An Open Letter to Anthony Weiner

Weiner, looking the other way.

Dear Congressman Weiner,

I know I’m a little late in writing to you. By now, we’re all hoping, the city and the country have moved on to other, more important things than the (your?) much-Twittered crotch shot. But on the off chance that everyone is still obsessed with it, I just wanted to tell you something: I get it.

What I mean is, I understand, to some degree, why you’re being such an idiot about this whole case. To you, this is just another in a lifelong series of “wiener/weiner” jokes—the stupid, insulting jibes you’ve been putting up with since you were a kid. Why should you respond to that kind of thing with calm, reasoned language? Why respond to it at all? Instead, you’ve just been making vague, noncommittal declarations, in the vain hope that the world will move on.

As I said, I get it. I, too, grew up with an easily ridiculable name: Gross. I mean, it’s no Weiner, but for years and years I had to deal with sing-song taunts like “Matt is gro-oss” and also “Matt is gro-oss.” (Kids really aren’t very imaginative.) But now that I’m an adult, if I hear something disgusting described as “gross,” I don’t automatically assume it’s being said just to make fun of me. It could actually, you know, be kind of gross.

Which I think is what’s happening with the (your?) crotch shot. You need to realize that this is not a playground taunt, that someone has put a cock on the Internet with your name on it, and you need to give some straight answers. Otherwise, you really are a dick.

Sincerely,

Matt Gross

P.S. You’re lucky your name isn’t Anthony Asshole. (And so are we.)

Published by Matt

Matt Gross writes about travel and food for the New York Times, Saveur, Gourmet, and Afar, where he is a Contributing Writer. When he’s not on the road, he’s with his wife, Jean, and daughter, Sasha, in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn.

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