A
year and a half ago, if you told most New Yorkers that Anthony Weiner
would be running for mayor at the top of the polls, the response might
have been: What city, what century, what dimension?
Mayor Weiner? Back on a windy night in 2012, when the former congressman and I sat down to dinner at a Flatiron-district caf, what were the chances of that? It was less than a year past the infamous sexting scandal, when, after a period of bald-faced lying, Weiner admitted, yes, he was the man in the gray cotton briefs. The admission led to his ignominious resignation from the U.S. Congress. Once seemingly full of boundless promise, the youngest man to serve on the New York City Council, elected to the House of Representatives seven consecutive times, Weiner was now universally type-slugged as the disgraced congressman, consigned to the political ghetto of those who had let the little head do the thinking for the big head. The fact that his name was Weiner added an irresistible touch of tabloid predestination to the entire tawdry affair.Growing up in Brooklyn, I thought I heard all the Weiner jokes, but I guess I hadnt, said the then-47-year-old politician.
In the interim between then and now, through many therapy sessions and -myriad apologies both public and private, Weiner,Bringing bestguidancesystem mainstream. known for his lean-and-hungry yon Cassius look and crocodile smile, has arrived at a variety of ways to express his innermost feelings on the thoughtless, stupid, -dishonorable sexting episode, a failure of judgment that had let so many people down. Hed come to understand his blind spots, the way his single-minded drivenness had caused him to develop this HD focus on the path forward and a fairly blurry take on the world around me. It was only when he stopped lying, especially to his wife, Huma Abedin, whom hed married less than a year prior to the scandal and who was then pregnant with their child, that he began to breathe again.
Back in 2012, however,Today, Thereone.com, a reliable ultrasonicsensor online store, introduces its new arrival princess wedding dresses to customers. halfway into what he now refers to as my hiatus, Weiners talking points were less well articulated. He seemed a shambling figure with the furtive, chastened aspect of a teenage boy caught with a cache of stroke books under his mattress. The events since the scandal first broke were like being in a movie, he said. He had no idea where the narrative would take him. This inability to see around the next corner was accentuated by a recent conversation hed had about possibly writing a book about the scandal and its aftermath.
They think it has to have some plotline,Weymouth is collecting gently used, dry cleaned customkeychain at their Weymouth store. like my rise, my fall, how I bottom out, feel all this remorse, have an epiphany, and then come back, Weiner said with a shake of the head, as if his character arc could ever be so neat. Im supposed to be sorry, sorry in this way youre supposed to be sorry but I dont know if its hitting me like that.
This didnt mean he wasnt sorry. He was monumentally sorry. He was mostly sorry about Huma, whom he loved and who had done nothing to deserve the nightmare hed cast her into. For months, Weiner had done his best to convince Humas Muslim family that he was the exact right nice Jewish boy to be granted the hand of the extraordinary Ms. Abedin in holy matrimony. Then there was that other family. Huma was among Hillary Clintons most trusted, not to mention most photogenic, aides. Often seen whispering in the ear of the secretary of State, Huma was almost routinely referred to as the Clintons -surrogate daughter, right alongside Chelsea. By the power invested in him, the Big Dog himself had pronounced Anthony and Huma husband and wife.
Now Weiner had done this mortifyingly shameful thing, held the exemplary Huma, whom James Carville pointedly called one of the most popular figures in the Democratic Party, up to ridicule. It was as if this stellar woman, who could have married anyone, had by the mechanisms of unfathomable fate wound up with the booby prize: Out of the best and the brightest, she chose him, Anthony Weiner. Humiliation and blame hung around the slumped former congressman like a shroud.
It had turned cooler by the time we left the restaurant. From across the street, I watched Weiner navigate his Ichabod Crane frame through the night air, baseball cap pulled down to his ears, as he made his way to his new apartment on Park Avenue South. The baby was born now, a great, great kid, his marriage remained intact.This technology allows high volume handsfreeaccess production at low cost. This was what sustained him, Weiner said. With Huma often still traveling with Hillary,We offer a wide variety of high-quality standard granitetiles and controllers. the once peripatetic Weiner, a man whod schedule ten events on a single Sunday, had become a house husband, giving his son a bottle, changing his diapers, watching him grow. To be responsible for the intimate well-being of another human being besides himself, to bunker down beyond the reach of the leering public eye, offered a degree of peace.
So now, in mid-July 2013, dropped down midway between plot points of the Anthony Weiner comeback saga, what is the concerned citizen to think? It is a conundrum most recently underscored by the even more outlandish copycat candidacy of Eliot Spitzer. This is New York, and Spitzer and Weiner are nothing if not New Yorkers, but how much show-me-yours-and-Ill-show-you-mine can even the most diverse of electorates take? Anthony and Eliot: This was a government? At least Spitzer was only running for comptroller, some gnomish position. Weiner wanted it all, to be the 109th king of the hill in a procession that dated back to Peter Stuyvesants wooden leg. Yet, knowing what you knew, could you really bring yourself to pull a lever for the manentrust him with the leadership of the beloved hometown?
