Is Irma Herzog Really Renting The DASH Space For Free?

We're not sure if this could possibly be true, but Page Six is reporting (while in the process of reporting a silly non-story about Kourtney Kardashian not tipping the wait staff at the Driver's Seat) that the Kardashians are renting their space from Driver's Seat owner Irma Herzog for free.

Is this true? Man, that's some hippie shit right there. We're going to try and reach out to Herzog for comment, but that would seem like an odd business strategy. Sure having them there brings foot traffic to the Driver's Seat for hungry stalkers, but renting out an entire space on Jobs Lane for nary a dime? How could she swing that?

Let us know if there's any truth to this, or if the New York Post is doing what the New York Post is good at doing. Making shit up.

As for the main part of the story: in all likelihood, if they were filming a scene for their stupid show, the production staff probably handled the bill and tip, so that whoever was being shot in the scene didn't have to reach into their wallet and go through all the rigmarole. Calm down people.

How Many Dead? So Sad. Hey, Buy My Album!

File this one under "unimpressed releases." We want you to meet Michael Weiskopf. If there is a poor man's Bob Dylan, Michael Weiskopf is that person's poor man. Oh the plight of musicians; they grind it out for years hoping to get their big break. Fortunately the internet has provided a myriad of opportunities to expose that desperation. It's hard to draw attention to your work. And when the going gets tough, the tough capitalize on mass murder in the form of a badly written press release to increase SEO, draw people searching for information on the crime and get them to check out your latest song that's loosely related to gun violence.

What? Isn't that what they do?

So Michael Weiskopf, whose website is here, wrote a song in the wake of the Sandy Hook massacre called "Guns Don't Kill." From what we've gathered after spending literally dozens of seconds researching this guy is that he's based out of the Hamptons. His website is created by Hamptons Web Design, and he has radio appearances centered out east.

Today, he accidentally decided to promote his music with this headlined release: "Latest Shooting Underscores New Anti-NRA Rant." 

OK, first: calling your song a "rant" is probably not the best tactic. Secondly, the lead graf calls attention to the recent shooting in "Santa Monica."

On May 23, a young man in Isla Vista, Cal. went on a shooting and stabbing spree reportedly because he kept striking out with women. Whatever the matter, he senselessly took six lives and wounded a number of others before finally turning the gun on himself. He committed this crime near UC Santa Barbara and one of his targets was a sorority house off campus.

Santa Barbara. Not Santa Monica. Which is not that bad of a mistake unless you're writing this press release as your attempt to mark your solidarity and empathy for the victims. Oh wait.

Then there's this to consider. One year ago this week, there WAS a mass shooting in Santa Monica, where another six people were killed, (including the shooter) making it entirely plausible that this "gaffe" was in fact, no mistake, but a press release that was repurposed and sent out again in the wake of the Santa Barbara killings.

So you're capitalizing on TWO mass murders? And you don't even have the decency of a proofreader to make sure your opportunism isn't so transparent?

Oh self-promotion: I love you. Oh Hamptons: I love you more!

Kardashian's Landlord Hounded For Trying To Earn A Buck

So once again we are faced with the completely illogical phenomenon that is the Kardashians. Specifically we're referring to how successful their TV show is, despite the fact that seemingly the whole world wants them to pretty much die.

Fresh off totally reliable news outlet  Page Six of the New York Post, the villagers of Southampton are sharpening their pitchforks and lighting their torches to snuff out Irma Herzog. Her crime? Not responsibly going on welfare for the greater good of Keeping Out With the Kardashians. Herzog is the owner of The Driver's Seat and apparently the space adjacent to the long-standing eatery, which she rented out to the Kardashian girls for their pop-up store "Dash," which they'll be running for the duration of their reality TV show: "Muppets Take The Hamptons." 

Come on. Girl gotta eat.

