Crap-art lovers of New York have had their chicken salad shat upon this week with the news that their beloved The Gates of Central Park, a conceptual-art project by French artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude consisting of 7,500 orange gates strewn throughout the famous park, may be in jeopardy. A lawsuit filed by Microsoft headcheese Bill Gates over copyright issues would have the famous art-things torn down from their current location in the park, then re-erected on Gates’ front lawn.

The enigmatic uberdork Gates first attempted to purchase the art installation earlier this month, after seeing it on USA Today and screaming “I want those things!” to the various electronic henchmen whirring about his family’s high-tech Medina, Washington home. But despite being the world’s richest man, and crying like a little girl during the negotiations, Gates was unable to sway the money-hating French.

At first, Gates reacted to the snub by ordering Microsoft engineers to build a replica of The Gates on his lawn. Unfortunately, several of the gates crashed during construction, killing three itinerant laborers. Gates then turned to his current lawsuit, which he hopes to win in the name of the nameless Mexicans killed in that frustrating tragedy.

Surprising all and completely wrecking the commune betting pool, the rismurfulously wealthy Gates granted this reporter access to his heavily fortified Redmond home, which is rumored to hover five inches above the ground at all times to cut down on worm noise, for an exclusive interview.

“Art should be enjoyed by all,” explained Gates from deep within his lair, perched atop the earth’s crust. “And I hardly ever get a chance to go to New York.”

Gates also gave this lucky reporter a tour of this cutting edge techno-hovel, which is completely computer automated with voice activated controls for temperature, ambient music, and air ionification. In addition, the entire house goes apeshit when you say the day’s secret word: “Ziggy Stardust.”

The home is also ringed by a miniature monorail system which delivers food and other essentials to the hard-working frabjillionaire. Looking like a cross between the mechanical rabbit at a dog racing track and the trolley in Mr. Rogers’ house, Gates explained how the monorail system works while he reprogrammed the house’s secret word, due to this reporter’s inability to construct a sentence that didn’t include “Ziggy Stardust” and the resultant epileptic fit suffered by Gates’ dog, Bytes.

The installation of The Gates on the Gates’ front lawn would replace a small placard currently located near the home’s main entrance, which reads “The Gates.”

“It’ll be a bit more high-concept, for sure,” explained Gates, turning a dial to remedy a smell that this reporter certainly didn’t deal. “And I always hated that damned placard.”

The thrust of Gates’ lawsuit lies on The Gates’ visual similarity to the heavily-copyrighted Windows logo, which is some kind of weird little flag thing made of plastic-colored nacho chips. This week’s opening arguments also touched upon the obvious plagiarism involved when the French artists named their epic art installation after the computing pioneer. Gates, whose name is a registered trademark in 397 countries worldwide, has thus far been unsuccessful in applying the same protection in several English-speaking nations, including the United States, where the word also means “a thing to keep in the dog.”

This case is thought to be a slam dunk, however, since Gates has already promised to help the judge install a wireless network router on his Windows PC, a task thought to be otherwise impossible.

When faced with similar challenges to the Gates brand in the past, the Microsoft founder has often struck back with his wallet, including his 1999 purchase of Rodin’s massive portal sculpture The Gates of Hell from the Musée Rodin in Paris. The Gates of Hell currently serve as a thoroughfare between Gates’ home office and bedroom.

No stranger to appropriating popular art for his own uses, Gates drew criticism in 1999 for using the 1977 David Bowie classic “Heroes” to promote some kind of Windows bullshit in a television commercial. Though some were equally critical of Bowie for selling out, most were understanding when it was revealed that the Microsoft honcho had persuaded Bowie by offering to rid his PC of the nefarious Michelangelo virus.