We are gay for Maria Bartiromo. Always have been. Even after she took that corporate jet to Shanghai and left all those poor bankers there so she could fly back with Todd alone. Even after we heard that someone else heard in Davos — haha, yeah, we actually know someone who goes to Davos! — that she was prego with Todd's baby. Even before we read what a great kisser she was as Jordached Catholic schoolgirl in Dyker Heights. And so it is with only the faintest twinge of our usual moral uprightness that we bid good fucking riddance to Jonathan Steinberg, the schlumpy spawn of some famous corporate raider from the eightiees that became Mr. Bartiromo in 2000. Steinberg apparently got so wracked with suspicion that his wife was cheating on him that he hired a detective. Who apparently had a January 23 issue of the Wall Street Journal couriered over pronto to Oblivious H!.
Why can't we summon the sympathy we ought for Jonathan Steinberg? Because if he really paid attention to Maria he might have noticed her distance before the the ethics officials of a fucking Wall Street investment bank fired her lover for screwing her? Because the ignorance of his vast fortune blinded him to the salient fact that his wife was not only hotter but more ambitious than him? Or because she, um, elevates the average IQ of a women-on-TV pool that now has to accomodate eight whole members of the Bad Girls Club?
Yeah, or it could be that she's just really super pretty. (Who do you think does her eyes??)