WASP entitlement

Good thing the Times doesn't let a day go by without a feature-length story about the inbred manor-born: We have this lovely little thing about a clutch of blonde harridans with more wealth than Singapore who are devoting their interest to interior decorating the right way, dammit! Tradition is the way to go for Celerie Kemble (wha?!) and her friends, all so white they're periwinkle. You know that trick where you wrap your hand over a flashlight and it makes your hand glow red? Well, you could stand four feet behind these women with a maglight and pull that same trick, they so caucasian.

Besides, how could anyone overlook a lede like this:

One bright morning last week, Celerie Kemble, the 32-year-old decorator and society figure, was girlishly dressed in a silk blouse and creamy jacket made by Lela Rose, a designer of ladylike fashions and Ms. Kemble's dear friend. She was simultaneously talking at high speed, eating a fried egg and hurling squeaky toys at her 2-year-old Jack Russell terrier, Anchovy, from her seat on a claret-colored corduroy sofa. Red wine glasses were still in the sink from the previous night's dinner party for a group that she and her husband, Ravenel Boykin Curry IV, had convened to hash out an arts program for their "creative utopia."

Is this a yoke? Are there not people disadvantaged people starving, going without Trader Joe's somewhere in the east 90s?

[File under: americancaesar/blog/SCORN.]