Thus The Guardian today. “Installation owned by Charles Saatchi offered through Christie’s,” explains the newspaper. Tracey Emin’s “My Bed” complete with vodka bottles, cigarette butts, and pregnancy tests was part of the Turner Prize in 1999. Fifteen years on, it is offered for about a million pounds sterling. Saatchi, a crafty collector who got the installation for one-hundred and fifty-thousand pounds in 2000, is cleaning up his warehouse at this stage. He recently offered to donate the cream of his collection to the nation for free, but public galleries showed no interest in his offer. In the Eighties, Saatchi championed the so-called young British artists, many of whom have gotten pretty long in the tooth by now. Indeed, the best he can do right now is offload the crap to Russian, Arab, or Chinese tycoons still interested in extravagance of this ilk. Otherwise, I would recommend a big fire in Hyde Park along the lines I proposed for the end of the last millennium (“Invitation to the Last Art Show,” June 21, 1998). Perhaps other collectors of now defunct art would join him. If artists have neither brains nor guts to burn their own crap, perhaps some of the collectors still do.