Your "friends" are probably telling you not to read the indictment. (You know what indictment! The one charging your Ponzi sheming ex, Raffaello Follieri. Look, only 18 pages. It's not a script) And let me tell you something, Anne, and this is beside the point, but those same fucking friends avoiding the topic, telling you reading all the press will only be "painful" are also secretly ordering your light Frappuccinos REGULAR, and marking the side of the plastic cup with their own sharpies so that you THINK they're light even though they taste "deceptively" high fructose. Okay, maybe they're not, but the point is, I bet you are perceptive enough to distinguish a real Frappuccino from a Splenda-sweetened one but the man you loved held himself out to be the CFO of the Fucking Vatican and the whole time he was nothing but a uniquely shameless Italian con artist living in a $90,000 a month apartment with a $60,000 housecleaning service you NEVER KNEW THE DIFFERENCE. You, Anne, are kind of stupid; this is your intervention; most pretty girls in this country never get one so consider yourself blessed. Not that I know you, I am just speculating, not on the basis of the fact that you just likened making out with Steve Carell to a "yummy lollipop" but on the basis that you once called "charity work" such an "aphrodisiac," which would be an idiotic thing to say if your boyfriend was the Pope himself, but ha ha, no, you probably just thought he was friends with the Pope. Which brings me to my very fave part of this indictment:
You probably feel like a fool. Ohhh, poor you! How do you think fucking Ron Burkle feels about that $55 million?? Ron Burkle, a man whose name is not exactly synonymous with "integrity"! Ron Burkle, a man who spent a few hundred grand trying to sabotage the career of a fucking gossip columnist who pissed him off.
That's why I entreat you to read the indictment, Anne. Sure, some painful memories will come flooding back: the custom-made suits from Milan. The "flowers, cosmetics, clothes, wine, expensive dinners, dog walking services and orthodontist expenses." The $30,000 housecall. The Caribbean vacation in 2006. The two-story apartment in Rockefeller Center that Raffaello rented for visiting members of the clergy. The notable absence in said apartment of any visiting members of the clergy!
A wise woman once said: "A woman especially if she has the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can." Wait, does that ring a bell?? Yeah, genius it was the tagline for Becoming Jane. The thing is, it doesn't apply to women who have no actual knowledge to conceal. And I'm not trying to get you to pull an Ophelia here but did the Feds even bother trying to question you? Did you ever get deposed? Let me tell you Anne, I would love love looooove to live in a world that allowed me to believe you waited until last week to dump him because you were recording his phone conversations, "backing up" his hard drives, strategically digging through his wastebaskets and mastering his rhetorical tics in preparation for your directorial debut, an epic black comedy on the striking guilelessness of powerful, influential, successful, and thoroughly rotten people when they believe themselves to be possibly in the presence of Christ Himself. At turns subtle and madcap, stark and decadent, it could serve as a scathing cinematic indictment of …well shit, you name it: organized religion, the human condition, Money, Power, the Vatican, vanity, "Love," your idiot self, even your ex-boyfriend.
But I somehow doubt it! Which is why right now, I hate to break it to you, he may be the one going to prison, but he is also kind of "winning."