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Jack Shafer is mad—fumed, you might even say. Obviously, his fury has to do with the Maria B. and Todd T. situation, but only tangentially. Jack’s a big boy—he doesn’t care if two extremely loaded, good looking individuals want to join the Mile High Club (‘what took them so long?’ is what he probably wanted to ask), but what he cannot take is the Puritans over at the Wall Street Journal and their insistence on not saying what everyone’s thinking: Todd Thomson nailed Maria Bartiromo (or vice versa, if you’re more comfortable with a less masculine-driven sort of discourse and you think Maria was on top).
Highlighting several examples of the paper’s irresponsible cockteasing style of journalism, Shafer reviews its Citi-Gate coverage with a red pen and finds the following: the slimmed-down rag makes mention of “a friendship that includes a trans-Pacific flight alone in a corporate jet, an apparently significant sighting in an expensive restaurant, and a dressing down in which a corporate executive is told to reduce his contact with his friend of the opposite sex” but fails to connect any of the dots that it itself has laid out! Shafer is so mad about this he comes up with a brilliant yet horrifying euphemism for sex and proceeds to actually make us read it: “[listing all of the above mentioned incidents] all but draws the donut and tosses the hot dog through it.” (Is he taking liberties with his knowledge of Ms. Bartiromo’s more delicate parts or does Shafer speak from prior experience? And if so, are we talking chocolate with sprinkles or jelly? When one is taking another party to task for a lack of driving something home, one should shy away from doing the exact same thing, Jackie-boy).
In cases like these, there’s usually someone or a bunch of someone’s to blame and today is no example. Though our litigious younger brother might quarrel, Shafer’s line of reasoning for the absence of the phrase “they did it” seems pretty airtight to us:

Having dumped the compost, planted the seed, and fertilized and watered the earth, the Journal leaves it to nobody's imagination what species the flowering Thomson-Bartiromo friendship, relationship, and contact is without actually coming out and writing anything that 1) they can't prove and 2) invites a libel suit. This is the sort of copy a clever lawyer directs reporters to write when they "know" something but can't prove it. Leave it to the reader to assemble the meaning of the facts in their minds, the wise libel attorney tells his clients.

Stupid lawyers; always with their ‘libel’ and their ‘let’s not get sued’ and their ‘Ally McBeal was not an accurate representation of us.’ They really just need to get laid.
Bartiromo Innuendo [Slate]