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.

How Does All Kinds of Awesomeness Reside In One Person?

We're late to the Twitter game, and still haven't followed this man, but if you like Hamptonyte Blog, you'll love Hamptons handyman Joe Schwenk's Twitter account. It is filled with all sorts of nuggets about the type of requests he fills and people he encounters while doing odd-jobs for the Hamptons wealthy.

New York Magazine just printed a summer wrap-up article with Schwenk, who has over 6,000 followers on Twitter, all frothing at the mouth to hear what he encounters on a daily basis. Like my favorite new term "Beachtrepreneur," which perfectly sums up these women who have hitched their star to successful men and now find all sorts of time to whittle away the hours paddleboarding, taking instagram photos of themselves eating produce, and spin-cycling.

The best. Plus he has ginormous balls to risk losing business in a region that still has an old-school privacy about them. He even mentions some staff signing confidentiality agreements when hired. For those reasons, Hamptonyte Blog feels sad around him. Unaccomplished. Quite the posers, really. We can only wish for such access to that world.

So follow him. He's better than us.
But we're funnier. So follow us too! Go.

Battle Over Who Owns God Headed For Courts

One would think that in the age of "Occupy," the 1% would just pipe down a little bit. We're sort of delighted that they haven't.

Homeowners in Napeague (aka, the 1%) are in the middle of a legal fight with the Town of East Hampton over their desire to keep all the poors off the beach they feel is rightfully theirs because they purchased it years ago from God.

The Town says the parcels along that stretch of beach were sold under the condition that beach access would not be restricted to anybody. At the time, the beach was mainly accessed by east end baymen who parked on the street and walked down to the water to go to work in the morning. As the baymen died off, and they began to gradually be replaced by fucking assholes wealthier residents, those residents decided they didn't want barnacly, old, raggedy and completely not fabulous poors wandering their beaches.

The residents of Napeague of course are arguing that the beachgoers leave behind broken bottles, and burned out cars, and dead bodies, and zombies, but nobody is buying that to date. Bottom line is, God gave them the right to close off the beaches to the stinky public and the town should honor God.

Their appeals have fallen on deaf ears in the local courts and now it's headed to another court. So the residents said, "well, can you at least temporarily bar the poors from coming here?" and the courts said...not so much.

So yeah. The public says by principle nobody should own the beach, nobody should own nature. Shut up public.

*God did not immediately return calls for comment.

What if the South kept "concierges" in chains?

There would have likely been no Civil War! Instead of a slave trade, how nice does a concierge trade sound?

We stumbled on this advertisement for a company that specializes in consolidating the numerous ways Hamptonites can remain spoiled, weeping, drinking balls of incompetence. This particular brand of servitude goes by many different names. Concierge service. Luxury concierge. Personal concierge.

"Whether you need a rental home, reservations at the best Hamptons restaurant or a babysitting, pet-walking, dry cleaning-picking-up assistant, we've got you...We tailor our services to suit your every need, and we strive to ensure there is no limit to what we can do for you. At Open Minded Concierge, our relationship with our members is always treated with the utmost respect and extreme confidentiality."

Yassuh, we aims to please, and we please to aim, suh. Our prediction: By 2025, the American population will consist of two groups...the wealthy, and their "concierges." If we've said it once, we've said it a hundred times, the failure of the South was in its poor marketing efforts. No worries. It will rise again. And that fact pretty much blows.

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

At Trata East, Your Waiter Might Actually Be A Slave

If you've ever eaten at Trata East in Water Mill, you might as well call yourself Thomas Jefferson, because you own slaves. At least that's what two waiters and two busboys are claiming in a lawsuit reported in this article from 27East.com.

According to the lawsuit, sometimes they got paid and sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they got their tips taken away and sometimes they got their tips distributed upward to managers. Also, they weren't paid for extra time worked in their shifts. Basically, Trata East was operating like a household full of children. Sometimes they got their allowance, and sometimes they had to be locked in the freezer and threatened that if they ever went to the authorities they'd make their passports disappear and claim they were here illegally. Ah, memories of home.

Check out the article. Then pick someplace else to eat your souvlaki. And feel free to e-mail us at news5525@gmail.com with some of your waiter/waitress/bartending nightmares. We'd love to hear it.

Attention: Jobs You, You, and You Can Get!

In "This Week in The Weakonomy," there is some hope for all of us living in the Hamptons. With summer, comes jobs for all! Like this craigslist ad I sure hope nobody responds to. To quote:

"Actual, real movie producer seeks part time pool boy for the summer for his country home... "

Yick. But we need to pay bills, right? Sure I'm a little out of shape, but I'm confident I can scurry my beer-belly back and forth to serve this dude his drinks. Oh wait...

"You should be clean cut, All American looking and be comfortable/attractive in a speedo."

And he wants pictures to prove it. Dammit. Fat people have no way out of this recession. They might even be the cause of it!

This article in the Daily News highlights some of the other jobs available for those in desperate need of cash, but good luck. One Quogue family is "seeking a "houseman" who has "experience with museum-quality cleaning and care for antiques, silver and fine art."

We here at Hamptonyte Blog are not housemen. However, we are ass men. (Except Sean, who sometimes blogs here as a guest under our name. He called in to say he's a breast man.)

How about an upper East Side family that summers in Amagansett? They're paying "up to $100,000 a year for a classically trained private chef for "social and religious gatherings, political fund-raisers and philanthropic events."

But how much will they pay someone for them to lay out in the sun? That's what 21-year-old and apple-cheeked, the-world-owes-me-a-living-because-I-look-cute-in-this-bikini Sara Birkholz wants to know. She just completed studying poetry at NYU (yes, we weep for literature too.)

