Done in by the social network

Listen up. The verbose and hyperactive Anthony Weiner is not going to say this again.

I did not have sext with
that woman.

Of course, whether Weiner had virtual flirtations, or didn’t, with any sentient female human depends on what your definition of “is” is.

We are witnessing a brand-new and bewildering flavor of scandal, New Yorkers. A wacky tempest-in-an-Internet-zipper known as Weinergate.

Rep. Weiner, who reps Brooklyn and Queens, has, evidently, been caught with his knickers askew in the seemingly safe and cloistered realm of cyberspace. And for the last few days, he’s clumsily parsed the language of this uncharted terrain for scandal with the recklessness of a skinny guy wielding a chainsaw.

Now, it turns out, Weiner has been using Twitter as a 21st-century form of Bill Clinton’s rope line — a place to meet and mingle with some 198 hot chicks he hand-selected from his 49,000 Twitter followers. These include dewy-eyed political groupies and the porn star Ginger Lee, who once tweeted, “You know it’s a good day when you wake up to a [direct message] from @ RepWeiner.”

What was he thinking? Or was he?

Like a hormone-crazed puppy from another planet, Weiner has strayed into this new and untested world, falling hard for the illusion of invulnerability provided by the deceptively intimate, handheld texting device.

Armed with his smartphone, Weiner can enter a quiet realm where words are edited, bodily fluids are never exchanged and, with the stroke of a key, a guy who looks like nebbishy Weiner is magically transformed into a rakishly hot Arnold Schwarzenegger.

So what is he accused of doing wrong? Nothing really. Except being an ass.

It started May 27. A picture was sent from Weiner’s Twitter account showing a man’s disembodied and aroused, underwear-clad nether regions. The manic manhood was directed to an admiring, 21-year-old college co-ed in Washington state, Gennette Nicole Cordova, who, in accordance with established pattern, the married, 46-year-old Weiner inexplicably followed on the social network. And, by some slip that could only be concocted by Freud, the lewd pic was shipped to everyone with access to Twitter. I’ve got to sign up.

When news of the erectile photo went viral, Weiner blamed the pictorial violation on a mysterious “hacker.” He promptly switched the loaded word “hacker” to something less criminal. Weiner said he was the victim of a “prank.”

Yesterday, Weiner admitted, awkwardly, “I can’t say with certitude” whether the pic was or wasn’t a facsimile of his own, skivvy-clad personal parts. He did say, with extreme certitude, that he did not send the snap himself.

But Weiner never explained, with any kind of certitude, why his computer held an autobiographical crotch shot in the first place. Who is he, Brett Favre?

Weiner wants to dismiss the entire shebang as a “distraction” — shades of the “vast right-wing conspiracy” — aimed at scotching his important work on the debt limit. Or saving ObamaCare. Or waxing his car.

He’s not accused of hiring a hooker, like Eliot Spitzer. Or taking a mistress, like Rudy Giuliani. So why is Weiner behaving like Dominique Strauss-Kahn on a perp walk?

Weiner has lawyered up. But he’s declined to seek criminal charges against any prankster. Which leads me to believe he’s got something to hide.

If Weiner’s the victim of a crime, such as genital-identity theft, then why not report it to the Capitol police?

The only logical explanation is that, should he file a false report of a crime he knew was never committed, that would put La Weiner in boiling water.

The hilarious part of the non-sex scandal is that it stars Pee-Wee Herman, not Brad Pitt. For Weiner remains a gangly and unconventionally handsome, studious and funny Jewish boy. The kind of guy your mother wanted you to marry back in high school, when gals rejected Weiners for chiseled, Nordic losers.

Weiner got his nerdy revenge last summer, when he wedded Hillary Rodham Clinton’s longtime aide, the lovely Huma Abedin. Former President Clinton officiated, and reportedly joked that marrying a politician can be tough because it’s “easy to distrust them, whatever their religion.”

He had no idea.

SEQUEL INE’BERATED

“The Hangover” pulled off a seemingly impossible trick. The hit 2009 movie was a chick flick masquerading as a guy’s gross-out film. How else to explain why my girlfriends and I, a basic bunch, laughed uproariously during every minute of the Vegas-and-Bradley Cooper star turn, while our husbands sat in the back reading books?

But the just-opened “The Hangover II,” set in Thailand, is, as Post film critic Lou Lumenick wrote, a “more elaborate, play-it-safe sequel, far less fresh or funny.” Oh, well. I’ll still root for the guys who can’t remember what they did the night before. Then, I’ll forget.

Italian dressing down

Get those “Jersey Shore” guidos and guidettes the heck out of Italy.

During filming in Florence last week, Snooki (Nicole Polizzi),who is Chilean but was adopted by Italian-Americans, disgraced herself and all of America by sending two police officers to the hospital after an auto smash-up. Now, she can’t drive there. The irate head of an Italian-American group in the US called her “the lowest of the low.”

“Shore” freaks put all US citizens in a negative light. Can’t we find someone better to export than a bunch of aggressive, foul-mouthed delinquents?

‘Stalk’ like an Egyptian