In the spring of 1980 in Boston there was a murder trial of a notorious pair of thugs, ghetto low-lifes who had raped, murdered and robbed a young nurse in her own home. At the trial, the prosecutor asked one of the murderers about a certain boombox, proved to be the nurse’s, that was in the man’s possession when he was arrested. The exchange went something like this:
Prosecutor: You took that boombox from her apartment.
Prosecutor: But when you were arrested, you said that it was your boombox.
Murderer: It is mine.
Now that is what the absence of shame looks like.
For a more recent example of brazen shamelessness, we have the annual dinner of the White House Correspondents Association.