So the so-called “beltway media” and congressional democrats are all aflutter over New York congressman Anthony Weiner sexting his junk to all of twitter. As a result, Weiner is now under investigation for congressional ethics violations, and there has been quiet but persistent rancor calling for Weiner’s resignation. If you’ve ever seen Representative Weiner do his thing, you know he probably won’t resign (which has been his stance so far), and if he does, he definitely won’t go quietly.
I read recently that Weiner called former president, Clinton, to … get some … advice(?) on how an elected official goes about repairing his image after being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or, in Weiner’s case, tweeting a d*ck pic to said cookie jar. I imagine Clinton gave him sage advice, something akin to, “be straight with the American people, Weiner. And do your job so well that this unfortunate incident quickly becomes part of your past. But most importantly, make sure your professional accomplishments speak more prominently than your personal mistakes.” I imagine that was the conversation on the record.
Off the record, Clinton’s voice is my own. And the conversation would start more like this: Word, Weiner?! You really out here dm’ing pictures of you in your underwear to your twitter followers?! Son. SON!
I’d deride him endlessly about the thirstiness of his actions. The grossness of perusing your tweedeck interface and coming across Anthony Weiner’s stiffness in his lil underroos in your direct messages is not to be understated. Shit is unsavory, man. Unsavory.
But then we’d talk. The way I like to talk to my friends. I’d say with all the power in me that: Weiner, you better not fucking resign. Work on repairing, if necessary and possible, your relationship with your wife and then get back to the business of doing your job.
Because in America, we live in a land of make-believe. On some level, we still think we share a common thread with the Puritan ass Pilgrims that arrived at Plymouth Rock eleventymillion years ago. We stay smashed up somewhere trying with all our might to not be the people we are; to not see our reflection in society’s mirror.
Collectively, we turn our noses up at innately human behaviors because, collectively, we’re a nation of prudes — but only in public though. How many of you would let me into your internet browser or credit card history from the last six months? I wouldn’t tell nobody your lil secrets. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d find you more interesting now that I know your dirty business dealings. Moreover, I wonder how many of us logon to porn.whatever for a morning, afternoon, and/or evening fix. I bet it’s more of us than we’d suspect.
Because in public, we pretend that the only sexual activity we know, like, or accept is that which we (individually) know, like, or accept. Anything else is condemned as a “perversion” for which you must submit to public judgement, feel sufficiently ashamed, and apologize profusely. Fuck that. To what and to whom, and to what degree you “owe” in this life is for you to decide.
In college, I participated in a debate about whether one’s private life (and private “perversions”) should preclude one from participating in leadership positions, i.e. running for president, serving as Miss University X, or leading a people to their respective promised land. I’ll never forget the boy with the lisp saying, “well, what if Miss Tuskegee was a skrippa? What about that?” I remember thinking that the chicks that was strippin to pay tuition, then, might finally feel some camaraderie out this mug.
I’m not saying all private “perversions” can be as innocuous as stripping or sending salacious text messages. To be sure, there are some that are outright disqualifications for any meaningful position leading anything or anybody. And if the ideological positions one espouses on a frequent basis are in direct opposition to the way one lives his or her private life, then that’s the shit to be ashamed of. I’d be much more upset with Anthony Weiner if he was on a soapbox crusade against inappropriate twitter behaviors or declared himself a steward of family values. And then once his hypocrisy had been revealed,we also found out he screwing his lil district all the way up.
Unlike previous politicians (mostly conservative-leaning ones) caught with their pants down, tongues wagging, and tail between their legs, this isn’t the case for Rep. Weiner. I really couldn’t care less about who he sends pics of himself to. I do care, for example, if he mishandles New York’s tax dollars to cover up some shit that’s not our business anyway. I also care that he lied so easily about what happened. And now it just feels smarmy and gross. I now like the guy less because he handled his situation like a bitchass — lying and shit about being hacked. And then cryin and carryin on when he felt the uncomfortable and incessant throb of conscience. Ugh.
I don’t think he should resign because he can stand on professional principle; the people he represents seem perfectly fine with his performance thus far. And if they aren’t, then they get to register their discontent at the voting booth. He shouldn’t be railroaded out because of a personal and private decision. Albeit stupid and ill-advised, Weiner’s crime is victim-less in the scope of his actual job. That wife situation though? That’s gon’ require some explaining, Sir.
I really loathe the passive aggressive judgement many of us get off on. It’s like judgement is our national porn, and we make sure we log into it for a fix multiple times daily. We hold regular ass human beings to ridiculous standards that many of us, ourselves, can’t live up to. And we’re so audacious about it. Newt Gingrich had the nerve to be bombast in his disappointment about Clinton’s Lewinsky affair at the same time that he was stoking his own extramarital affair. The hypocrisy is at once astounding and laughable.
As for Representative Weiner, I believe he’ll weather this storm and come out on the other side just as beautifully flawed as the rest of us. Besides, surely there’s a closeted gay conservative somewhere tempting fate each time he calls up the discreet male escort service. Sooner or later, he’ll get caught up soliciting an undercover cop in an airport men’s room and try to play his “I’m a member of Congress card.” And when that moment comes, I plan to fully tap into our national porn. I definitely wanna watch that guy squirm. I wanna rewind it, and slow mo it. And then watch it again.