Ever since word got out that Herzog dared to make a buck by leasing the space, she's been the subject of "harassment and torment," according to the article, which also quoted Jerry Della Femina, who oddly enough didn't blame Obama for the rented space. "She should be brought up on charges," said Della Femina, the Hamptons' resident right-wing lunatic. Suddenly he's anti-capitalism. Funny how that works.

[Hand raised]
-Yes, Hamptonyte Blog, do you have a question?

HB: We do...um...did the people of Southampton honestly think the entire production, public relations, advertising and network team that runs the Kardashian TV franchise would just pack up their trailers and cameras and leave because they couldn't find a place to rent?

-Yes, Hamptonyte Blog, yes, they apparently did.

[Face palm]

SIDEBAR:

We don't watch any of the Kardashian shows, so could someone tell us if Kourtney has trouble walking or something? Why is it that every picture of the two girls in the Hamptons shows Khloe leading her sister around like a pet Orangutan?

Observe:

Poet Harvey Shapiro: 1924-2013

We were a little bummed out to learn that noted poet and sometimes East Hampton resident Harvey Shapiro has died. The 88 year old was just a couple weeks shy of his 89th birthday. He was one of the old-school artist yeoman, an editor at multiple print publications and was devoted to letters.

I had the privilege of meeting Shapiro when he visited Southampton College to read in the mid-1990s. He committed a lot of his poems to memory and was a very open and inviting guest poet. He sat with us as young writers and was not in the least bit condescending. In hindsight, after reading his obituary in the New York Times and the East Hampton Star, I'm sort of glad I didn't realize (at 22) how important he was to literature because I probably wouldn't have mustered the courage to speak to him. As it was, we had a great conversation and he left an impression on me.

The two obits are well done. Give them a read. As for Harvey...thanks for leaving your mark before leaving.

Sex offenders ring in the New Year: Hamptons Style!

If you're looking to party with the hottest, sexiest, trendiest sex offenders in the world, look no further than toney Southampton Town! That's right, these totally fabulous fingerers decided to hit the town for New Year's Eve, as their residency in mobile homes parked in Westhampton appear to be staying put into 2013.

County Executive Steve Bellone was supposed to pass a measure to move them out of Westhampton by year's end, but...oops. He totally forgot! Now they're here, they're fierce, and they're ready to party it up, Hamptons Style!

Check out Pat McGroin's definitely 2013 neckware he snagged from the mannequins at Cynthia Rowley's Montauk Shop. Holden McCrotch is absolutely fabulous and forward in this matching popped collar from Ralph Lauren. And he accessorizes! Nothing attracts the kiddies like his candy bracelets from Ralph's fabulously lovely, and totally not entitled princess daughter Dylan!

So where were these heavy-panting hotties tongueing down the toddlers at midnight on December 31? Our sources don't know. And they'd never kiss and tell...that would be soooo last year!

Special election to decide if we should save homes built on sand

This isn't so much a class warfare piece, because the taxes it would affect are only for those who are directly effected by erosion, but Newsday ran an interesting news story about a vote coming up in February to decide on two $13 million plus tax levies that would pay for emergency sand drops on properties threatening to wash away in future storms.

The two votes are for districts in Bridgehampton and Sagaponack, each calling for a little over 13 million in tax increases.

Question: Where are they getting the sand from?
Answer: Beaches where poor people live.

OK, now it's a class warfare piece.

Unintended hilarity of the story: the amount of absentee ballots that will need to be sent because the vote is being held in February and rich people don't exist in the Hamptons in February.

Right-Wing Jabrone of the story: This guy-- Snafu803: Of course they should get it. They work hard and everyone is jealous they get nicer things then the average person. Who wants to go to jones beach with all the drunks and city trash. I say close jones beach and give it all to the hamptons where it will be appreciated

Hamptons deer population, sick of everybody's shit too

 We've got helicopter noise ruining everyone's life. We've got Twitter accounts documenting rich people's problems (which aren't really problems at all). We've got blogs dedicated to calling out douchebags for their douchebaggery; we've got the term "citiots." And now...the deer are getting pissed off too.

