Members Only: Taming the Weiner Within

Author and humorist Tracey Jackson on how to “handle” the male libido in a digital world

So we have another one. Just when I was going to write about my iPhone obsession we are literally faced with Weinergate. One more politician who lets his member do the thinking for him bites the dust.

My daughter Lucy asked me last night if all politicians did this. I told her only those who think with the their penises.

“But penises don’t think.” she said.

“Precisely. But some men let their penises think for them.”

We all know men have been using their member to make some of the tough decisions since the beginning of time. Obviously whether to have sex with someone is not the world’s toughest decision under the right circumstances — like if you’re single, out of the public eye, or only have a few days left to live.

And then of course letting your wiener do the talking was not so dangerous before Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, the Google boys and Mark Zuckerberg turned us into a global world, where the nanosecond something happens it’s blasted all over the planet.

In the olden days, the really olden ones, you needed a letter carrier with a steed to get your note or stick drawing or a stone rubbing of your penis (ouch) to the one you had the hots for — and chances were the steed or the carrier would die in a duel or of the plague before the intended received it. Thus you got the fun but not the gun (so to speak).

And then of course there was snail mail and the phone call, made from a pay phone many blocks from home. There was a time you could only be found out if you and your penis were really, really stupid — or you wanted to get caught.

But now, in the age of Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare, when talking dirty online has its very own word, sexting, it’s an entirely new game. Oops I didn’t know my Foursquare shouted out I was checking into the Ramada Inn when I told my wife I was playing golf.

Speaking of golf: oh yes, one of the great sexting penises of the last decade happens to be hanging between the legs of the world’s most famous athlete.

And then we have Eliot Spitzer. Thank heavens lame penises seems to be race and color blind, and totally partisan. In the last two weeks, we’ve had a Nazi, A French Jew, an Egyptian (attacked the maid at the Pierre), and now a Jewish Democrat. So no one can say it’s only dopey athletes who have dopey penises. All penises are dopey and they are clearly beyond persuasive.

This is what I always want to ask men who do this: why can’t you just say no to the little jerk? OK, maybe yours is a big jerk; I’m sure it is; and no, I don’t want to see a photo, but just say no. It’s not going to fall off or stop speaking to you like a petulant teenager or refuse to ever stand up straight again. If you’re lucky it might just go take a nap. But if you can’t say no and you have one of these idiotic members, I suggest sitting down, having the hard talk, and setting some strict boundaries with your Mr. Pushy:

1.  Penises, like tweens, should have limited or no access to all social networking sites.

2.  Penises should not allow themselves to be photographed by a device that can transmit that photo to any person or site.

3.  Penises in general should take the Garbo after 40 stance, no photos please. I vant to be alone.

4.  If you must let your penis do the walking, then teach it where the delete button is first.

5.  If you have absolutely no control over your member’s mouth and you both must talk dirty, you should try a landline or a public telephone — if you can find one. But using your mobile to get off is for the truly certifiable penis thinkers.

6.  Just because you are a penis attached to someone with a little money or big position, it does not entitle you to abuse the help. You are not better than any other penis, and all human beings should be treated with dignity. Because someone is on your payroll does not mean that they must have to have contact with your genitals.

7.  If you are famous and let your penis make the stupid choices, then you should have a lawyer on retainer.

8.  Remember, the stupidest smart phone is smarter than the smartest penis.

9.  If, if your ding dong insists on social networking activity, get it its own Twitter or Facebook account. For instance instead of the above going out on “RepWeiner” he could have made up another one like “Cheney’sDick,” totally getting himself off the hook.

10.  In the new world where technology rules, what happens anywhere goes everywhere — including Vegas— and it will all end up in the hands of your wife/boss/girlfriend or, if you are famous, on GAWKER and with  Jon Stewart who will run with it even if he is your friend.

Tracey Jackson is the author of the memoir Between a Rock and a Hot Place: Why Fifty Is Not the New Thirty. A screenwriter for seventeen years, Jackson has written and sold films to all the major studios. Her most recent writing credits include “Confessions of a Shopaholic” and “Lucky Ducks,” a feature-length documentary that she also produced and directed. Visit her at


8 Responses so far.

  1. avatar Maizie James says:

    Tracy Jackson,

    Wait, wait, wait. And so you did. It was not until you got to point #10, that your article made sense to me.

    Weiner is no different from political figures of recent times, and of times long past – indeed back to biblical times and antiquity. There are many men who indulged in indiscretions. Yet, the difference today is super technology, instant media, and … a different set of rules that journalist ascribe to.

