Today, Princess Diana is laid to rest. A million or more will line the funeral route from Kensington Palace to Westminster Abbey to her tiny hometown of Great Brington. A billion or more will tune in to join the global outpouring of grief.

Tomorrow, the week-old exercise in fixing blame resumes after a respectful day off and the merchandizing of sorrow begins in earnest. And, sadly, pathetically, it will continue for too many tomorrows to come.

Why is the world’s heart so wrenched by an event so tragic and, at the same time, so mundane? A young woman, full of life, hope and promise, dies at the hands of a drunk driver. Two young sons are devastated, a parent has to bury a child. Happens all the time.

One difference is that Diana Spencer was not just another casualty of alcohol, speed and bad decisions. She was and forever will be the People’s Princess — pretty, charming, charitable, a loving mother and, best of all, normally flawed. Her life was a fairy tale, and, even better from a marketing standpoint, the happily ever after part did not last. She married into royalty and found her prince to be a cold-hearted philanderer, her in-laws self-absorbed idlers.

But the big difference, of course, is that a world that greedily devoured Diana’s privacy now gets to amuse itself playing the blame game. The paparazzi who hounded her? The media moguls who paid the hounds? Guilty. The voyeuristic public that made its obsession with celebrity pay so well? That’s going too far. The long-term famous — royalty, movie stars, politicians — and the briefly famous — random victims of crime or mishap — apparently all are fair game. Anyone with a televison or the price of a publication is entitled to look over any fence, to peek in any window.

Some celebrities — Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and likely Diana — cannot escape this lunacy even in death. Already, the book deals are being signed, the made-for-TV movies being cast, the commemorative knick-knacks and doo-dads manufactured. Already, Great Brington is gearing up for the onslaught of entrepreneurs ready to cash in on tears. This village of 200 souls and one pub expects property values to soar and business to boom as it transforms itself into the world’s most macabre tourist trap.

So, requiescat in pace, Princess Di. At least until the first tour bus hits town.