Trust me. I really wanted to avoid the groin-tweeting thing altogether, but you might as well try to avert your eyes from a bullfight in a bowling alley. To the average civilian, the subject must seem riper than a three-week-old banana for major mocking and scoffing and taunting. Slam-dunking from a step-ladder. The problem is: How do you parody a parody?
Unfortunately, the unfortunately named Anthony Weiner is the only game in town, sucking all the oxygen out of the newsroom. For instance, it’s almost impossible to discover the subject of Sarah Palin’s newest Revisionist History Lesson. Did Abraham Lincoln declare war on the French to sabotage tort reform? Even the resignation of Newt Gingrich’s entire campaign staff went relatively unnoticed. Apparently their love of their country is just too strong.
And the whole brouhaha is the New York Democrat’s own damn fault. There wouldn’t have been half the outcry if his name wasn’t a synonym for sausage. After all, the choice of pronunciation is his. Could have taken a page out of John Boehner’s playbook. Of course, boner-baner is way different than wiener-whiner. Whiner is still a lousy name for a politician. Appropriate perhaps, especially for a Democrat, but lousy nonetheless. It’s one of those rock-and-a-hard-place deals. But he could have gone bold: “Yes, its spelled W-E-I-N-E-R, but we pronounce it… Schultz.”
His singular consolation has to be his parents didn’t add to his misery by christening him Richard. Or Harry. It’s Anthony. Tony Weiner. Which sounds like a high-class hot dog. Or, the cartoon mascot in that animated short we saw in fifth-grade health class about the reproductive system. “Hi, Kids! I’m Tony Wiener. Ready for a fast ride down the fallopian tube? Okay! Hard hats on? Let’s go.”
Congressman Weiner (and boy, isn’t that turning out to be generically redundant) first lied about his unique approach to junk mail, but after allegations piled up like parking tickets on an abandoned VW Van in a white zone, he broke down and was frank about his franking. At long last, he finally could say with certitude that the crotch in question was indeed his.
The Brett Favre wannabe admitted sexting six different women he met online, including a porn star, who reported that he tried to get her to lie about their relationship, but she refused. Pretty sad when the porn industry exhibits higher standards of integrity than Congress. But that’s old news.
So far, Weiner has resisted all calls to step down, which ironically has the Democratic leadership muttering unprintable imprecations under their breath. But the guy didn’t break any laws. He’s just a lout. And you can’t force members of Congress to resign for being an oaf or you’d never be able to assemble a quorum. Besides, I’d be surprised if Harry Reid knows what a Twitter is.
To say that expressions of party support have been scarce is similar to noting that few Episcopal ministers sport flamboyantly inked dragon neck tattoos. Not even good friend Bill Clinton has spoken out in defense of his fellow serial womanizer. Bill Clinton, who officiated at Weiner’s wedding. And doesn’t that explain a lot. Amongst other accomplishments we can now add to the former president’s resume — carrier. Typhoid Bubba.
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