Here are my ideas so far:
-Walk naked through the outfield during a Twins game. You see, generations of streakers have the formula wrong. When you’re running, you give off the impression that you are doing something illegal. But if I hop out of the bleachers out there in left field, naked as a newborn, and confidently strut through the assembly of players all the way over to the stands behind the first-base line, people will just assume that I’m supposed to be there. I might use a flesh-colored body suit à la George Costanza. That is still up for debate.
-Walk naked through a Fourth of July Parade. Again with the nudity, right? Well, as I saunter along with the floats and bands and what-not, eventually the shocked crowd will come to realize that my nakedness is a metaphor for the birth of America. You see, back in ’76, 1776 that is, what was this great nation other than a naked baby? It came shooting out of The Mother of Modern Society, out into the world, covered in the disgusting viscera of afterbirth, ready to take on whatever Earth decided to throw at it. To arrest me for paying tribute to that would be nothing less than treason.
-Tube down the Root River in Lanesboro without clothing. The last two years I’ve done it, I have slathered myself in ridiculous amounts of sunscreen, only to emerge from the water looking like a freaking apple. Might as well try to achieve a uniform burn all over instead of having unsightly tan lines.
-Compose an entire Blog post in the nude. Check that off the list right now. This summer is already looking up.
-Maybe try to get a higher paying job so I can buy more clothes.
Well, it looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me. Here’s the Blong. Some of that laid-back killer Cali hip-hop. Ugly Duckling – Left Behind.