And they're droppin' many suckas, one by one. According to this East Hampton Star report, the deer out there have turned kamikaze, diving out in front of cars left and right and disabling a 2008 Porshe driven by a person who uses an acronym for a first name.

Rule #376: If you use an acronym for your first name, or if you hyphenate your last name and you drive a Porche and it gets crushed by a deer...good!

A Dodge also got jacked up. One of five other car vs. deer incidents, according to the article. The story led off with a related police report about someone it was totally a deer who abandoned a Jeep SUV on the side of the road near Stephen Hands Path. When police arrived at the scene the Jeep had been used as a battering ram for utility poles and trees. They heard a rustling noise in the woods, as though the driver of the vehicle was escaping. No human suspect has been apprehended.

Lesson to take away: Deers are totally rippin' shit up out there!

Hamptons homeless now visible without leaves to hide behind

We're not sure how to take this 2-page feature by the Associated Press, which was republished by ABC.com. On one hand there's the WhatTheFuckery of this:

It's not that the homeless don't exist in the string of famously exclusive waterfront communities on the eastern end of Long Island — they just blend in more easily when it's warm.

But then there's the delicious, CueTheGuillotinesery of this:

"The privet hedges, the beaches, the resort community, the gigantic homes that are used 12 weekends out of the year," she said. "Every time I drive past one of these homes that for the most part are empty, I'm thinking, wow, how many people could we house in this place?"

The profile is of Maureen's Haven, a nonprofit organization that provides shelter to homeless people on the east end. Their home base is in Riverhead, but appparently they house a lot of day laborers and minimum-wage workers in the Hamptons.

The story is interesting in that it addresses something that all of us here on the east end know already: that folks is brokes. I'm not sure what camoflogue the homeless are using in the summer, but I will admit I've never seen a homeless person the way you see them in New York City, where, for the record, you can spot them year-round.

Ours don't lay on benches I guess? Ours don't lean against buildings or sit on the ground? Ours know better? Hmmm.

Getting back to the last statement in the story, we love the idea of raiding these beachfront houses and stocking them with smelly poors. We already have one douchebag on our list of whose home to invade first.

East Hampton Star Tries to Say With a Straight Face That The Rich Are Genuinely Philanthropic

Exclaiming "In your face!" in its opening line, this East Hampton Star article wants you to know it will be every bit as obnoxious as...well...as its opening line.

The "in your face" taunt is aimed at HuffPo and CNBC, presumably because they are the Sean Penn and Tim Robbins of journalism--perennial bogeymen of the paranoid right. According to this piece, the national survey (reported on by HuffPo and CNBC, because...well their job is to report) about the lackluster charity offered up by the wealthiest 1% is wrong because East Hampton's 1% give more than the middle class in the same area. The article, entitled The Rich Really Do Give More, by Larry LaVigne III, is a clinic in how to manipulate statistics. And also how to be a douche. A douche, yes, but not a huge douche, for the article does have its caveats.

Anyone who lives out here knows exactly why and how the wealthy in East Hampton spend "8.5%" of their discretionary income on charity. SWAG. STEP AND REPEATS.

At the very least, this article brings in one expert who, at the very least, hints at this reality.
“The strong and welcomed presence of nonprofits and the causes they support may keep charity top-of-mind for residents, and at a certain level of income and lifestyle, philanthropy becomes a regular part of social life.”

Lavigne tries to downplay this very poignant remark by referring to these lavish parties as merely a stab at some free drinks.

 "But is it more than an open bar of top-shelf cocktails in exchange for a five- or even six-figure ticket?"

Yes it is more. It's a LOT more. And you know this, LaVigne. We've heard of some cases where the free gift bags handed out at charity events added to a total value of $15,000. Add that to the allure of being photographed by local and national press, and rubbing elbows with famous actors, musicians, reality TV stars, and you can clearly see why the well-heeled turn out in droves. And arm flab. 

