Summer at the Hamptons is almost over so pols better come and get their money while they can

The summer we never had.Soon schleppers will stop waiting on the curb for that gas-smelling bus to haul them out East.Bye-bye to outdoor beach clubs — a large pool surrounded by small partners.

Jammed with outsized behinds, undersized wallets, card-players and cheaters.Weekends it’s husbands who are trying to swim and grabbing a break from the wives.Small clubs use a bulletin board.

Monday night is usually Dancing Under the Stars.The way NYC’s going, it’s renamed Crouching Under the Umbrella.

Tuesday, Dinner Dance.Wednesday: photos of the previous night’s dances.

Thursday? More pictures of the previous night’s dances.Friday? Hawaiian Night.

Saturday, outdoor folk dancing.Sunday? Dancing class where you’re taught to do whatever you loused up all week.It’s 100 cabanas but the dining room only seats 65.

Aged guests are hard of hearing.The sound system is wired to some owl in a tree.

These places spend millions on sand but their guests couldn’t hear a hydrogen blast.Aging dudes only hear their crabby wives — each of whom is blond.One dude talked about a divorce lawyer who told him divorce is lengthy, expensive — will last longer than we’re in Iran and he should know because this divorce lawyer is himself getting a divorce.Forget the hills being alive with the “Sound of Music” — the East is alive with the sound of fund-raisers.

Every presidential hopeful or even helpful has visited at least one cash register this summer.Doesn’t matter what you’re running — or even walking fast for — could just be to get elected a Boy Scout.

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Our bearded VP Vance schlepped in last week.Southampton.

Where the beach was alive with the sound of cash registers.Piggy...