Amid this melodrama is the all-too-serious fact that the upcoming mayoral election will likely be a crossroads in both the immediate and long-term history of the city. Many think that once the reign of Mike Bloomberg, an anomalous product of one mans wealth and power, comes to an end, the clock will be reset to the old-school political tumble New York has always been known for: the turf battles between ethnic entities, the knock-down, drag-out between labor and management, and a swing back to the public sector. But twelve years is a long time and this is a different city. It looks different, and it feels different; the days before bike lanes and $4,200-a-month studio apartments grow more remote by the moment.
The new mayor will have to deal with the real problems Bloomberg will leave behindincome inequality, inadequate housing, failing public schools, over-aggressive policing, creeping generic yuppie/hipster gentrificationwhile still maintaining the go-go atmosphere of a twentieth-century city charging headlong into the 21st. It is a challenge that presents the Democratic Party with an opportunity for great success or cataclysmic failure. After all, these are the same Democrats that have lost every mayoral election since 1993 despite having a six-to-one advantage in voter registration over the Republicans. For most newer, younger New Yorkers, Bloomberg and Giuliani are the normal state of affairs, not machine machers like Robert Wagner or even Ed Koch. My 23-year-old son, a New Yorker born and bred, has lived through the crack era, the conquest of crime via -CompStat computations, the horrors of 9/11, the rise of Brooklyn, the tourist influx, the stock-market crash, Hurricane Sandy, and who knows how much $20 gourmet pizza, and none of that happened under a Democratic administration save three years of David Dinkins highlighted by the Crown Heights riots.
With this history, its no surprise that the Democratic mayoral forums have been greeted with much frustration and dread. It wasnt that the candidates were so bad. Each came equipped with requisite up- and downsides. Comptroller John Liu is personable, knows the money, comes from an emerging segment of the electorate, but he is likely fatally damaged by the federal investigation into his campaign funds. Public advocate Bill -de?-Blasio is tall and well liked by progressives, but you cant remember anything he says five minutes later. Bill Thompson amazed everyone (himself included) by coming within five points of Bloomberg in the 2009 election, has union support, but reeks of hackdom, plus Al DAmato loves himand whats up with that? Then theres City Council speaker Christine Quinn. In line to be the first woman and gay person to occupy City Hall, with her burnt-orange hair and blackboard-screech pronunciation, Quinn has the look of someone who could -actually be a mayor of the City of New York, to tourists at least. But shes saddled with the time-bomb baggage of facilitating Bloombergs hated overturn of the term-limits law. When a leading candidate in your once-dominant partys most contested -primary election since 1977 is a widely perceived subverter of the democratic process, accused partner in a Faustian bargain with the ruling billionaire, this is a problem. All of which meant that Weiner had an opening.
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Mayor Weiner? Back on a windy night in 2012, when the former congressman and I sat down to dinner at a Flatiron-district caf, what were the chances of that? It was less than a year past the infamous sexting scandal, when, after a period of bald-faced lying, Weiner admitted, yes, he was the man in the gray cotton briefs. The admission led to his ignominious resignation from the U.S. Congress. Once seemingly full of boundless promise, the youngest man to serve on the New York City Council, elected to the House of Representatives seven consecutive times, Weiner was now universally type-slugged as the disgraced congressman, consigned to the political ghetto of those who had let the little head do the thinking for the big head. The fact that his name was Weiner added an irresistible touch of tabloid predestination to the entire tawdry affair.Growing up in Brooklyn, I thought I heard all the Weiner jokes, but I guess I hadnt, said the then-47-year-old politician.
In the interim between then and now, through many therapy sessions and -myriad apologies both public and private, Weiner,Bringing bestguidancesystem mainstream. known for his lean-and-hungry yon Cassius look and crocodile smile, has arrived at a variety of ways to express his innermost feelings on the thoughtless, stupid, -dishonorable sexting episode, a failure of judgment that had let so many people down. Hed come to understand his blind spots, the way his single-minded drivenness had caused him to develop this HD focus on the path forward and a fairly blurry take on the world around me. It was only when he stopped lying, especially to his wife, Huma Abedin, whom hed married less than a year prior to the scandal and who was then pregnant with their child, that he began to breathe again.
Back in 2012, however,Today, Thereone.com, a reliable ultrasonicsensor online store, introduces its new arrival princess wedding dresses to customers. halfway into what he now refers to as my hiatus, Weiners talking points were less well articulated. He seemed a shambling figure with the furtive, chastened aspect of a teenage boy caught with a cache of stroke books under his mattress. The events since the scandal first broke were like being in a movie, he said. He had no idea where the narrative would take him. This inability to see around the next corner was accentuated by a recent conversation hed had about possibly writing a book about the scandal and its aftermath.
They think it has to have some plotline,Weymouth is collecting gently used, dry cleaned customkeychain at their Weymouth store. like my rise, my fall, how I bottom out, feel all this remorse, have an epiphany, and then come back, Weiner said with a shake of the head, as if his character arc could ever be so neat. Im supposed to be sorry, sorry in this way youre supposed to be sorry but I dont know if its hitting me like that.
