Jerry Della Femina's Problems Would Make Jesus Christ Want To Murder Him

Jerry Della Femina's idea of poverty is so rage inducing we saw the Dalai Lama read this Business Insider article and then immediately turn around and punch an infant in the face.

Della Femina, the sleazy, slimy lying gold-toothed creep ad man was one of the few Madison Avenue execs who amassed his fortune and didn't manage to blow it on a coke habit in the 80s. He's been a permanent fixture in the Hamptons since forever and even opened up a successful restaurant with the money he made convincing people with money they don't have to buy shit they don't need.

Now he's sold his house because, well, because his poor unborn great grandchildren may not be able to sit by a pool lined with the skin of Mexican day laborers while doing lines off a blonde co-ed's back. Or as we used to call it: The American Dream.

That's right, a man who lives in America in 2012, with full knowledge of how high the unemployment rate is, who no doubt had to lay off some of his own workers at his various business ventures, who flies his helicopter over thousands of foreclosed homes, has the balls to complain that he's selling because he refuses to pay more taxes under the Obama administration.

Taxes? Really? Taxes? You do realize, Della Femina, that your tax bill is probably quadruple the monthly mortgage of the average home just west of where you live, right?

Instead of feeling fortunate that he even has the money to PAY those taxes, he's selling low just to avoid them. His ginormous, disgustingly lavish, and grossly unnecessary oceanfront house went for $25 million. He wanted $40 million. But he's settling for 25. A fact that makes us just...so sad.

“I want the proceeds of this sale to go to my kids and my grandkids,” he told The Post's Jennifer Gould Keil and Selim Algar. “I don’t want my money going to Obama, and that’s what’s going to happen in the New Year. That’s why I sold right now, that’s why I wanted to get this done.”
“I’m basically the loser in Obama’s class warfare,” he added.

Wow. That really gets us...right around...the chest/heart region or thereabouts. Another loser in Obama's class warfare, according the article, is Discovery Networks CEO David Zaslav, who inherited Della Femina's meager 8 bedroom, 6.5 bathroom, heated pool-even-though-there's-a-literal-ocean-500-feet-away, mansion that sits on 1.7 acres.

On a side note, we'd like to know how an advertising/marketing guru can be this culturally tone-deaf. On a sider note, we'd like to know how Della Femina's brain didn't say to him: 'please don't call the NY Post and...say anything like what you're about to say.' On an even sider note, we'd like Della Femina to eat a bag of dicks.

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. 

Alec Baldwin's Wife Must Have Had A Shitty Dad

In another installment of Human Bratz Doll Gina Glickman-Giordan's hard-hitting investigation of the Hamptons we all know as "Whispers," our favorite brown-noser bopped all the way to "Yoga Gives" in Southampton and went all gonzo journalism on us.

Embedded in the dark trenches of an underworld known as Yogis, she braved degradation, humiliation, perspiration, and possibly even death to deliver us an insider's look at how the rich exorcise and cleanse from the horrors and stresses of being rich. Hunter S. Thompson would have been proud. Proud that he refrained from shooting her.

In either event, after dropping the very important fact that she was not wearing Yoga clothes, she was wearing her "Lululemon finest yoga attire," she got into the purpose of her visit. To seek out and delve deeply into the life and times of Hilaria Thomas Baldwin, newly minted wife of actor Alec Baldwin.

What did we learn? First and foremost that despite our constant urge to finish her name with an "S" by calling her "Hilarious," it's actually pronounced Ee-larry-ah, which, we also learned, is Spanish for Golddigger "happy."

We also learned that despite Eelarryah's seemingly cest-la-vie attitude and folksy aw-shucksism, she, like most wealthy women in the spotlight, is just as absorbed and cooky, and control-freaky about her body image. When she was apparently accused of donning a "baby bump" at a recent charity event, she tried to control her apeshit, but couldn't, and took to Twitter with: "Shld rumors that I’m pregnant give me a complex about my waistline? How slim do u have to be? This is a serious problem in society.”

Well, really it's just a problem for you, fatty. And clearly you already have a complex about your waistline. Enjoy your beer gut.

We also learned that putting a person's name in bold-face type doesn't make them a celebrity. Who knew?

But most importantly, we learned that Hilaria must have had a really lousy father. "I think anybody would be so lucky to have Alec as a dad.” (Bold-type Gina's, not ours. Of course.)

"I think anybody would be so lucky to have Alec as a dad.” Aw. We can understand where she's coming from. Just check out Alec's new line of Birthday Cards for Children Whose Age You're Unsure Of, Or If In Fact They Are Children At All below:



 Bold-type...Ours.

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.

