Weiner’s timeline of despair

No matter what kind of shit you’re going through right now, if you are capable of looking at Anthony Weiner’s life for the past few weeks, including the train wreck that was tonight, and not feel better about yourself then you really do quite seriously need to get some professional help because this guy is sucking despair’s dick right now. I mean like a big, sloppy, precum filled mess with despair slapping it’s dick right across Weiner’s face and poking him in the eye and shit. Yeah, just nasty.

Weiner, despite being the most highly publicized candidate, as well as having a massive TV and radio advertising blitz, not to mention the morning talk show circuit, somehow managed to finish dead last…by a lot.

2013 New York Primary Live Coverage   NYTimes.com

Sadly, those pathetic numbers, in retrospect, were likely the highlight of Weiner’s evening. Believe it or not, the worst was yet to come. Weiner’s wife, who had, mind-blowingly enough, been by her husband’s side during the entire campaign, decided to not show up to watch him get his brains beat in by his political opponents.

Turns out it’s a good thing she did’t show up after all because Sydney Leathers, the needy attention whore that put a bullet in the head of Weiner’s campaign months ago, decided that it would be a good idea (read: to get attention) for her to show up at Weiner’s political funeral.

I know this phrase gets thrown around a lot but you really couldn’t make this up if you tried. It was like the needy, pathetic attention seekers olympics with Weiner and Leathers both going for the gold.

Apparently the thought of potentially having to share his spotlight with someone else was more than AW Weiner (AW stands for Attention Whore Weiner, not Anthony Weiner, although the two terms are pretty much interchangeable) could take. In a last ditch bid to save his dignity Weiner mustered up whatever courage he had left and proceeded to take off running through a McDonalds and out the back door to try and get away from Leathers.

Not to be outdone, Leathers proceeds to chase him through said McDonalds.

Alas, she isn’t able to catch up with him and leaves defeated…with a purse full of McDoubles cheeseburgers off the dollar menu to wash away her pain. “Don’t worry comfort food, you’ll always be with me no matter where I go. If someone tries to tell me that you can’t come, don’t worry, I’ll sneak you in in my belly.”

And, up to this point, Weiner hasn’t even made his concession speech yet!

That’s right. During his concession speech he didn’t even mention the one person in his life, including himself, that doesn’t seem like a complete asshole. A person that’s had to stand by his side in front of hundreds of reporters with a smile stuck on her face while she answers question after question about you were cyberbanging every mediocre looking tramp that returned one of your sexts and you don’t even thank her!? What a dick.

And, as the evening drew to a close and Weiner found himself alone for the first time tonight, in his car with some time to reflect on every thing that had just happened, he summoned up his inner chi and let the people and the media know what they had meant to him during this crazy campaign. As he drove off in his car he started flipping the bird to anyone and everyone that looked his way.

What a class act.

Posted by James Poling

A socialist, tinkerer, thinker, question asker and all around curiosity seeker. If you'd like to reach me you can use the contact link above or email me at jamespoling [at] gmail [dot] com.

2 Comments

  1. So much for comeback stories, or in this case, CUM-back.

    Like

    Reply

Speak Your Mind

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s