By Buddy Blueberry
Hi, all. Hope you enjoyed a safe and fairly sane summer solstice! And now, the news.
her fabulous mansion, Mud Pie, since the property bubble burst. Once the pride of Georgica Pond, Mud Pie has been cruelly dubbed Groan Gardens by local wags. Well, we’ve learned that market forces are not the force that forces Sherry into seclusion. The insiders say she’s coping with good old-fashioned depression! What’s bothering the former girl who’s now one of East Hampton’s most elegant ladies?
According to A-List astrologer Jabez Graber, Sherry’s shocking refusal to attend the annual Fois Gras Ball—the first sign of trouble– was because former Planet Pluto has been downgraded to a skimpy ball of ice. “Sherry’s amazing horoscope was entirely dependant on her relationship to Pluto’s cusp,” says Jabez, “and now she’s left dangling from Taurus’ left horn. Let’s all of us root for the lovely lady’s quick recovery from such a traumatic kick in the galaxy.”
Well, Sherry, now that summer has arrived we hope you will trade PPD (post-Pluto- depression} for your usual mindless devotion to the art of listening to empty shells for the latest in New Age music and celestial advice.
Speaking of empty shells, Billy Von Kindle has authorized dismantling the two huge dunes blocking the view of the ocean from his fantastic 50-room cottage. “Dunes are utterly obsolete,” says the publishing tycoon. “A leftover from another age. They’re simply not digital.” Billy is having 100,000 copies of “The Duh Vinci Code” used to replace the dunes with a bulkhead fit for a biblical bivalve.
Joe and Ellie Carapace are having a charming problem with their adorable young son,
Excaliber. Seems the little heir wants an elaborate Bar Mitzvah and his parents are hesitant to tell him he’s not Jewish. Their spiritual guide, the Rev. Cabot Kiosk of Watermill, suggested that Joe and Ellie go ahead and hire a caterer so as not to traumatize young Excaliber with any sudden revelations. So, a klesmer band has been hired and invitations are in the mail. Seems mazeltovs are in order. FYI. the lucky lad is listed at Tiffanys.
Rain Rain Go Away! It was a very wet spring as we all know. Now that the party season is in full swing we’re absolutely insisting on better weather. Muffin Fogarty has actually engaged an entire tribe of Key West’s faux Native Americans to create an anti-precipitation dance. Since the smoking bans went into effect, it was time for the tribe to change signals— and cell phones are expensive. Muffin’s offer was simply too good to refuse so her upcoming beach party should enjoy a perfect evening. This year the party theme is The Stimulus Package. Guests are encouraged to dress in thrift-shoppe splendor
featuring tight designer belts. Hooray Muffin, always living in the moment.
Congrats to Spenser Bunk for the incredible fireworks display he sponsored at the
Medoff Survivors romp in Montaulk. The splash of sound and color was certainly an airborne aphrodisiac. Spenser’s Labradoodle, Poopsie, a favorite for this year’s Best In Show at Westminster, was a bit carried away…literally…by am unknown mongrel of suspicious pedigree. Well, let’s pray his name is Yankee so their impending offspring can be called Yankeelabradoodledandy, or Sandy if he/she lands a part in the inevitable Bay Street production of “Annie.”
Did Lidia Kratch trip over to Germany for a series of Warmth shots? The deb, known for her “cool,” is now a sizzle in the social circle. Ain’t science wonderfull?
In a Plum TV exclusive, Regis Van Clay, CEO of conglomerate Regis Pharmaceuticals, has expressed strong condemnation of the new novel, “Side Effects,” which takes a broad look at the RX industry, one of the few success stories in the American export spectrum. He stumbled on a copy at Cannio’s Books in Sag Harbor while browsing their collection of Ayn Rand’s compassionate classics. “This kind of scurrilous literature is responsible for all that alarmist information packaged with your meds, the kind in tiny type suitable only for badger eyes,” says Regis. “Whispers that faulty pills are responsible for more deaths than tainted Tiramisu are entirely speculative. Warn your book club.”
Alison and Ben Van Arkdale are building their dream house on the Bridgehampton peninsula known as Splitsville. Superstitions that point bony ringless fingers toward that community don’t bother the pragmatic couple famous for selling GM short two years ago. “It’s got the best zip code in the Hamptons,” says Alison. “And that’s what counts out here. Plus it has a fabulous area code.” The fact that six-hundred seventy-five marriages have gone kaput in the neighborhood does not bother the Van Arkdales. “Our marriage is as solid as the Arctic icecap,” booms proud Ben.
Their lovely and talented daughter, Ophelia, a spirited Hampton Filly nicknamed Polo, is trading in her former follies for matrimoney. Ophelia is scheduled to wed zillionaire venture capitalist Dow Churchmouse in the early fall at the beautiful Sag Harbor recycling center off Sag Bridgehampton Turnpike. “It was there or St. Peter’s Square in Venice,” says Ophelia. “Bottom line, Venice was no competition. And recycling is not only an ideal metaphor for lasting love but a step in the direction of saving the planet.” “She means Earth, not Pluto,” jokes mom Alison in a thinly disguised barb tossed at Sherry Fence. The two had a famous falling out last November when it was confirmed that Sherry voted for a card-carrying Democrat.
Oops, old Uncle Wiggly is splashing around in the Dom Perignon again, so it’s time to dive into the bubbly. Sun and smiles to one and all!
Buddy Blueberry was born to the purple according to his mother, Anastasia, who claims he is a direct descendant of caviar czar Rasputin, advisor to the Romanoffs. He is a world famous collector of Faberge Eggs and breeder of free-range chickens.