Please turn out the lights when you leave San Francisco. Of all places, where Dykes on Bikes parade nude from the head down on rumbling Harley Davidsons, where a quasi-religious order mocks the Catholic Church with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence wearing nun habits, where the mayor is celebrated for porking his best friend's wife; I could go on and on, but I want to limit my dialogue to a specific conundrum, and that is, there is now a referendum to ban same sex bicycle seats.
Solipsistically speaking, one should never question one man's reality over another's. But if you have ever ergonomically examined the differences between a male and a female crotch, there are certain features that respectively demand less or more support, depending on the sex. For years, though, bicycle makers have made seats for their products with virtually no differences; one size and form fits all.
Why it has taken more than a century to determine that what irritates one crotch gives pleasure to another crotch is beyond my pay grade. Anyway, as you read this, the ever-vigilant attorneys for the ACLU have demanded this breach of crotch etiquette be remedied. So for better or worse, be prepared to ditch your old uni-sex bicycle seat for one that adapts to your own personal crotch; not one made for some itinerant pencil-neck Bantu from Cameroon with ramshackle ovaries and clap-board buttocks.