Sex in America

History is important.

History owes a lot to Ms. Carol Doda.

I purchased craft materials today and that of course made me think about sex.

It’s not that the crafting materials themselves are particularly sexy: they’re not.* However, the craft store, “Artist & Craftsman,” is a block away from Broadway and Columbus, the naughty heterosexual dude center of San Francisco, and I had to walk through it on my way to and from the store. Early Saturday afternoon isn’t a particularly active time for sexy heterosexual dude establishments anywhere, but all of the topless joints and adult naughty activity centers were open, if not doing much business. The young ladies standing outside the bars did their best to look alluring, but direct sunlight is not their best friend, and mostly they looked bored.

Sidebar: I like that the Condor topless joint is across the street from “City Lights,” the most commie-socialist-union-loving bookstore ever. So I could easily purchase a copy of Karl Marx’s Das Kapital to thumb through while watching naked nude women undulate around a metal pole. This is what makes San Francisco great.

Before you get all up in my face and stuff, let me assure you that I did not actually enter any of the topless joints I passed this afternoon. I confess that I have frequented such places once or twice in my pre-marital days, but since getting hitched a healthy fear of having to explain to my wife embarrassing charges appearing on my credit card after accidentally purchasing some semi-nude naked young lady a $50 glass of fake booze totally outweigh my desire to see random boobs. It’s all part of growing up.

Anyway, I ambled righteously past all of the adult shops and bars and went into a Mexican joint, the “Taqueria Zorro,” for lunch. I had planned try this Indian joint, “Urban Curry,” but this dude on Yelp accused it of not being authentic, so screw that noise: I went Mexican instead. It turned out that I made a wise decision. The food was excellent and dirt-cheap. The chicken tasted like tasty barbecued chicken, and the refritos were clearly cooked in lard. Noms. I’ma head back there soon. They have huevos rancheros, and a huge vat of tomatillo sauce you can just spoon over everything!

I got these images from the Wikipedia entry on strip clubs. Just so you know.

I got these images from the Wikipedia entry on strip clubs. Just so you know.

While eating, I perused Twitter, where I happily learned that the sodomy- and oral-sex-hatin’ GOP candidate for Virginia Governor Ken Cuchinelli is getting his ass whipped in the polls and is going to be totally crushed in the upcoming election. Now perhaps Cuchinelli is losing because he’s a terrible candidate and holds many ultra-conservative beliefs that are reviled by Virginia’s large block of independent voters, but I like to think that a big part of his impending defeat will rest on the simple fact that today Americans of all stripes don’t particularly want some asshat politician telling them what sexual positions they can and cannot attempt in the privacy of their own bedroom. It’s all part of growing up.

I finished my taco salad and strode up the hill and back to my apartment, secure in the knowledge that there still is plenty of sex in America, and much of it is now legal. I’m not sure if Karl Marx would approve, but I bet Alexis de Tocqueville would. Dude was French.


*Except for the “U-Knead It” eraser, that little tramp.

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4 Responses to “Sex in America”

  1. Kaufman's Kavalkade Says:

    Here in Fresno “City Lights” is the topless joint, hehe.

    I like random naked boobs every once in awhile, but I’m divorced. Otherwise, yeah… Credit card or cash, they know either way…. 😉

  2. C. Duda Says:

    Like most readers, I found this through the Alexis do Toqueville tag. Yet where is his analysis of the nature of the republic?? This is a total bait and switch.

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