The Web-Fingered Upper Class: Casey Greenfield

Wealth and privilege produce vile cretins every bit as disgusting and brainless as the garden variety teabagging redneck; as part of the high-calorie fun surrounding Bill O'Reilly and his divorce and custody battle, this repellant story of of media, money and base stupidity got some signal boost.  Casey Greenfield, Jeff Greenfield, Jeffrey Toobin, The New York Times, these are exemplars of everything loathsome about our society and the upper class.  It's great that Ms. Greenfield is shredding O'Reilly like a rabid dog on a rotting corpse, but how in the fuck did someone as obviously unhinged as Casey Greenfield make it to 40?  Okay, the name.  And the money.  But Ms. Greenfield allowed the Times to do that story, full of what would be considered an overabundance of skeevy, shameful sluttiness even by random cum-burping road whores on the outskirts of Reno.  If her life story unfolded in a trailer park in Mississippi instead of Manhattan, she would be reviled as the worst sort of diseased slattern.  Would you trust the legal judgement of a person who made the inane life choices Greenfield did?  And would the fact that she gleefully paraded them before the swells in the nation's biggest paper make you feel more comfortable?  Maybe if you were married to O'Reilly.  Yuck.  But if you had lived a life with only a normal amount of shameful regret?