Attention Brian Coldin: the rest of Central Ontario doesn’t want to see what ya got.

Before I go tearing into this guy, I’m first going to say right here I have absolutely no problem whatsoever with what people choose to wear–or, in some cases, not wear–on their own time, and in their own home. In fact, if some people knew how I dressed when I’m not planning to go anywhere, they’d probably have some not so pleasant names for me–and I’d probably still promise to maybe eventually find 30 seconds to care. But there’s such a thing as being presentable in public. That does not, contrary to the beliefs of some, include presenting yourself, sans clothing, at an A and W drive through where a teenager happened to be working.

In this case, Brian Coldin runs a noodist resort in central Ontario, and thought he might go grab himself a burger from the A and W not entirely too far away. Only problem is, well, his idea of appropriate atire stopped being appropriate when he cleared the border of his resort. He pulled up, placed his order, and gave the poor girl working drive through a little more than she probably wanted to look at. And now, he’s trying to have the laws changed in such a way that showing up at somewhere like a drive through sans any kind of clothing is perfectly acceptable.

Okay, referring back to how I dress at home, I have absolutely no problem with somebody who wants to go around their own place with absolutely nothing on–I personally wouldn’t go strictly and completely no clothes, but I get why some people would. And that’s perfectly fine–in your own home. But, really, if I’m going out somewhere–yeah, even a drive through, I’m damn well finding a shirt and a pair of freaking pants first. Yes, even if it’s mid-June and too goddamn hot degrees outside–just because I’m perfectly comfortable doing it doesn’t mean the several hundred people I need to interact with in a typical day out are going to be–or should be expected to be–comfortable seeing it. But then, I’m also used to the general rule of no shoes, no shirt, no service–but that’s just me.

You don’t go to work on a typical day expecting to see a naked dood–or chick, for that matter–pull up to your window and hand you payment for a burger he or she produced from–I won’t even guess where. In fact, we put people in jail who usually carry that expectation in public–usually because it leads to something else a little less innocent than hoping to see a lot more than a little skin.

A small note to mister Coldin. I don’t care how naked you want to be or for how long. Neither does this judge. Neither does the rest of central Ontario. Just do it on your own property, for cryin’ out loud–just because we don’t care doesn’t mean we want to look at, or serve, random naked dood from local naked people resort. And if, by accident, you actually win this case, I seriously hope to see a lot more “No shoes, no shirt, no service” signs. Otherwise, my out to dinner outfit–and I will still wear an actual outfit–will include a bottle of disinfectant. Just sayin’.

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