Tuesday, August 30, 2016


There's been a lot of loose talk lately about "diagnosing" presidential candidates from a distance. I have no problem engaging in such behavior myself, however. 

Now, I'm not a psychiatrist, nor do I play one on TV. My diagnoses of such disparate groups as women, kids, husbands, and memorabilia collectors comes strictly from experience.

Hello, ladies!
With that out of the way, let us turn to the case of Anthony Weiner. I need not go into the details of the disgraced former Congressman/ disgraced former Mayoral candidate/disgraced former (as of yesterday) contributor on New York's NY1 news channel/celebrated current and future punchline. 

We all know what happened. And, if you had been paying attention from the beginning, what was always going to happen. Anthony Weiner was never going to be cured of his photographpastime anymore than I ever will of DVRing any 1940s movie running under 70 minutes.

When Weiner was last caught sexting on the fly -- and by fly, I mean his zipper -- veteran CBS newsman Bob Schieffer wondered why friends and family hadn't done an intervention with this "ill" man. 

Allow Dr. Fish-Eye to give a second opinion. To understand Anthony Weiner, you need not engage him in six months of analysis. All you need to do is look at his high school graduation photo.

This was not the 1981 Brooklyn Tech High School Prom King, nor was he voted "Most Popular." His name was Weiner, for Chrissakes. He probably spent more time getting slammed into his locker than he did sitting at his desk. In fact, the reason he's posing like that is because his neck was temporarily paralyzed from receiving the most recent punch. And as for getting laid... well, let's not go there. Certainly no girl ever did.

And all that time, that dopey-looking schmuck in the blue turtleneck was thinking, Some day, I'm gonna be a big shot. And when I am, I'm gonna be powerful, tell those assholes what to do, and get all the girls. Just watch. 

Yup, that's the way to win over voters.
At the risk of sounding like Donald Trump, believe me. When Weiner was a Congressman -- and, later, running for Mayor -- there was no more obnoxious prick in New York. Every time he stepped up to a microphone or sat down for an interview, within 15 seconds I'd start muttering, This is the biggest fucking asshole I've ever seen. 

And living in New York, that's saying something. The 1998 Anthony Weiner was the 2016 Rudy Giuliani -- nasty, vindictive, insulting, sarcastic. Progressives ate it up like chia seeds atop a kale salad.

Anthony Weiner finally showed them alright. He wasn't "that skinny asshole with the weird hair" anymore. He was Congressman Weiner. And soon, he was married Congressman Weiner, in a ceremony officiated by Bill Clinton -- everybody's go-to guy for a spiritual leader. 

Congressman. Husband of an important woman. Friend of an ex-president. And, to hear many local Democrats say, future Governor of New York... and beyond. Anthony Weiner showed 'em, alright. 

Yet during his time in Congress, guess what avatar he used for his Twitter account. His high school graduation picture. Sense of humor? A sharp poke in the ribs to his teenage tormentors, reminding them again how far he'd come?

Or, deep down, did Anthony Weiner still see himself as that geeky bastard with the funny hair? 

What a man, what a man, what a man,
what a mighty fine man...
While his wardrobe improved and he managed to slick down that sheep on his head, Anthony Weiner was as homely as ever. But that kind of power -- not to mention being married to Hillary Clinton's #1 sidekick -- made him look awfully attractive to women, or, at least, certain women. And that, as countless men have proven throughout history, was better than simply enjoying what fortune had dropped on his lap.

While his original sexting scandal would have been enough for feminists to hang him in effigy -- or reality -- Congressman Weiner had one important thing on his side: a 100% rating from NARAL Pro-Choice America. It took a hint from a man -- President Barack Obama -- for Weiner to finally resign from Congress.

You see, "sisterhood," stops at the bedroom and the voting booth. Until it doesn't. Like when the wife's boss is one cackle away from the White House. 

Now it's time for Anthony Weiner to walk the plank, especially as the texts he exchanged with his cyber girlfriend have been published in the New York Post:

Imagine if social media had existed when Bill Clinton was president. He would have taken up more broadband than a streaming 4K Imax movie in 3-D. And feminists still would have given him a pass.

But Anthony Weiner is a supporting player, not a leading man. You could replace John Randolph with Jerry Stiller as George Costanza's father. But there would have been no Seinfeld without Jerry Seinfeld.

Better not walk past any lockers, Weiner. Your former tormentors are warming up for another go-round -- just as you've been begging for. 


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