My ultra-rich neighbor (4th wife, each younger and more vacuous than the last) and his less-than-useless nearly 30-year-old kids have to be among the least classy individuals on the planet.
This is a novel I would read. Or a book of essays I would read. Hell, I might even watch the reality tv series. But I think I’d rather read it, because I’m sure some pinhead tv producer would edit out all your best prose.