According to leading political scientists or possibly Boy George, if we, as citizens, are going to address the social strife and political unrest plaguing our country these days, the only mature, rational thing to do is bring back streaking.
For those of you who didn’t grow up back in the stone age like I did, “streaking” is running around naked either by yourself or with a bunch of other people. Of course you aren’t completely naked. What kind of people do you think we streakers are?
You are allowed to wear tennis shoes.
Notice I said ‘we streakers.’ I used to get into the streaking game a bit myself back in the day (or night as it were). Me and a bunch of friends would streak through neighborhoods and what not. It was a lot of fun and the police officers had absolutely zero interest in chasing down, much less wrestling a bunch of naked teenagers.
We were by no means alone in the streaking game.
It seemed there for a while not a news broadcast, sporting event (including Little League baseball and Pee Wee football games), political rally or a gathering of more than two people took place that a streaker didn’t come streaking by. Streaking was not an equal opportunity game back then. It was always a man running by, much to many a young teen male’s disappointment. If there were female streakers, I don’t recall ever seeing one. I am fairly sure I would have remembered.
We need streaking now more than ever.
Think about it:
Right in the middle of a battle between Antifa and the Proud Boys a bunch of naked people come running by. Every head turns to watch. Every news camera focuses on the runners. The fighting stops, forgotten. Or, maybe, a gang of pro-Trump versus anti-Trump supporters are shouting at each other from across a barrier, waving their banners, their faces contorted in vitriolic masks of hatred. Next thing you know a dozen naked men in tennis shoes enters the scene and takes a few laps around the place.
Takes the fight right out of you, a bunch of naked men running by. The combatants are too focused – staring, laughing, whatever – to shout at each other. No one is waving a sign any more. Mister and Missus Television viewer aren’t paying attention to anything other than the shameless, but comical, display of flesh on their screen. Politics is the farthest thing from anyone’s mind.
Of course, given the off-the-scale hostility between the waring factions these days, your standard streaker may not be enough to diffuse the situation. Morally troubling as I would find it, the nuclear option is to send in a bunch of naked bikini models. It is theorized that most major world conflicts would have never started if only a few teams of naked bikini models had been strategically deployed before tensions rose too high.
“What was I saying again?” a protester would ask, his eyes focused on yet another naked bikini model cavorting by.
“Something about, the proletariat regime or something,” another protester would answer.
“Hey! Is that a tattoo on her…” Well, you get the picture.
I have several bachelor friends at work who, patriots that they are, as soon as I brought up the naked bikini model option, volunteered to fill the role of Naked Bikini Team Assessor and Selection Analysts. And, get this – they offered to do it for free.
All I can say is God bless ’em and God Bless the USA.