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by Adrian Korbel
July 18, 2008

Dear stupid fucks at CBS:

My name is Adrian Korbel. I am a fictional art history professor in the fictional town of Genoa City, Wisconsin. I write freelance articles for the fictional magazine known as Restless Style.

My first such article appeared this week on your real-life website for the imaginary magazine. If I were a real person, I'd be over there kicking all of you in the shins repeatedly for this utter waste of bandwidth. How dare you associate such tripe with my name?! I may not be a real person but even so, I have imaginary integrity and plenty of it.

Let's take a look at the article, shall we? It begins:

"Though the Newman Gallery for Contemporary Art is by all measures a smashing success."

Says who? By what measure? It's the first floor of a freaking warehouse with privately owned art in it. It's not open to the public and people aren't exactly flocking to Bumfuck, Wisconsin to wait in line on the off chance that Captain Mumbles is feeling extroverted today.

"Director Sabrina Costelana-Newman is still seen less as an art world visionary than as a cold-blooded opportunist who will stop at nothing to gain power, fame and prestige. Adrian Korbel reports from Genoa City."

Are you retarded? The person who writes the article doesn't refer to himself as "reporting from" anywhere!

Moving on:

"Elegant, approachable and insatiably curious, she's the perfect addition to any social occasion, be it an afternoon barbecue in Bridgehampton or a black-tie affair in Basel, Switzerland."

She's the perfect addition to any social occasion? Listen, alcohol is the perfect addition to any social occasion. The only thing this chick would be the "perfect addition" to is a convention of gay male Cher impersonators.

"Her ability to "travel well" is no small matter in a frantically-social, ever shifting business where alliances can be forged over cocktails, expanded over the entree and severed abruptly by desert."

Frantically social? Severed abruptly by desert? Which desert? The Sahara? The Mojave? I could see how the harshness of a desert could abruptly sever an alliance. So are all the art curators forging alliances these days? What is this, "Survivor?" Not that I ever watch that piece of crap show because I don't actually exist, but whatever.

"Word on the street is that in addition to jetting across the globe, Costelana-Newman has also been around the block more than once."

What?! An adult woman in her thirties has HAD SEX?! With DIFFERENT PARTNERS?! Is that what you're so snidely implying? Get out of town! That's some news flash!

Blah blah blah, insert a bunch of lazily written, hackneyed clichés here... fake quotes from "friends" of Sabrina who portray her as the Whore of Babylon... look, we all know that she only has one friend, so forget that. Oh, wait! here's a real gem:

"And it's that raw ambition, (<---unnecessary comma) that has tongues wagging from Main Street to the Champs Elysee, where she is characterized as the art world's answer to Anna Nicole Smith; common in every aspect but her beauty and ambition. It's not an entirely fair comparison, for while Costelana-Newman may be seen as an opportunist, she is hardly given to the kind of public displays and clueless utterances Ms. Smith was. Still..."

WHAT THE FUCK are you even talking about?! Anna Nicole SMITH?! Do you think this is in some way clever? "Tongues wagging from Main Street to the Champs-Elysee"?! Which, by the way, has a hyphen, you fucking morons. Whose tongues are wagging? Nobody gives a shit about Victor's ninth or tenth bride. Your "inside scoop" is as fictional as I am!

Oh, God. This is giving me such a headache. Somebody pass me the imaginary Tylenol.

"Without me, she wouldn't even be a receptionist in an art gallery, she'd be a shop girl in a store across the street from a gallery," says Phillippe Chanderot.

Philippe only has one "L", shitwits. Unless you're Ryan Phillippe. He gets to use an extra "L".

"Chanderot himself openly admits to mixing business with pleasure with Costelana-Newman."

Gasp! Are you trying to tell me that two adults had sex while also doing business together?! Not in France, surely. France is so notoriously puritanical with regard to sexual mores!

"...and says she benefited as much, if not more, from the association."

(Psst! I think he means they both achieved, if you get my drift.)

Blah blah blah, ex-best friend Victoria hates her guts, blah blah... Oh! Here we go.

"The road from the front gate of the estate the new Mrs. Sabrina Costelana-Newman shares with her considerably-older husband is approximately one quarter of a mile."

That's hard hitting journalism, folks. See, what the writer has done is to create a vivid mental image of a road that is approximately one quarter of a mile. Why, I feel as if I'm right there!

"She opens the front door and greets a guest warmly. "So glad you could come!" she exclaims, as she guides the visitor to the enormous sitting room to the left of the entrance hall."

What enormous sitting room? The only living room we've ever seen is that claustrophobic jumble of clashing colors and styles in the Ponderosa main house, presided over by the Big Blue Plate.

"While certainly expensively-furnished, the room with its ornate, period furnishings."

(SNORT!) Ornate? Period? Furnishings? What "period" -1982?! Since when is a perfectly ordinary sage green couch from Ethan Allen considered "ornate"? Not to mention the wicker - WICKER - love seat up by the front window. Yeah, that's some classy shit right there.

That's about all I can take without vomiting copiously. The piece goes on to claim that Sabrina is still actively seeing her ex, that Victoria would have warned her father had she known, blah blah scandal blah blah.

So, to the barely literate hacks responsible for this travesty, I demand that you take my name off this trash and I do expect to be fully compensated for the actual writing I did. I may be fictional, but I'm nobody's fool. Shove that up your executive asses.

Sincerely unimpressed,

Adrian Korbel

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