THE SUNDAY MORNING SERMON

Some readers have remarked about subconscious bigotry in recent blog posts here. They feel that singling out unclothed Berkeley Lesbians and middle-aged gay men disrobing on Castro street shows an unhealthy obsession with sexuality. And, perhaps also, that certain backwood ideas still thrive in the garbage dump I call my brain. No, not about what gay people do to each other, and whether that's good or bad. They recognize that I do not give a hoot what other people do for their amorous twinkles.
It is not about the twinkles.
It's about nekkid.

They (these readers) feel that I am judgemental about nudity.


I'll admit it; I am judgemental . But it isn't unhealthy.

If I were fascinated by the unclothedness of people such as the Castro Street protesters who take any opportunity to show-off their dessicated old privates and wave them at passersby, or the raggedy ancient she-elephants of Berkeley and their self-serving self-exposure under the slogan "breasts not bombs" in 2005, as well as too many other opportunistic flags of convenience since then, that would indeed be unhealthy. Diseased and depraved, even. Anyone who finds such foul exhibitionism both good and fascinating is one heck of a sick puppy. Nothing, in this blogger's view, is more appalling than middle-aged gits with a surplus of ego forcing other people to see their flab, wattles, spongy crepe surfaces, and severely elongated droops.
It's just not a very social thing to do.
Particularly in public places.

However!

I am ready to be un-appalled.

If, for instance, a number of people who looked precisely like Michelangelo's David, or Botticelli's Venus Anadyomene, were to stage a slow theatrical amble through my neighborhood -- perhaps striking poses or attitudes every few feet or so -- I would by no means object. Why, I might even pull out the old lawn chair and admire their parade from a better vantage point!
Basically, anyone who even comes close to the images that Paul Cezanne, Barbarelli, Moore, William Adolph Bouguereau, Guido Reni, or Michelangelo Merisi Da Caravaggio so stellarly immortalized, can stroll through my neighborhood in a state of undress, day or night, without any objection from me. It's not at all about sexism, but an aesthetic interest.
Please don't burn my eyes with ookle.

Being quite heterosexual, and nevertheless sexist, I would definitely appreciate it if these models were slightly shorter than me, and considerably more youthful. It would cheer me no end. Why, it might even leave an indelible impression!
Feel free, in fact, to startle me, oh you delicious springy things!
The gazelle-like female form is infinitely fascinating.
I haven't seen it in ages, but I remember.
An aesthete I remain.


But in principle I would still have to object. Public nudity is justifiably proscribed, and is furthermore considered somewhat of a health issue.
Besides, it's quite chilly in the city, most of the time, and there's a very real danger of pneumonia. So if someone would please volunteer to drag all those ugly exhibitionist freaks on Castro Street indoors and wrap them warmly in tarpaulin, I promise I'll try the same for the ladies of Nob Hill.
I believe it's the very least I can do.
I am a considerate man.


I wouldn't want the local church-goers to see them.


Or my neighbors.



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