"Laying out is one of the favorite things to do," she said while basking in a pink-and-white bikini on the lawn in Washington Square Park. "If I could find an actual job that let me have time to do that, it would be nice."

But if you'd rather remain an objective observer of the Hamptons summer aquarium, and not climb down into the moat to be among them like Diane Fossey, there's other jobs. Like working in the marketing department for Plum TV. This ad, which is written in a way that actually makes it sound less appealing than it is (no small feat) appeared on mediabistro. Could be a good way to make money while laughing at how seriously people take themselves. Just don't say anything anti-semitic. Or they will fire you.

If none of these appeal to you, you can always act like unemployment is an "experience", like this trust-fund man-child called out in the Daily News article.

"Peter Slowansky, 29, of Williamsburg, Brooklyn would "never, ever" take a serv-ice-staff job, he said."The snobbery!" he said. "It's not a very good vibe. I just don't think it would be worth it. It would devalue my holiday experience."

Oh, get a job, you hipster loser!

Wall Street Banks To Employees: Have Fun, But Don't Be A Dick About It

The recession has done nothing to deter the well-heeled from kicking off their business shoes and dipping them in the sands of the Hamptons. But now from Reuters comes this warning apparently handed down from Wall Street banks to its bevy of toolbag employees licking their chops to get out east, roll up their trousers, and hit on the waitresses. Go buy your $15 million homes. But do it secretly. Use a fake name, maybe. Or, aha, the name of a rival! This will seriously keep you from our guillotine.

This is the problem with unsourced material in journalism: the "some people say" approach to sourcing. Employers have probably sent no such warning to its staff. But it's fun to think they have!

Things are much better," [ Judi Desiderio, CEO,Town & Country Real Estate] said. "People feel more secure about their jobs. They feel more secure that the world isn't going to crack wide open and suck them in."

Yes, but just to be safe from the business end of our pitchforks, wear dark sunglasses and a big hat when you walk into her office.

Trailer Residents, Too Rapey For Westhampton

In your textbook case of NIMBYism, the Town of Southampton has successfully managed to at least temporarily slap an injunction on Suffolk County, preventing them from upgrading DSS trailers that house homeless sex offenders.

Everyone is relieved. Well...except the sex offenders. Some of whom you can find by entering Westhampton's zip code (11977) in the NYS Sex Offender Registry.

Read this article for the legal maneuvering it took to get this thing done; it would impress the Nixon Administration. They managed to prevent showers from being upgraded in the trailers, which made the trailers essentially unlivable (everybody knows sex offenders HATE being dirty), and therefore in violation of other town and county occupancy codes. Done. Go somewhere else, rapey homeless pervs!

Like Mastic! While Hamptonyte Blog certainly can't expect residents to be over the moon about registered creepers setting up shop in town (even if it is in the middle of the friggin woods on Old Country Road) I have to take personal umbrage with this quote from Suffolk County Legislator Jay Schneiderman:

“The community is not going to tolerate this any longer,” Mr. Schneiderman said. “This is not a policy—this is dumping on a community.”

And this gem:

“The burden needs to be shared,” said Westhampton Beach Village Board member Toni-Jo Birk.

Excuse me? That's dumping on a community? Two trailers plopped in the middle of the woods? And that's not sharing the burden, Madame Birk? Have you looked over the fence at William Floyd Parkway in Mastic, Mastic Beach, and Shirley? Here are the numbers for Level 2 and 3 sex offenders:

Mastic Beach: 18
Mastic: 13
Shirley: 8

Westhampton: 1
Westhampton Beach: 3
Hampton Bays: 8
Quogue: 0
Eastport: 0
Southampton: 2

In other words, adding Westhampton, Westhampton Beach, Hampton Bays, Quogue, Eastport, and Southampton's number of sex offenders draws them into a tie with Mastic. Three communities outnumber 6 communities by a tally of 39 to 13! I wonder where these offenders are going to end up when the county gets rid of its trailer program and switches to a $90-per-day voucher program? Hmmmm.

Run that horseshit by us again, Ms. Birk?

How To Pick Your Next Victim

With domestic terrorism now thwarted, European air space now back up and running, the Louisianan oil spill getting cleaned up, and the economy now completely fixed, it's time to make more important moves. Like picking a caterer for your Hamptons parties!

This listing has actually been posted on two sites. It's an open house taking place tomorrow at The Hamptons Caterer's Showcase in Southampton. You'll get to sample food, drinks, photographers, decorators, and planners.

Because choosing the right team of underlings to abuse while hobnobbing with your smart set should be taken very seriously.

Attention Hamptons Fameballs!

Now's your chance at Hollywood fame! Well, not really. But it is a great opportunity to show off how pretty, rich, and spoiled you are, so everybody wins! The smarmy sounding casting agency Grant Wilfley Casting (GWC) is looking for all you well-heeled Homptons-types to fill the background of the new season of "Royal Pains," a scripted TV show about a physical therapist who serves the wealthy Hamptons crowd because he traded his soul to Satan for a block of cheese when he was growing up in the ghetto. Something like that. Here's the list of qualifications. Stay away uglies! Make yourselves scarce poors! Unless you're Latino, of course.

• Men and women with upscale, late model cars, e.g. Mercedes, BMW, Lexus, etc. Please include the make, model, year, color and a recent picture of your car when you submit. (Bleh)
• Latino men and women to play Cuban horticulturalists. (Subtext alert: they mean gardeners.)
• Older men with real-life experience as barber. (That should be fun role!)
• Young, attractive heiress type who is comfortable driving a sports car on camera

(Note: you don't have to be an actual heiress, just an "attractive heiress type." Here's how you cast this. Step 1. Walk out onto Main St, East Hampton in July. Step 2. Throw stone. )

Break a leg! Seriously. If you respond to this casting call just go ahead and snap your femur. Both for bonus points.