Netflix content honcho Ted Sarandos is quite the hotshot these days. Three years ago Time magazine listed him as one of the top 100 most influential people in the world so you have to figure he’s even more formidable today. Last night I attended what was described in the invite as a “VIP celebration at the private residence of Ted Sarandos,” which is located in swanky Hancock Park. My invite said the gathering would begin at 8:30 pm, but when I got there at 8:40 pm it was obvious the event had begun well before. The party was packed to the gills and quite noisy — you could hear the wallah-wallah of the crowd from a good distance away. Perplexed, I asked a security guy and he told me the party had actually begun at 7:30 pm. And I saw red. You don’t want to be part of the first wave of soldiers attacking Omaha Beach, but being categorized as a second-waver by Netflix publicists is a highly specific and pointed social insult. On top of which the party wasn’t happening “at the private residence of Ted Sarandos” but in a big impersonal plastic party tent outside his home. And it was mostly packed with nobodies. (Okay, I saw Beasts of No Nation director Cary Fukunaga but that was it.) My instant reaction was “good God, lemme outta here.” If you’re going to invite people to a party at your home, have the party inside your home or not at all. And don’t invite the world — keep it smallish and select. I bolted after four or five minutes. As I was walking down the driveway David Poland (obviously another second waver) was coming in. I was so pissed that I only managed only a scowl and a muffled “hey.” Poland: “Hello, Jeffrey…goodbye, Jeffrey.”