The Loved One and I motored through So. Ind. yesterday afternoon after traipsing around the Spring Mill State Park pioneer village for a couple of hours. Two observations:
- In some tiny town on SR 60, not far, IIRC, from S. Dog Trot Rd., one of those chain auto parts stores was open on the most sacred of holy days, which I found bizarre.
- I lo-o-o-ove the fried chicken gizzards you can get by the pound or half-pound in rural gas station convenience stores around those parts.
The leadership of this holy land gathered this past weekend to celebrate, I dunno, some dowager’s b-day, or the 4th of July, or to worship and praise the loving god that birthed them into great wealth and privilege, or something.
The woman whose family used to run the Washington Post, some gasbag named Lally Weymouth, threw open the doors of her Hamptons estate to an all-star roster of American plutocrats and oligarchs so they could remind each other how great it is to be they and not one of those people out in the rest of the country.
The Hamptons, for those of us in flyover America who either don’t know or don’t give a good goddamn about such things, is the universe’s locus for the crème de la crème of our species. This from Wikipedia:
[T]he Hamptons’ residents include many of New York City’s most affluent residents, as well as a number of affluent people from other nearby states, executives, and increasingly, foreigners from Europe and South America.
The area features some of the most expensive and luxurious residential properties in the U.S.; in 2016, according to Business Insider, the 11962 ZIP Code encompassing Sagaponack, within Southampton, was listed as the most expensive in the U.S., with a median home sale price of $8.5 million.
The home The Loved One and I currently occupy cost us approximately 1/57th that sparkling, glittering grand total. In other words, the average homeowner in Sagaponack, New York, on the exclusive eastern end of Long Island, could buy 57 Chez Big Mikes for what his or her crib is worth today. There are some 154 homes in the town, meaning those scant few pads are equal in value to 8778 of my very comfortable dive.
But, of course, Sagaponackers are superior examples of Homo Sapiens sapiens. And, to borrow a phrase from George Carlin: They own this fuckin’ country! They own you!
Among your owners present at Lally Weymouth’s pre-Independence Day bacchanal were:
- Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner
- Kellyanne Conway
- Sen. Charles Schumer (Democratic Senate Minority Leader)
- Steven Spielberg
- Chris Ruddy (described as a “confidant” of President Gag)
- Carl Icahn (billionaire)
- Charles Koch (billionaire)
- Richard Edelman (PR flack for billionaires)
- Maria Bartiromo (Fox Business Network courtier)
- Raymond Kelly and William Bratton (ex-NYC police commissioners)
- George Soros (billionaire)
Here are a couple of spot-on comments from the Jezebel news item about this arch-villain orgy:
The uber rich, police commissioners, journalists…this shit sounds like a party at Wayne Manor. How come the Joker never crashes these types of events IRL?
Just goes to show that it’s all bs. Politics is nothing but interactive theater.
We’re out here fighting with each other and they are all bedfellows. Liberals and conservatives are always talking shit to each other about Koch brothers and Soros, meanwhile they are fucking feeding each other filet mignon.
I’m sick of this shit.
The whole orgy is but a troubling reminder that even after Li’l Duce has been driven from office in disgrace or slapped into a cold, dark, dank prison cell — (fingers crossed) — we’ll still be living in a tin-pot dictatorship disguised as “the Beacon of Democracy and Freedom.”
Check out this fascinating interactive chart (click it) to see which of the world’s fishes you should be stuffing into your face depending upon your feelings about things like animal cruelty, environmental harm, farm stocks, etc.