Article by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. In 1965, an obscure meat company called Oscar Mayer needed something to boost sales, which were going nowhere fast. The owner wanted results and he needed them yesterday. A jingle would help… but these guys were music schleppers… Tin Pan Alley they weren’t.

But they kept at it and in the best American tradition they inched towards their goal… until, bingo, they created one of the best-known ditties ever penned; pure advertising gold, worth untold millions to the company.

It was short! It was sweet! It was insistent!

And once you got it in your brain, you couldn’t get it out.

“Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Mayer weiner. That is what I’d truly like to be. For it I was an Oscar Mayer weiner. Everyone would be in love with me.”

You’ll find the music in any search engine. Play it before reading this article.

Very bright man, very stupid things.

Seven-term U.S. Representative Anthony Weiner (D-NY) will be, by day’s end (June 8, 2011) ex-Representative. Members of his own party are already publicly nudging him to go — and go fast. He and his self-created plight are, like the Oscar Mayer jinigle, on everyone’s lips, the source of a million jokes, all vulgar, all off-color, and funny.

The Democrats are writhing… while the Republicans get to sit-back and enjoy the show, having absolutely no desire to cut it short. It’s just toooo good!

Now that the news crews of the world are focusing on Weiner, the news — all of it bad for Weiner and absolutely riveting — is pouring out.

Item: Weiner texted porn star Ginger Lee and advised her on how to deny it, advising her to tell the media she was “just a fan.” Ginger’s happy… because even though she’s not an Oscar Mayer weiner… her stock is sure to rise with all the media attention she’s getting. There’s always a silver lining… for someone. And all Ginger had to do was text a few x-rated messages with the aging but hopeful Weiner, who was absolutely determined to create a radio active paper trail Kool.

Item: Weiner, a very busy boy, texted Las Vegas blackjack dealer Lisa Weiss, purveyor of love and money. The ever helpful Weiner advised Lisa on how to cover their tracks… but the lady is really enjoying her 15 minutes of fame. She’s even offered to punch House Speaker John Boehner in the head… that’s something a lot of people would like to do. But gutsy, foul-mouthed Lisa might well do it… and tell.

And the rumor mill is now working overtime that there are the, ahem, man shots of Weiner… and they show more than whether the lithe Weiner wore boxers or briefs. Seems like we’ll soon know whether his parents were Orthodox, or not. Can’t wait…

Oh, yes, Weiner’s a dead duck all right…. and the Democrats are praying that they can get rid of the carcass of their once Golden Boy before anything else emerges… for clearly Weiner was so clueless that he left an avalanche of evidence, all x-rated, all steamy, all abashing, soon to be available on a computer near you.

One thing for sure Mormons, now featuring “every day people” in a huge national ad campaign, won’t be inviting Weiner to appear anytime soon. Too bad. That ad would have been classic, all remorse and redemption.

Senator Harry Reid’s “hot potato”.

Senator Harry Reid, Senate Majority Leader, represents the State of Nevada. That includes Las Vegas, city of high tech sins, where the old fashioned luridities and infidellities (based as they were on enraptured bodies in close proximity) are now passe’. People, especially highly placed ones like Weiner, are too busy to grunt and grind; they text fantasies instead. In short, we have reached the stage where even sex scandals are virtual.

Still, Senator Reid, a righteous man, is clearly distressed; hoping that Weiner will just go away, faster, so he can return America to America’s pressing business. Fat chance, as long as Weiner and his busy fingers and fascinating emails are front-page news.

After all, given the chance every red-blooded American will stop focusing in an instant on “important” things; a breathe of scandal, especially one as fatuous as this one, is most welcome. Reid thus throws Weiner (who was on the fast-track to be mayor of New York and dispense the amenities of the greatest city on earth) to the lions, saying “I wish there were some way that I can defend him, but I can’t.” Asked what he would do if Weiner called for advice, Reid said he’d tell him to “call someone else.”

Real nice. Why, I thought the Democrats were the party dedicated to helping the downtrodden and hurting. And right this minute, there is no in the nation as hurting and needy as the once majestic and always magisterial Congressman Anthony Weiner.

But when the subject turns to enticing and dallying with young women, even if there is absolutely no physical contact at all, every single Democrat silly enough to make him- or herself available to the news media, sounds resolutely like the Moral Majority they otherwise abominate. Such people, for all that they were the best of Democrats and the best of friends just hours before, must be disposed of at once.

These Democrats know Weiner is in the exact position of a chicken with its head cut off. My father told me about this when I was a boy. If a chicken is running and you chop off its head, it (not realizing it is dead) will continue to run for yards and yards before succumbing. Dead… but still functioning, up to a point. That chicken now has a name… and it is Weiner.

Years of concerted effort, destroyed in just minutes.

Anthony Weiner was a power player in New York and national politics. He worked hard to get there… he played all his cards right, even unto marrying the “right woman”, Huma Abedin, beloved of Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton. He had it all… just like Arnold Schwarzenegger and John Edwards.

And just like Arnold and John, all wasn’t enough, not remotely. Here is where you need insight into the minds and, if you can get there, into the hearts of rich, powerful men who seem, by ordinary measures, to have everything a benevolent deity could possibly bestow. But there’s the rub…. for within that “everything” wide-grinning fate has inserted the boobytrap… planting the unquenchable craving for… more… a craving that only death effaces and which only saints,omniscient Internet commentators and Oscar Mayer weiners can avoid, especially those Oscar Mayer weiners for who can forget just how good they tasted, liberally mustarded, on hot Illinois days when there was nothing much important to do…. and plenty of time to do it.

That’s where Anthony Weiner will be at day’s end. I just hope he likes hot dogs.