Killing Kennedy: the End of Camelot, by Bill O'Reilly and Martin Dugard

That JFK was a chronic womanizer seems to matter little in this second O'Reilly dissection of great Americans. In Bill's first best-seller, Lincoln wasn't preoccupied with slaking his sexual thirst, for Mary Todd consumed her available time with shopping until she dropped. Jackie was a different matter.
Feces hit the fan when Marilyn Monroe slobbered through "Happy Birthday" at Kennedy's birthday bash. The message is if only Jackie appeared as slitheringly appealing as Monroe, the Camelot couple's romantic interludes would then justify JFK's insatiable appetite for sex. O'Reilly says this? Maybe he sent coauthor Dugard into the Lincoln bedroom to probe?
Brother Bobby is a snake, LBJ a thug, Allen Dulles of the CIA a turncoat, MLK, Jr. a commie opportunist, and Hoover a trans-whatever, while Castro and Khrushchev need to be eliminated. (Major failure of his administration) The only purposeful characters in this Knights of the Roundtable romance seem to be Oswald and Ruby.
Jackie is still regarded by the world as too classy and discreet to be portrayed as the power and wealth connoisseur that O'Reilly imagines, although she did enjoy sailing the Mediterranean with Onassis while hubby was alive.