Celebrities, Guns and Nudity (part 4)

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Warning: This blog entry contains a light hearted discussion of nudity, a subject that many people find offensive. If you are offended by nudity, discussions of nudity, guns, or free speech, you may not want to continue reading.

However, if you like nudity, or at least discussions of nudity, or just want to find out what bizarre and off the wall things I have to say, then by all means continue reading.

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The other day, there was a knock at my door. It was around 8:45am. It was early (for me anyhow), but I was up...

Of course I was up. I get up between 6 and 6:30 every morning. When you have three small dogs with tiny bladders, you don't get to sleep in.

... and I had drank a cup of coffee so I was awake and ready to deal with whoever had decided to pay me a visit. I went to the door, and opened it, and discovered it was my friend it was my friend Ali Bulsara.

Ali and his brother, Farrokh, are the owners of "The House of Kebabs" which is about a half block from the Zip-E-Mart.

ALI: Peace upon you, Mr. Doug.

ME: Peace to you too. What do I owe the privilege of your visit?

MACKY: Who's at the door?

SARAH: I smell kebabs.

FREEDOM: Me, too.

MACKY: Is Ali here?

ALI: I have come in regards to you Facebook post.

DOUG: Which one

ALI: The Walk Nude for Your Country post.

DOUG: Oh...

The Facebook post to which Ali referred was this:

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Walk Nude for Your Country

The President has asked that we unite for a common cause.
Since the Islamic people cannot stand nudity, they consider it a sin to see a naked woman that is not their wife. On the 11th of this month, all women should leave their house naked and walk around in order to help locate hidden terrorists.

Men are to position themselves in lawn chairs in front of their houses to demonstrate their support for the women and to prove that they are not Muslim terrorist sympathizers. Since Islam also does not approve of alcohol, a cold 6-pack at your side is further proof of your patriotism.

The United States appreciates your efforts, and applauds you. God bless America.

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Underneath the post I added the following:
I will be providing free coffee and other beverages at my place to women participating in this event.

ALI: I have come to help.

ME: Help?

ALI: Yes. Your post said that Muslims would be offended. I am Muslim so I have come her to join you and to be offended.

ME: Wait a minute. You are not a Muslim. You and your brother are Coptic Christians. You invited me to services several times.

ALI: Yes, this is true. But I can pretend. When the women come her for refreshments, I will act as if I am offended. That way, they will believe that what they are doing is helping the country.

ME: Ali, that post was meant to be a joke.

ALI: Doing our patriotic duty is no joking matter. We must hurry and set up. The woman will start walking very soon.

So we set up a folding table in front of my place, and brought out the coffee pot, coffee, cups, creamers, sugars, spoons, etc.

Ali thought that we did not have enough creamer, so I gave Macky Rae my debit card and sent him (and his little red wagon) to the grocery store to buy more creamer, as well as two dozen assorted donuts.

We brewed up some coffee (and some decaf, just in case) then sat down in the lawn chairs and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, we realized that nobody was coming. It was starting to get dark, Ali and I had drank most of the coffee (and ate half the donuts), and the dogs were finishing off the last of the kebabs. We packed up the lawn chairs, table, coffee, and condiments, after which Ali went home.

And quite frankly, I was a bit disappointed.

Women are not appreciative of what this country has given them, and they have not, as a whole (in my opinion) done there part to uphold the principles for which this country, and our Constitution, stand for. Women only comprise 14.5% of the military force while enjoying 100% of the rights and privileges of living in this country (and I bet you women would scream if you were only given 14.5% of the rights and privileges). All that was asked was to simply take a walk around the block to help identify potential terrorist. Was that so hard?

But I digress.

There was a news article that I read about celebrities getting their Cloud accounts hacked, allowing miscreants access to their private pictures...

What were these people thinking? Miscreants keep hacking major companies and stealing credit cards information! Why would anyone put there private picks online?

People never cease to amaze me.

Oops... I did it again.

I am a supporter of the 2nd Amendment,
but anyone who forgets her panties
should not be allowed have a gun.

You may remember sometime back one Miss Britney Spears graced us with a view of her hoo-ha by exposing it in view of paparazzi. Later, her "official" explanation was that she forgot to wear any underwear.

Forgot to wear underwear?