Care for more BS?

Quote: “A lot of Alec Baldwin’s fans come out to show support when he is tied to an event, but we have soooo much diverse talent that works with Guild Hall,” [Barbara Jo Howard, director of marcomms at Guild Hall] said."

Translation: Alec Baldwin's draw represents 99% of the money raised, while every other program running there suffers from Giveashit-itis.

Put simply, if East Hampton's rich were so giving of their discretionary income, why does EVERY SINGLE charity event held in the Hamptons have to wheel some celebrity out in front like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs? Answer: Because nobody would go otherwise. It's not supernatural.

What? MORE BS?

Quote: Even though the wealthy may give a lesser percentage of their income elsewhere, the study finds that the richest Americans still contribute the vast majority of dollars to charitable causes.

Really. You know, I would have given my $10,000 to Save the Beleagered Manatees, but somehow my invitation to the Gala in East Hampton got lost in the mail. There's a reason why the rich give to charitable causes, because charitable causes ASK them to, you dolt!

Oh, East Hampton Star. You make me want to beat an angel to death with a little girl's puppy. 

Reynolds Dodson: We Goofed On You, But We Didn't Want You To Die

Credit: The Southampton Press

Some sad news coming out of the land made of happiness cocktails and bunnies' noses. Columnist for the Southampton Press Reynolds Dodson has died, after battling cancer. He was 74.

Dodson lived in Water Mill with his wife Susan, and contributed a column entitled "The View East," which won six New York Press Awards, according to this obit in the Press.  He also authored a number of books and edited numerous magazines, including Family Weekly and Reader's Digest.

But it was his last book A Cockeyed Guide to the Hamptons that got our attention last year. We goofed on him (here) for the silly press release announcing the book, which was plastered on every free PR distribution site in existence. It spawned a checklist of how you too can be fakin' it till you're makin' it in the Hamptons. The release was clearly written by Dodson himself, and more than likely distributed himself. The book was self-published, self-promoted, and completely not self-aware, as it makes fun of people with pastel-colored shirts who carry dogs. (Umm, see picture above that ran in his obit.)

But...however hard we goof, however strongly we might seem to resent a person or their actions, however badly we may trample them for their seeming self-absorption, incestuous legitimacy, and fakery...we are not so heartless that we can't recognize that a human being who was loved, who was somebody's husband, son, colleague, or maybe even inspiration...has died. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, Hamptonyte Blog...the bell tolls for thee.

Except Ramona Singer from Real Housewives of New York. Fuck that bitch.

Jill Zarin Proves Even in Reality Show Purgatory, She Can Still Be Huge Pain In The Ass

Sorry, but we thought that when Jill Zarin was banished to the Phantom Zone along with General Zod, Ursa, and Non, it would be the last we'd hear from her. She'd drift off into the galaxy entrapped in that pane of glass for the high treasonous crime of...being annoying.

We were wrong. Somehow she escaped, and caught the attention of our favorite Bubble Guppy Gina Glickman-Giordan. (And I get compliments on the hyphen)

You see, when Jill and her daughter Ally, (whom she shipped off to fat camp and documented the whole awful exchange on "Real Housewives of the Vacant and Soulless New York City") were out modestly contributing their time and money at the Super Saturday bargain sale for Ovarian Cancer Research, Jill apparently felt she hadn't adequately embarrassed her daughter enough.

While walking the press line, because, you know she doesn't show up for these things because of the press and all, she "suddenly stopped mid-sentence and shouted in her signature NY accent across the field 'Oh! Wait! Wait! Who is that cute boy? Zarin proceeded to ignore the cameras that were rolling mid-interview and shouted: 'He's cute! Wait! Wait!' As Zarin crossed the red carpet to jump over the velvet ropes she instantly got the attention of a longhaired teenage boy," Glickman gleefully reports.

Oh that crazy Jill. Always doing hilariously crazy, funny things. And yet still is so fabulously fabulous? How does she do it?

