They’re. They say that social nudism alleviates mental strain, and

They will reveal you medical studies to demonstrate it. They’ll show you another
survey that establishes group therapy is more effective when conducted in the
nude. They will cite statistics that say nudists are commonly wealthier and better-
educated than your average cloth-wearing drone.
crimes or incest and engage in extramarital relationships than the sickos in the
Cloth world.
They assert that clothing is a breeding ground for bacteria.
They say one’s skin must breathe, to consume and excrete,
and that clothing subverts many of the skin’s natural functions.
They claim that total-body exposure to sunlight assures a
higher absorption of Vitamin D, essential to the immune
system. They claim that nudity enhances fertility, clears
psoriasis, and prevents Lyme disease. They say that bask

ing bare in the sunlight fights many kinds of cancer, even
skin cancer. They say that clothes impede the body’s cir-
say these ball-smashingly tight blue jeans I’m wearing
right now could potentially lead to testicular cancer.
The faithful fkk feels, deep in the bot-
tom of the sockless toes he squishes in the
grass, that he lives in , equal, and reliable world than those
in the textile world. Employing desiccated
grey-pubed leftist jargon and pompous,
Francophilic gobbledygook amid feely-meely
googly Edenic let’s-all-mush-together-in-a-
gooey-protoplasmic-Love-Soup aesthetics,
the fkk theorist proposes a more exalted, more
spiritually advanced manner of living that is available to anyone simply by
droppin’ trou. But don’t be deceived—his type of nudism aspires to considerably
than just triflin’ nakedness—it seeks to create a utopian society, to winner
the struggle for women’s freedom, and to perhaps even smash the patriarchy if
There is any time left after all that other stuff.
…the human body, with all its warts, rashes, sagging
flesh, ingrown toenails, and swampy butt-stank.
despite all its delusions of philosophical splendor
and human uplift, will eternally remain a seriously
world characterized
by goofy jokes, by
Elmer Fudpucker at the Fkk Colony
comedy albums,
and by zany fkk-camp cartoons depicting a guy who can take two cups of
coffee in his hands and a dozen donuts on his
boner. ‘Tis a world encapsulated in irritatingly
clever catchphrases like “Skin doesn’t equal
sin” and “I Have got a brand naked approach!” and “We
It’s a
world filled with an uncomfortably high quotient of
pervy weirdlin’s who, if it weren’t for nudism,
Star Trek
to meet their lonesome
itch for communal belonging.
In many ways, nudism is, in addition, the natural-born
enemy of pornography.
of us should be nude,
while porno posits that only a
of us should. That’s a monumental differ-
ence. Porno is dependent upon the general societal quelling of nudity, or it
Would not be special enough that people would pay for it. Much of the sex
industry’s prosperity is really dependent upon the mainstream
nudity. If nudity were trivial, it wouldn’t be so “exotic,” and men
Would not really PAY merely to see a woman’s bare tush.
I often side with the pornographers. My primary beef with social nudism,
Aside from the oceans of aesthetic cheese, is the irrefutable, demonstrated-by-
science fact that some people SHOULD be hung up about their bodies. I am
Now seeking evidence for my anthropological thesis that clothes was
initially invented not as vain, peacock’s-feathers-style adornment…nor for
weather-related reasons…nor to hide a sense of naked shame…but just as
punishment for unattractive individuals.
my body. Yours, I’m not so mad about. There are so many people I
Would not desire to relate to on . If I don’t even need to look at
them clothed, why would I need to see them with their shit all up front and
in my face? I don’t feel so swell about Utopia if it means I have to be nude
along with everyone else.
Still, the warm wind feels fantastic on my exposed skin. But for now, I’ll raise
the fence around my
Me and
vate brand of Antisocial Dystopian
Nudism. I like the idea of nudity
for me…but not for thee.
lady friend succinctly phrased it
when I asked for her ideas on
nudism, “I do not need to look at
somebody else’s crap.”
Until the late 1960s, the only LEGAL way for
Americans to ogle the naked human form in print
and on film screens…well, the naked
form, anyway, since
National Geographic
had no