The following article was recently published in the National Gallery of Writing under the Drexel gallery. Considering they probably would have accepted a cocktail napkin covered in obscenities and crude renderings of genitalia if the applicant was paying tuition, I'm going to take it with a grain of salt. If you don't watch Gossip Girl, you're not going to understand the Chuck Bass references/don't deserve to.
Eliot Spitzer and Chuck Bass, Dark Horse for the 2010 Senate Race?
By Sarah Solomon
After having denied rumors of a 2010 Senate run, Eliot Spitzer, the former governor of New York, has released statements regarding his renewed interest. This drastic turn of events may have to do with the financial backing and emotional support from a certain colleague.
Charles Bartholomew "Chuck" Bass, son of the late Bart Bass and sole owner of Bass industries, has taken a special interest in Spitzer and is heavily subsidizing the campaign. Spitzer (aka, Client 9) has admitted a hankering for a Senate seat even after his resignation in 2008, but it had been nothing but a vain hope after blowing the majority of his campaign funds on prostitutes. Bass, most easily recognized from the hit CW show, Gossip Girl, has admitted to carefully following Spitzer’s scandal and empathized with his plight.
“Although I was only seventeen at the time of Eliot’s resignation, I still recognized that one of our country’s finest politicians was being unfairly penalized by a corrupt and unjust system,” drawled Bass as he clipped the end of his cigar. “My late father and I were both quite familiar with the Emperor’s Club VIP, and I assure you they are a fine establishment. I have no problem with any enterprise whose utmost concern is the quality of its goods and customer satisfaction.” Bass, wearing a blood red embroidered smoking jacket and unfortunately nothing else, crossed his legs and slowly took a drag of his cigar. “Spitzer was no stranger to Bass industries, my father fully supported his plan to give illegal immigrants New York driving licenses. How else was Julio supposed to escort me to school? Sprout magical Mexican wings and fly? No one expects Chuck Bass to get to St. Judes Prep using public transportation, that humiliation is reserved for the Dan Humphreys of the world. Bass gave a contemptuous sniff and examined the large rock on his finger. “Unfortunately few people in this day and age will listen to a man with true vision. They like to slap filthy labels on it, like money laundering.” Bass continued to clearly enjoy his cigar, but momentarily lost his composure when questioned about Spitzer’s inappropriate use of State Police to monitor and follow Senate majority leader Joseph Bruno. He quickly regained his stoic appearance before pouring himself a snifter of whiskey. “You have to admire a man who knows how to make the most of his resources. He had the State Police, I have Blair Waldorf, and to be perfectly blunt I consider the two equally useful.” At this point, a tall unidentifiable blonde in a state of undress stumbled out of a closed door and hurled a penny-loafer at Mr. Bass’ head. He seemed unfazed as she stomped out of his penthouse, audibly slamming the door behind her. “She’ll be back,” stated Bass. “Would you like to see my collection of fossilized velociraptor eggs and Buffy the Vampire Slayer memorabilia? I can assure you it’s quite scintillating.” After declining his offer, and the next one involving the use of multiple illegal substances, we moved onto why he was supporting Spitzers campaign after so much scandal and controversy. “He’s just a man who enjoys the finer things in life. A man who makes up for whatever he lacks in a conscience, with dreams. And dreams are the business I’m in. That’s why I bought that burlesque bar.” Bass eased himself out of his chocolate leather recliner, and rested his hand on the mantel of the fireplace holding photos of his deceased family and celebrities including the Queen of England and Tucker Max. “I have no political aspirations to speak of. I’m eighteen, but fully understand the necessity of investing in the American legal system. Spitzer and I fully understand one another, and that is well worth my time and money. So what if he spent eighty thousand dollars on hookers? I just bought a getaway island I plan on filling with models and hunting game. By the way, you’re more than welcome to visit whenever you need to blow off some steam.”
To conclude the interview, and skirt the issue of traveling to Bass’ hedonistic playground via private jet, only one more question needed to be asked. Did he really think after everything Spitzer had publicly gone through, after all of the controversy and humiliation he had brought upon himself and his family, that Spitzer stood a chance?
To this query he simply smirked and answered with a defiant tone, “Yes, because I’m Chuck Bass.” With that, he left the room, taking the whiskey with him.
