Tuesday, February 13, 2007


Okay, let me say from the start, I don’t think I’m the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s baby. I was going to deny it outright but then I got to thinking. There is a remote chance that I might be the father.

If she had a normal gestation period (if so it would be the only normal thing about her), she got impregnated last year. I spent the entire year here in Bangkok. I don’t think she came here during that time. I don’t mess with the ladies in the girly establishments but even so, I never saw anyone who looked remotely like her. And I never mess with women who outweigh me anyway.

But then I got to thinking. If she did sneak into Bangkok and sneaked into my house and caught me with the lights out or asleep, who knows? She might have done that so I might be the father.

And now they’ve brought stored semen into the mix. Who the hell can say for sure they’re not the father now that they’ve brought that crap into the mix? I have never stored any of my semen in a bank. (I was afraid of rejection. That would be the ultimate rejection.)

But then I got to thinking. One of my old girlfriends could have stored one of my used condoms with the purpose of implicating me in a rape case sometime (I saw that on a cop show), then she could have shoved it into Anna while Anna was passed out somewhere (which has happened). So I might be the father.

So they’re going to do a DNA test which they think will solve the problem and answer the question. Wrong. The way I understand it, DNA tests give odds of like a million to one that they’ve got the right man. But that won’t be enough in this case. See, there are around three billion men in the world. A test that can narrow it down to one in a million will still leave three thousand men who might be the father.

You see the problem?


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