Weiner's Complaint?

I never read Portnoy's Complaint, much to my husband's dismay. He still bugs me to read it every now and then, especially since I am Jewish and I have a son, and the book sits right there on our bookshelves. I tell him I am not interested in the whining of some sexually frustrated Mama's boy, even if he is a Jew. I tell him, you know, just because I'm Jewish it doesn't mean I embrace the whole thing. Like, for example, I have never been to Israel and, despite urging by my friend David who moved there years ago and swears I would love it, I am simply not interested. It seems too hot, too dry, and too full of people wearing drapery as clothing. Basically, if I might add without incurring the Wrath of Khan, it's too Jewish.

Until quite recently I have been proud of my Jewish heritage. We're smart, creative and funny, and we hardly ever become criminals. (Okay, there was Son of Sam, but accidents do happen.) Let's face it, without Jews the world would be a pretty dull place, not to mention wracked with disease. Imagine: No Mel Brooks or Woody Allen! The entire score of West Side Story-- gone! Polio rampant! No E=MC squared, whatever that means! No Hershey's Kisses! And of course, try to get through even one day without uttering, "Oy!"

But now we have Anthony Weiner and I must say, he's dragging us down. In fact, I am downright embarrassed to even be a Jew these days. I can't imagine what is wrong with the man; perhaps it is akin to the complaint Philip Roth describes in his novel about Portnoy. I might have to read that book after all, but believe me, I won't like it.