Hell Hath No Fury like a Weiner Scorned


Behold, the Revenge of The Weiner.

Only in the world of the Clintons could a lecherous serial oversharer like Anthony Weiner become such a star.

It was the Clintons, after all, who introduced The Weiner to the young and glamorous Huma Abedin, who has served Hillary Clinton in the closest capacity for two decades, starting out as an intern.

By the way, what is it with the Clintons and their interns? Why must they always disgrace and defile and destroy them? Is it simply that they cannot resist taking complete advantage of anyone who comes to them so young and impressionable?

Famously, the Clintons encouraged the romance and union between The Weiner and their intern. The former intern surely envisioned herself and The Weiner as a budding power couple tightly orbiting the famous and powerful Bill and Hillary Clinton.

Remember the opulent and glamorous photo shoot under the trees in wedding attire that ran in some glossy fashion magazine? And Bill Clinton officiated the nuptials? (NOTE: Kids, if you are thinking of getting married and Bill Clinton is the guy performing your wedding ceremony, you might ask yourself whether this is the healthiest of relationships you’re getting into.)

I remember the first time I met The Weiner. It was on Capitol Hill years ago before he became such a disgrace that even Congress would not have him anymore. We dined at a restaurant a few blocks from the Capitol.

He was, of course, loud and obnoxious. But what really struck me was how glued he was the entire time to his BlackBerry, even some 10 years ago. He couldn’t put it down at the table and kept getting up to walk outside with it. And that was back before the “selfie” was even invented!

The public pinnacle of The Weiner’s love affair with The Weiner was the release earlier this year of the documentary called, well, what else? “Weiner.”

Chronicling his hubristic and disastrous run for mayor of New York City, the documentary is a lurid and queasy glimpse into the most intimate and private moments in the lives of political whores. Both wife and child are trotted around extensively for endless public humiliation.

Throughout the film, there is tension between Ms. Abedin and The Weiner. There is talk of lots of therapy and forgiveness and even failure to forgive. There are moments so intensely personal that even The Self-Loving Weiner himself asks the camera crew to step out of the room so he can talk with his wife in actual private.

And then it comes out that The Weiner is still being The Weiner after all the lies and false apologies.

All the while, Ms. Abedin is still getting instructions from Clinton World on how much she should allow herself to be used and trotted around by The Weiner. Too bad the couple’s young child didn’t have somebody looking out for him.

The train wreck is finally complete when The Weiner is about to concede his fifth-place loss and learns that a woman whom The Weiner was sexting (a porn star appropriately code-named “Pineapple” by the campaign) is lying in wait for The Wiener, in the flesh, and in public.

Ms. Abedin expresses reservations about joining in on such fun, but The Weiner insists that she must join him at the very mountaintop of public humiliation after hustling through the back door of a dirty fast-food joint to avoid “Pineapple.”

In the final moments, in the back of the darkened SUV, The Weiner releases her and tells her to go home. The Weiner is wounded and angry and full of rage.

In one of the final scenes of the movie, New York Mayor Bill de Blasio is being sworn into the office that The Weiner so desperately wanted so he could return to the regular orbit of the powerful Clinton World. Swearing in Mr. de Blasio is none other than Bill Clinton himself.

In this twisted world, hell hath no fury like a Weiner scorned.

• Charles Hurt can be reached at charleshurt@live.com; follow him on Twitter via @charleshurt.


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