when the sausage goes rancid

Huma Abedin, the very Muslim aide-de-camp of Hillary Clinton who had improbably married the very Jewish Anthony Weiner, has finally recovered her sanity and separated from Weiner because of his latest sexting scandal. This move might silence some of the critics (including yours truly) who wondered aloud whether Abedin had been sticking by Weiner's side because of an addiction (ad-dick-tion?) to power. Then again, Weiner's political and personal fortunes have risen and wilted like a schlong before, during, and after morning wood, so perhaps Abedin no longer has any use for the man, who just lost his most recent jobs as a contributing news writer and on-air personality.

Weiner seems determined to engage in behaviors that are obviously detrimental to his long-term interests. I'm now utterly convinced the man is sick and in need of serious therapy. What else can possibly explain his pathological conduct? When I saw the documentary "Weiner" recently, I had the impression that Weiner sincerely loves his wife, but that he can't help himself with the sexting. Perhaps he needs to embark on a career in porn, at least for a while, to get the bad humors out of his system. The problem, though, is that I think his twisted sexuality is intimately tied in with other ego-related issues: a need for attention and approval, a need to be in a position of power, authority, and influence. It's either one of Weiner's heads or the other that is constantly craving the spotlight, but neither head seems to have Weiner's best interests at heart.

A cynical part of me is saying, "It wouldn't surprise me if Weiner committed suicide," but based on what I saw while watching "Weiner," I don't believe he would ever think of killing himself. He's sufficiently delusional, and sufficiently ego-inflated, that he can endure any amount of scandal and still be convinced that there are people out there who respect him and care about what he has to say. If I feel anything at this point, it's pity.

My buddy Mike, years ago, came across what is supposedly a Roman proverb: "When your luck runs out, it doesn't matter how big your dick is." To whom better would such wisdom apply than Anthony Weiner?