Confidants

Huma Abedin is standing by her husband, Anthony Weiner, while Weiner battles to salvage his political career, though unlike many other political wives in recent years, Huma’s not standing anywhere near Anthony. Her support is of the low profile variety.

Huma works for Hillary Clinton at the State Department, and is said to be one of HC’s most trusted advisors. When it comes to dealing with a lying, cheating, scofflaw husband, who knows better than Hillary? One can easily imagine the older more experienced Hillary offering solace to her shell-shocked aide.

“Men are pigs,” she might say. “Especially men who also happen to be politicians. They treat their marriage vows like campaign promises: easy to make, hard to keep.”

“I feel stupid,” says Huma. “He swore he was done catting around on-line and I believed him. I believed him! I was clueless!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Huma. Now, now, shhhh, don’t cry. Our men are of a particular breed. Like Bill, Anthony can be charming, persuasive, suave, and sincere. Oh, the sincerity! I knew Bill was messing around on me long before the Monica story broke, primarily because he was skipping around the West Wing with a permanent hard-on, but even though I had seen that telltale energy many times before, I believed him when he looked me square in the eye and denied there was something going on. I know what you’re going through, it’s a terrible blow, but you can survive it. You will survive it.”

“How did you do it, Hillary?”

“First of all, I exacted revenge, that’s very important. Don’t listen to any BS about forgiveness and putting the incident in the past. My past with Bill was littered with cocktail waitresses, secretaries, interns, hotel maids, other men’s wives, etc. Lewinsky broke the camel’s back. I told Bill in no uncertain terms that my support came with a high price tag. I made that man crawl on his knees.”

“Can I ask you something? If it makes you uncomfortable you don’t have to answer… “

“Huma, dear, after what I’ve been through, nothing makes me uncomfortable except being in the same room with Newt Gingrich. It’s about the cigar, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Woman’s intuition. Yes, the little bitch rode that Montecristo like it was a stallion, up, down, in, out. I’m sure Bill was fascinated. It was like going to Bangkok and watching the whores shoot ping-pong balls from their VJ’s.”

“They really do that?”

“Oh, Huma, you’re so sweet and innocent. Take my advice, go home and treat your husband like a dog for the next eighteen months. Exact ten pounds of his flesh.”

“Thanks, Hillary.”

“OK, I’ve got work to do. The Libyans are pissing me off. Dictators are complete assholes.”

“That’s because all of them are men,” says Huma.