What if all you have to offer of yourself is your money, and nobody wants it?

Are we living’, or what?

The Hamptons and points east seek to bar Manhattan refugees who are arriving with cash, coronavirus and no appreciable useful skills. The new arrivals are bound to be capable of whipping together a cocktail party worthy of Page Six coverage but otherwise, what?

Assuming we survive all this, 2020 is going to prove the motherlode of dystopian novel material.