Dude, you're going about this thing all wrong. You've got to play the game that got you here. Up until now, you've been smart, funny and, to use perhaps an inappropriate word in this situation... cocky. Now you're running and hiding and saying dumb things like you can't tell with "certitude" whether it's your dong in the picture or not. This just isn't credible. Every guy knows what his member of congress looks like.
Now your limp response to this humiliating situation is being used by the right wing media to do everything it can to derail any attempt you might make to be a progressive candidate for Mayor of New York. Interestingly, you didn't see this kind of wall-to-wall coverage when, a few years ago, Bill O'Reilly failed to distinguish between a loofah and a falafel. But not since David Pecker took over American Media have you heard such an onslaught of naughty-naughty smutty jokes, some I haven't heard since, like, Junior High School. It's politically motivated. So suck it up and treat it as such: coolly, calmly and strategically.
I'm going to give you a message track that I think would work. You can take it for free. If this was being offered by a professional on a formal basis -- which by the way you sorely need, bro -- it would cost you, like, $100K. But take it. Gratis. No problemo, as Arnold would say. Here it is:
- Yeah, my name is Weiner. If your name was Weiner, you might have changed it, but I haven't, and for that alone I should get a couple of points.
- Enough with the Weiner/wiener jokes already. I've heard them all before. Since I was a little kid, in fact. And they weren't funny then, except to the most immature and stupid morons in the back of the class.
- If your name was Weiner, you might also do a number of things to deal with the situation with humor. These days that may mean taking some phone pictures of your wiener. Mature? No. Sorry. Sometimes we all make jokes about things that make us a little uncomfortable. I'm guilty of that. Borderline inappropriate humor. Sue me.
- Yes. It was my wiener in the picture. It is fully clothed, and nothing more than one might see if we were at Jones Beach on a hot summer day. I think you'll agree I have nothing to be ashamed of, by the way.
- I'm sorry I didn't admit to this before. I was embarrassed.
- I did not send my picture to anybody. I did not tweet it. I did not text it. Somebody else did it. I won't say who. Frankly, I don't even really know how it happened. It was a picture on my phone. And now somebody else has it. Now everybody has it. It's a nightmare, one that I'm sure you would hate to have happen to you.
- Don't you have pictures on your phone that you might not want everybody in the world to see? Is it nice to have your private life hacked into and tweeted out? Would you like it to happen to you? Or are you going to go home now and erase the memory card on your phone? Maybe you should. Because there isn't one of us whose privacy is safe from technology and the media.
- One more time: My name is Weiner. I'm proud of it. I'm going to be running for Mayor one of these days, because New York City needs a chief executive who has one.
We can, of course, tinker with it a little bit. Have your people do so, if they like. Your new people, I mean. The ones you get right after you fire the ones you've been listening to.
