After lexically painting an idyllic picture of a starry summer night in the Hamptons, the NY Times' Jim Rutenberg describes a horrifying scene starring Chevy Chase's drunk son-in-law lunging at a woman and her puppy from the bushes. What else has the National Political Correspondent got to write about while on the East End all summer? Here is the tragicomic tale of what happens when you're sort of rich and entitled but not much else—a common combination of traits in the tony area:

"As Elizabeth Fasolino walked her 1-year-old mutt Quincy down Wireless Road, the serenity was shattered by a barely visible — yet, at the same time, all-too-visible — naked young man crouched by a light pole. 'He started to lunge at me. He was speaking gibberish and he was clearly unclothed and he had a bottle in his hand.'

She ran home and called the police, who had been seeking—by sea and by air—a man matching that description, after receiving a report that the man had wandered away from family and friends on the beach by the exclusive Maidstone Club, and disappeared into the ocean. Shortly after her encounter they found the man hiding in bushes by the home of his famous father-in-law, Chevy Chase."

Apparently these sort of shenanigans have been par for the course this summer (that beautiful vignette was part of a larger story titled, "New Summer Destination: Hamptons Police Stations"). So, why not embrace the downward spiral of a once peaceful corner of New York—where one only need fear Billy Joel behind the wheel—by reaching for the ultimate death rattle: a reality television show. TV people, you have 9 months to create a hybrid of Cops and The Princes Of Malibu, preferably with a scripted part for a quirky singing bush that dishes on all the dark secrets of the locals.