We've railed on before about how the massive wealth gap is turning us into a fatter version of Brazil, but an article in this morning's Post pretty much put it all in perspective for us. Rich kids, unable to handle the trauma of an hours-long bus ride to the bucolic setting that is sleepaway camp, are now flying chartered jets to their summer destinations.

It's not online, but it's worth your dropping your two bits for the Hamptons Survival Guide in today's Post, particularly if you enjoy reading about douchebags. In an article called "Pay for the Privilege," the paper introduces you to Tony Abrams, "lifestylist." Tony runs a concierge service called The 400 (the allusion to Mrs. Astor's famous list is intentional) which, for an annual fee of $7500, will facilitate the invitations and reservations that sad-ass Manhattan douchebag professionals cannot wangle on their own.

[H]aving a part-time house can be a full-time commitment, in the same way that owning a sailboat is commonly described as "standing in a shower and ripping up hundred-dollar bills." These second, but never secondary, houses can be exhausting, their owners admit, a litany of bills and guilt and traffic — and meals to cook for guests who arrive with only one wish: to be entertained.