Study Hamptons Culture: Get Paid...Nothing

Sorry. That's the way internships go. But if you haven't heard back from a real job yet, or you already got turned down for that job as a public restroom attendant, or a sewage worker, or the guy holding a sign, waving to motorists, or the "geek" in "Shoot the Geek," or a waiter at Chucky Cheeses, there's one more option.

Hamptons.com is looking for interns. They put out a press release, and with a straight face tried to lure you in with the golden opportunity to learn journalism this summer .

Kids...you're going to learn many things at that internship. You'll learn the difference between a cosmo and a martini. You'll learn how to cozy up to celebrities. You'll learn how to re-can press releases. How to get invited to all the right parties and how to dangle your camera in front of you when you get there. How to use over-the-top hyperbolic language when describing a person, a party, or a dish. (fabulous, fantastic, fantastimonious, superberrendous!) You'll learn how to decipher between important people and not-important people. You'll learn how to ignore the not-important people. But you'll never. Ever. Ever. Learn journalism.

But hey, it's something to do, and maybe you'll meet Pauly Shore.

Fabulosity Navel-Gazers Wanted

Either there are not enough, or there can never be too many, we're not sure, but another lifestyle outlet is looking for another lifestyle writer to contribute to another lifestyle blog that covers the fabulous lifestyles of the absolutely fabulous this summer.

We found this posting on Craigslist while looking for actual real work. Haute Living is looking to extend its coverage of the most important unimportant people as they take their importance east for the summer.

Why should you? The perks, people, the perks!

• invites to the hottest parties (pretty important)


• a chance to write for an "established brand" like Haute Living (very important)


• opportunities to make "high-end" contacts (how high-end? How about Gwyneth Paltrow's pool-boy?!)


• a way to expand your online presence (the most important)


• an opportunity to fine-tune your suicide note

Good luck. But remember, you must be willing to document your drool on Facebook. And the Twitter.

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

Decorate Your Broken Heart With Glitter

There are very few universal truths not contradicted by customs, mores, and religious teachings all over the world, but they do exist. One such Platonic truth: "The only thing that really matters is how you look."

It's a fact. And Hamptons.com's newest advice columnist Kimberly Garrett knows it! She wrote a whole article on the secret to not feeling so bad. Do you know what she does when she's a Sad Sally and wants to turn that frown upside down? She shops! Of course, she does. And so should you.

To quote Garrett: "It's hard to be in a terrible mood when you're wearing bright pink lipstick."

Trust her people, she knows. She works with celebrities all the time, and we know how happy they always look.

Here's a prescription from Dr. Kimberly Garrett, bad-mood-killer extraordinaire. (Well, to be fair, we tried to match the ailment to the outfit.)

• Victim of child labor? Versace floral-print stretch satin dress: only $1,775!


• Orphaned by bunker buster in Iraq? Emilio Pucci printed cotton-jersey minidress: $540


• Unemployed with mouths to feed? Tucker printed silk-satin minidress: $210

So you see, it fits all budgets. So cheer up. And remember...if you look good...you'll get into heaven. But if you're ugly and you don't shop, well, just keep your depressed, ugly self away from all of us wearing the bright pink lipstick!

Cynthia Rowley to Montauk: "Shut Up And Be Chic!"

Here's a little vapid fashion wrap to thrust us officially into the deep (or should we say shallow?) end of summertime in the Hamptons.

Cynthia Rowley is opening a boutique shop in Montauk this summer. Fisherman with chum guts under your nails? Go wash up! Surfer not completely sure if you've showered lately? Put this on! Ornery barfly at Salovars or the Lucky Saloon? Now you can lament life in style!

We can't think of a worse place to put a shop that will sell wares from a designer who holds a Perry Ellis Award, and neither could Rowley. In an attempt to maintain the drinking town's austere, alcoholic, and depressed image, Rowly is simply putting a sign that says "Shop" on the awning. And she's placing it next to the Memory Motel. And she's hosting a summer concert series at the Memory. So, you know...treat her like a little sister, Montauk, even is she is trying to dress you up like her dolls and make you all fabulous.

In other news, Hamptons.com did 22-year-old apple-cheeked and well-connected fashion designer Lauren Gabrielson no favors by pretty much printing Gabrielson's press release wholesale on their web site. Gabrielson, if you've never heard of her, is Ginny Hilfiger's hand-crafted puppet who came to life and launched her own line. That's her on the right in the picture above. Note Ginny's hand is in position to operate Lauren's mouth and moveable parts. Anyway, now Ginny is helping her open a boutique in Sag Harbor called? Drum roll, please....LaurenG. Stunningly, Lauren Gabrielson's PR team has really glowing things to say about Lauren Gabrielson.

