I ? N Y

NEW "I LOVE NEW YORK" AD CAMPAIGN, INITIAL TAKE:

**CUE SWEEPING, UPBEAT MUSIC**

Hello little people, I'm Nan Kempner -- and I'd like to talk to you on behalf of the great city of New York.

I could beat around the bush, but why bother; I have a spa pedicure appointment to get to, and you no doubt have a monster truck-pull to attend. The fact is this: here in New York, we're better than you.

I realize that may be a difficult thing to hear, but it's true -- and I know so because, well, I'm a New Yorker and therefore smarter than you. It simply goes without saying that as a sadly inferior life-form, you wouldn't even be able to recognize your own inaedquacy.

That's why we want you to visit our city! It's vastly more interesting than Tampa or Des Moines, or wherever you and your fourteen children are unlucky enough to call home.

We have Broadway and big buildings and culturally-elite intellectuals; We have apartments that are the size of shoeboxes and cost six times what you're paying for your ugly, four-bedroom Spanish villa-style home on that pathetically quiet tree-lined street that's sadly devoid of piled garbage or muttering vagrants; We ride trains -- well, I don't, but some do -- and those trains are packed to capacity with sweaty, frazzled and generally bitter people, all of whom are either well on their way to developing ulcers or nursing the ones they already have -- but believe you me, each one of them knows full well that he or she is infinitely smarter and better than you simply because they've chosen to live here... oh, did I mention that they're not riding the subway if there happens to be a transit strike? Then they're walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in three-degree weather, singing to themselves the entire time about how thrilled they are to be tougher and more clever than all of you.

And of course, we have socialites -- like myself -- who believe that they're the Aristoi and that there's simply no excuse for being ugly, poor or -- well -- you.

If you're nervous about being in such an overwhelming city -- which would be understandable given the shallowness of your own feeble existence -- have no fear: we have an Olive Garden here to make you feel at home.

None of us goes there of course, as we know what you don't -- that Olive Garden is awful. You only think it's good -- but you need to trust us, because we know better.

We on the other hand understand that a meal isn't truly worthwhile unless you're paying an obscene amount of money for it and it's being served to you by a celebrity chef while you sit three seats away from Sarah Jessica Parker.

Still, to give you at least a small taste of the true New York -- the most your paltry brain could handle I'm sure -- we've inflated the prices at the Olive Garden; this way you can go home and tell the hideous little friends you invite to your next Bar-B-Q that just for a moment, you felt important.

So come on America -- visit the place that urinates on your beliefs, your politics, your concept of family and everything else you hold dear.

New York: come for the rats the size of Volkswagens, stay for the potential terrorist attacks.

**MUSIC SWELL**

DISSOLVE TO GRAPHIC: In Memory of Nan Kempner, who died of emphysema, July 3rd, 2005

Trademark: Brought to you by the New York City Board of Tourism and Office of Everyone-Else-Can-Suck-Our-Cocks