Today, Anthony Weiner plead guilty to charges stemming from a months-long sexting relationship with a 15-year-old girl, finally putting one of this country’s most pathetic political careers out of its misery. One hopes.
The official term for the charge—transferring obscene material to a minor—conveys an inappropriate shop teacher creepiness and carries with it a possible jail term and sex offender registration requirement. But the six little words describing Weiner’s legal transgressions can’t possibly convey what a disaster Weiner’s proclivities have been to everything he’s touched, beyond his own junk. His family, his political party, his city, his country, and—hell, why not?—the world are worse off because of Anthony Weiner. No apology, no plea, no amount of public puppy dogging can atone for what he’s done.
At every step of the Weiner saga, things felt like they couldn’t get any darker, or sadder, or more pathetic. And every step of the way, Weiner lowered the bar. The bar is now subterranean. We are digging holes in order to accommodate the low altitude of the bar.