THE SCENE: A press conference. Reporters, camera operators, city officials, no one wants to miss this one. A few campaign staffers loiter in a corner, trying to look as nondescript as possible. One gets the sense that, if they could, they would cover their faces with their jackets.
Enter Stage Right: Congressman ANTHONY WEINER, a dissipated politician with boyish charm, and puerile decision-making skills. He stands at the podium, attempting to look dignified, but really not fooling anyone. Enter also HUMA ABEDIN, director of Hilary Rodham Clinton’s transition team, former chief-of-staff for the former Secretary of State, and closest personal aide during Clinton’s 2008 presidential campaign. Abedin also happens to be married to Weiner, and dressed carefully today to make sure she didn’t wear anything reminiscent of Julianna Margulies’s wardrobe on The Good Wife.
My fellow Americans, I come before you today to tell you that I made a mistake. I didn’t bravely chart my own course through the dangerous, yet rewarding, waters of marital infidelity in the digital age. Instead, I followed in the footsteps of the greats who have come before me: Clinton, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Roosevelt, Cleveland. For that, I sincerely apologize.
This is just the kind of honest, stand-up guy I am. When I fool around on the internet, I do it as myself. I didn’t want to sext from a disposable cell phone under an assumed name. No, that would have been way too much work. I used my very own Facebook account. That way, every young woman I sent raunchy messages knew what she was getting. I just didn’t assume she would be getting profiles in the Washington Post and probably offers of book deals and guest spots on The View. But you see, I didn’t think of that because I have trust. Trust in you, trust in myself, trust in my beautiful and wonderful wife, who also trusts me. She doesn’t monitor what I do on the internet, so why should any of you?
This hurt my marriage, people. Really. We were up late talking about this for two, three nights in a row, you know? It was serious! I don’t want you to think Huma doesn’t care about this. Just because she looks like a supermodel and is brilliant professionally, doesn’t mean you should think she’s a robot. She cares that her boyish and impetuous husband occasionally makes mistakes! But she’s committed to our marriage, and our son, and understands that sometimes you just have to let your spouse self-destruct on the national stage. It’s part of growing!
And that’s what I’m doing, America. I’m growing. I’m growing, and I’m not giving up! I’m going to keep putting myself in the way of greatness, of recognition, into the inboxes of women–I mean, voters–all over New York State, and the entire country! Everyone is going to see what kind of a man this Weiner really is.
Also, can we be real here for a minute, America? It’s not like I actually boned anyone. No bodily fluids were exchanged, it was just words on a screen. And occasionally some pictures of my crotch. But that’s about it, you know? I didn’t DO anything. I just talked a lot more than I should have to people who had the opportunity to make some shady money because of it. If you think about it, it’s a great allegory for the political system. Because I’m always going to do the right thing eventually, America. I’ll always be here for you. Waiting. Watching. Pressing F5, hoping you’ll answer me.
In fact, this segues perfectly into my new campaign slogan.
“VOTE WEINER: No matter what he says, he won’t actually fuck you over.”
Thank you, and God Bless America.
Exit WEINER, Stage Right. Exit Interns, slouching in his wake, staring into their BlackBerries and only navigating by mortified peripheral vision. Reporters look expectantly at HUMA, who steps up to the microphone.
Marriage is complicated, people. Very complicated. I can’t bawl him out in public because of how public it really is. Someone has to be the adult here, and I guess it’s going to be me. How I respond to my husband’s infantile perfidy is up to me. Not you, not the opinion pages. All you can decide is to vote for him or not. And personally, I hope you do. If he doesn’t win this, he’s just going to hang around the house and mope, and you can imagine how much sympathy I have for him right now.
Exit ABEDIN. Exit reporters, camera operators, city officials.