    Thus, the only substantive point of your article is that Weiner’s stupidity would NOT have been covered by the press in the ’40’s, ’50’s, ’60’s, or ’70’s.

    Discussions about a man’s libido versus his common sense is a discussion that should be left to psychiatric professionals, or social psychologist.

    As for your screen writing, I applaud you and wish you all the best.

  2. avatar Belinda Joy says:

    Hilarious Tracey!

    There is so much about this that is not funny, in the least. Yet somehow you managed to put a humorous slant on it.

  3. avatar Diane Edwards says:

    In the “olden days” before cell phones et. al, Weiner would have been driving around town looking for opportunities to “flash.”   He has serious issues and needs professional help.   If his wife chooses to stay with him, I certainly hope they do not have children.  IMO, he has potential child molester written all over him.  I grew up on military bases in the 50-60s, and on three separate occasions, at the ages of 8, 10 and 11,  was subjected to service men accosting and flashing me.  Fortunately, I was able to run away with psychological, but not physical, damage.  At least the women who were subjected to seeing his penis via e-mail or Twitter didn’t have to fear for their immediate safety as I did when I was “flashed” in person.

  4. avatar D C says:

    I logged onto Weiner’s congressional website and hit the “contact” link and sent him a sincere plea to get counseling because he obviously has self-esteem issues.  It reminds me of the late 90’s when we were the last people on the block to get a personal computer and found … dare I say it?… CHAT ROOMS.  My husband and I still use the line that had us ROFLMAO from this girl who never seemed to sleep:  “Do you think I’m pretty???” 

    So a gawky jewish kid grew up taking unmerciful teasing about his unfortunate name, and has never gotten over it, even though he married a beautiful, intelligent, well-connected woman.  He’s STILL going around asking everyone who will look, “Do you think I’m pretty???” 

    So sad.  And so much in need of a good therapist. 

  5. avatar phyllis Doyle Pepe says:

    I retrieved this from my files by Larry McMurtry:

    The question of sexually charged (or, it may be, uncharged) speech in our political culture is a delicate one, especially so in the matter of the F-word––fuck––long since ubiquitous in private discourse but rarely employed publicly by American politicians…[this, of course, was before Cheney told someone on the floor of the senate to go fuck themselves]. When Clinton, cornered by his inquisitors in the matter of Monica Lewinsky, could have just said he didn’t fuck her, which would have spared him (and us) months of ridiculous hair-splitting about whether oral sex is sex or manual sex is sex or cigar sex is sex, or whatever. If Clinton had just put his faith in the F-word he could have retained his ascendancy over the press, who would have had to beep, or else resort to dashes; and he would have also backed off the Congress, who would hardly have wanted to hold public hearings to explore the nuances of the F-word, the whole point of which is that it doesn’t have any. But Clinton’s gut failed him; he just said he didn’t “have sex” with the young lady, which is about as potent as saying he didn’t have oysters that evening or didn’t have another piece of pie.

    And so it goes~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  6. avatar Rho says:

    I actually know this man for many years now.  He has always been one of the good guys.  I am so sorry to hear about this scandal.  I have not as yet called him, but will one day soon.  I am very surprised at what he has done, but I guess he is only human.  Yes, he has made a big mistake, but please try not to call him any names,

  7. avatar Baby Snooks says:

    There was a story yesterday about the Clintons being “upset” with Weiner which I somehow managed to resist reading .  But no doubt a case of the pot calling the kettle black.  I will forever wonder if they were upset that Weiner was flashing his weiner all over the internet or whether they were upset that he, like Bill, got caught with his “pants down.”  One does wonder if Bill is on the internet somewhere. Flashing his cigar.

    The ones I love are the ones who name their “alter ego.”  They’re usually the ones who also cannot measure correctly.  Part of the “lure” I suppose.  Strangely they are all the same size. I suspect because everyone is entranced with Myra Breckenridge which looking back seems strangely prescient with regard to where we were headed in our sexual revolution.

    “Six feet seven inches” the stud replies when Mae West comments on how tall he is.  “Ohhhh, forget the six feet, let’s talk about the seven inches…” she replies.  And so every man’s “alter ego” seems to be seven inches.

    Men in the end don’t cheat. Their “seven inches” cheat. Usually with someone who is lured by the “seven inches.”  Let’s not forget that these women of course wanted to see it. Although all will deny it. Now that they know who the “seven inches’ belongs to.  No doubt Gloria Allred is looking up case law for “sexual assault with a photo.”  Of course if Weiner is like other men, she probably would be better to file lawsuits under deceptive trade statutes for “false advertising.”  And “expose” the truth in court.  Which might put a stop to all the “flashing.”