We’ve all seen Ghosbusters! Quit telling us what we know because it’s NOT IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT HERE! What, did the author suddenly discover art and film and espresso and thinks nobody else has heard of the goddamn Shining??

Torture. They should make ISIS read this. Fucking brutal nonsense from a psuedo-intellectual feather weight.

More modular furniture, as if everyone’s lives can be summed up by what we’re forced to buy because we’re all too poor to even be allowed into a furniture store that has real wood pieces.

So the lady who only has gift nuts and condiments in her fridge just happens to have an espresso machine ready to make Bustelo. Naturally, I mean, who the fuck doesn’t.

LOGO, not Legos. Learn to Google you fuck. And don’t tell me it’s intentional, you just ddon’t know. And if it’s a metaphor for “putting things back together” imma kick your teeth in.

This is like reading the transcript from a college sophmore majoring in English. “particular material locus”. Shut up

We get it, you vape.

Ekphrastic literature my ass, all I see is a badly written story.

$49 per square foot. Bite my foot.

Not a stuoid coincidence. It’s like the author read a book on everything not to do and did it. This hurts to read.

The Shining allusion? Tepid. A bunch of people raised on shitty TV who read a book on film and now think they understand art. BOLLOCKS!

STRAWMAN ARGUMENT!!

Let’s drink chilled vodka now, maybe the readers will not notice we’re making a veiled reference to the Soviet Union and how cold their laws were. Herp-Derp, to the bank we go with our New Yorker money from this story!

Weak fucking metaphor – systems that can’t communicate but only kiss. Weak ass nonsense.

As Zoidberg once said, “Your metaphor is bad and you should feel bad!”

Oh don’t even compare a cop doing someone a favor to get a lost paiting back to abuse of power in the former Soviet Union. Fuck you! You know nothing, you moron, you over simplification.

“heavily surveilled” – if the Uber driver was under that much survaliance then we wouldn’t have lost the paintings now, would we?

Hurr durr, let’s compare the new economy of Uber and their modular furniture with the old authority of the police and their substantial desks. Hurr durr, we’re making intellectual observations now! woo-hoo, our mums will be proud!

There’s no way this story was purpously published, it’s like the New Yorker’s demented janitor had pressed one of his peanut thick turds into the pages of this issue like the wilted flowers found pressed into books owned by sick children.

She’s making fun of you because you’re a rubbery twat.

Sergeant Kingdom? Yes, you did make it up. Dolt. I hate you.

I like the idea of a cop app, like Uber, where you sing on and they give you a gun. That is funny and interesting. I’m sure the author didn’t think of it on their own.

These are characters, and an author I assume, who is more intersted in things than people. More interested in talking about the surface meaning of things than what the elicit deep down in our emotions. People who name drop without ever having experiened real art. Lazy assholes, in other words.

At this point the only reason I have left to live is to eviserate this goddamn turd.

Sonia can fuck off with her reading Balzac in French. Sonia can jump right into the Seine and wash up along the banks of the Tiber where some Kafkaesque Uber driver can paint the body.

WE KNOW WHO PLAYED WHOM ON TAXI, THEY ARE LITERLLY SOME OF THE MOST FAMOUS COMEDIANS IN ALL OF TELEVISION HISTORY – STOP TELLING ME WHO THE ACTOR WAS!!!!

I wish communisum was still a thing so I could deport the author their.

You know someone is a pretentious idiot when they say “Kafakesque”, it’s like a scarlet letter for dumb people

This is awful. I want to die.

Yes, let’s now judge the people working at Uber as being replacable and all looking 15 and infantile.

This author has no concept of creating characters because they’re too busy judging everyone. This is BAD WRITING!

My new bumpersticker: “I’d rather be kissing Brezhnev” (than reading this story)

This is so unimaginative that it’s like being sucked into the most apathetic black hole in the universe.

Oh, is the red jacket kid and the blue jacket kid supposed to represtent gang violence, or maybe the political left and right? Oh, so, co clever, I bet nobody ever thought of that before. Here, let me get you a fucking Noble Prize.

I think I could fart in a zip lock, scotch tape an expired, yelloing 2nd calls stamp to the outside, and address it in uneven sharpee to the New Yorker and they’d publish it. It would be better than this, anyway.

Uber again. I hate Uber.

Oh great, this is turing into a Uber Scooby-Doo episode where old man Plunket stole the kissing socalist paintings. Fuck me running.

Now we’re getting more art history lessons, even being told that maybe one style alludes to the kiss of Judas as if that’s a major fucking insigt. No shot, author, we get it, no stop telling me what to think!

Here’s an idea, rite a story about her painting one of these things instead of TELLING US WHAT SHE DID.

I’ve never seen this photograph before. Interesting. More intersting than the story, however. Why not write about that kiss instead of an asshole in her 4th Uber

Hey, author, I don’t need a fucking history lesson, just say the name of the phhotograpgh and let me do the rest. All this exposition is a waste of time and just means you don’t trust your readers.

“The sides must be blank”. I’m wishing the page this story was printed on was blank. I hate all these pretentious twats.

4 FUCKING INSTANCES OF UBER!! WHO THE FUCK CARES!!!!!!!!!

I swear to God the New Yorker published this story just to piss me off, it’s like a sick joke to see me get all upset about how terrible this thing is.

Oh, we all speak Italian. Well of course we do. I mean, who hasn’t leanred to sketch fruit along the fucking Tiber.

I hope the gallery burns down.

Why is it inportant the the desk is high, that the only cup they could find is a plastic wine cup? Are these details necessary? Imma gonna bet they aren’t.

Trendy, cheap. Yep, that sort of sume up this thing so far. Hopefully an Uber will crash into my apartment and flatten me in my reading chair before this gets any worse.

I certianly hope the author doesn’t expect me to “see” these works of art and why Sonia (is that the main character) is worried about how they look. I mean, it’s a short story, not a picture book.

Off to a pretentious start. Anytime a story has someone taking a Uber I roll my eyes. Also … what the hell is going on? Why is someone whose art is in a gallery having such a hard in life that we need to read a story about it. Please, for once, let one of “these stories” not be shit.