Mahmoud Abbas

The political inconvenience of boners is undeniable.

Forgive me for, in the age of Viagra and the great ED scare, complaining about my erectile ability, but it’s not always as desirable as Pfizer would have you believe.

Let’s say you’re in your PJs together, spooning on the couch watching a movie; or even naked taking a purportedly all-business, hot-water-conserving communal bath. Then bing! You’re hard and you both know that she knows it. There goes one of those intimacy- and trust-building moments that she values as the bricks-and-mortar of your relationship and you view as a potential gateway to eventually, though certainly not immediately, scoring.

Forgive me as well for comparing the touching intricacies of romance to the ugly reality of politics, but the metaphor is sadly apt.

It’d be like Israel’s prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas sitting around Camp David hashing things out the way they do every so often. They’re coolly debating a few innocuous issues like curfew times or Gaza border controls when all of a sudden Abbas whips out the question of who gets to control Jerusalem. Everybody knows he wants it and everybody knows Netanyahu doesn’t want to give it to him, but no one’s talking about it ’cause it spoils the mood.

And there you have it. If you live in the D.C. area, drive up to the local pub near Camp David and buy Mahmoud Abbas a shot, ’cause neither of you is getting laid tonight.

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