The comedian Louis C.K. is, by his own account, a disgusting human being (which he sums up by noting he weighs 240 pounds and that there is no system where you determine your ideal weight by “taking your age and adding 200 pounds to it”). His sitcom Louie is incredibly funny, though in an episode I watched recently the laughter died when he had a doctor’s visit and subjected the audience to an extended shot of his bare ass. More disturbing, in his short-lived HBO show Lucky Louie — this is a man who likes the sound of his own name — he apparently went full-frontal. And I realize, Men and women take their clothes off for very different reasons.

Ever since NYPD Blue made it safe to show butts on network television, there has been an increase in nudity on American shores. Yet it still seems to follow the basic Blueprint — why yes, you did just experience wordplay — whereby the women look like Amy Brenneman (thin, toned, under 30) and the men resemble Dennis Franz (sickening). This is why we’ve been subjected to poopers belonging to people like Danny DeVito (why It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, why?). Things really haven’t improved as men started turning around either, with wieners offering awkward moments of hilarious in everything from The Hangover to Walk Hard. And I say, maybe, just maybe, this is simply nature’s way.

Before you object to a heterosexual white male imposing his viewpoint on everybody — historically, we’ve been known to do that from time to time — I’d like to describe a recent holiday experience. I went to a reading of A Christmas Carol using the abridged text that Charles Dickens once utilized when he gave public readings. This had a twist, however: it was performed by four naked women (all members of Pinchbottom Burlesque). And very quickly it became clear that all four were excellent actresses and that the tale, when stripped of CGI Jim Carreys and all the other crap that’s become attached to it over the years, has survived for a reason: it’s a great piece of literature. Soon the story was the focus, not the naughty bits. (Well, most of the focus.)

But there’s no denying that when I — and I suspect most people, male or female — see a woman wearing only thigh-high socks and a Santa cap, I think, “Sexy.”

And if I saw a man in a similar ensemble, my thoughts would fall somewhere between “That’s funny” and “There ain’t enough eggnog in the world to block this out.”

(Note: This applies to most accessories, as a naked woman grows only sexier if she puts on shoes, glasses, or a top hat — a man in this outfit would seem like a character in some version of Gangs of New York from hell.)

And likewise, while I have heard rumors that a majority of its customers are male, I think there’s a reason why the leading female porn stars from Marilyn Chambers to Tera Patrick have always had one thing in common — they’re pretty — while the biggest male porn icon is Ron Jeremy (for those unfamiliar with his oeuvre, “The Hedgehog” is at least 80 pounds overweight and 40 of those pounds are body hair).

There are exceptions. Brad Pitt appears to be pulling a real-life Benjamin Button, as with each passing year he only grows more toned and he’s determined to share this with big screens everywhere. And when Kathy Bates climbed in the hot tub in About Schmidt, she did what many believed impossible: show the world there’s a nude body more unnerving than Jack Nicholson’s. But Schmidt came out in 2002 and I don’t think Pitt’s done nudity since Troy in 2003 — I must admit I haven’t tracked Pitt dropping pants that closely, so if I’m missing something let me know — and it appears increasingly that society as a whole has simply decided:

1. We want naked women to be beautiful.

2. We want naked men to be anything but.

And as a straight guy not entirely displeased with this arrangement, I quote a noted physician — Dr. Frasier Crane — “I don’t make the rules, I just enjoy them.”

Happy Holidays, everyone.

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