Celebrity Clone: Random Edition

A while ago, the Phoenix New Times published a ridiculous article about Anna Nicole Smith having an illegitimate Native American child. It read like a used 99 cent novel purchased from a boardwalk bookstore and while entertaining, I was Anna Nicoled out and didn’t put it on the blog. In fact, I totally forgot about it until today when I saw this picture of Gene Simmons and it reminded me of the “father” from the story Johnny Soto: Gene left, "Johnny" right. Here’s an excerpt from the wildly tall tale:

Little Marshall Soto is glued to the TV this Friday morning in his dad's modest home just outside of Sells, Arizona, capital of the Native American Tohono O'odham Nation. He's not watching cartoons or Sesame Street or some new kids' show on Nickelodeon. Instead, he's focused on the image of a white hearse approaching a Baptist church in the Bahamas. He looks up wide-eyed to his father, Johnny Soto, seated on a couch behind him. "Je'e?" the boy asks plaintively in his native tongue. Je'e means "Mother" in O'odham. "Yes, mo'okwad," the child's dad replies sadly, using his pet name for the boy, meaning "tadpole." Johnny Soto then whispers something quick in O'odham, and Marshall turns back to the television, tears filling his blue-black eyes. "I want mama je'e," he cries, as the news channel shows a mahogany coffin draped in pink, rhinestone-encrusted satin being removed from the hearse by pallbearers. "Mama je'e, is she in the box?" "Mama je'e went to heaven, mo'okwad," Soto gently informs his son. "Mama je'e watches us from the sky. Like Peanut," he says, referring to a family dog attacked and eaten by a pack of coyotes months back. "Peanut went bye-bye," the 5-year-old mutters, sniffling. "Mama je'e is with Peanut now; they're playing together on the clouds," Soto tells the light-skinned, dark-haired boy, who favors his mother a little. Johnny Soto and his son are poised to throw yet another monkey wrench into the surreal soap opera of Anna Nicole Smith's life and post mortem. According to Soto, his son is the result of a torrid love affair between himself and the 42DD femme fatale in early 2001, while Smith was vacationing at Paradise Valley's Sanctuary Resort and Spa. He has the birth certificate and other documents to prove it. If they hold up in court, and he's able to establish little Marshall's lineage through DNA, Soto, his son, and the entire Tohono O'odham tribe stand to cash in big time. Indeed, little Marshall (named for Anna's dead oil-magnate hubby) may well become one of the wealthiest trust-fund kids in history. Even though, right now, all the tyke wants is for his pretty white mother to rise from the grave and take him in her arms.

Since it’s rather long, I included some of my favorite bits:

• "She'd never slept with anyone who wasn't white before," explains Soto. "That's what she told me. She had what we call 'scarlet fever' [when an Anglo falls for a Native American man or woman]. When an Indian man goes for a white woman, it's called 'eating at the white man's trough.'" Soto couldn't resist, and there began a three-week session of lovemaking, with Soto calling in sick and finally taking all of his vacation time so he could spend it satisfying Smith's ravenous appetite for sex.
• At one point, Smith had a yen for fried chicken, so she sent her limo driver in search of a KFC. He returned with five buckets of Extra Crispy, and container after container of mashed potatoes with gravy — a fave of Smith's. (At one point, she smeared potatoes and gravy all over Soto's privates and licked them off.)
• "She'd call my you-know-what her 'tomahawk,' her 'wooden Indian,' or 'big wampum.'
• Sometimes she'd ask me to do a war dance naked with this feather from one of her dresses stuck in my baseball cap. I tried to tell her that the Tohono O'odham don't wear feathers, but she didn't care. She thought it was funny, and it turned her on, so I did it, though I have no idea if our people even have a war dance."
• The only whites I'd ever had sex with were prostitutes, and I couldn't get enough of Anna Nicole. I fell under her spell. I did whatever she asked."
• Smith promised that they would one day marry and live as a family, and Soto has numerous hand-written notes and letters from Smith stating those intentions. One reads, "Oh, my brave Injun-man, how I long to be with you and feel your red manhood. Look after my little paapoosie [sic], and soon I'll be your squaw again. I love you, kemosabe, Anna."
• "She called me all these names. 'Basket weaver,' and, the worst, 'Indian giver,' because I had taken Marshall from her.
• She also tried to get me to fuck her again, in the Casino restroom while Marshall played with his toy. By this time she was so fat, she could barely fit in the stall. Ultimately, I couldn't go through with it. She kept saying she wanted me to use my 'bow and arrow' on her 'ax wound.' I told her that was no ax wound, it was the Grand Canyon!