Nobody forgets to wear underwear. You might chose not to wear underwear, but you do not forget.

Even if you did forget your panties, you would not get very far wearing a short short skirt. As soon as you walked outside, the temperature differential would register on your.. well, you know - down there.

And this works with both genders. Once I chose not to wear underwear (because I forgot to do laundry the day before). It was a cold autumnal morning, and as I stepped outside, I realized that I had forgot to re-zip my Levis.

And she's not the only celebrity who has been caught au naturel by paparazzi. You know what I think? It done on purpose for publicity.

An inconvenient truth: Sex sells.

STARLET: Hello?

AGENT: Tiffany, Baby. It's you agent.

STARLET: Hey Al.

AGENT: I got some goon news for you: You are being considered for the lead role in The ZombieLand™ movie.

STARLET: Awesome.

AGENT: The bad news is that they are also considering Courtney Cute.

STARLET: Courtney? I hate that bitch!

AGENT: I know you do baby. So if we are going to get you this part, we're going to have to work on getting you some publicity. Are you with me?

STARLET: Sure. What do you want me to do?

AGENT: I want you to show up at The Nightclub.

STARLET: OK.

AGENT: I want you to wear your short, short skirt.

STARLET: The silky black one?

AGENT: That's the one. And I want you to forget to wear your panties.

STARLET: What for?

AGENT: Publicity. I'll alert the paparazzi and they will be waiting with there cameras, so when you get out of the car flash them your hoohoo.

STARLET: No way! They take pictures of it, and publish it online.

AGENT: That's the point. The publicity this will generate will guarantee you the part.

STARLET: I don't know...

AGENT: Tiffany, you want the part, don't you?

STARLET: Yeah

AGENT: Then this is what you got to do

STARLET: OK, if you think it will help.

AGENT: Trust me.

The Swedish Bikini Team

An inconvenient truth: Sex sells.

In spite of what feminist and politically correct say, sexy is an excellent selling tool. And if you don't believe this, let me give you a good example:

I give you The Swedish Bikini Team - A group of scantily-clad gorgeous blonde babes featured in a series of Old Milwaukee beer spots in the early 1990s.

According to their TV commercials, when males vacationing in the mountains, on the beach, or in the water became bored and thirsty, the Swedish Bikini Team miraculously arrived to rescue them from their doldrums by providing Old Milwaukee Beer and the companionship of beautiful bikini-clad beer bimbos.

Thanks to this ad, numerous males began to drink this second-rate beer, and much to there surprise, the bikini team did not appear.

Optical Illusion

 

 

Theodore J. Barnes
 

Bullet

Now that I talked about nudity, I need to talk about guns. Since the name of this blog entry is Guns and nudity (part 4), if I don't talk about guns I would only be able to call this blog entry and Nudity (part 4), which wouldn't make as much sense.

I've mentioned my Uncle Theo, a few times.

 

Uncle Theo lives out in the country on a farm that has been in the family since the 1800s.

Before that, it belonged to Coyotes.

Late one evening awhile back (around 11:30), Uncle Theo heard (or thought he heard) a prowler on the property.

Actually, it was his dog, Bullet, that heard the prowler first.

Since there had been a rash of thefts on farms in the area, so Uncle Theo was naturally concerned.

As was Bullet, who was hiding under the bed.

Uncle Theo called the Sheriff's office, and was informed by the dispatcher (Ernestine) that there were no deputies immediately available and so it would be at least an hour before they could respond.

My Uncle was naturally annoyed, and decided to take matters into his own hands.



(Ernestine)

He called back 5 minutes later to inform the dispatcher (Ernestine) that there was no longer a need to hurry a deputy out to his farm, as he had just shot the prowler and it didn't look like he was going anywhere anytime soon.

Naturally, the deputies arrived in a matter of minutes.

All of them.

As did the Sherriff.

And they were puzzled when they did not find a body on Uncle Theo's property.

 

"Theo" the Sheriff said, "I was told by Ernestine that you said you had just shot someone"

 

"And I was told by Ernestine that there were no available deputies"

 

The former governor of California.

But then, if I looked like that, I'd walk

around naked too.
 

Arnold would make a good
NRA president.

