Portland left-wingers get down to the bare essentials

When it comes to left-wing extremism, Portland, Oregon never disappoints. This time it is naked bike riding as an expression of political protest.  Hundreds of the radical left (the only kind found in Portland) strip down to their birthday suits, hop on bicycles, and pedal their arses through the streets like a flock of plucked chickens.

It is billed as a political protest against a range of ill-defined left-wing grievances – fossil fuels, anti-Israel war policy, abortion, climate change, universal healthcare and all things Trump and Republican.   A subtext is anti-body shaming.  But let’s call it what it is, a ridiculous exhibitionism masquerading as activism.

Personally, I am torn between laughing and cringing.  Why do those folks on the loony left think that baring it all is the ultimate form of political rebellion? It’s like they have a secret handbook titled “How to Protest: Step One, Drop Your Drawers.”  It was reminiscent of the PETA folks protesting against fur coats by not wearing them – or anything else.

One of the problems is that many of the pedaling protesters have been doing it for years – too many years — and it shows.  Nudity can be artistically attractive – even sensual.  But not this sea of flabby, pasty bodies jiggling along the Willamette Riverfront — with their handlebars festooned with signs like “Nude Not Crude”, “Bare for the Planet” and “No Kings” – except kings without clothes, I assume.

The air was punctuated with the sound of bike horns and bells to draw attention to their full frontal nudity.  The counterprotest came in the form of horrified gasps from unsuspecting tourists who thought they were just out for a Voodoo Doughnut.

This topless and bottomless circus of the absurd is not new. Those on the left have been inexplicably associating nudity with political protest since the flower power days of the 1960s. In the Vietnam War era, it was all about “make love, not war,” with hippies shedding clothes at sit-ins, love-ins and drive-ins – or whatever other “ins” involved patchouli, pot and poor life choices.  They stripped down at anti-war rallies, claiming it symbolized vulnerability, peace, and a rejection of societal norms. It was a great way to get attention without actually drafting a coherent policy paper.

(I was in Washington, D.C. when anti-war protestors routinely romped naked in the Reflecting Pool on the National Mall — and in fountains throughout the city.  Those were interesting times.  But I digress.)

Fast-forward to today, and the same crowd—or their ideological descendants—are at it again in Portland. Except now, those once-youthful bodies have not held up so well. Gravity, time, and too many kale smoothies have taken their toll. What was once a lithe, tanned display of free love now looks like a retirement home field trip gone horribly wrong.

Saggy cheeks (both kinds), varicose veins mapping out protest routes on legs, and enough grey back hair to knit a sweater for the polar bears they are supposedly saving.

It’s less about “empowering” and more about “endangering public health”.  I mean, really.  Who wants to use one of those bikes after that?  Although, I suppose, it is a boon to those whose thing is sniffing chair seats.

And what about the children?  They have never wanted to see their grandmas or grandpas naked – or anyone else’s grandma or grandpa. Who would?  (I am reminded of the guy on the Internet who sings “I don’t look good naked anymore”.  He sings it in his tighty-whities – proving the proof of his song.   But I digress, again.)

So, why this peculiar left-wing fixation on public nudity as protest?  It’s psychology 101. They are exhibitionists who go for shock value – hoping to invoke performative outrage. They are a peloton of flashers.

Cannot win an argument on fossil fuels? Flash some drooping mammaries.  Obsessed with Trump Derangement Syndrome?  Brandish a little (literally) genital phallus.  Ditch the duds and declare victory! It’s all about virtue signaling on steroids, or in this case, sans spandex.

And let’s not forget the hypocrisy baked in. These are the same people who lecture us about consent, safe spaces, and body positivity—until it’s time to thrust their uninvited nakedness into everyone else’s line of vision.

When logic fails, the radical left falls back on exposure theories. But here is the punchline.  It does not work. Vietnam didn’t end because of naked frolicking.  It ended through politics and persistence – and legitimate protest. Oil dependency won’t vanish because a bunch of middle-aged eco-warriors moon motorists. If anything, it alienates the normies who just want to get to work without a blockade of naked anatomy.

With AI, electric bikes, and virtual reality, you’d think protests could evolve beyond this primitive caveman-level display. But noooo! Those on the port side cling to their naked traditions like a bad habit. Perhaps it is nostalgia for those groovy ’60s, when bodies were firm and ideals were fresh. Now, those same protesters (or their offspring) are creaking along on two wheels, proving that time wounds all heels—and everything else.

Their message? Blurry at best, buried under layers of unintended comedy. If they were serious about change, maybe try petitions, voting … even a fully clothed townhall meeting. But noooo!  That would not get the clicks or the giggles.

In the end, (no pun intended) the Portland nude cyclists are a perfect microcosm of liberal activism — bold in theory, raw in execution, and ultimately, theater without consequences. They pedal on, oblivious to the mockery, while the rest of us shake our heads in wonderment.  Portland … you are the gift that keeps on giving.

So, there ‘tis.