Opinion » Maxed Out

Maxed out

The naked truth in the Holy Land



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It just got worse.

"Suppose you were a Palestinian street thug, not yet old enough for glorious Martyrdom but old enough and stupid enough to throw stones at guys with rifles. There you are, on the streets of Ramallah, swinging your sling very David and Goliath like, and – poof – nekkid. What would you do? Drop your sling pretty fast, I’d reckon."

"Or an Israeli soldier going wall-to-wall through the houses of the refugee camp looking for dangerous terrorists. Poof! Nekkid! No flak jacket, no camouflage fatigues, no helmet, just a rifle and your dangling manhood. What would you do?"

"And in a land where women are draped and upholstered to keep the animal passions of men in check, what would happen if, after years of never having to grapple with the nasty forces of daily, unintended passion, all the men were suddenly surrounded by a sea of nekkid women? Welcome to Woodyville, boys and girls. The men would probably just explode; I’m not sure they could handle that kind of tsunami of lust coupled with a smorgasbord of availability."

I probably should have quit right there. It was painfully obvious I was in no condition to be writing anything more than a birthday card. But having a clear and higher calling to fill the Pique’s back page every week, I marched on through my pseudoephedrine fog.

"Aside from the shock value, there would be lasting benefits to universal nekkidness. The whole, insane, suicide bomber thing would be neutralized. Suicide bombers depend on two things: dynamite and loose fitting clothes. Picking a suicide bomber out of a crowd of shrouded people is, as recent facts have proven, damn near impossible. But spotting a suicide bomber in a crowd of buck nekkid people? Hell, even a blind man could see that dude coming."

"And then there would be the crisis of leadership to contend with. One of the current barriers to even beginning to solve the standoff between the Israelis and Palestinians is the deep-rooted, historical animosity between Ariel Sharon and Yasser Arafat. These boys have serious ‘Do not play well together’ problems going back to 1967 and beyond. And let’s be honest, both men have outlived their usefulness. They’re codgers clogging up the hierarchy of power. Neither one has had an original thought for at least two decades. They’re the embodiment of Yesterday’s Men."

"The disappearing clothes trick would get rid of both of them. Can anyone imagine taking either Ariel or Yasser seriously if they were nekkid? Ariel would look like a beached, bleached Beluga whale and Yasser would… let’s not even go there. There are some things too grim to even let into a guy’s imagination. Neither one could possibly govern in the absence of clothes."