The "Hypocrite" Defense...

...because a 47 year old man acting like a "crazed sex poodle" is obviously a good thing.

Zombietimes echoes something I've been thinking recently.  After pointing out that the "well, at least Weiner isn't hypocrite" defense is emerging from the fever swamp of the radical left, Zombie notes the buried premise in the argument - the argument is actually asserting that liberals aren't hypocrites because they don't believe that marriage and/or sexual fidelity are actually a virtue or a moral obligation.

Well, for the “at least we’re not hypocrites” sentiment to make sense, there must be an agreed-upon starting point — one which the liberals themselves are confirming each time they make this argument. And what must that starting point necessarily be? For conservatives to be hypocrites when they do something immoral, then that means they must profess a moral ideology in the first place. And — here’s the key — for the liberals to be let off the hook when they do something immoral, then that means they must profess an ideology with no moral claims whatsoever.

While hypocrisy may be "the tribute that virtue pays to vice," at least a hypocrite recognizes that there is such a thing as a virtue and a vice. [Fn.1]  Getting rid of hypocrisy by getting rid of virtue is a bad trade.

This tactic seems to be fully in spirit with what Chesterton in his own aphorism referred to as "deny the cat" [Fn. 2.]:

If it be true...that a man can feel exquisite happiness in skinning a cat, then the religious philosopher can only draw one of two deductions. He must either deny the existence of God, as all atheists do; or he must deny the present union between God and man, as all Christians do. The new theologians seem to think it a highly rationalistic solution to deny the cat. --GK Chesterton, "Orthodoxy"

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1.  The maxim that "hypocrisy is the tribute that virtue pays to vice" comes from someone named La Rochefoucald.  La Rochefoucald's name is invariably attached to the maxim by cognoscenti, apparently to show their faux-sophistication inasmuch as who La Rochefoucald was or why anyone should be particularly interested in what he had to say is never explained - people just act - or, rather, bluff - that they know who La Rochefoucald was, such as by stroking their chin and muttering, "ah, yes, La Rochefoucald...."
 
Wiki provides this synopsis:
 

François VI, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, Prince de Marcillac (15 September 1613 – 17 March 1680) was a noted French author of maxims and memoirs. The view of human conduct his writings describe has been summed up by the words "everything is reducible to the motive of self-interest," though the term "gently cynical" has also been applied.[1] Born in Paris in the Rue des Petits Champs, at a time when the royal court was oscillating between aiding the nobility and threatening it, he was considered an exemplar of the accomplished 17th-Century nobleman. Until 1650, he bore the title of Prince de Marcillac.

And:

The Maximes, however, had no such fate. The author made frequent alterations and additions to them during his life and a few were added after his death. It is usual now to publish them in their totality of approximately seven hundred. The majority consist of just two or three lines, and hardly any exceed half a page. The view of human conduct they describe has been summed up by the words "everything is reducible to the motive of self-interest" but this is somewhat unfair. La Rochefoucauld reflects on the conduct and motives of himself and his fellows. His Maximes represent the mature thoughts of a man deeply versed in the business and pleasures of the world, and possessed of an extraordinarily fine and acute intellect. There is no spite in them, nor is there any boasting or gloating, but their literary value even surpasses this ethical soundness. For brevity, clarity, fullness of meaning and point, La Rochefoucauld has no rival. His Maximes never become platitudes, nor yet dark sayings. He has packed them so full of meaning that it would be impossible to pack them closer. He has sharpened their point to the utmost, yet there is no loss of substance. The comparison which occurs most frequently, and which is perhaps the most just, is that of a bronze sculpture—a completed work, yet one whose workmanship is not over-detailed. Their sentiment is never merely hard, as the sentimentalists pretend, but has a vein of melancholic poetry running through it which reflects La Rochefoucauld's appreciation of the romances of chivalry. The maxims are never singular; each could give rise to a whole sermon of application and corollary. And the language in which they are written is French, still at the peak of its power, chastened, but as yet not emasculated by the reforming influences of the 18th century.

In the light of that glowing review, it might be worth taking a gander at the entire Maxims.

2.  "Deny the cat" - what a great name for a blog.  Oh, wait,  it already is a great name for a blog.