At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

JUST FOLLOW THE TRAIL OF DROOL

The main reason why the 'Occupy' movement petered-out so apathetically in San Francisco is because every protest march down Market Street, especially when they tried to occupy a Bart (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station, included two ugly naked men from the Castro district.
One of them sporting a cock ribbon.

My coworkers would ask me "is the coast clear" or "where is the protest march heading", and I would type 'naked protesters SF' into my browser.
"Oh, they are at the Civic Center Station, you should leave now"; and away they'd run. Nobody wants to see two ugly naked men (one of whom is wearing a ribbon round his cock).

There were aerial views, and live camera tweets. Full cranial nudity.

From this we learn that naked men are an enemy of the proletariat and their righteous struggle. For all I know, they are also an enemy of the Nazis and the Oligarchy, but fat savage bastards usually stay in board rooms, rather than taking over public transit, and Nazis are chicken sh*t cowards who live in the Flieg-├╝bers primarily, we'd eat them here.



Things would have been different if they had been handsome stalwart specimens. There would have been a flock of admirers trailing them every step of the way.
Men and women.




It is so sad that the people who should not be naked in public are often the ones who really wish to be. Nudism almost always involves ugliness.

Yes, I am body-shaming those people.

Because I can do that.


Thank heavens the fog is back. The three-day heatwave nearly had us naked. Lordy it was hot. Trying to sleep while maintaining a minimum of modesty was a struggle. While walking back over the hill the most beautiful sight greeted my eyes: fog. Dense drifts and walls of it marching towards me, accompanied by a cold breeze and a flock of crows.

The crows congregated on a rooftop, and looked back at where they had come from, now hidden from sight. The human on the street below marched on into the mist, exultant and reborn.

You should get dressed now.

This is San Francisco.

Screw hot weather.

We aren't nude.




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