You probably thought all that could be said about the Anthony Weiner sexting disaster has been said. There was the predictable treasure trove of juvenile jokes, involving calls that the congressman “stand firm,” and that we “get everything straight” before jumping to conclusions. There were the delicious headlines, including my own “Battle of the Bulge,” second only to my personal favorite: “Erections Have Consequences.” Even those attempting to avoid pre-pubescent humor find it difficult to talk about this mess without unintentionally swerving into double entendre, saying, as one of Mr. Weiner’s constituents did on CNN, that “we shouldn’t make it larger than it is.” Having seen the cringe-inducing shabby grey pup tent created by the stub that is Little Anthony, I can say with confidence that there is no danger of that.
Then there was the of the equally predictable, albeit accurate, repetition about the double standard applied to this sort of sleazy conduct when a Republican does it versus when the perp is a Democrat. As many have noted, just last February, by the time the photo of former Rep. Christopher Lee of New York(R-No Shirt) surfaced, he was gone. The GOP leadership didn’t engage in the charade of some ridiculous faux “ethics investigation.” Others cite the example of former Florida congressman Mark Foley. In 2006, after democrats, both those in Congress and those at ABC News, orchestrated a beautiful October surprise, assuring that the scandal broke too late for the GOP to replace Mr. Foley on the ballot, he resigned and disappeared. On July 31, 2007, Nancy Pelosi promised to “drain the swamp.” Now, with Rangel and Weiner still in the House, not only is the swamp still as mucky as ever. We’ve got the makings of a new TV series, “Swamp People, Congress Edition.”
Even disgraced former governor Eliot Spitzer had the decency to resign, although, of course, “disgrace” is a relative term when a democrat is involved, which is why Eliot found the transition from the role “Client Number 9” to CNN host so smooth. By refusing to go, Anthony “I Accept Full Responsibility” Weiner makes Spitzer look like a stand-up guy. Here we go again. Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Please don’t stop reading. I’ll try to control my inner sixth grader, and get to the point.
All of the above, while true, is incomplete. What’s missing is worth our attention going forward, not because of the specifics of this social networking snafu, but because of the implications for public policy in America. Here are two important takeaways from this “teachable moment”:
First, as previously noted, Anthony Weiner is not the first pencil-necked, hideous looking dweeb to go two or three decades without a date only to achieve some career success and discover that he is suddenly attractive to certain women, especially the young, the gullible and the emotionally-driven. Some Australian guy has even assigned a name to this phenomenon: “Hotness Delusion Syndrome,” the inaccurate perception that results when the physically unattractive receive undue attention and adoration and start to see themselves through the eyes of their admirers, in complete defiance of what they have to see in their mirrors. Takeaway: Guys, just because certain lonely or dimwitted females consider you God’s gift to women, that doesn’t make it true, nor should it encourage you to act like a teenager hopped up on raging hormones.
Second, consider that, as difficult as this may to believe to those of us who found Cong. Weiner’s screeching as appealing as the sound of a million chickens being slaughtered in unison, at least one of the women who contacted Cong. Weiner was initially attracted to him because she was enthralled by his passionate ranting. You ladies thought he was demonstrating his concern for the little guy, which of course, he was. It just wasn’t the little guy you thought. Takeaway: Ladies, when a liberal starts raving about the horrible and unacceptable disparity in income between rich and poor, or evil corporations, or whatever talking point from their threadbare Marxist playbook they choose that day, he has the same thing in his head as every fourteen-year-old boy who ever picked up a guitar and started a band. By “his head,” I don’t mean the thing with hair on it, at least I hope not.
It turns out that at least some of the time, the liberals’ incessant feigned moral outrage act is all about their concerns about the less fortunate, by which I mean dateless dorks and their loveless admirers. Remember that the next time you see one in full desk-pounding mode.
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