Every summer the Hamptons plays host to any number of absurd feuds between extremely moneyed and extremely territorial neighbors. Christopher Clark, heir to the W.G. Clark Construction Co. fortune, inaugurated the bickering season on Saturday when he called the East Hampton Village Police to complain about all the cars illegally parked outside the mansion of his neighbor, Jana Partners hedge-funder and Forbes 400 listee Barry Rosenstein, who was throwing a birthday party for his 9 year-old daughter. After the po-po showed up, party attendees including Allure editor Linda Wells and designer Nicole Miller had to rush to re-park their cars in the Rosensteins' driveway so they wouldn't be ticketed. Adman Jerry Della Femina had a supporting role in this farce, too, because Crane's wife, Samantha, called the cops on him the night of the parking incident because his son was having an overly rowdy party. So the final tally for the evening: two calls to the cops, three sets of livid neighbors, untold numbers of modestly inconvenienced party guests, and zero offenses legitimately worthy of indignation or police intervention.

As reported by the Post, cops raided an art gallery for serving liquor without a license. Outrage ensued! Now this is the kind of Hamptons coverage we want more of. And it's nice to see other, richer people get busted for inappropriate alcohol consumption. A video of the bust, in all its glory. ("I'm just wearing my Stella McCartney dress... oh my God! They're trying to arrest her!")
(Via PlumTV)

It is time. The season of the Hamptons has commenced. What would Fitzgerald say? Said Daisy in The Great Gatsby, "I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything...Sophisticated — God, I'm sophisticated!" More photos like this, from Gridskipper, here and here.

• Everyone was partying in the Hamptons this weekend. Molly Sims celebrated her birthday in Sag Harbor. Leo DiCaprio partied at Dune. Jeffrey Chodorow and Charlie Walk threw a dinner at the Kobe Beach Club. Even newly-convicted felon Wesley Snipes, who is free on bail, flew in to get wasted at a party in Water Mill. [Page Six]

We've put together a quick and dirty list of the hottest spots in the Hamptons this Memorial Day weekend, which starts for us incredibly soon. If you are rich, famous, or fabulous, you will no doubt go to at least one of these clubs. We will not. So please send us reports, as well as info on upcoming Hamptons parties this summer so we can put together our full calendar. After the jump, where to blow money this weekend:

Because some stories are nothing but blatant cries for condemnation, we're going to allow our disgust to swing around 180 degrees so that we support this idea: A Park Avenue plastic surgeon is offering a $500,000 package deal that includes a summer house rental in the Hamptons, and all the plastic surgery you want! "Within reason," of course. He's also throwing in a chauffeur, personal chef, and a nurse to tend to the surgically wounded. And tickets to the hottest parties, to show off your healing scars! This development is... a good thing.

Summer is almost upon us, party people. And we're considering putting together a party calendar, so all of you know where to sneak in and scam free booze from rich people. We need YOU to email us info about highfalutin' upcoming parties in the Hamptons, and we'll do the rest. To give you a general idea of what we're looking for, here's an invitation for all of you to a Social Life Magazine party this weekend that will feature none other than Whitney Port from The Hills! OMG OMG. Send more now!

Congratulations to the Hamptons Independent for publishing the single most offensive newspaper column ever. In "satirizing" the Obama/Clinton feud, the offending column manage to insult and degrade women, blacks, and every literate person on Earth in equal measure. Oh, it was written by the editor. Under the pseudonym "YoMama Bin Barack." That doesn't even make sense. Anyway—black people speak pidgin english, and many of them are in jail. "White women" enjoy being "bitch slapped." Too bad Bloomberg's not in the race, the only thing the column's really missing is blood libel. [Plum]

Jodi Della Femina, daughter of legendary adman turned restaurateur Jerry, has sold a (cowritten) novel about class rage in the Hamptons. This is unsurprising because, when her annual Hamptons guidebook 'Jodi's Shortcuts' was first published in 1999, a typical old-monied response was, "That's the sort of thing that people of her background and breeding do to the places they claim to love." In the novel, which will be published by St. Martin's, "the heroine starts a new restaurant in the Hamptons and encounters the ever-present struggle for status, which cause problems when the owner of an upscale food shop in East Hampton decides to sabotage all of her hard work."

Who's white trash now, ya over-tanned little monster?

Perhaps you needn't skip out of work early—the LIRR Jamaica hub is going up in flames. It's probably just The Warriors v. the Gramercy Riffs. Still, maybe do not take the 1:39 to Montauk, Hamptons brats! And maybe not the 2:35 to Sayville, lazy Fire Island gays!

Have you met Cognac Wellerlane? The cotton candy-haired gal is the Hamptons 'n' society correspondent for Long Island Exchange. (Whatever that is!) Lady Cognac is incensed at the Hamptons Social concert benefits (handled by everyone's favorite Hamptonite, Lizzie "I fought the law" Grubman), which benefit the Ross School. (Um, tuition: $23,150.) "The buzz around town was Prince's concert," writes the aged gadabout in today's column. "The much anticipated hyped concert series has received enormous mass media attention not just for its line-up—primarily featuring hugely successful singing artists who are, nonetheless, over 40 and lacking major hits since the millennium began—but for its ticket price: $15,000 a pop. Is Prince really worth that?" How dare you Cognac!

