thereby turning a visually stunning location into a city of contradictions.

I visited SLC recently. One thing I’ll say, the citizens are incredibly friendly and helpful. And obedient with a capital “O.” Let me quickly say that one of my best friends is a Saint. I admire his faith and determination. I envy him. But I’m convinced I have more fun.

I was standing at the corner of one of the main streets downtown (and it’s no exaggeration that the main streets are wide enough for a wagon and team of oxen to make a U-turn) and found myself waiting for the “Don’t Walk” sign to change to “Walk.” It was the middle of the day; there were no cars for miles. There we stood, me and a half dozen people I took to be locals on the basis of their clean cut appearance and apple-cheeked, beatific expressions. After a few seconds it was clear that there was little point in waiting for the light to change, so I took off across the street. When I made it to the other side I turned around and there they all were, still standing, waiting for permission to cross. Now that’s obedience. Or maybe just patience.

Anyway, my hotel was only a block from the great Mormon Temple, which is impressive looking even to us heathens. On the sidewalk outside my hotel were newspaper vending boxes with the usual collection of tabloids and pamphlets. Imagine my surprise when I saw that one of the boxes contained tabloids promoting all manner of adult activities.

Since there’s little else to do in SLC after dark, other than watch “Springer” re-runs (subject of a yet-to-be-published post), I took a copy to my room, made myself a drink (it’s not easy to find a liquor store in SLC, but with perseverance and luck it can be done) and set about to learn about the unearthly delights of SLC after hours.

To my amazement, I read about a thriving underground for those who find themselves outside the mainstream of SLC (you know, gays, lesbians, Democrats…) and had great fun reading the classified ads.

Who knew that “ass, back, and crack waxing” was a cosmetic need with a corresponding profession?

Or maybe they’re just fetishists who like ripping hair off of other guy’s bodies.

So it goes…

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