Fairies On Trial In Islip

A group of fairies in Montauk plan to move ahead with their lawsuit challenging East Hampton Town’s long-standing law prohibiting these mythical creatures from flying and causing adults to experience a child- like joyous rapture. During one particularly acute fairy infestation, local East End residents became so overjoyed that they began to blow bubbles, skinny dip and take long naps.

A bench trial is scheduled to begin in February before Justice Merlin of the United States District Court for the Eastern District of New York, according to East Hampton Town Attorney John Swillnicki. The case will be heard at the court’s Central Islip location and will be broadcast live at Disney theme parks throughout the world.

The ban, enacted by the Town Board in 1997, prohibits fairies from flying faster than 20 knots. "Those little buggers were a real nuisance and we finally took action when their ringleader Tinkerbell caused Town Supervisor Ed McGintee to disrobe and drool like a baby during a recent Town Board meeting," Mr. Swillnicki said.

Hamptons Dumpster Personals (HDP)

HANDSOME

Think John Wayne body with Richard Gere face. Towering guy with his own carting business. Successful, financially stable man who loves hauling garbage seeks a slim Asian or Latin female dumpster (38-55) to share a life togther and possible marriage. Must be tolerant of extra-big man. BOC 342887

We Can Ride Our Bikes with No Handlebars

One of the most annoying phenomena that has become a bane to our summertime existence is the presence of fanatical, spandex-clad road warriors. (You know what I am talking about.) They travel in rather large packs and ooze self-entitlement and haughty healthiness. Not to mention an explosion of bike signs reminiscent of the first days of the AIDS crisis. Yeah we get it: We have to share the road with them, but we're not happy about it.
Recently a friend who shall remain anonymous recounted a story that speaks volumes of the mindset of our cycle idiots.

The man is a volunteer ambulance member and a life long resident of the East End. He gives back to his community and doesn't just ride through it. The EMT was in transit with a patient in the back of his ambulance and was attempting to navigate the often narrow streets of Sag Harbor, NY when he encountered the "spokes." A large, diverse pack of cyclists had taken up the majority of the roadway as the ambulance approached from behind. The bikers would not yield to the ambulance's siren and continued to block its passage. When the driver of the ambulance had taken all he could, he rolled down his window to impart a few choice words to the cyclists. But before he could utter a sound, one of the female bikers in the group hollered out, "Do you mind... we're on vacation!"

Diary of a Hamptons Hitman

Hi...My name's Robert. I live in the Hamptons. I have a good job, a devoted wife named Mandy, two adorable children Max and Erin (ages 4 and 8, respectively) and a spacious mansion on the beach. Recently, I was driving my precious cargo for an ocean dip in my powder blue Bentley on a beautiful summer day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky as I brushed Max's hair with affection and we sang, "Row...row...row your boat...gently down the stream."

I was living the dream and I knew it. I had come a long way from the time I was 15 and living in NYC with my father Michael. In those days, dad drove a Buick Roadmaster with a spacious trunk where he stored his precious cargo. When I asked him what he did for a living, he answered: "I'm a restaurant owner, son. Some day, I want you to take over the family business. C'mon, let's run a little errand."

We drove in silence to an abandoned lot. My father told me to stay in the car while he met a key supplier. Suddenly, a powerful explosion shook the ground and my father's bloody and unrecognizable head landed with a loud thud on the car's front windhshield. Two armed thugs grabbed me from the car kicking and screaming and within seconds, wracked with grief, I was introduced to Vito DeVito, my new 'father.' "I like you, kid," Vito said. "But your scumbag dad double-crossed me and you're gonna work off his debt. Welcome to your new family...one that you can never leave, capisce?"

NEXT: After being honored at a celebrity-studded gala event for charity, I garotte a low-level informer in Westhampton, NY

JOHN McCAIN ANNOUNCES HE'S AN AGENT OF LOOSE CHANGE

Announcing he's the real agent of loose change, Republican Presidential candidate Sen. John McCain will be making a brief appearance in the Hamptons area in the coming weeks wearing his white Naval garb and driving an ice cream truck dubbed the "Straight Cream Express."

"If you go on my official web site's home page, I advise the American people to 'Serve a Cause Greater than Yourself.' After eight years of corruption, a limping economy and a misguided war under Republican leadership, I've decided to serve my country by serving free ice cream directly to the top one-percent of the population who've benefited from our policies and hand out loose change from my coin dispenser to the rest of you suckers who can't bring themselves to vote for an uppity African American. My campaign of distortion and lies designed to distract voters from the miserable state of our once-great nation is based on the old adage: 'I scream... Obama screams... we all scream for ice cream.'"

East End Officials Approve Air Taxi Service for the Rich Offering Flights to and from NYC, East Hampton, Southampton and Sag Harbor

An enterprising airplane manufacturer based in North Carolina has received tentative approval from local officials to begin offering flights for the well-heeled to and from the major Hamptons towns year round. "Fire your limo drivers, say goodbye to Rt. 27 and Long Island Expressway (L.I.E.) traffic delays and park your Powder Blue Bentleys," Thad Davis, a company spokesperson said. "Our twin-engine aircraft are able to take off and or land from any paved surface, a grass airstrip or local waterways as shallow as three feet, they basically can function like a large hover-craft. We can pick you up at your ostentatious mansion and deposit your sorry, self-entitled asses anywhere you want."