Speaking of celebrities and nudity:

Loyal readers of this blog are aware that Macky Rae (my youngest dog enjoys science fiction (he is a big fan of Star Trek), "1950s Era Black and White Giant Insect Films," and Zombie Flicks. One of his favorite movies is The Terminator (and the sequals) - we've seen them numerous time, almost as often as Star Wars.

In Terminator 2, there is a scene where the T-800 (Arnold) arrives from the future and proudly strolls across the desert, au natural.
 
The star of The Terminator (and sequels) was Arnold Schwarzenegger, the actor and former Mr. Universe and Mr. Olympia who served as governor of California from November 17, 2003 to January 3, 2011.

Now when I watch this, I think "There goes the governor of California."

If this was anyone else, as soon as he (or she) announced that he (or she) was running for office, the pictures would surface, ending a promising political career. For most people, anything incriminating (such as a nude photo) would more or less prohibit any political aspirations.

This is why there are no former playmates in congress.

Ms. Staller continued to make

hardcore pornographic films

while a member of parliament.

You will not see any former Playmates, Penthouse Pets, or other Ecdysiasts running for public office.

At least not in this countries.

The picture to the right is of a woman by the name Ilona Staller who was during the late 80s/early 90s was a member of the Italian Parliament.

She is also know by her stage name, Cicciolina.

In addition to politics, The honorable Ms. Staller does porn.

Speaking of celebrities and guns:

 
The man pictures on the right is Charlton Heston, an actor who appeared in 100 films over the course of 60 years. He is best known for his roles in The Ten Commandments (1956); Ben-Hur, for which he won the Academy Award for Best Actor (1959), El Cid (1961), and Planet of the Apes (1968). He also is well known for his roles in the films The Greatest Show on Earth (1952), Touch of Evil (1958), and The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965). The starring roles gave the actor a grave, authoritative persona and embodied responsibility, individualism and masculinity; he rejected scripts that did not emphasize those virtues. His media image as a spokesman for Judeo-Christian moral values enabled his political voice.

 

Amongst his political activisms was the NRA. Heston was the president (a largely ceremonial position) and spokesman of the NRA from 1998 until he resigned in 2003. At the 2000 NRA convention, he raised a rifle over his head and declared that a potential Al Gore administration would take away his Second Amendment rights "from my cold, dead hands". In announcing his resignation in 2003, he again raised a rifle over his head, repeating the five famous words of his 2000 speech. He was an honorary life member.

Sarah, my female dog, was
named after Ms. Palin.

The fact that Heston was remembered as being Moses no doubt helped with his advocacy of the NRA. One thought of the 2nd Amendment as being from the Ten Commandments instead of the Bill of Rights.

 

You know who would make a good NRA president? Sarah Palin.

She would have made a great Vice-President in 2008, and I bet she doesn't forget her panties.

Or Ted Nugent. He'd make a great president,

either of the NRA or the USA.

 

 

I love coffee, I love tea
I love the java jive and it loves me
Coffee and tea and the java and me
A cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup.

Those of you who know me are aware that I have suffer from a long term chemical dependency most of my adult life, the result of my time in the Air Force.

I am a coffee junkie.

I spend a bit of time at coffee houses in my area, and it was while visiting that I experience a story that I call:

Dirt Devil

Dust Devil

Real Devil

Dancing with the Devils

Ever heard of a dust devil?

No not a Dirt Devil (that's a vacuum cleaner).

Dust Devils are a fairly common phenomena in the desert and arid regions (such as where I live). It is a strong, well-formed, and relatively long-lived whirlwind, ranging from small (half a meter wide and a few meters tall) to large (more than 10 meters wide and more than 1000 meters tall), they are cause by hot surface air rising in a swirling motion, usually taking a fair amount of dust with it (thus the name Dust Devil). The resemble miniature tornadoes, except they have never been known to wreak havoc in motorhome parks.

 

And they don't need to be out in a field in order to form. They can easily form in a parking lot, although you might not notice them unless there is enough dust in the parking lot to be swirled about.

Or trash.

If nobody's cleaned up the lot in a while, a devil might form and pick up discarded plastic bags, old receipt, candy wrappers, and other debris as it dances across the pavement.

I call these Trash Devils.

