I am well aware that our current crop of public personalities did not discover the art of being scummy yucks. Had so much media been available in the past, I’m willing to bet that we might know more today than we ever would want to about people we currently view as our heroes.
But we unfortunately live in an age where every overblown egotistical impulse that visits humankind can instantly be photographed, documented, twitted and tweeted around the world in the same amount of time it takes for the thought to occur. We have lost that valuable space of time from when a questionable idea occurs to us and when we have the means to put it into action. That space was often used to rethink the original idea and save us from complete humiliation. Because we live in a time when an idiotic idea can become reality in less time than it takes me to type those words, I fear that spectacles like Anthony Wiener will continue to be a monotonously regular part of life.
But this scandal has contained one glaring difference from those preceding it. Did you notice? Or were you too busy trying to see through the fuzziness added to his tweeted pictures on TV? Here’s the difference. There was no Mrs. Wiener standing stoically by her man’s side, enduring a humiliation not of her making, smiling weakly through gritted teeth, playing the good wife. And for that I say three cheers to the aforementioned Mrs. Wiener.
If there is anything more painful than watching the public humiliation of some sleazy politician who didn’t have the intelligence to figure out that nothing is private anymore, it is watching his wife stand next to him as though her presence would bring him some level of respectability or humanity. I think we are all supposed to believe that as long as she stands by him, he must ultimately have some goodness in him.
But Mrs. Wiener works for Hillary Clinton, and if there was ever a woman who knew the pain of standing by her man, Hillary is the poster child for it. I don’t know why Hillary stayed with her husband. I can be noble and think it was because she was First Lady when it hit the fan and she respected the office too much to make more of a spectacle out of the whole mess than her husband already had. But the more likely explanation probably falls between that altruistic reason and the reality of her drive for power and what Bill could offer her career after the White House years ended.
I’d have to guess that if Mrs. Wiener sought Hillary’s counsel in this matter, she would have heard the words, “Get out now before the photographers find you.” Which seems to be exactly what Mrs. Wiener did. No walk of shame for her. No standing with a drawn, pale and pained face next to a man admitting that he was, in the end, a sleazoid. Good for her.
I understand why a public figure goes into “rehab” when a hot light gets turned towards some dark secret in their lives. By disappearing, they hope that interest in the matter will die from lack of new information. They will then emerge and start the slow climb back to respectability by making the rounds of talk and news shows explaining how their actions had gotten out of control because of their addiction to whatever. Or, as Newt Gringrich did with an absolutely straight face, they will claim they were so overwhelmed with love of country that they were driven to infidelity. They will attempt to rehabilitate themselves so they can grab back on to power. But for their wives, the rehabilitation is most often just an empty gesture that cannot erase the pain and humiliation they’ve endured. So once again, let me say congratulations to Mrs. Wiener for at least attempting to minimize her anguish.
As for people like Mr. Wiener and his ilk, I think they could all learn a lesson from something my mother taught me when I was in kindergarten and a little boy wanted to show me his if I’d show him mine. She said simply but firmly, “There is a reason they are called your private parts. Keep them private.”