You know when you’re nervous about public speaking and your friends advise you to “imagine the audience in their underwear?” Well, that’s exactly what I did when I performed stand-up recently at one of the most fear-inducing shows I’ve ever done … except in this scenario there was no “imagining” and there was no “underwear.” My audience was full on real and full on nude.
Yup. They were completely, totally, utterly butt naked. The dress code was semi-formal “birthday suits” and the guest list included penises, boobs, and vaginas galore. I told jokes for twenty minutes to a bunch of bare booties, although I was less focused on their bare booties and more focused on my own. See, I was equally garmentless.
Yup. I was completely, totally, utterly, bare-butt naked. At this point you’re probably wondering HOW? WHY? HUH? WHAT? WHY? WHY? WHY? Excellent questions and ones I’ve been asked by multiple people, including my mother, but her inquiries were more along the lines of “Oh my god, Jess, why?? Do you need to borrow some money?” and “Please, how much money do you need to borrow?” I explained to her that I didn’t disrobe out of a desperate need for quick cash. I said yes to the gig because I wanted to do it, because it was a unique opportunity, and because it was an experience I knew I wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.
Surprised, frankly, by the number of intellectuals at Saturday’s gathering of Young British Naturists (YBN). Doctors, solicitors, civil servants and IT specialists let it all hang out at the Midlands homage to “body confidence”.
They believe nudism is socialism in its purest form: only by shedding designer clothes and expensive bling can we be free from judging individuals by their chattels and accoutrements. In the buff, we’re all equal, claim naturists.
So why are there no nude photographs of Lenin?
As a philosophy, it’s deeply flawed. Yes, I peeled off for the convention – and spent the weekend shunning those individuals considerably bigger in the trouser department.
Rip away the trappings of wealth and mankind simply finds other things to be envious about.
One teacher asked during the flesh-fest at Erdington’s Clover Spa: “Have you read Marx?”
The following is the naked truth; only the names have been changed.
In the 1970s, when in their 20s, friends of ours (let’s call them Felicity and Brendan) decided it would be fun to visit a naturist resort for a day. (Yes, naturist means nudist, but adherents prefer naturist. It sounds classier.)
Living in Montreal, they heard of such a resort in the Laurentian mountains north of the city. So one fine sunny Saturday in July, off they drove.
The resort was well off the beaten track (naturally). They ended up on a narrow dirt road cutting through dense woods. They came upon a gate blocking the road. Continued…Read full original article…
Creating a cartoon old school (without computer graphics) by drawing and inking. First of course, is coming up with a story for the characters. In a cartoon strip it has to have a beginning, middle and end all in the space of seven to nine panels. The idea is not to have a laugh out loud punchline but a situation that may be humorous enough that the reader can connect with.
In today’s instalment, I first wrote a few notes on my tablet that briefly outlines the plot. I break it down into panels as they will eventually appear on the strip with what the character’s will be saying or thought balloons or sound effects. This writing concept is similar to theater or movie scripts. Continued…Read full original article…