I’m not a Republican or a Democrat. I don’t take an overwhelming amount of classes and I watch the Food Network religiously. I found my bed on Craig’s List and my Nike Dunks on eBay. I base my three main meals of the day around the free samples available at Whole Foods, use my right turn signal when turning, and being naked is the best feeling I can think of.

I feel that clothes are a prison, my sculpted body is the inmate, and my belt is the hooded executioner.

During the day, I get frustrated. My heart rate increases, my palms end up clammy, and my hair becomes frazzled. But, upon retuning home, I take showers. I sing out loud, talk to myself, and maintain an ear-to-ear smile on my face all while being naked.

I tell people about my developing infatuation and they tell me, “Well if you love it so much, strip down right now!” But I don’t. Not because I’m embarrassed or self-conscious, but because they wouldn’t be able to handle it. They aren’t ready for it. They aren’t worthy.

If heaven exists, I believe I speak for the majority when I say that having the lord greet you with a smile at the pearly gates would be unbelievable. Beholding my body in its purist form is a similar experience.

I cook meals while I’m naked. When you taste my grilled cheese sandwich and filet mignon steak, you’ll know it was prepared in the nude. If I were clothed, the bread would be burnt and the steak would be soggy. Nobody likes soggy steak.

I pay attention to sports. I love my home team and I have an autographed jersey from my favorite player. I’ve even shaken his hand. I’ve watched every sweet pass, incredible steal, and untouchable lay-up of his entire career completely naked. He signed my jersey, “Keep on keepin’ on, man!” But I won’t. Instead, I think I’ll keep on keepin’ off, man.

If mankind didn’t want to be naked all the time, then why was the thermostat invented? In the summer, it’s warm. Clothes make you hot. But you know what’s cool and hot at the same time? Me. Naked. During the winter, it’s far too cold to be bare-bottomed in the open, so naturally I am forced to move my one-man nudist colony indoors to where it is warm because of the thermostat. Thanks, mankind.

I drive naked. If you ever get the feeling that while you’re driving your car has suddenly become the center of the universe causing all other drivers to fix their attention on you, you have no idea. I’ve never picked up a hitchhiker but I wonder if I do, who will be more afraid to ride with whom?

A friend of mine recently said to me, “Oh my gosh, I got NO sleep last night. I had that horrible nightmare that I was waltzing down the median of the freeway butt-naked! You know what I mean?” I didn’t say “yes” or “no.” I simply jotted it down in my journal of “must do’s.”