Dragging the poor boy across the red carpet like Grendel's vengeful mother, Jill introduced the kid to Ally. We wonder why Jill didn't just go all the way and tell "Zach" (of course that would be his name) that Ally is fresh off the farm from fat reality boot camp.

So yeah. Now Jill thinks she's a matchmaker, fit to give another reality star a run for her world's most shittiest person money. "See I do this! Sorry Patti Stanger," Jill reportedly said. "By "this" she means make an obnoxious spectacle of herself in front of cameras by being rude and turning an event about cancer into an event about Jill Zarin.

Take away lines from our blonde sock puppet:

Zarin proceeded to ignore the cameras that were rolling mid-interview... Really? Are you actually clueless or do you just play one on television? She did this BECAUSE of the cameras, not in spite of them.

Zarin who is a reality pro was immune to the hundreds of bystanders documenting her exchange... A reality pro? What's a reality amateur, someone who doesn't exist? And again, immune? You spelled "spurned on by" wrong, Gina.

The cameras didn't faze either one of them. It was as if they were in the process of shooting a new reality series. Not a bad idea?...Here Glickman probably gets the closest to the truth by accident than she ever will in the history of this awful, suck-up column. And for the record: YES it IS a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Oh, son of Jor-El, can you please banish her once more? It didn't take.

Oh Yeah, We're On The Facebook Now

 Just a short post to let all six of you know that you can grab our headlines and comment on our blog posts from Facebook. Our Facebook page launched yesterday, and we'll populate it with short, relevant and informative information as we come across it. The launch was rather unceremonious, and took 24 hours to upload our profile picture, but otherwise a rousing success.

So like us on Facebook, and then all we need is 24 more likers and we can start getting analytics from FB, which will show us just how many people have no idea we exist.

Should be fun.

Celebrities Attempt to Wrap Brains Around Tragedy: Realize They Have No Brains

The real tragedy is in the asking. When Professional Blonde Muppet Gina Glickman-Giordan (whose metamorphasis into pretentious Hamptonyte is now complete with the hyphenated name) asked a room full of VIPs at the Bridehampton Polo Club what they thought of the Aurora, Colorado "Dark Knight" shootings, our only explanation for the answers she got was that they were all high. Someone left the valve open on the helium machine. Someone brought in some special-baked brownies. Our only explanation for Dan's Papers actually publishing the responses is that the newspaper hates them.

The only "celebrity" but sort of isn't one  who came close to a reasoned response was Polo Player Chris Del Gatto, who said "The first thing we think about is our children and that you could be some place as innocuous as a movie theater taking them out for a family evening and something like that happens." If you're looking for clarity after that the closest you can come is Countess LuAnn de Lesseps, who started out on solid footing and then gave us every reason why we should take away her fame. "I think it's terrible and I feel so bad for the families. I have children and everybody has children that they are connected to those people that were there."
Huh? But that was not to be topped by the absolute beauty pageant answer we got from Donna Karan's neer-do-well daughter (whom Glickman felt the need to run down her resume as though she gained all this by herself) Gabby Karan:

"It breaks my heart. I think that we just have to change in our soceity and try to give back a little bit more."

Who knew charity and soup kitchens can stop mass murder?
What this column truly exemplifies is something that sort of strikes at one of the pillars of why we launched Hamptonyte Blog. Just because you're a celebrity, does not mean you should be tapped to give opinions. In fact you probably shouldn't. Because you're a brand. And brands are very touchy not to say anything that even smells of controversy. Okay, that's too long of a pillar, but the lesson stands all the same.

HarborFrost 2012: We did it wrong

In the spirit of reducing our snark by at least 20% I decided to participate in HarborFrost 2012, held last Saturday in Sag Harbor. For the uninitiated, Sag Harbor, though considered the "Hamptons, has managed to blend its Hamptons Bourgie-ness with its shipping and whaling roots--so much so that it's my favorite section of the east end.