They are comparable to tornadoes in that both are a weather phenomenon of a vertically oriented rotating column of air. Most tornadoes are associated with a larger parent circulation, the mesocyclone on the back of a supercell thunderstorm, while dust devils form as a swirling updraft under sunny conditions during fair weather, rarely coming close to the intensity of a tornado.

They are not actually real devils.

They do have a sense of humor

 

 

So it happened one day that I was sitting at my coffee shop, drinking coffee and reading a magazine and watching people as they walk in and out of the coffee shop, or just walked past. One of them was a young woman, mid twenties, wearing a short foofy gossamer pixie-style skirt, who walked in to the coffee shop. She was inside for maybe 5 minutes, just long enough to order two coffees. She emerged with her coffees and headed out into the parking lot towards (one would assume) her car.

That's when I heard a voice.

"Hey Doug, look up."

What was weird was that there was nobody else out on the café patio, but the voice seem to be close. I knew it wasn't the "voice in my head," and I knew it wasn't God.

The reason I knew it wasn't God is because of what I have read about God. If he ever spoke to you, there would be no doubt in your mind that it was indeed God.

That, and when God speaks, there is usually a bush burning nearby.

So I looked up, but all I saw was the young woman with the foofy skirt walking away between the rows of parked cars (presumably to her own), holding on to two cups of coffee (one in each hand)

"Watch this" the voice said.

At that moment, I heard a slight rustling sound, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the dirt (and a bit of rubbish) beginning to swirl and rise, and form itself into a dust devil. It came across the parking lot, and went down between the rows of cars toward the young woman as she was walking away. The dust devil slipped up behind her, lifted up her skirt, and

the young woman "forgot" to wear panties!

The young woman quickly pushed her skirt back down (which was difficult with both hands holding a cup of coffee) and hurried toward her car.

 

I heard a laugh (har! har! har!) as the dust devil disappeared across the parking lot.

Apparently, Dust Devils have a sense of humor.

 

STARLET: Hello?

AGENT: Tiffany, Baby. It's you agent.

STARLET: Hey Al.

AGENT: I got bad news. You didn't get the part in the The ZombieLand™ movie. They gave it to Courtney.

STARLET: I hate that bitch!

AGENT: I know you do.

STARLET: What happened? I did what you suggested. I wore my short short mini skirt, and I didn't wear panties, and I let the paparazzi that pictures of my hoohoo.

AGENT: And you did good.

STARLET: Then why didn't I the part.

AGENT: Courtney "accidentally" leaked a video of her having sex with her boyfriend. It went viral.

STARLET: That bitch! I so hate her!

Gambling, Hunting, Guns and Nudity (Part 3)

Me and my dogs had an enjoyable 4th of July. A neighbor decided to have a barbecue, to which we were invited.

We accepted the invitation. As fans of this blog are no doubt aware: my dogs ♥ barbecue.

I had a burger and a variety of tasty potato and macaroni salads (and Mt. Dew), and the dogs ate wieners (and whatever else they were able to mooch of the other attendees of the cookout).

As the afternoon became evening, me and my dogs thanked our gracious hosts, and returned to our humble abode, as the sun had gone below the horizon and as the darkness increased, so did the bottle rockets.

Ever year, the media warns all to keep their pets inside during the 4th, as fear of the fireworks may cause them to run off. My dogs are fairly brave souls, and the have never shown fear of the fireworks, but the continual boom! boom! agitates them a bit, so we go inside, turn on the radio and listen to some music.

As the evening grew later, the dogs went to their accustom evening spots to go to sleep. However, some of our neighbors (not the nice ones who invited us to barbecue) returned from where ever and began to set of some firecrackers.

Sarah (my female who had, up until that point, been asleep) woke up at the pop! pop! pop! going on outside. She got up, climbed onto the back of the sofa, and looked out the window in order to investigate.

As she investigated, the neighbors lit another pack of firecrackers, which cause Sarah to start barking. But it was not a bark of fear, it was a bark of anger, as if to say Will you people knock it off? We're trying to sleep in here!

What does this have to do with the subject of todays blog entry? Nothing. I just wanted to share that story with everyone.

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Warning: This blog entry contains a light hearted discussion of nudity, a subject that many people find offensive. If you are offended by nudity, discussions of guns, nudity, gambling, hunting, or free speech, you may not want to continue reading.

However, if you like nudity(or guns), or at least discussions of nudity (or guns), or just want to find out what bizarre and off the wall things I have to say, then by all means continue reading.

