CONTINUING OUR RECAPPING of events we’d documented but not uploaded during our early-summer bout of computerlessness, the Fremont Solstice Parade.

This “silent protest” just might’ve been inspired by our own photo series, Signifying Nothing.

Dr. Seuss’s Sneetches, those universal metaphors for self-titled hipsters and the futulity of exclusive scenes.

The now world-renowned body paint bicyclists and other public nudes have, for several years now, upstaged the parade’s more organized attractions. And for good reason. For two hours a year it’s quasi-legally-tolerated to appear naked on a public street, and to be seen by bystanders of all genders and ages.

Solstice Parade nudity isn’t overtly sexual. Nor is it the formally informal “natural” nudity of naturist camps and free beaches. It’s a whole other thang altogether. It’s a statement of freedom and pride, as much as anything at the Gay Pride parade the following week.

The essential message: We’ve all got bodies, and they’re all great. They’re fun to look at, and fun to live in. A simple and obvious message, but one us repressed Americans still need to hear regularly.