Thursday, July 25, 2013

Huma Weiner is an Abused Woman



It is hard to describe my reaction to Anthony Weiner's decision to stay in the mayoral race following the latest disclosures about his capers on the internet.  Cynical laughter?  Shock? Disgust?  Is there some appropriate reaction to this kind of thing?  The man certainly had liberal credentials, and that made all the more tragic the earlier revelations about his indiscretions, if not character.  But there were indications that Weiner was unstable even before the sex scandal erupted.  His outburst on the floor of the House clearly showed us that this was a man who has trouble reining in various of his emotions.



When he announced that he was throwing his hat in the ring in the New York City mayoral race, I, like many others desperate for an alternative to the current roster of candidates, was willing to hold my nose and hope that he might prevail.  But the latest revelations are clearly too much, and, everyone except Anthony Weiner seems to know it.  His latest crime, however, is not his inability to control his libido, it is his abuse of his wife, Huma.  There was much speculation in the media--everywhere from NPR to the tabloid outlets about how Huma really felt.   I don't think we need do much head-scratching about this.  The woman clearly appeared alongside her troubled husband under duress.  Granted that only the two of them know for sure what took place after the recent story was splashed all over the headlines, but can we not be fairly certain that Huma was embarrassed, humiliated, disappointed, distraught?  She can't even hold her head up before the cameras.  The finger-pointing maniac who inhabited Weiner's body in the most public forum of congress, armed as he is by an undeniable intellect and a debater's skill, must have used some interesting arguments over the kitchen table to get his wife to stand by his side this time around.  She came, but she clearly would have preferred to be just about anyplace else on the planet.  Were we the fly on the wall in the Weiner kitchen as Anthony made his case to his bride and the mother of his child, is it not possible that his importunings would look like nothing other than psychological abuse?   If Huma's body language is any indication, abuse seems not just possible, but likely.

Yet, the wags wag on about whether or not Huma is an enabler, or the appropriate response of a political wife.  From this writer's point of view, Huma Weiner should seek a protective shelter from a husband who is clearly out of control, and all those alleged journalists and seekers after truth should be calling out the alarm.  Politics in this country has become more disgraceful than ever, but at least its games should be restricted to consenting adults.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

The New Oxymoron: The Middle Class American Worker



For a brief historical moment, it seems, American workers could lead the proverbial "life of Riley."  Unlike his shirt and tie television series cohorts, Ralph worked at "the plant," but nevertheless managed to maintain a home in the suburbs and a decent life style.  The millions of unemployed and underemployed across America should by now be getting the message.  There used to be a certain amount of hair-splitting over what actually allowed one to be considered middle class.  Was Riley a member of the middle class or the working class?  Though once at least a bit blurred, what is now coming into painfully sharp focus is that anyone who actually works for a living, that is, gets a wage for anything other than white collar efforts can forget about joining the "bourgeoisie".  The great seer of the new world order is Tom Friedman who has found endless ways of expressing the same message in his books and in his New York Times column.  Whether, on his flat Earth, you are an impoverished woman living in a developing country or an American college graduate looking for work, you need to recreate yourself, make yourself useful, cast yourself in the role of entrepreneur, reach deep down into your creative juices and find some way to house, feed and clothe yourself without being in someone else's employ.  Since a world entirely inhabited by creative entrepreneurs would leave no one to do a lot of what society needs to get done unattended, Friedman has essentially made mere workers into an untouchable class, living beyond the castle moat, losers.  And don't even think about going to the union hall looking for assistance.  There is no union hall.  While the capital city of the UAW (United Auto Workers) declares bankruptcy, thousands of non-union auto workers at the plants in our majestic Southland are busily assembling Japanese and American cars.  Not so good wages, not so good health plans, no pensions, no grievance procedures, no unions, but, gee, at least they have jobs.   Organize?  Go on strike?  Just try it, sister, and your work station will be outsourced to Indonesia.  It's just a matter of time in any case.  We really don't need you anymore.  It would be better if you didn't exist at all.

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

Didn't Happen That Way

Didn't Happen That Way       


All the stories that once took my breath away,
turns out,
didn't happen that way.
All my heroes and heroines,
apart from the flames that burned within,
placed there by forces completely beyond their control,
bore those flames in vessels
much like my own or truth be told-
a lot worse.

Were I to live a lot longer,
how much of what I once saw
as beautiful or noble or enviable
would remain
to comfort and inspire me?

Just the pastel clouds hanging high
in blue or gray skies too high to touch,
just the gelatinous waters
always beyond quenching
my merely human thirst
keep their power to move me.

Like Cyclops poking a finger into
the cave, the name of the
hero I seek echoes out, "Noman!"