"Gabrielson is a 22-year-old designer ready to make her mark on the industry."

"Gabrielson's trademark style has an influence of vintage lingerie, mixing femininity with soft, silky colors (which is masculinity?)"

Welcome Gabrielson at her open-house event on June 5 at 4 p.m., and get a chance to operate the human-size puppet yourself! The address is 112 Hampton Street, on the corner of Route 114 and Jermain Avenue. And godspeed, Lauren Gabrielson, 22, and ready to make your mark. Godspeed.

Journalist Sued For Wanting To Practice Journalism

Okay, maybe the headline is a bit unfair. According to this article, media company Hamptons Online is suing the founder and part-owner of Hamptons.com, Robert Florio for millions of dollars because they claim Florio ran off with the source codes for Hamptons.com and then used those source codes to build a rival website, which is now up and running and pwning Hamptons.com.

Got it? Us neither. But basically Florio got fired because he wanted Hamptons.com to practice journalism and his fellow owners/board members were like, "journalism, schmournalism, let's just see how many celebrities we can pack into each article." But Florio wouldn't relent and so they shit-canned him. When he left, he owed hundreds of thousands of dollars that he charged against the business that he can't justify, according to the lawsuit. Not only that, they claim he took the source codes and built HamptonsVue.com, which is a rival site only in that it has the word "Hamptons" in it, and has a similar banner at the top. Other than that, a cursory glance at HamptonsVue.com would reveal that Florio's new website actually (gulp) practices journalism and (double gulp!) reports on things happening out east that don't involve Alec Baldwin, Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna, or the Real Housewives of New York City.

Our favorite part is that Hamptons Online also wants to get back the Volkswagon Bus Florio had signed under his name and drove off the lot. Hey Hamptons Online, if you can't act like real hippies and report critically, speaking truth to power, than you can't have the hippie-mobile! I should be the abitrator in this thing.

They also want to go after a reporter, which is like suing a kid's lemonade stand. Andrea Aurichio is named in the suit because she allegedly said mean things about the quality of the site (it sucks) and the personalities of the management (they blow.) Apparently she got shit-canned also, back in November, because she was "behind" some anonymous comments left that tore up some of the articles that appeared on Hamptons.com. (God, I hope at least one of those comments was a judo chop to Sean MFK Bruns). The official beef with Aurichio is that she's interfered with potential Hamptons.com advertisers, by contacting them and telling them the site sucks and the people there blow, and also for damaging their "character and reputation."

You mean this character and reputation?
“[The majority] came to a decision that trying to bring another news outlet into the marketplace didn’t make sense for us to do,” Mr. Kazickas said. “We weren’t equipped for it. The economics weren’t there. So we just decided that we would go in a different direction.”

What direction might that be? You're a media company that didn't see the value in reporting...news?! You should sue yourselves for breach of integrity.

This Weak in Medi-uh

We never thought it possible to have two media recaps, and we probably won't, going forward, but something must be done to stop Hamptons.com's party suck-up Sean MFK Bruns from filing his columns.

All the Hamptons a stage, and Bruns is merely a lighting-guy-who-wants-to-make-it-with-the-lead-role in it! From Design House in Southampton hosting a pathetic attempt at some invitation only "salon," to his unforgettable night of glitz and glamour above a car dealership on Old Riverhead Road, he feels insanely super about the coming summer. "Places everybody, places!" he actually wrote. We'll get right on that, Sean.

Unforgettable quote? and by unforgettable, I mean puke. "Last year other clubs were getting 'celebrities' like John Gosselin and Mike Lohan. Dune wouldn't even let those guys through the door," said a conveniently anonymous "club goer" about the second season of Dune's sad existence.

Um...yes they will. Though the anonymous club goer doesn't think so. In fact the anonymous club goer thinks all other clubs suck, except Dune. Thank God Sean Bruns found this anonymous club goer who happened to be moseying on down Jobs Lane in Southampton looking for someone in the press to get the word out that Dune is the one and only for him. Dune is the Hamptons. Dune invented night clubs! And puppies.

Towards the end of the article, there's some accidental reporting going on: updates on what's happening with some of the existing night spaces left abandoned like Bernie Madoff's whore, on the side of Sunrise Highway, eye-liner streaked down the face awash in tears.

Some of the details are yet to be worked out in those spaces, only weeks away from Memorial Day as of print time. But don't worry. Entitlement is a hardy fig. And we're sure that whatever happens to 75 Main in Southampton, or The Pink Elephant...the space will surely blossom into producing ripe, healthy toolbags like what attended Annona that seductive April evening. Above the car dealership.

And Sean MFK Bruns' tears will go from sadness, to elation. And then quickly back to sadness.