We doubt, to begin with, that small-town broadcasters run a heightened risk of liability for indecent utterances. In programming that they originate, their down-home local guests probably employ vulgarity less than big-city folks; and small-town stations generally cannot afford or cannot attract foul-mouthed glitteratae from Hollywood.Leaving aside for a moment Scalia's quaint notion that small-town America somehow remains blissfully free of s-words and f-bombs: glitteratae? Really?
Lawyers love their Latin. From arguendo to nolo contendere, from pro se to in re to per curiam, you just can't get between the legal system and a good turn of Latin phrase. It's perhaps the most visible way in which lawyers work to distinguish themselves from the non-lawyering public (classics majors not included; we distinguish ourselves from them by comparing paychecks). Impress your friends, confound your pro se opponents: throw in an ab initio here, a res ipsa loquitor there, and remind everyone that you're an initiate, armed with the secret linguistic knowledge that will dominate the argument and win the case.
Having only our law-school Latin, we'll refrain from a grammatical analysis of genders, cases, and declensions, and confine ourselves to this humble proposition: somewhere along the line from literatus to glitteratae, this word ceased being a Latin word. "Glitterati" is a genderless English noun, and a perfectly good and understandable one, already pluralized for easy, SCOTUS-approved smearing of the entire class of the famous and wanna-be famous. There's no need to complicate things by pretending it needs a Latin ending. As lawyers, we love our Latin too, but thanks to the glitteratae, expect to see us exercising a little more restraint de futuro.