You’d think Elliot Spitzer would know when to shut his mouth. But he suffers from a case of chronic self-over-estimation.
He needs Verbal Valtrex to suppress his words.
Asked if Anthony Weiner should not be the mayor of New York, Spitzer said, “That is correct.” Instead, here’s what Spitzer should’ve said, “That is none of my business.”
Normally, I’d say it’s no ones business.
Sooner or later you pay for sex, whether it’s a whore or divorce lawyer. Same Fucking Thing.
But Spitzer made it our business by taking away the freedom of other men as a means of grandstanding to promote Self-Righteousness.
Self-Righteousness is Hogwash. And so is Elliot Spitzer.
As far as Anthony Weiner goes, I have to ask, both you and myself, what did we expect? Nobody gives-up a secret behavior without stumbling. As far as sexting goes, it’s the most harmless way to get your rocks off.
Since when did our understanding of marriage come to mean that every single thought, every single action, every single dirty impulse has to be directed at your spouse?
It’s not marriage.
And it’s sad.
By the way, Huma, you don’t have to wear cookie cutter dresses with polka dot patterns to prove your wholesomeness. Fire your media advisor and go back to being a sophisticated New Yorker, which is what you really are.
It’s okay. You’re better than the rest of us.
It’s okay. You’re allowed to be better. What’s not okay is the pretending.
Here’s my two-cents and it’s worth a penny: keep fighting, Anthony, ignore the media, ignore the pundits, ignore the pollsters, ignore the anonymous losers who post comments on YouTube.
I’ll tell you who knows, New Yorkers. In the end, they’re the only ones who matter.