – in the end – we’re left with what motivates everyone, everywhere. Tits.