BE FREE, LITTLE BUTTERFLY, BE FREE!

As was to be expected there was nudity this morning in the Bay To Breakers race. Because it is traditional for people to get drunk at six in the morning, strip to their skin, and run several miles through cold and fog to the ocean. And believe me, I would have been there.
If I could run. Or stomach beer while stark naked at that hour.

But I was their in spirit. At least sort of. Actually, I didn't pay any attention at all. As far as I'm concerned, it's a non-event. People are drunkenly naked in the city all the time.

Undoubtedly some of them are running.
And also pipe smokers.

Such as my fellow members of the local pipe club. I'm ascribing the absence of some of them from this afternoon's meeting to their being otherwise engaged, quite probably with frost bite on their squidgy bits, or maybe they crashed into trees and lamp posts within a few blocks of leaving the starting line. Their wives called 911. "Please, you have to pick up my husband. He's naked, drunk, and bleeding! No, I don't want him back, he's all yours. Arrest him, or triage, ist mir scheißegal. He has embarrassed me for the last time. And in front of the children, too!" Will no one think about the children?

OH PLEASE, will no one think about the children?

Little peckerwoods are probably traumatized.

Their psychotherapists will become rich.


Even at this hour, citizens are probably lined up waiting to bail out their favourite naked people, or pick them up from overcrowded emergency rooms wearing nothing except bandages, mercurochrome, and yellow hospital bracelets.
Rabies shots have been administered.

There are not enough hospital gowns for every naked booby in the city.
If we had socialized medicine, maybe there would be.
This is a foreseeable event.


Yeah, okay, I suggested to the members of the pipe club years ago that they should run as a peleton. The naked pipe smokers. I'd be supporting them, but as I work on Sunday, I couldn't be with them on that day. Some of them are holding out for my leading them by example.
I have bunions. It's against my religion. These clothes are a statement. I'm morally opposed to running myself. And I don't drink beer. I'll write glowingly of your progress, okay?!?

I suspect that those were the ten who showed up for the meeting. At which there was wine, port, pâté, sliced meats, various cheeses, and shortbread. Plus excellent good humour. I did tell one of them to shift his spongy thighs, so that a walkway could be kept clear. Stems got buffed. Pipe were smoked. Opinions broke free.

Good times.



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