The image above has almost nothing to do with today's blog posting, so put your imagination in your back pocket and let's get on with the story...
A relative of mine recently came home with a message on his/her report card. Note: the gender of the guilty party has been protected so as to offer no clue to her/his identity. The teacher's comment was that he/she had been "a bit silly this week." When questioned further, it turned out that she/he had been rather outspoken in class. Apparently the teacher had said to the class "If you all work hard and get your assignment done early, we can all go for a walk around the schoolyard," to which the guilty relative blurted out "NAKED!"
Class dismissed! Let's change the channel for a few minutes...
I haven't watched television, at home, for over three years (with one exception). I find watching the news, particularly just before bedtime, to be too depressing. I don't want to end my day with a hangover. The result is that I'm utterly out of touch with what's going on in the world...just the way I like it. I never watch sitcoms either. Or reality shows. I've never seen Oprah, though I'll confess to having watched Dock Tore Fee Al during a weak moment.
You might surmise that I'm pretty ignorant. After all, I live in what amounts to the backwoods of New Brunswick (akin to the Clampett's ancestral home of Bugtussle), I don't have a job (though I do have a profession), and I don't watch television. You'd be amazed at the volume of information I take in through radio and the internet. I also absorb scads through meaningful conversations with friends and family. This morning was no exception.
After breakfast I was discussing the Olympics with my son and my parents. I declared that the one thing that would bring about my return, to the boob tube, would be if the Olympic Games were performed in the nude. I half expected my son to point out that I was embarrassing him by publicly broadcasting my fantastical thoughts (I think this is one of his greatest fears, that his father, the quasi personification of Family Guy's Peter Griffin, will say something stupid in public). To my surprise, Julian commended my 'originality' by reminding me that the ancient Olympic Games were performed in the buff, long before television, digital cameras and Hugh Hefner were invented.
It was Olympia 720 B.C. when the Games first went commando (note: the Hef was born around 540 B.C.). I tried to imagine what it would have been like to be a male contestant waiting, under a blazing sun, for the race to begin. Beyond self consciousness, I thought of sunburn. My mind drifted further....
To the Winter Games. In stark contrast to the Summer Games, sunburn would no longer be an issue. I saw snow and ice. I saw nude curling! What a thrill for the spectators. Of all the Olympic athletes, it's the curlers who would be the most interesting bare-skinned box of Cracker Jacks. I said 'interesting', not pretty. Bare-arsed bobsledding could be fun. The skeleton might become a self-fulfilling prophecy by the end of the run. I'd be 'over the moon' to see naked figure skating. Trust me, it's not a sexual thing, I just think the world would be a happier place if we never saw another figure skating outfit again.
I'll bet the image at the top of my Olympic post (not a euphemism) is still a mysterious choice. Put yourself in my shoes...how could I possibly produce an image that relates to the nude Winter Olympics? I've got over 80 000 images from which to choose, but none convey any sense of au naturel athleticism. I finally settled on an image that speaks to shrinkage...it's the best I could do.
Snort!!!!!!
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