I’m not always a huge fan of Mark Morford’s column on SFGate. He’s a good writer and has stuff to say but his gimicky style sometimes obscures the weight of what he’s saying.

However, this column on how the next sexual revolution is imminent is a thing of beauty.

Here’s my suggestion: let them have it.

Just do it. Let the sexually bitter and morally frantic conservative groups now dictating governmental policy and FCC agendas and paranoid media attitudes have their time, their brief cultural burp, their little speed bump on the great and beckoning highway that will still lead us all, inexorably, irreversibly, though often agonizingly, toward grinning open-thighed progress.

Because here’s the fabulous thing: no matter what these faux-Christian groups do, no matter how hard they oppress and protest and clamp down, this is a road that leads, despite all dour headlines and sour prognostications otherwise, toward spiritual illumination, toward awareness, toward sexual openness and same-sex marriage and revelatory sodomy and free vibrators for teenage girls and lesbians kissing open mouthed in the streets. In Kentucky. In the daytime. On Sunday.

His gist is basically that today’s turn toward sexual repression is simply another of the usual waves of puritanism that preceds another major shift towards openness and freedom, akin to that of the 1950’s. And you know, I’m ready to agree with him. Our current government is going to make things worse for us in a lot of ways in the short term, but it’s hard to find a much better bad example than the Bush/Rove machine; we just have to give them enough rope, and eventually they’ll wind up in rope bondage to their own backwards ideas.

Go read Morford’s column above.

There’s something compelling about the idea of sex-for-hire.

Let me back up a bit and put in a little context.

You’d think I’d be the kind of guy who’d spent a lotta time in strip clubs. Hell, I am the kinda guy who’d spend a lotta time in strip clubs. But I have not. I don’t even know why; god knows I love strippers. I can’t think of anything not to like about the idea of a strip club.

Yet, I’ve been to very few. It’s a head scratcher.

So Saturday, for a combined birthday, we wound up finishing the evening at a strip club. There’s more to the story earlier, and possibly later, but I’ll stick with this for now. I’ll talk about Teatro ZinZanni in a different entry.

So, at this strip club, a number of lap dances were bought, some by me, some for me. And lots and lots of lap dances, and a lot of ‘private parties’ were offered as well. Evidently I was something of a stripper magnet in my leather utilikilt, shaved head, boots and tattoos. Well, that, and while I might be scary in a good way, at least to these ladies, I wasn’t creepy.

Read more “Paying For It”