Anthony Weiner met me for breakfast. He ordered toast, two eggs, corned beef hash and a third chance at politics.
But before we broke bread at Cozy Soup and Burger near Astor Place, he made a prediction — that I would refer to him as “disgraced” in the headline or the first line of this column.
It felt like part provocation, part defense mechanism. Get the punches over with. Rip off the Band-Aid. After all, he has a lot of self-inflicted wounds. NY Post features columnist Kirsten Fleming shares this story.
