Danger. The need, the
lusting for it. Isn’t it more about
danger than sex? Yes, sex may be the
rail it rides but danger is the train.
Weiner appears to have a compulsion to take risks that are assured of
failure from the instant he sets them in motion. They become a ticking time bomb and the
excitement lies in never knowing when the compulsion will reveal its actor to
the world. This man needs attention on a
scale that would make Louis XIV blush.
It isn’t the infidelity or the inability to tell the truth, perhaps
even an inability to know what is true and what is a lie. Those practically serve to qualify him as a
politician. No. It is his need to place himself in danger,
repeatedly and for the thrill of it.
Combine that with his utter disregard for whom he drags with him when he
acts out and you have a man who needs help desperately.
What troubles me most is his apparent need to humiliate his
wife; to humiliate all women, in fact. Whatever
one may think of the women he targets with his photos and chat, they are
selected, one suspects, for their complicity in the risk. They are the kind of women who readily give
in to men most likely to hurt them. And
that makes them attractive to Weiner.
The bonus is dragging his beautiful, intelligent, and powerful wife to
the lectern and forcing her to endure humiliation at the hands of the rascal
press that found him out as he knew they would. Tee-hee and gotcha!
In short, this man has a sadistic desire to inflict hurt. That is why he needs to put down politics and take up residence in some dank basement. There he can snap photos of
his penis all he wants and post them to the world of women who daily make poor choices—his kind of people.
