Would we listen to Lindsey Graham, John McCain and Clarence Thomas if they were naked?
How much difference does a uniform, a lab coat, or a judge’s robes make in how much we respect someone?
I noticed that all kings and chiefs wear a special sort of hat so everyone knows how important they are. No hat and they are just like everyone else. Isn’t that odd?
Yesterday I went into the kitchen and my daughter yelled from the other room, “Are you naked?” What a strange question. “Why do you ask?” I asked. “Because Nigel is here and I don’t want you to walk in naked,” she answered. I was not naked, so I went and welcomed Nigel back from deployment. I’m always happy when they make it back safely.
But then I started thinking, always a dangerous pursuit. We are all naked under our clothes. What if those wispy materials were removed? Would we obediently pull over for a naked cop? Would we feel intimidated by a naked judge? Would we kowtow to a naked emperor?
French philosopher Michel Montaigne said, “Even on the highest throne in the land, we are still sitting on our arse.” And under the fanciest robes, we are all as naked as the day we were born.