This didnt mean he wasnt sorry. He was monumentally sorry. He was mostly sorry about Huma, whom he loved and who had done nothing to deserve the nightmare hed cast her into. For months, Weiner had done his best to convince Humas Muslim family that he was the exact right nice Jewish boy to be granted the hand of the extraordinary Ms. Abedin in holy matrimony. Then there was that other family. Huma was among Hillary Clintons most trusted, not to mention most photogenic, aides. Often seen whispering in the ear of the secretary of State, Huma was almost routinely referred to as the Clintons -surrogate daughter, right alongside Chelsea. By the power invested in him, the Big Dog himself had pronounced Anthony and Huma husband and wife.
Now Weiner had done this mortifyingly shameful thing, held the exemplary Huma, whom James Carville pointedly called one of the most popular figures in the Democratic Party, up to ridicule. It was as if this stellar woman, who could have married anyone, had by the mechanisms of unfathomable fate wound up with the booby prize: Out of the best and the brightest, she chose him, Anthony Weiner. Humiliation and blame hung around the slumped former congressman like a shroud.
It had turned cooler by the time we left the restaurant. From across the street, I watched Weiner navigate his Ichabod Crane frame through the night air, baseball cap pulled down to his ears, as he made his way to his new apartment on Park Avenue South. The baby was born now, a great, great kid, his marriage remained intact.This technology allows high volume handsfreeaccess production at low cost. This was what sustained him, Weiner said. With Huma often still traveling with Hillary,We offer a wide variety of high-quality standard granitetiles and controllers. the once peripatetic Weiner, a man whod schedule ten events on a single Sunday, had become a house husband, giving his son a bottle, changing his diapers, watching him grow. To be responsible for the intimate well-being of another human being besides himself, to bunker down beyond the reach of the leering public eye, offered a degree of peace.
So now, in mid-July 2013, dropped down midway between plot points of the Anthony Weiner comeback saga, what is the concerned citizen to think? It is a conundrum most recently underscored by the even more outlandish copycat candidacy of Eliot Spitzer. This is New York, and Spitzer and Weiner are nothing if not New Yorkers, but how much show-me-yours-and-Ill-show-you-mine can even the most diverse of electorates take? Anthony and Eliot: This was a government? At least Spitzer was only running for comptroller, some gnomish position. Weiner wanted it all, to be the 109th king of the hill in a procession that dated back to Peter Stuyvesants wooden leg. Yet, knowing what you knew, could you really bring yourself to pull a lever for the manentrust him with the leadership of the beloved hometown?
Amid this melodrama is the all-too-serious fact that the upcoming mayoral election will likely be a crossroads in both the immediate and long-term history of the city. Many think that once the reign of Mike Bloomberg, an anomalous product of one mans wealth and power, comes to an end, the clock will be reset to the old-school political tumble New York has always been known for: the turf battles between ethnic entities, the knock-down, drag-out between labor and management, and a swing back to the public sector. But twelve years is a long time and this is a different city. It looks different, and it feels different; the days before bike lanes and $4,200-a-month studio apartments grow more remote by the moment.
The new mayor will have to deal with the real problems Bloomberg will leave behindincome inequality, inadequate housing, failing public schools, over-aggressive policing, creeping generic yuppie/hipster gentrificationwhile still maintaining the go-go atmosphere of a twentieth-century city charging headlong into the 21st. It is a challenge that presents the Democratic Party with an opportunity for great success or cataclysmic failure. After all, these are the same Democrats that have lost every mayoral election since 1993 despite having a six-to-one advantage in voter registration over the Republicans. For most newer, younger New Yorkers, Bloomberg and Giuliani are the normal state of affairs, not machine machers like Robert Wagner or even Ed Koch. My 23-year-old son, a New Yorker born and bred, has lived through the crack era, the conquest of crime via -CompStat computations, the horrors of 9/11, the rise of Brooklyn, the tourist influx, the stock-market crash, Hurricane Sandy, and who knows how much $20 gourmet pizza, and none of that happened under a Democratic administration save three years of David Dinkins highlighted by the Crown Heights riots.
With this history, its no surprise that the Democratic mayoral forums have been greeted with much frustration and dread. It wasnt that the candidates were so bad. Each came equipped with requisite up- and downsides. Comptroller John Liu is personable, knows the money, comes from an emerging segment of the electorate, but he is likely fatally damaged by the federal investigation into his campaign funds. Public advocate Bill -de?-Blasio is tall and well liked by progressives, but you cant remember anything he says five minutes later. Bill Thompson amazed everyone (himself included) by coming within five points of Bloomberg in the 2009 election, has union support, but reeks of hackdom, plus Al DAmato loves himand whats up with that? Then theres City Council speaker Christine Quinn. In line to be the first woman and gay person to occupy City Hall, with her burnt-orange hair and blackboard-screech pronunciation, Quinn has the look of someone who could -actually be a mayor of the City of New York, to tourists at least. But shes saddled with the time-bomb baggage of facilitating Bloombergs hated overturn of the term-limits law. When a leading candidate in your once-dominant partys most contested -primary election since 1977 is a widely perceived subverter of the democratic process, accused partner in a Faustian bargain with the ruling billionaire, this is a problem. All of which meant that Weiner had an opening.
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