Naked News
This just in: I’ve got nothing on
Nothing brings people together, and rips them apart, like nudity. (Except maybe a series of signs posted along a forest path advertising "This Way For Free Money," except when the person gets to the end of the road there’s no free money, just voracious wild dogs. But such things almost never happen. Alas.) Why, just the other afternoon, my across-the-street neighbour dropped by to discuss nudity. Here’s an exclusive excerpt from our conversation, as recorded by my NannyCam:
Me (peeping thru peephole): "Who’s there?"
Neighbour (muffled): "Yeah, hey, uh, so the wife & I were wondering if maybe you could buy some blinds or curtains or something. Tack up a flag. Anything."
Me (recognizing neighbour & merrily flinging open the door): "Hey man! Come on in! Coffee?"
Neighbour (loud/clear): "Ugh. Or at least get an apron."
See what I mean? Nudity: what a grand conversational icebreaker! (Works at parties, too. Especially Tupperware parties; you ain’t seen someone "burp" a saladkeeper until you’ve seen me burp a saladkeeper.) (Medical hint: if the preceding imagery compels you to blind yrself w/ a pointy stick, I suggest keeping plenty of disinfectant on hand. Pointy sticks are a haven for germs. Germs may be tiny little nudists, it’s true, but it’s a bad sort of nude. Bonus hint: slice gouged eyeballs real thin to make cocktail garnishes.) In fact, if Sir E. Shackleton had become stuck in metaphorical ice back in ’14, instead of real ice, he could have free’d the Endurance by ordering his crew to loudly discuss nudity. But it (ice) wasn’t (metaphorical), so he (Sir Ernie) didn’t (talk nudity). All the same, behold the power of nudity!
To be clear: I love my body. Even if I’m still carrying some extra holiday pounds ("holiday" herein referring to Groundhog Day – I don’t care one whit if that delicious little bastard sees his shadow, as long as he doesn’t see mine until it’s too late), I want to "strut" my "stuff" before the world. By walking around naked, I’m figuratively saying "Love me, world, love me for what I am!" By literally shrieking "Love me, world, love me for what I am!" I’m just driving the point home. I don’t like to be misunderstood, so I’ve also printed business cards.
You can imagine my excitement upon learning an upstart organization named Nudist World Domination ("NuWD," natch) developed something called The Declothesifyer. When directed at a non-nude target, The Declothesifyer uses High Science to render the target nude. Whether this is done via some kinda "ray-gun," or a lotion, remains unclear.
What is clear (clear as the skin on my tastefully dimpled rumpus!), is what an awesome advancement this is. And not just for nudity advocates, but for 3rd-world garment sweatshops, which will be forced to work ’round-the-clock (or, in many cases, even more ’round-the-clock) to re-clothe suddenly nude prudes. I may hate clothing, but I love the idea of arthritic toddlers earning their keep. At the risk of coming off like a G. Shalit movie review, The Declothesifyer is the kinda brave new initiative which makes me want to stand up & cheer. (The feelgood invention of the year? Yeah, prob’ly.)
In other nuws (get it? it’s like "news" and "nudes" holding hands!), I’m thinking that you & I & all our naked friends should start a book group. I like this recent phenom where entire cities agree to read the same book & discuss it w/ strangers; besides, it will give us something to talk about besides our magnificent nakedness. (Not that said topic has run its course, no way!) I’m currently taking suggestions as to which book we should read first. W. S. Burroughs’s Naked Lunch? Suzuki/Dressel’s From Naked Ape To Superspecies? J. Oliver’s The Naked Chef Takes Off? Or maybe a nice cultural history of the Doukhabours? I’m open – just no pocketbooks, for obvious reasons. |