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If you missed the story of Keith, slot
machines, and the Indians, it can be
found at Gambling (part 1)

If you want information on how to
play Roulette, go to wikipedia.org

My friend Keith and I went to a casino awhile back.

Yes, the same Keith I taught to gamble.

And yes, the same casino with Pocahontas and the advance surveillance system.

By this time, the casino had been completed completely, and had a full range of games that weren't there when I (with Keith) originally visited the casino about a year prior.

One of the games was roulette.

Roulette is kind of an interesting game, mainly because of the little marble that goes around and around making the clickity-clickity noise that is beckons to people "come play! come play!"

As we were playing, a rather attractive young woman came up to the table, opened her purse and remove five 100-dollar bills, which were quickly exchanged for chips by the croupier. She requested all black, and was give five $100 black chips.

"Can I bet all of them on the same spot?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the pit boss said "but the table limit is $100."

"Where can I place a $500 bet?" she asked

"All the tables in this casino have a $100 limit, unless special permission is granted."

"Who can grant that?"

"The floor manager."

The floor manager was called, and it was explained to him that the woman wanted to pace a single numbers bet with $500. He glanced over at the women, then agreed to allow the $500 bet.

"Place your bets!" the croupier called out.

"I have one more request" the woman said. "May I play naked?"

You could feel the silence descend upon the table.

"Seriously?" the floor manager asked.

"Yeah" she answered "I have better luck when I wear less clothing"

All eyes fell on the manager, who appeared to be either contemplating the request, or trying to determine if the woman was serious.

"Are you talking completely naked?" he asked.

"Nothing but what I was born with" she replied.

A moment passed. Two, then three. Finally he spoke again.

"Oh, what the hell."

The woman, having been given the go-ahead, proceeded to remove every stitch of clothing she had on. You could feel the silence descend on the entire casino floor.

Finally, when she had reached the state of full nakedness, she leaned over the table, chips in hand, and contemplated the layout.

All eyes fell on her... Well, you know where.

She finally selected a number by placing the chips on the appropriate number.

"Betting is closed!" the manager said before anyone else could place a bet, not that anyone at the table was planning to.

All eyes fell on the croupier, who looked confused, momentarily unaware of why everyone was staring at him until he suddenly remembered it was his job to spin the wheel. He started the wheel, then released the ball. The ball zipped around the bowl, bouncing from slot to slot (to slot) until it finally settled into one of the slots.

"Woo Hoo!" the woman yelled, jumping up and down (female parts jiggling with her). "I won! I won! I won!"

The croupier shook off his daze and began to count out 175 black $100 chips, which was an amazing feat of concentration considering the woman (and her parts) were bouncing the entire time, but he accomplished the task quickly and accurately, then slide the chips across the table next to her original $500 bet.

The woman then gathered her chips, blew everyone a kiss, then gathered her clothing and was escorted by a casino security guard to the cashier's cage. It was there, while the cashier counted out $18,000, that she finally began to redress (much to our disappointment), collected her money, and after blowing everyone kisses again headed out of the casino (still under escort), presumably to her car.

It wasn't until she had vanished from sight that anyone spoke or gaming resumed.

"That was unusual" the manager commented.

"I'll say" croupier confirmed.

"I can't wait to start telling this story" the manager said. "By the way, what number did she bet on?"

The croupier suddenly looked somewhat nervous.

"I thought you were watching that." 

Now that I told a nudity story, I need to tell a gun story. Since the name of this blog entry is "Guns and nudity (part 3)," if I don't tell a gun story I would only be able to call this blog entry "and Nudity (part 3)," which wouldn't make as much sense.

I don't hunt.
I realize that in our culture there was, at one time, a need to hunt in order to provide food for one's family. But that was before grocery stores.

I don't see hunting as a sport. Maybe I should say that I don't see hunting as "sporting."

How many points do the deer get?

The dictionary definition of sporting, as in a sporting chance is defined as "an even or fair opportunity for a favorable outcome in an enterprise, as winning in a game of chance or in any kind of contest." When the deer are armed, and a few hunter's heads are mounted on the wall of Bambi's den, then we will call hunting a sport.

