Being a compassionate man
except when I’m down to my last beer hey bartender refill you slacker! I have been moved by the spectacle of Anthony Weiner. Once a rising star in the Democratic party, Weiner is now virtually unemployable. As a result of this income inequality Weiner has been forced to move out of his 3.3. million four bedroom rental.
Living in Manhattan as I do I know that apartment hunting can be stressful so I graciously volunteered to help him. We met in the fashionable Gramercy Park section of Manhattan and immediately went to work.
As the harried ex-congressman appeared I greeted him.
“Are you ready to look for apartments?”
“Yeah sure” he glumly replied.
Sensing he was depressed I tried to cheer him up.
“Come on. I don’t sense any enthusiasm from you. Where’s that famous Anthony Weiner smile that captivated New Yorkers?”
“I left it in my 3.3 million four bedroom mansion.” he replied. “I don’t know how common people do it.”
“Well let’s get started. What are you looking at?”
“I’d like something with at least three bedrooms and a home office where I can work.”
“I see. What do you do for work?”
“I’m unemployed at the moment.”
“Okay. So we’re looking at studios then.”
I then got out the real estate section of the New York Times and started looking for studios.
“Okay Anthony, we have a few studios in the thousand to 1,500 a month range in Washington Heights. Some of these studios are nice.”
Weiner seemed unimpressed.
“But those studios are uptown. Too many peoples of color live uptown. I’m a Democrat and the last thing I want is to live around their kind. There must be boundaries between rulers and the ruled.”
Weiner grew visibly frustrated.
“I have pictures on my phone of great apartments I like. They are all in this area. “
Weiner then took out his phone and showed me some of the photos on it.
“You see” he said. “Here’s one of them.”
“Um. That’s your penis.”
An embarrassed Weiner mumbled an apology and continued to show me photos on his phone.
“Look at this one.”
“Nope. That’s your penis again. And another penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. The mayor’s wife’s penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Do you actually have any photos on your phone that aren’t of penises?”
At this Weiner broke down sobbing.
“I just need a place to stay.”
I asked him why he couldn’t stay with his wife.
“She threw me out. She wanted to have sex with me. I don’t like touching women. I just want to show them photos of my junk. That excites me.”
I then suggested that he might try living with Eliot Spitzer.
“His wife threw him out as well.”
Weiner seemed intrigued by the suggestion.
“Yeah, but can two disgraced ex-politicians share an apartment without driving each other crazy” he asked me.
“I don’t know but here’s his address.”
Weiner thanked me and ran towards the subway.
Now if you’ll excuse me I have to wash the images of Weiner’s penis out of my mind.