One night last week, I was lying alone on my water bed trying to find new ways to derive pleasure from an apple core, when all of the sudden, one of my favorite nocturnal activities was abruptly ruined when Anthony Weiner’s repugnant face flashed across my television screen.
For those of you that don’t watch the news or have the reading ability of Rachel Jeantel, Anthony Weiner is back in the headlines for the same shenanigans that forced him to resign from Congress two years ago — only this time he’s been operating under the nom du plume of Carlos Danger. Danger recently sent a series of illicit photographs and lewd text messages to a Chicago woman in her early 20s. These messages were leaked to The Dirty last week and this scandal is threatening to derail his campaign to be Mayor of New York.
I’ve been trying to call this one as fair as I can, but in full disclosure, I hate Anthony Weiner. Every time I see him, I just want to rub chewing gum in his hair. He is, far and away, my least favorite politician ever. I hate him more than Hitler, Mao, and even that plastic-faced cunt Nancy Pelosi, which is really saying something, considering I burned last year’s birthday wish hoping a homeless man would remove her clit with a rusty can opener.
Weiner tops my ‘most-hated’ list because he’s such a self-aggrandizing twat. You see, Anthony Weiner’s biggest fan is Anthony Weiner. And although he had no significant achievements in Congress, it doesn’t stop him from walking around like he’s smarter than everyone else. If you hear him speak for longer than 30 seconds, the first thing you will notice is how insufferably pleased he is with every word that comes out of his bloviating piehole. It’s enraging.
That being said, I am kind of torn on this one.
On the one hand, it really doesn’t bother me if he sends rod shots to women of lower stock on the internet. I think it shows poor judgment, but I’m a total creep, and I’m not going to pretend like I haven’t done it before, although in my selfies I’m usually lying on my back with my legs dangling in the air, tickling my prostate, but that is beside the point.
And I really don’t care that the woman he was sexting was half his age. What difference does it make? As long as the woman is over the legal age limit — or at least has a fake ID so he can maintain plausible deniability — he can loiter outside the dressing rooms at Forever 21 on his lunch hour, like I do, for all I care. I mean, isn’t that what powerful older men are supposed to do?
We all have our warts — some figuratively, some literally — so I think the talking heads need to cool it with the moral grandstanding, especially because there is just so much else to hate about this guy.
For one, he’s a liar. Now, I’ve told a few fibs in my day — “I was tested last week” — but I’ve never brazenly lied to the entire country on national TV. Watch the interview he did with Wolf Blitzer and tell me that doesn’t make you want to stab him in the eyeball with an infected heroin needle.
Secondly, did you see the press conference he held last week? For a guy in the middle of another embarrassing sex scandal, you would expect him to keep his head down, speak from the heart, and show a little remorse. Well, there was none of that. He walked right in and read a prepared speech full of half-truths and antiseptically euphemistic phrases like “the challenges of marriage.” Let’s just say I’ve seen more humility in a WrestleMania vignette.
Thirdly, he trotted his wife out during the press conference for the sole purpose of political cover. He wanted to make it clear that she had given him a “second chance,” and “the voters of New York should, too.” Um Carlos, I don’t mean to go all Adam Smith on you, but if my advanced calculus is correct, this would be your third chance.
It was actually pretty sad seeing his wife out there. I have never seen someone humiliate their partner like that before, and I even went through an extended cuckolding phase on the internet a few years ago. I mean, Ariel Castro thinks this guy needs to treat his old lady with a little more respect.
And while we’re on the family topic, I imagine his two-year-old son is probably going to catch some shit from his buddies in a few years about his old man’s giggle stick being all over the internet, so we might as well go ahead and nominate Danger for the Andrea Yates Parent of the Year Award.
The voters of NYC hold this guy’s political future in their hands. I’d think entrusting him with the keys to the city would be like letting the Gimp from Pulp Fiction watch your children for the weekend, but there are a lot of limousine liberals that love this guy in that city, so it will be interesting to see how it turns out. I’m crossing my fingers that this is the last time we see this dude ever again. He hasn’t done anything illegal, so I don’t think he should be sent upstate to shower with the Sisters from Shawshank, but he needs to get out of the public eye, for good.