Polo season is wending its way north to eastern Long Island, after its recent pitstop in Greenwich. But trouble lurks, not in the usual form of Star Jones and Jason Binn, but in the form of horse herpes. A recent horse death down in Florida has the richies freaked. Related: Paris Hilton was there stomping divots in 2004. Ahem. You connect the dots.

Not everyone is pleased by the news that the Hampton Jitney will be making stop(s?) in Brooklyn this spring. Upper West Siders, usually a restrained, voiceless group, are complaining that they lack similar service, even though they live in Manhattan. The downtrodden residents of the better borough sing of their suffering.

Arise, ye lowly denizens of Brooklyn, and avail yourselves of the comfort of the Hampton Jitney. Yes, even though thee are of lowly, outer-borough stock, the ceaseless efforts of Marty Markowitz, your portly champion, have borne fruit: Come the first note of green in the meadow, the fancy carriage formerly reserved for the lords and ladies of Manhattan will deign to enter your foul-smelling territory (possibly even at multiple stops) and transport you to your jobs as scullery maids to the gentry of the East End and South Fork. Be sure to wear shoes; this ain't no LIRR.

Is it really any wonder that 19-year-old Southampton townie Diana Bianchi took off her pants for Christie Brinkley's husband, Peter Cook? Unearthing his 1981 GQ cover stint, it's clear that the man knows how to hammock his banana. Say what you will about his bad behavior, but Cook's hotness is stronger than all the Aquanet they used in that cover shoot, and not even the passage of 25 years can take that away from him.

Today in the media's heart-stoppingly exciting coverage of Peter Cook, the Southampton architect who ruined his marriage to fermented supermodel Christie Brinkley by sleeping with his 19-year-old assistant Diana Bianchi: 29-year-old Hamptonite Samantha Cole re-announces that she slept with Peter Cook too, you know. Cole, a pop singer who recorded one or two dance songs last century and is eager to remind the world of her existence, notes that the affair with Bianchi almost mirrors her own experience with Cook 10 years ago, who she then worked for and slept with when she too was 19. Perhaps, then, fresh-faced Diana Bianchi might want to take note of Cole's aesthetic fate.

Diana Bianchi, the 19-year-old Southampton townie who slept with skeezy old architect Peter Cook and thus helped to end his marriage to world-weary supermodel Christie Brinkley, somewhat ill-advisedly went on Fox 5 news last night to defend her case. Watching the clip, it's clear that she is by no means "old" for her age — that is to say, she might as well be 15 and Peter Cook might as well be in prison. Also, be sure to take note of her squirming in the beginning, as if interviewer Rosanna Scotto were about to pull out a shiv on behalf of middle-aged housewives everywhere.

We generally leave the Hamptons to our betters, preferring to stew the summer away in our gloriously depopulated metro. However, it's worth a quick jaunt out to Long Island for this one moment, recorded by the New York Daily News's Lloyd Grove. The occasion was a yacht party put on by Moira Forbes (associate publisher at ForbesLife, a mag all about her life) and Jason Binn (duke of Hamptons and Gotham mags, and lordling of Niche Media):

• Suri Cruise does exist, or at least her birth certificate does. Though, strangely, it was issued 20 days after her birth (the hospital's policy is within 10 days of birth), the attendant who signed the certificate wasn't actually in the room during the birth and the person who signed as certifier is unknown, thanks to an illegible signature. How completely not suspicious. [TMZ]
• Lloyd Grove identifies the exact moment when Star Jones and Rosie O'Donnell discovered their mutual hatred: Rosie's appearance on May 12, 2004 sparked an argument about the black vote and an on-air tirade from Star the next day. No apology to Rosie, either — thus paving the way for poop soup.[Lowdown]
• A private equity firm established by U2 nominee and Nobel Peace Prize nominee Bono invests $300 million in a video game called "Mercenary 2: World in Flames." The game revolves around a gun-for-hire sent to blow shit up in Venezuela — so long as it's not set in Africa, Bono's cool with that. [Page Six]
• Josh Hartnett is none too pleased when his girl Scarlett Johansson is helicoptered out to the Hamptons by Wilmer Valderrama. The poor guy's just looking out for his sexual health. [Gatecrasher]
• The bitchy senior assistant in Devil Wears Prada is, unsurprisingly, based on a real-life woman who worked with Weisberger before going on to work at, no joke, Prada. So: what's her name? One of you must know. [Page Six]
• At a Good Morning America outing at Bowlmor Lanes, Diane Sawyer falls on her ass for two gutterballs. Finally, an activity in which the woman cannot reach perfection. [R&M (last item)]