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The International Writers Magazine: New York Morals

Weiner Rules
• Dean Borok
'Man in a suit with a bowtie neck
Wanna buy a grunt with a third-party check'
- Frank Zappa
Dean and Friend

The problem of contemporary sex is that it’s too basic. As Alex the Droog lamented in “A Clockwork Orange”, “it’s just the same old in-and-out!” With all our luxuries and culture, we haven’t gotten far beyond the rutting proclivities of barnyard livestock. We have basically regressed from an era of Grand Opera and elegant seduction to an age of self-parody.

Good sex requires the same meticulous planning and execution as good cuisine, and most people are not heavily focused on putting too much work into seduction as art. Of course, I’m speaking as a mature adult whose body has moderated its relentless pumping of high-octane sex hormones that were so intense in my youth that I used to worry my dick was going to explode right in my pants. These days, if a woman expects to appeal to me she needs not just good looks but an intriguing style that succeeds in exciting me, which you don’t get from a girl who shops at the Gap. For my part, I would dearly love to be able to deploy my full arsenal of seduction techniques, but fancy styling is not currently in fashion.

Look, I have got a lot of nerve getting on my high horse to lament the debasement of sexual culture because nobody has contributed more assiduously than I to utter vulgarity and depravity. Check out my nightclub comedy act on my website,

Nevertheless, I’m still inspired by the classic arts of seduction, if I only could meet some women who could appreciate that sort of attention. You would think that the educated classes would be willing to dig into their reserve of culture to apply at least a scintilla of interest to their sex lives, but theirs are just as flat-line brain dead as everybody else’s. What do we observe at the top level? Senator Larry Craig in the mensroom at Minneapolis Airport; Bill Clinton with his atrocious intern; New York Governor Eliot Spitzer buying sex from a greaseball teenage New Jersey hooker and paying with a check; Governator Arnold Schwartzenegger knocking up his housekeeper, and not to mention the incredibly fortuitously-named Anthony Weiner, whose hormonal compulsions are so overwhelming that he has been compelled to create a whole new standard for campaign advertising.

He emailed photos of his own pecker over the Internet while he was running for Mayor of New York City. Now, that takes BALLS! Not only that, but he convinced his wife to stand up in front of the cameras and announce to the world that she still believes in him! Hey, what the fuck! His opponent, Christine Quinn, is running as a militant lesbian with a wife. That’s the choice for the New York mayoral primary, a guy named Weiner who shakes his weenie online, against a loudmouth truckdriver dyko with a wife, who’s got to have it with a Yoo-Hoo bottle and spewed upon with creamed corn or she goes apeshit! What’s The Deal? (in all fairness there are a couple of more normal guys on the ballot, but they are not getting the same kind of coverage)

Weiner I, for one, am interested to see what the dude is packing. He looks like a skinny little fruit to me, but my experience from gym locker rooms is that frequently the skinny 150 lb. guys are more richly endowed than the 230 lb. bodybuilders. Of course, a lot of male endowment is relative. You could be swinging 5 lbs. of meat but it still looks small relative to your size. I personally have got so little to show that it’s like the marble statue of David in the Metropolitan Museum, with a 2” pecker (but in my case I don’t have the statue’s musculature either. Oh well…)

This freakiness did not just start this year. How about “America’s Mayor”, Rudolph Giuliani, who used to dress up like a nightclub transvestite imitation of Marilyn Monroe, complete with panties and a garter belt! Giuliani, who once attempted to close down the Brooklyn Museum for offending traditional values, campaigned against gay marriage until he moved in with a gay couple after his wife walked out on him to star in a Broadway production of “The Vagina Chronicles”. Who writes this shit? So if you are wondering how my stage act could get so vulgar and offensive, I have been living exposed to these ghastly attractions for decades. As they say in the computer business: Garbage In Garbage Out.

This is not to say that the Europeans, with all their charm and civilization, are any more discerning than ourselves. I am mystified that French Socialist leader Dominique Strauss-Kahn, with all his unlimited access to an adoring audience of distinguished females, would ruin his career over a five minute dalliance with a Times Square chambermaid, or that Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, with his unlimited wealth and showbusiness connections, would be caught perjuring himself in open court about messing around with underage jailbait hookers. What’s so disappointing about Berlusconi is that Italian culture is so rich in the arts of seduction and infidelity. I am thinking specifically about the 19th century French writer Stendhal, who was devastated to discover that his elegant Italian mistress was handling five other lovers besides him. Man, if I had Berlusconi’s money, I would definitely be a lot choosier, considering the vast selection of female flesh that I would have available (if I had money).

Pick a classic woman of means who likes to mess around! That’s what French ex-president Nicolas Sarkozy did after he was unloaded by his last wife, Cecilia. He started dating glamorous fashion model Carla Bruni, and the results were so satisfactory that they ended up getting married.

But Anthony Weiner seems to be taking his inspiration from the fact that Pres. Bill Clinton’s piggish behavior never hurt him with the public. Clinton managed to compartmentalize his presidential duties from his moronic private behavior, and his administration is still widely admired. Maybe the public was able to relate to him because their sex lives were no more elegant than his.

Maybe Wiener and Spitzer are more intuitive than we are giving them credit for being. They are betting that the floodgates of hideous behavior are wide open. Nobody cares, except for the establishment media, which are all run by reactionaries anyway. Weiner’s old congressional district encompassed the most plodding, old-fashioned parts of Queens and Brooklyn, so he never could have survived there in any case. Running citywide gives him access to a more liberal public of variegated, kaleidoscopic sexual preferences.

If you want to try to figure out which way the wind is blowing, consider the fact that the current issue of New York magazine, which is a renowned arbiter and tastemaker of New York society, this very week published an entire issue analyzing New Yorkers’ sexual tastes, with a huge emphasis on casual sex and Internet sex. The whole issue is about screwing around and nothing else, and it works to Weiner’s huge benefit to show that he is not an isolated case – virtually everybody in New York is doing the same thing.
New York Magazine

Weiner has got to be saying a prayer of gratitude for the diving intervention that struck at exactly the moment of the biggest crisis of his career, if you want to qualify this trivial nonsense as a crisis.

Never mind that the sex lives of the people surveyed are so flat and tedious that even New York’s best efforts can’t jazz them up. What kind of scintillating provocation can you expect to find in a piece written by 20-something Dartmouth journalism major? But what if Wiener’s got his finger on the, er, pulse of the public mood and it turns out that he is right in style? Maybe his instincts are more plugged-in than we think!
© Dean Borok August 2013
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