James Wolcott, Jurisprudential Dauber

Sanctimony and sneering are usually opposites.  Leave it to the puffy sophisticates at Vanity Fair to combine them into a sentiment more unattractive than the sum of its parts.  Wolcott responds to the Casey Anthony verdict by celebrating what he perceives to be an admirable case of jurors putting it to “the man,” in this case, Nancy Grace:

[D]efense attorney [Jose Beaz] slam dunked it afterwards when he told the press that this verdict was a rebuke to the demonization of his client . . .

Wolcott goes on to crow about his personal ignorance of the case.  What really matters, you see, is his negative opinion of Grace.  Justice, injustice . . . piddling matters like that died at Vanity Fair the moment Dominick Dunne stopped breathing.

Not that they registered very high on the scales of Vanity before Dunne’s death.  Wolcott’s boss, Graydon Carter, veers creepily between indulging in his own special style of high-class pedophilia and painfully long articles defending the more quotidian type.

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