		Speaking of Bambi, ever heard about Hunting for Bambi? The premise is that (male) hunters pay $5000-10,000 for the privilege of hunting "Bambis" (semi-naked women wearing nothing but a thong and tennis shoes) in the deserts of Las Vegas by picking them off with paintballs powerful enough to draw blood. The Bambis are paid $2,500 if they avoid getting hit and $1,000 even if they do get hit. But I digress

Theodore J. Barnes

This story was told to me by my Uncle Theo.

The story takes place when My Uncle was courting Aunt Helen, which means it took place somewhere between 1953 (when Uncle Theo returned from Korea) and 1957 (when he finally married Aunt Helen).

Theo and his friend, Wilbur, decided to do a little hunting up around Moose Lake. There was talk of a grizzly around there, and neither of them had ever shot a bear.

Uncle Theo and Wilbur asked their girlfriends/fiancées if they wanted to spend a weekend hunting bear, and the agreed

Being country girls, they actually did want to go hunting.

The drove up to the cabin on Moose lake, and spent the evening doing redneck stuff - like drinking beer and telling stories. It got late, so everyone decided to go to bed.

There own bed. This was the 1950s, people didn't do immoral stuff back then.

They all got up at the crack of dawn (and dawn cracks early in the mountains). Uncle Theo and Wilbur were up and dressed first, which meant they had to start the fire in the stove, and make the coffee. Later, when Aunt Helen and Lorraine emerged from there rooms, they cooked breakfast.

Now, a lot of you are thinking that it was sexist for My Uncle and his friend to expect the women to cook. Keep in mind, this was the 1950s - that's the way it worked back then.

And if you ever tasted Uncle Theo's cooking, you would wanted Aunt Helen to do the cooking.

After breakfast was eaten, everyone went to put on there coats, hats, and other hunting apparel, and then everyone met out in front of the cabin. Uncle Theo and Wilbur were out first.

To this day, scientists are baffled as to why it always takes women longer to get ready.

Aunt Helen emerge after the boys. And the three of them waited on Lorraine.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally Lorraine emerged from the cabin, and Uncle Theo, Aunt Helen, and Wilbur gasped

Lorraine had come out of the cabin wearing only a pair of hunting boots, holding her 30-06 Winchester in her arms.

And a hunting hat. Aunt Helen remembers the plaid hunting hat with the big ear flaps.

Nobody spoke at first. Everyone was speechless. I mean, what do you say to a naked ladies with a 30-06 Winchester?

---

"You know, I can't think of nothing finer than a fine naked woman holding a gun. You know you're just all kinds of fine, don't you?"
~ Frankie Figs (Micheal Clark Duncan),
The Whole Nine Yards (2000)

---

"Lorraine!" Wilbur hollered. "Where are you clothes?"

A logical question.

"There in the cabin." She answered.

"Why aren't you wearing them?"

Also a good question.

"You said we were coming up here to hunt bare."

Aunt Helen mentioned at this point in the story that she now knew for sure that Lorraine was indeed a natural blond, because of.. well, you know, down there.

The carpet matched the curtains.

"She never had the sense the Good Lord gave a goose" my Aunt said. "She still doesn't."

When Aunt Helen said this, I realized that Lorraine in the story had to be Mrs. Breckenridge (and Wilbur was the late Mr. Breckenridge) which was something that I did not want to know.

And the reason I did not want to know this was because Mrs. Breckenridge taught Sunday School at the local church, and the one image that you do not want is one of your Sunday school teacher buck naked carrying a Winchester 30-06!

My Aunt said "I can't think of anyone dumber than Lorraine."

I can.

What about the Genius that gave her the 30-06 in the first place?

Guns and Nudity (part 2)

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Warning: This blog entry contains a light hearted discussion of nudity, a subject that many people find offensive. If you are offended by nudity, discussions of nudity, guns, or free speech, you may not want to continue reading.

However, if you like nudity, or at least discussions of nudity, or just want to find out what bizarre and off the wall things I have to say, then by all means continue reading.

---

In Guns and Nudity (Part 1)  I stated that I was mostly discussing nudity because nudity was more fun to discuss.

This may, or may not be true. After doing a bit of statistical research, however, I have discovered that guns may be more popular than nudity.

According to the data, the National Rifle Association (NRA) has a membership of 5,000,000. In contrast, the American Association for Nude Recreation (AANR) only has 50,000 members.

