While enduring the unwanted, wall-to-wall coverage of the Anthony Weiner "sexting" scandal, we cats can't help but be reminded of The Age of Innocence — Edith Wharton's classic novel of a couple who were made for each other, but who nevertheless were hounded from polite society for conspicuously not consummating their relationship.
We're not saying that Weiner and his online paramours are doomed romantic partners from great literature. We're just reminding ourselves that in reality, Anthony Weiner hasn't done a thing. He's guilty of nothing more than wanting. His mistake was putting those desires — if Twitter and texts qualify as such — "in writing."
So, goodness gracious. Are we to the point where we're censuring people for expressing passion? With the royal birth this week, we cats are reminded that the House of Windsor's newest grandfather was once recorded comparing himself to his lover's tampon — and he probably will still become King of England when Queen Elizabeth dies. So, will Anthony Weiner have to forfeit his political future because he got his texting timeline wrong?
Apparently so. We cats are not huge fans of Weiner, but we have to admit that in the light of day, he's committed far fewer actual indiscretions than Bill Clinton. Yet unlike our feelings for President Clinton, we just want Weiner to go away. Why is that? Why are we not totally crushed by Weiner's sagging poll numbers, aside from the fact that we always suspected Christine Quinn would be the better mayor?
We realize we're asking more questions than we're providing answers. That's because human behavior is extraordinarily complex, and leaves us with myriad conundrums when we're trying to decide who should be elected to make important decisions in our behalf. We can only hope that we vote for people who have their public priorities — if not their private peccadilloes — under control.
In the meantime, although we're relieved not to be registered voters in NYC, we're tempted to forgive any transgressor who, Weiner or not, refrains from simultaneously lecturing the rest of us on how to live.
Which means we're waiting for the day we hear all the ways that Ken Cuccinelli has committed adultery. Don't worry — they're, um, coming.
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