Sure, I can still get a cup of coffee for under a buck, but I can also sit on a bench and check out hot rich girls that would never give me the time of day. It's a perfect storm of literary romance, hard drinking, and women that make you dream of one day hitting it big.

HarborFrost is in its second year in Sag Harbor, and actually a great idea for generating revenue and adding some color to the long, gray winter. Restaurants get a chance to test their food before the big season swings around, artists and musicians get to fine-tune their acts and showcase their work at ease, and the kids are happy to take part in anything that will distract them from killing themselves because there's nothing else to do on the east end in the winter.

There was a whole itinerary of things to do and see at HarborFrost, but naturally I missed all of them, except the afternoon highlight: The Frosty Plunge. It was on my bucket list anyway, so I figured why not: I love Sag Harbor, I'll get there early, check out the sights, grab a cup of joe, and then head down to the Long Wharf, strip off my clothes and jump into a broiling sea of ice water.

I had some company: three nephews, age 21, 19, and 10, and my niece, age 11. We got there just in the nick of time--3:30 p.m.-- sort of missed the countdown bullhorn and dove into the water, sans coffee, sans sightseeing, sans food-sampling, and sans warmth. Also sans soup, because by the time we got dressed at the dock, the complimentary soup had all been doled out to the Occupy the Hamptons people. (More on them in another blog).

Now freezing cold and shivering, we all agreed to hop back in our cars and head home. So, all told, I was at HarborFrost for roughly...mmm...25 minutes. I heard there were fireworks later that night. Would have been nice to see that. Yeah, HarborFrost 2012. We did it wrong.

The Weakonomy: Everyone's Too Poor to Bang

It's exactly like rap group Three 6 Mafia said it was: "It's Hard Out Here for a Person who brokers business transactions for services rendered between an experienced woman and a lonely man.

Wow, the economy sucks so bad that nobody wants to get sucked so bad? According to this article in Business Insider, who took its cue from the Daily News, the swinger "industry" (industry? Really?) is taking a beating in this economic climate, as attendance is way down and membership to exclusive swinger clubs is getting a little too prohibitive.

Especially in East Hampton, where, according to the article, swinger clubs are still charging about $300 for you to get your freak on with a whole crew of sweaty people. Memberships further west including New York City cost about $150.

Damn zone pricing. Still. We can't just skip the cable bill? Or cut up a credit card?

Jay Flagg, Inventor of Real Estate, Can Not Be Stopped

You might slow him down. But he'll catch up. And when he does, he will drag your soul through the slime, flame, and ash of Hades. You will bargain with his red face, but his grinning maw will force you to surrender all hope.

We can now officially say "mogul." This is the mogul we blogged about back in July. Jay Flagg dared to fly too close to the sun, and the powers that be at Prudential Douglas Elliman melted his wings and he plummeted to the earth to live among us mortals. But the folks at PDE were not aware that, like Rocky Balboa, he spent his time down here lifting logs and trudging through snow, and chasing chickens. And now, like the phoenix of old, he has risen from the ashes.

According to this press release from Saunders & Associates, Flagg was discovered cowering behind their building, using the dumpster cover to shelter him from the falling rain. Founder Andrew Saunders was holding the Wall Street Journal over his head and skipping quickly to his Jag when he saw Flagg.

"Are you lost?" he asked. "Do you know where your parents are?" Flagg wiped his runny nose with a dirty sleeve and said nothing. Saunders reached out to grab Flagg's hand, but Flagg quickly bit him and slithered deeper into the recess of the alleyway.

Eventually he was lured out with some warm milk and given a desk, and a new tie, and a hot towel shave, and a Rolodex.

Now the world must prepare, for he is back! Jay Flagg is back! And ready to put his name as big as he wants on as many advertisements as he wants! But Andrew Saunders doesn't know this yet. No one does. Andrew Saunders does not realize the demon he has unleashed. The wrath he has loosed upon the four corners of the earth. He doesn't realize his own doom. The doom of his advertisements. And when the time comes, he may be powerless to do anything.