Davis further explained the motivation behind the new air-taxi service. "Rich people always want to make a dramatic appearance whether it's at their kid's bar mitzvah; or simply turning heads as their plane pulls up to the Ralph Lauren store right on East Hampton's Main Street; or they can ferry their ex-wives and estranged kids to and from their Manhattan apartments for those dreaded court-mandated weekend visitations; it is all a part of the super wealthy's way of life."

Amenities on the aircraft include free scripts of Viagra, naked flight attendants trained in the fine art of Swedish massage, plus chilled champagne and local wines. All the compartments are separate like on a cruise ship so the kids can watch a movie or an in-flight magic show while the adults are getting their daily doses of whatever they need to get through the day. Each of the aircraft has been modified in such a way as to increase their load-carrying capacity by removing the sewage holding tanks, so when you flush the Commode from your suite in the sky you are sending a real message to your fellow Hamptonites about who's top dog in the social pecking order.

The aircraft can carry 5,500 pounds, fly at 230 mph for almost 1,000 miles and their roomy cabins hold up to eight passengers, more than enough space for any group of fawning sycophants. As of this writing, no rates have been established but we suspect that if you need to ask about the cost, you probably couldn't afford the bar tab, let alone the flight.

Living on Hess Food: Day One

The Hess station at 346 Montauk Highway in Wainscott, NY is my refuge, a sanctuary from the mad hustle and bustle of the choked roads and beaches seen on a typical Hamptons summer day. Local lore has it that one desperate female city resident recently begged a Hess attendant to borrow a $2.29 bottle opener to pry the lid off the beer in her car and vowed to return it only to receive this full-service reply from her all-too-concerned attendant: ”Sorry, lady, then the bottle opener would be used and I couldn’t sell it.”

My car and I draw sustenance from Hess. The ever-present long lines inside filled with swaggering up-island workers, anxious immigrants and nervous local kids trying to buy cigarettes or beer with fake IDs stand in sharp contrast to the smug self confidence of the proud high and mighty that line up at the General Store in Sagaponack, NY. In keeping with my distinctly lower middle class values (and because I'm dead broke), I decided to conduct a medical experiment along the lines of the hit movie "Supersize Me." I would eat only Hess food for one week and document my body's changes.

DAY ONE: Chose the egg, bacon and cheese biscuit sandwich for breakfast. Despite numerous attempts to microwave it, the sandwich stubbornly refused to heat up and tasted like a flaky hockey puck. For lunch, I ate two overdone hot dogs that caused immediate heartburn and cessation of all feeling from below my waist. (This noble experiment was going to be tough on my marriage I mused.) Dinner choices were limited to a six-pack of Corona beer or the last lonely microwavable bacon cheeseburger that looked and tasted eerily similar to the aforementioned egg, bacon and cheese biscuit sandwich.

I asked the young female Russian attendant if Hess offered any salads and she replied, "We're not a restaurant, sir. We're a gas station." With the hot dogs from lunch still burning a hole in my gut, I conceded her point.

My next decision was a no-brainer. Despite the considerable risks to my nascent study's reliability and validity, I would eat healthy. I would drive to the McDonald's in Southampton, NY and order an Angus and continue my Hess food experiment tomorrow.

Next: Day Two of the Wainscott Hess Food Diet Causes the Author to Experience Acute Paranoid Schizophrenia 

Everybody's got one: an atrocious Jitney experience...

Riding with Jabba The Hut...

My close encounter of the third kind happened a few years back. I had staked out my usual seat in the far back on a completely booked Jitney; eastbound for home in the Hamptons. I had gotten comfy and spread out my various accouterment in my usual fashion; so as discourage others from joining me on the bench seat next to the bathroom. I dozed off and awoke with a start at the Queens stop when a man resembling in both size and stature, a creature I had recently seen in one of George Lucas' latest films. I think the creature was called Jabba The Hut? As he waddled toward me in all of my recombant splendor, I knew I was done for. Two and a half hours later, my face sore from being pressed against the cool, smooth glass of the bus' window, I was beginning to have doubts as to whether I would make it to the Wainscott bus stop.

Here it was 3 hours into the trip and we were only half way home. Throughout the trip I worried about whether this particular window was one of the types that can pop out at the bottom and be used as an emergency exit. Adding insult to injury my "friend," who had managed to squeeze his abundantly padded ass into the seat next to me let loose a series of gaseous emissions that only a bull elephant would have been proud of. When the attendant made her rounds to serve us water and offer us something to read, I could see her looking at me as if I was but a mere shadow of my former self. I was tempted to ask for a gas mask , after all, shouldn't a 52 dollar trip come with a little more than a bag of chips and poorly written article by Dan Rattiner, kissing every Hamptonites' rich ass?

After the Five hour trip I vowed the moment I disembarked from the ride of a lifetime that the extra 6 bucks would be well worth it and my next trip would be on the Hampton Luxury Liner.

Look for future installments...
From: A Local Writer...who shall remain anonymous...

Next: Watching rich old people horde cookies and earmarked magazines on the Luxury Liner.