DEEP THOUGHTS IN A HEAT WAVE

In discussing men who "go commando" -- meaning that they forego undies -- the roommate speculated on burning, chafing, skin wearing through, raw, painful, and severely damaged privates. And we both agreed that some men need that; it would help them control their bestial urges.

What I didn't mention is that for my people (Dutch Americans with a common sense bent, of solid upstanding severe Calvinist antecedents), that would be unnecessary.
We may be murderous, but we are not bestial.

NOTE: This holds even when the Calvinism as a religious pattern had waned to the point of non-existence four or five generations ago; it's a lifestyle and behavioural aesthetic. We are the cold fish at the orgy who remain fully dressed, and say stern things like "what's all this then", and "this is most unseemely", and "you are all going to hell".

I, personally, would not be caught dead at an orgy. Largely because if I were dead I could not drink in the shockingly Brueghelian or Goyaesque scenes of depravity for future reference or possibly blackmail.


Never having been invited to an orgy, this remains an intellectual conceit, of course.


No one organizes orgies based on cups of tea and pipe smoking. That is to say, when pipe smokers gather, there will be tobacco and very likely cups of tea, but there is no disrobing or unseemly behaviour. Provided that they are fond of clean tobacco, not aromatics.
If you smell rancid vanilla and raspberries, run away.
Ignore any proffered cups of tea.

The sixties and seventies may have been a wonderful time to be alive. Well, if we're ignoring patchouli, a world wide shortage of soap, laundry detergent, and carbolic, and the looming threat of the eighties, Ronald Wilson Reagan, and America's moronic fundamentalists.

As well as the proliferation of aromatics and herbal teas.
Polyester, skin tight bell bottoms, bad hair.


Actually, upon sober reflection, the sixties and seventies, AND the eighties, were an absolutely gawd-awful time.



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