All you can eat, no cover
Just as you finish ordering a man walks in and sits down in the booth next to you. The waitress walks over and hands him a menu, and he begins to peruse it. Completely ordinary circumstances, right?
Now imagine that man is buck naked. As a jaybird. In his birthday suit.
Here in Georgia, that man would probably have been arrested before he even made it inside the restaurant. But in San Francisco, it's perfectly legal.
You heard me. In San Francisco, it's OK to walk around nude, and apparently has been for some time.
It's so the nudists' rights don't get trampled on, you see. I mean, if someone wants to shed their threads and go have a hamburger, who's to say that's wrong? At least that's the way San Francisco sees it.
Yes, as long as -- and I'm not making this up -- you don't exhibit signs of sexual arousal, in San Francisco, you may walk around in nothing but a smile and do, I guess, whatever clothed people are doing,
The right to be naked in public apparently trumps the right not to have to look at that. It's hard enough protecting children from the constant bombardment of trash, vulgarity and nonsense in everyday life without having to explain to your 10-year-old over pizza why the creep at the next table doesn't have on any clothes.
But now, San Francisco has decided that people at least have the right to sit on a clean seat in these restaurants, that no one wants to plop down on a chair that some bare derriere was pressed against for the previous hour.
So, being a rational person, you think to yourself, "San Francisco will reverse this stupid ordinance and tell people they can no longer eat naked in public restaurants."
But you would be wrong because they aren't rational out there. The only requirement they're thinking of adding is that you put something between yourself and whatever you're sitting on.
Yes, whether it's a greasy spoon or Chez Naturale, you still have the right to eat naked as long as you put a sheet down first.
The list of jokes I could make is probably infinite (you've probably made several of your own just while reading this) and the ethical arguments would probably go on forever. But know this, folks: There are some radically weird people in this world, and a great many of them seem to be congregated in California.
Despite the earthquakes, wildfires, mudslides, gangs, crime, tanked economy, exorbitantly high taxes and cost of living, smothering government regulation and one of the largest assortments of weirdos in the universe, I've heard California is a great place to visit. In fact, I had a history professor in college who used to talk about how wonderful it was. "That's where God lives," he used to say. I never argued with him because I'd never been to California. But now, some 22 years later, despite still never having been to California, I'd like to offer the following observation in reply to him:
If God lives in California, I would hate to see where the devil lives.
Email Nate McCullough at firstname.lastname@example.org. His column appears on Fridays. For archived columns, go to www.gwinnettdailypost.com/natemccullough.