Tuesday, June 7, 2011


I admit it seems to be holding a strange attraction for me. Or I have a strange attraction to it. It's attractive, is what I mean. Well, not it, you know, the thing. It as a subject. The Weiner Issue. Weinerquiddick. Funniest thing I've read about it? "Bush's fault."

But for me the serious fascination is watching the lies. I have been a connoisseur of lies, raised as I was in the House of Lies. So watching Weiner's various tactics has been, well, old news to me, but mesmerizing as well. The indignation. The attacking back, turning of tables. Shoddy, shameful, shameless, childish, pathetic. Culminating in, not yet justice, but, well, if you will, exposure.

I don't have the inclination to explicate the whole timeline. Too much research. But there's one startling thing I've noticed. That first undie shot I was generous enough to reproduce. You know, this:
You're welcome. No big deal here ... just something you'd see maybe in a locker room. Odd angle, but that happens.

Here's the point. This is not, actually, the right camera angle. In doing the internet thing for yesterday's FP masterpiece, I found the not-cropped version of this package deal. Here:

Pow. Somehow, somehow it's completely different. The first has an impersonal aspect, as if taken from a distance. It looks like it was taken of someone standing up. This one, though, forces us into Weiner's head. He's not standing. He's slouching in a chair. In his Congressional office, judging from the venerable hardwood floor, upon which great statesmen will have trod. At first I imagined he'd climbed up onto his desk for some reason. But no, he's just slumped down, pantless, or pants around his ankles, pushed back from his office desk, legs wide, employing his smartphone in one of its many functions.

Guy needs a glass door on his office. Like a teenager. Deficient in necessary accountability. Can't be trusted, alone.

I've never taken a picture of my unit. Few things could be less tempting to me. I'm not about fantasy. And while I'm sure there are powerful strains of narcissism in me, I have, parody aside, the decency to be self-controlled about it. After all, I grew up around the real thing, and it's just so very ugly.

A man should be forgiven his harmless frailties. An arrogant man in power, caught out in his hubris and merely shamed rather than truly repentant -- his name should be blotted out. His nose should be held to the stink of it. He should be driven from public life, the way monsters should be pursued by villagers with pitchforks. Repentance? -- redemption? Certainly. One after the other, as a necessary progression.

Asserting as Weiner has that he will not resign, well, that's just another power-hungry self-seeker refusing to make room for someone with integrity. Did he apologize? Indeed he did. He was "deeply sorry for the pain" he cause his wife, his family, his constituents, his friends, his supporters, and his staff. A pro forma apology to Andrew Breitbart. But, with radiant conspicuousness, not, not to his country.

How deeply I regret that there is no more public flogging. Not because we've seen the bundle of his groin. Because he has no honor, but seeks privilege. Whom does he represent? No one worthy of citizenship in this country.


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