Party for Barry, but not for thee.

Barack Obama just threw himself a 60^th birthday bash worthy of his standing as the only human to win a Nobel Prize for breathing.

You weren’t invited, by the way. 500 of his closest friends, arriving by private jets and yachts, were. Whether by sea, air, or limosine, they winged into Martha’s Vineyard* to kiss Obama’s ring and bow to his Armani loafers. All were unmasked, of course. But I don’t care.

I don’t even object to Obama having a gigantic party in a mansion on a sprawling, 29 acres that the Great Gatsby would envy, or the fact that his guests left bigger carbon footprints than Godzilla rampaging through Tokyo. I don’t have a problem with the Obamas living on the waterfront. I really don’t care.

If the Obamas, Oprah, George Clooney,  Alec Baldwin and his wife with the phony Spanish accent want to warm the planet with flaming drinks – cool. I don’t care about that at all.

What I do care about is that there are two sets of rules. California Governor Gavin Newsom was famously locking down California, arresting people on beaches who didn’t have on masks, all while he was partying at the French Laundry, unmasked. Pelosi was getting her coif, coifed when the rest of us were told we couldn’t. Governor Whitmer locked down her state, told citizens to cancel their vacations, then went on vacation.

My objection is to the blatant hypocrisy. The elites are exempt — at least they think they are. They can, and will, do what they want while demanding that you, the common, unwashed masses obey. Do as I say, not as I do.

The rules are only for the little people, after all.

• previous version referred to The Obama’s playground as being in the Hamptons