This means there is a 100:1 gun to naked ratio!

Simple Mathematics?

Now this ratio is somewhat off, because it does not take into account NRA members who are also card-carrying nudists (although I'm not sure you can really have card carrying nudists - where would they keep their wallets?). However, using some basic math... 

OK, maybe not so basic.

Using some advanced mathematics, we can make a reasonable estimate of how many nudist/gun nuts are out there.

Nation wide, we estimate about 786.

Kind of a scary thought, huh? What this means is (statistically) if you live in a city of half a million, an the average you would have 7861 gun enthusiasts and 78 nudist (one of which was packing a gun).

One of the advantages
of being a nudist gun-
enthusiast is that you
never have to bother
about getting a permit
to carry a concealed
weapon.

Now the numbers I came up with are estimates, based on a branch of mathematics called "statistics". Statistic is a fuzzy science, as the numbers can easily manipulated by omitting data that would give results contrary to the desires of the statistician.

The "wrong" hands

I have always wondered: Is Obama
deliberately lying to us, or does he
actually believe the crap he is saying? 

In the wrong hands, statistics can be used for sinister purposes, such as misleading millions of Americans into believing absolute untruths.  

Consider: Statistics from the White House indicate that the Affordable Care Act is not only popular, but working better than was originally expected.

Another indicator of the popularity of guns versus nudity is magazine subscriptions.

According to data from the Alliance for Audited Media, the most popular gun magazine is The American Rifleman #33 on the top 100 magazines (based on circulation) with 1.93 million readers. Playboy, the most popular nudity magazine (and the only one on the top 100 list) was #59 with 1.26 million readers (Although some may not be "readers" in the traditional sense).

And it gets worse:

#52, with 1.4 million readers, is Golf Magazine - which means more people would rather Golf than look at nudity.

And over 2,000,000 read TV Guide (#28) - which means more people would rather sit at home and watch TV than shhot guns or look at nudity.

Although many of the TV watchers are probable naked, or partially naked. I bet there are more nude TV watchers than nude gun shooters. 

And #18 is The Oprah Magazine.

Draw your own conclusion from this.

Now, this might not be conclusive evidence as to the popularity of puns as opposed to the popularity of nudity, but it does tend to indicate that people would rather look at guns than look at nudity.

However, this may not be entirely accurate as it only considers printed media and does not take into account electronic media.

I bet when Hugh Hefner dies,
nobody is going to say "He
has gone to a better place."

In 1995, Playboy's circulation was around 5 million. Now, twenty years later, it has declined by 75% and the reason for this is the World Wide Web. Because of the preponderance of porn on the Internet, many Playboy readers have declined to renew their subscriptions.

Why pay for it, when you can get it free.

In a previous blog entry entitled Where Are the Aliens? I hypothesized that online porn (specifically icky porn) was the reason we have not been contacted by the extraterrestrials.

Now it appears that it has adversely effected Hugh Hefner's empire.

Poor Mr. Hefner. After all he has dome for humanity.

Yeah, right. Poor Hef is just suffering, isn't he?

Actually, do you know what the most popular nudity magazine is?

You mean it's not Playboy?

If you stretch the definition a bit (OK, a lot) the most popular nudity magazine, # 8 of the top 100 magazines with just over 4 million readers, is National Geographic.

And if you don't believe NatGeo is a nudity magazine, you were never a pre-pubescent male.

Before we could get ahold of Playboy or Penthouse (or worse), there was NatGeo. Unless you where your dad hid his stash in the garage, you rarely saw a Playboy.

National Geographic was available in the library.

Seriously. Does nobody in Liechtenstein

ever get naked?

NatGeo was (and still is) noted for its photography, and as kids we (pre-pubescent males) looked forward to articles (and photos) about third-world countries in which the natives wore nothing, or at least nest to nothing. As kids, we waited eagerly for the next issue to arrive. Sometimes our waiting would be rewarded with another well researched photo-essay on a third world African, South American, or Indonesia country.

Usually it was something non-sexual, such as Dolphins of the Caribbean, Skiing in Liechtenstein, and Exploring the Solar System.

Unlike Playboy it was not a sure thing.

Oh, well. There is always next month.

And back issues.