Said Jay Flagg: "I have decided to join Saunders because of their proven ability to provide superior experiences for clients and customers but most of all for how their talented marketing and technology team empowers their agents and anticipates their needs. Saunders has become 'the' luxury real estate brand and it will be refreshing to work in a company that is entirely focused on the Hamptons instead of an after-thought which is typical of the New York City centric brokerages."

Not a word about how he was shitcanned for boldfacing his name on PDE's ads. Such is the genius of this magnificent bastard!

The Obligatory 'I'm No Snob' Snobby Hamptons Wrap-Up

Every so many weeks we get these blog posts or (gulp) New York Times Magazine pieces that attempt to wrap up the whole spirit of the Hamptons in summer. It's the usual formula, whereby a given writer somehow gets the daunting and unwanted task of "weekending" in the Hamptons like some embedded reporter in Afghanistan and has to inform us of the goings on.

It usually works (in subtext alert tonality) like this:

I'm a young, hip, good-looking, appletini drinking, social climber who was unfairly tapped by my editor, (or in the case of bloggers: I could hear the masses calling out to me) to cover the Hamptons scene after another wild summer winds down. Sigh. I so hate covering the rich. I'm so not rich, or in any way interested in the rich. I'm just a regular gal who happens to be wearing designer clothes that I dug up somewhere. I'm really just like you, and I loathe to be in the company of rich people, but since I have to cover this story, I might as well embed myself in the culture of the privileged. Now that we got that out of the way, let me count off the myriad boutiques I'm completely familiar with, and then complain how I was not treated like a wealthy person enough!

Next batter, How Very Lucky To Be A Girl, another chick blogger who goes on dates and uses words like "fabulous" while wanting us to believe she's one of us. In her treatise on how she's not a fan of the Hamptons, she proceeds to ring off every store that opened on Main Street in East Hampton, and drops more than one high-end, famous restaurant she dined at. Why? So she could tell you how lousy the service was. (Click on the hyperlink to read her entry)

That's right. How Very Lucky To Be A Girl, the down-to-earth, working class hero blogger, who hates what the wealthy have done to the quaint, sleepy towns of the east end adds her two cents to the growing pile of complaints from rich people about the poor quality of work they get out of their poors.

For some of you who may remember J-school. Here's the organizational checklist for these recurring pieces.

Insert self-conscious opening lines about the unapologetic display of Hamptons wealth?...Check

Justify your reason for being there by citing editorial assignment?...Check

Transition to the "if-you-can't-beat-em'-join-em'" tone?...Check

Depart from your original position to suddenly embrace the Hamptons and lament the trials and tribulations the wealthy must endure?...Check

Mention you'll be back next year?... Absolutely

Eat a bag-a-dicks?...Please do

From Bikinis to Puppies; Now That's Evolution!

The Memorial Day Weekend Hamptons coverage is trickling in (or should was say oozing?) and we've uncovered some real gems to recap.

Starting with this kiss-ass article covering the Hamptons magazine party. It was held at the publisher's house in Southampton, where the guest of honor was Mariska Hargitay, the Law & Order SVU actress whom graced this issue's cover. (A Pez dispenser to anyone who can e-mail me and tell me if Hamptons is a real magazine, or just a glossy catalog of advertisements with a celebrity on the cover to lure the fabulosity crowd to this guy's house in the summertime.)

From there, the party moved to the Axe Lounge at Dune, where Kelly Killoren Bensimon ushered past a groupie-whore fistfight in the bushes to grace everyone with her toothy presence. Well, first she recorded this creepy-but-important-only-to-Kelly-PSA announcement in the middle of her living room about "systematic bullying." Apparently it's never okay. Neither is 4-on-1 action. That's never okay. Unless it's in the sack. Then it's never not okay. Otherwise, it's never okay. Just, generally defending oneself against attacks, or screeching "go to sleep, you're crazy..." that's never okay. If you see someone being the victim of systematic bullying? Let the bully know...that's not okay. It never is. The more you know.

