Question for #Occupy San Francisco: Why Are You Naked? (A Photo Essay)
[WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS THE NAKED HUMAN FORM... WITH HATS]
Just over a week ago, I arrived at the Occupy San Francisco tent city on Embarcadero and Market St. to what can be best described as a sea of hippie clichés.
The attendees: young adults, a smattering of way-too-tan middle-aged folks clinging to their youth, and hobos. The smell: skunk weed. The vibe: chill (bro).
OSF was so filthy you could feel it in your skin, and unlike Tea Parties, where the rallies tend to have a structure with speakers and musical acts, everyone at OSF was either sitting around, standing around, walking around, or naked-bicycling around:
The space at Pee Wee Herman Park was being jointly “occupied” by the protesters and a simpatico group of bike riders known as “Critical Mass,” who have used their facebook page to fund-raise for Occupy Wall Street and glorify those who dress in Occupy protest attire. The combination was potent.
It was a few days before Halloween, so what apparently started as a run-of-the-mill Occupy tent city had become an ad hoc costume party... Or haunted house, depending on your point of view.
This guy couldn't bring himself to occupy a pair of BVDs?
Here he is again, this time doing the vogue:
Another exhibitionist sent a message to the 1% by doing some manscaping, then meandering about hoping people look at him.
And remember, at Occupy San Francisco, making $380k per year = bad...
...But murdering FBI agents = good!
We're clearly dealing with some truly deep thinkers.
Did I mention that Occupy San Francisco/Critical Mass is kid (and sexy sailor) friendly?
Nestlé, the largest packaged food company in the world, took advantage of the latent hypocrisy of the Occupy movement and dispatched some representatives to hand out free chocolate milk for protesters to consume between railing against the corporations and riding bikes with Donatello from the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."
As the day wore on, it was time for everyone to make a difference the only way they knew how: by bike-riding through the streets of San Francisco, extending the commutes home of people who had spent the day at work.
Despite the smell of narcotics, public nudity, and the blatant disruption of traffic, the law was cool with all of it.
After all, the occupiers were composting.