Just because you look like you should be dating a trailer park boy doesn't mean you can't tell people how to dress.

Just because your personal life is a torrid, turgid disaster zone of wife-beater-clad rock stars, tattoos, boob jobs and sex tapes doesn't mean you can't write about women's issues for Jane magazine.

And just because your previously published work came in a plastic wrapper with two staples through your naval doesn't mean you can't write a novel.

Why? Because you're famous.

And if you're 37-year-old sexpot and mother of two Pamela Anderson, that's all you need.

Say what you will about the cosmic injustices of it all, but it's impossible to dismiss her business savvy (not quite on par with Madonna, she makes the world's other blond bimbos look, well, dumb) and the public demand for all things Pamela.

As for those pesky cosmic injustices, is Anderson to blame because her empire -- founded on her supplemented physical gifts -- has shouldered out those who are more deserving? Or is it the fault of those executives who want to translate her notoriety (fame is too kind a word) into greater profits?

Personally, I blame David Hasselhoff -- without whom there would be no Baywatch and no Pamela. (Final proof that he is, in fact, Satan? Perhaps. At least it would explain why the Germans love him so.)

Mull all this, if you will, while we update you on the many-tentacled entity that is Pam Inc:

Magazine columnist: Anderson is a syndicated columnist with women's magazine Jane in the U.S. and Marie Claire in the U.K. (And lest her home and native land be ignored, the buxom bombshell also has an advice column in Canadian Elle.) Of course, the obvious question is, how exactly does this happen? (Sort of like why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?)

According to Anderson's website, Jane editor Jane Pratt was so wowed by Anderson's defence of her personal life in a 2002 profile published in the magazine that Pratt offered Anderson the regular writing gig.

It's not so shocking, really, that Anderson's first-hand accounts of her high-profile hijinks should attract an editor. Celebrities trade their private pain for public fame like hockey cards.

What is shocking is that there's anything left for Anderson to talk about that hasn't already been documented in an article, court transcript or grainy video footage.

And that anyone could still be interested in it.

Radio deejay: The former C.J. Parker hit the airwaves last year as host of her new satellite radio talk show.

Perhaps under the impression that her fans can hear her breasts (and who knows, maybe they can), during a promotional stop at the Howard Stern Show last fall, Anderson said she'd be doing the show topless live from her bedroom.

Actress/model: Interestingly -- or perhaps tellingly -- Anderson isn't doing much acting these days. Those of us who mourn the loss of her contribution to the artform take some comfort in her work for the Spike TV cartoon Stripperella, in which she provides the voice and template of a superheroine/stripper. If only the rest of her resume showed as much dimension.

Fashion designer: What do people who have it all do? Design their own clothing line.

Anderson's line of shoes, lingerie, and active wear -- which she unveiled in Las Vegas last week at the fashion industry's clothing convention -- shouldn't come as a surprise, really.

These days, everyone from TV stars to rappers have their own clothing label, hoping for at least some small portion of the success enjoyed by the likes of P. Diddy. The Pamela Collection is set to debut this fall. "For five years I've been wanting to do a line," Anderson told the syndicated TV show Extra.

"I wanted to make sure it was clothes that I actually love and my friends and I wear."

And for Anderson, who is a noted animal rights activist and member of PETA, that means a fur-free clothing line. "I wanted to do it just right all along," she says.

"With having no animal cruelty and working with friendly people."

Author: For an actress known for her curves, the biggest curve of all came last week when Anderson released Star, her first novel (ghostwritten, of course, by Eric Shaw Quinn).

Anderson's literary ambitions, predictably, are no greater than her actorly ones and Star sounds as worthless as a Jackie Collins paperback -- likely the model for Anderson's trashy thinly-disguised take on her life in Hollywood, with the titular protagonist filling in as Anderson's alter-ego. (The novel's heroine, Star Wood Leigh, is discovered on the jumbotron at a Miami Dolphins game; Anderson was discovered on the jumbotron at a B.C. Lions game. Anderson and Quinn are already working on the sequel.

But who will they get to play Star in the inevitable CBS television mini-series?


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