Resolved: Nicole Richie fans don’t read (People magazine doesn’t count). So why in the hell has Lionel’s daughter, currently capitalizing on her anorexia in a desperate bid to remain famous, written a book?
Your first look — I HOPE — at "The Truth About Diamonds":
Chloe Parker would be a terrible role model if she were famous. Trouble is that she was about to be.
It started innocently enough, or as innocent as you can get on the dance floor of one of the hottest clubs in L.A.
The nightclubs of L.A. are like soap operas, except they’re not Days of Our Lives; they’re more like Passions—crazy stuff happens, and no one bats a fake eyelash. There’s always some bizarre drama that plays out every night, and everyone in the cast—I mean, everyone—is great looking, stoned, and/or drunk. It’s like a traveling freak show that stars the youngest and hottest in Hollywood. It’s about fun, and sex, and pseudo-danger.
Chloe Parker was practically born in a club. It’s like she spontaneously generated one night in 1981 during a fourteen-minute remix. As a child, she could dance before she could walk and sing before she could talk. Dressed in a tie-dyed onesie and a tutu, her head a tangle of golden curls, Chloe was destined to haunt the clubs of her adoptive city as soon as humanly possible.
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Bobby Bubbles 
Did you ghost write this?
If that period after “famous” were just a hyphen, this would be a great candidate for the Bulwer-Lytton award…