Okay? Okay, so she stepped over two bitches clawing each other's eyes out to get at a Twilight actor who's probably gay to begin with, and she walked right into the Axe Lounge, and probably had a good time, because she was around a lot of people she thinks are important. Good for her. Making sure you're always at parties packed with self-important mooks? That's almost always okay.

What's not okay is this quote, after she actually became the 1-millionth famous-for-nothing nitwit to show up at a party with a dog in her arms (seriously, when is this stupid trend ever going to fade away?) From Gather.com: "This just shows how things are changing for me, I used to pose in bikinis, and now I pose with puppies." Wow. That's transformation! You know, change has a way of making us both happy and sad. It's okay, yet it's never okay.

You know what's also not okay is Kelly's Real Housewives cast mate Sonja...um...Sonja. Her. The blond chick who's new to the show. Yeah, she got arrested for DWI in Southampton, which should come as a surprise to no one. Apparently she refused to take a breathalyzer, but failed a field test, (which, if you've ever experienced a field test, you gotta be pretty blind stinking drunk to fail). Not taking the breathalyzer is usually automatic suspension of license, but she may have skirted more serious charges. She can cough up the license for a year, no biggie. We're sure some cabana slave will chauffeur her around whenever she needs to be somewhere. So...well played Sonja. Well played. Getting jail time or community service is never okay. Cooperation with authorities is never okay.

Sidebar: The egg on our face for blasting Southampton cops who arrested a crowd of people at Neptunes. Our implication was that they don't target the rich. Our apologies. You have made our day with the pinching of Red Sonja.

Another successful Memorial Day Weekend. Tune in next week when we rattle the bell jar once more and watch the pretty snowflakes trickle down all over again.

Hamptons Makes Two of the Top 10 Beaches You'll Never Visit

We're the 1000th outlet to report on this, but that's how we roll, journalistically. This CNN.com report lists the top 10 beaches in America, and two of them are located on the east end, with Cooper's Beach in Southampton actually nabbing the number 1 spot. Coming in 5th was East Hampton's Main Beach.

For the uninitiated, these are two beaches you can technically go to. Technically. Cooper's Beach in Southampton? $40 parking fee. Plus $125 speeding ticket.

Main Beach in East Hampton? $20 parking fee. And that's only on weekdays. On weekends you can't even go there without a village parking sticker. To get a village parking sticker? You have to live in East Hampton Village, or pay $300 for an out-of-village parking sticker. Oh, and for the year 2010? Out-Of-Village parking stickers are SOLD OUT. So go home. Or take a day off in the middle of the week to sit by yourself.

Beaches are literally the one thing the Hamptons should just leave off of their marketing materials altogether. 90% of them are private or closed to anyone outside of village residents. The public ones, like what made this list of best beaches, want your firstborn before you can dip your toes in the sand.

Sigh. Twas always thus.

The Worst. Press Release. Ever.

There will probably be others, and perhaps we'll hold a contest, but for now...This is. The worst. Press release. Ever.
I heart PRLog. I heart them forever, for posting this release and distributing it over their wires and actually allowing people to accidentally read it. It brightens even the most cantankerous of dispositions.
In short, TSW World Entertainment Network has a CEO. Tariq Alexander. Tariq Alexander has a couple friends. Namely, Joan and George Hornig. Joan, a bored housewife who whittles away the remains of her day making jewelry and using her husband's money to foist it on people, invited Tariq Alexander to their home in the Hamptons. They also invited on recommendation, some young wannabe performers to showcase their talent. Tariq Alexander, CEO of TSW (which stands for "The System Within," a business name fraught with meaning to Tariq Alexander and only to Tariq Alexander) wrote a press release about the party. Then he solicits your business at the end of it. And that's the news.
The worst. Press release. Ever.