The New York Times knows god damn well that nothing so effectively enrages its less-affluent readers and engages its more affluent readers in a single stroke than a story about some stupid summer camp for rich kids. Because the regular middle class people are like "That is so stupid and gauche and decadent and outrageous, my Aiden doesn't need any 'camp' except a fire hydrant. I am fwding this article to EVERYONE, for anger's sake," and the rich parents are like "Hmm, is my Ayden losing the Niche-est Camp Competition this year?" Hey, fashion camp!

The New York Times really knows what it's doing, when it comes to trend stories. What it's doing is not "Finding and identifying important fact-based trends and bringing them to light, for the public good." What it's doing is "Finding and identifying thoroughly unimportant trends which may or may not be real but which will serve to enrage the average reader enough to make it onto the 'Most Emailed' list."

Thanks to America's stupid "child labor laws," you can't force your kids to work at your law firm this summer. That means: Summer camp. But which camp to choose? You don't want just any old collection of log cabins around a lake filled with children's bodies. No: You need a place with evidence-based instruction and measurable skill-development!

[Tents are set up at a camp organized by the Pakistan Army for Pakistani families displaced by floods in the Sindh province in southern Pakistan. Pic via AP.]

Drudge's latest awesome snap poll: who is hotter, Russian strongman Vlad Putin or sculpted hope-monger Barack Obama? The murderous ex-KBG officer is winning! Love it leave it, guys!

For a certain kind of mommy and daddy-the kind you would see in a New York Times weekend feature-merely sending their precious little dumplings to some of the poshest, coddling-est summer camps in the nation isn't enough. They also supply their whimsically special bunnies with contraband cellphones and drive camp administrators insane by constantly demanding even special-er treatment for their holy spawn. "Their parents, meanwhile, were bombarding the camp with calls: one wanted help arranging private guitar lessons for her daughter, another did not like the sound of her child's voice during a recent conversation, and a third needed to know - preferably today - which of her daughter's four varieties of vitamins had run out. All before lunch."