by Kent Ballard
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but our esteemed blogger Zach is actually a pretty bright fellow. Recently he gave me an idea that’s worth pondering and perhaps implementing. I was complaining about all the tourists who come to my county for two weeks out of the year to see the brilliant fall foliage and to attend the county-wide festivals each little burg has during this time. If you are a local, if you actually live where people visit, you soon learn that all tourists are major pains in the ass and most consist of folks whom even Wal-Mart wouldn’t allow in their doors.
I was complaining about this at some length with Zach and he more or less said, “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”
I do not have a machine which makes cotton candy. I don’t sell deep fried watermelon on a stick. I don’t have suppliers who sell me eight hundred pounds of cheap, worthless socks made by slave labor in Somolia or genuine Americana “antiques” which were made last summer in China. These are pretty much what all the booths and yard sales in our festival sell and I want no part of it.
Zach said to simply charge the rubes a few bucks to swim in my pond. I have 71 acres of forest in which I live and two ponds, one rather large. I dismissed his idea originally, but thought about it later…
The last time I checked, the state of Indiana had more nudist colonies per capita than any other state in the union. Nobody seems to know why, but we do. Why just charge people to swim? Why not put up a couple of dozen cheap cabins, throw up an eight foot wooden fence around my acreage, hire some security, and start my own nudist camp?
The initial cost of starting up such a colony would be pretty high, but have you ever checked what they charge families for two weeks to a month to relax in the nude at a skin camp? It’s appalling. A king’s ransom. But people line up to cheerfully pay every year. Established nudist resorts rake in more money than Vegas. Money interests me.
Let’s see…I already have the land. My home is so remote there is a plaque along my half-mile long driveway commemorating this as the place where dark was invented. It’s nothing but deep valleys, high ridges, ravines, and I think if you could flatten it all out it would equal Vermont in size. It’s mostly hardwood forest and, I think, rather pretty country. We have deer, many of them. We have huge barred owls that call to each other at night. We have coyotes who form choirs to serenade folks in the wee hours, driving every pet dog into howling fits for miles around. Off and on, we have bigfoot though I might want to leave that off the advertisements.
I’d need a tall wooden fence around the entire property, and probably a very wicked inner fence of razor wire to keep out the curious riff-raff. And I would need a few roving perimeter guards. I would hire the bigfoot, as they would be champs at this, but they’re not trustworthy when it comes to punching a time clock. So, instead, I would hire rural women to be the guards at my colony. I know many country women who could score “expert sniper” on any military gun range and most of them are quite attractive.
They also take no crap from anybody. Yes, rural women would be perfect perimeter guards.
I could buy a score or two of those prefabricated tiny houses or largish yard tool barns and convert them into rustic cabins lit by kerosene lamps. A few porta-potties scattered about would take care of those needs, and I could put small wash basins in the cabins. I’d have to build a shower house, but there would be no need to build a laundry. Those who wished to could bring their own camping gear and enjoy all this beautiful scenery and nakedness outdoors if they chose to.
We’d have nightly cookouts, card games, bingo, swimming contests, all the usual campground activities. I’d buy a few yards of cheap ribbon and hammer out some large medals for the Ms. & Mr. Nudist Camp contestants every month. It’d cost a ton to get everything set up, time before word got around to the nudists themselves (which means advertising), but once that was done and the colony established, I would be filthy, stinking rich.
I’d drive a custom-made Jeep. I’d hire people to cut my winter’s firewood. Hell, I could afford a new tractor! (Don’t scoff. The big ones run close to a quarter-million dollars. Google them if you think I’m kidding.) Best of all, I could make lots of nice, new, naked friends.
In rural Indiana the most savage enemies I would have would be the fine church-going people. They would protest. They would organize. They’d picket my front gate. I’m nowhere near a school or other public facility and I suppose a lengthy court battle might beat them, but I have friends in low places and it would be both cheaper and faster to identify the church ringleaders and grease a few of their palms. Failing that, a little detective work to get photos of everybody who’s screwing everybody else in their congregations would calm them down pronto.
So I’m now doing cost-study analyses and pricing lumber. Also checking on the cost of Viagra by the case. If I went full-tilt boogie and invested everything I have (and what I could borrow), I could pull this off. The critical point would happen when I bring this plan up with my lovely wife. Foolishly, I taught her how to shoot years ago and she’s quite good at it. As a rule she’s kind-hearted and gentle, but I cannot outrun a hail of 9 millimeter bullets so this would take great planning and preparation. She’s interested in money too, and that would help.
So…someday when you are perusing your favorite porn site, should you find an advertisement for Indiana’s newest nudist colony, contact me at the provided web address and I’ll send you brochures, maps, rates, and everything you need to know. Then plan your summer vacation here. And pack very lightly.
I may even treat you to shameful, horrible stories about Zach while grilling hamburgers, some of which would even be true. But for so kindly giving me the idea of how to become a rustic, backwoods Hugh Hefner or Larry Flynt, I’ll alter the names and dates which should give him a chance at explaining all this to his beloved Sue. If that doesn’t work I’ll send her a season pass.
You will have the vacation of a lifetime. You’ll broaden your horizons and eventually relax and embrace a tolerance of alterative lifestyles. Besides, it simply feels good to run around naked. Life is too short for Puritan prudishness. Try it and you will be surprised at how quickly you take to this refreshing and wholesome (by Indiana standards) lifestyle. You’ll get a killer tan too.
But we ask you. Please….no peeing in the pond.
You can’t get a suit of armor and a rubber chicken just like that. You have to plan ahead. Michael Palin
Zach told us this would be a comedy piece and I wake up to a business article and nudist ad? My empty suitcases awaits your new resort! I’ve always said, “if there’s one place I want to be it’s at a nudist resort with folks that Wal-Mart don’t want…”
Well, nudist colonies are like a box of chocolates–you never know what you’re going to get. My friend Connor has already applied for the job of lifeguard and I wouldn’t allow him within five miles of the place lest he becomes over-enthusiastic at saving nude women swimming and they call the State Police.
I’m having trouble finding security guards too. A couple of women thought I was coming on to them, I discovered one closet lesbian who offered to work for free, and a third threatened to shoot me in her kitchen. A hasty retreat followed. I blame this all, of course, on President Obama and his disregard for the small businessman.
I’m not sure whether to be highly offended or pleasantly titillated by this piece. Two years ago, I was one of the riff-raff visiting the various villes during the Covered Bridge festival. At the time, the lovely Mrs. Ballard offered to allow us to set up our motorhome on the Ballard Estate. Had I known that plans were afoot to establish a nudist camp on the selfsame property, I would have leapt at the offer. My only concern about this is the fact that the sight of me sans clothing would be enough of a shock to send most normal folks running screaming for the exits. On second thought, perhaps that would solve the security problem. Kent could hire me to simply hike around the perimeter of the camp and it would guarantee that curious rubberneckers would remain at bay.
Dave, do you own a pair of stilts? How about a bigfoot costume? I could have you wander around the outer perimeter to scare away kids, but wouldn’t dare do it since deer hunting season is almost upon us. Some gin-soaked hunter might think your head would look good on his living room wall. Worse, you could run into a real bigfoot–a female one–and I fear that would pretty much ruin your trip.
Whether it’s from a taxidermist or an amorous Sasquatch, either way I’d hate to see you get stuffed and mounted.
There have been a few folks who have wanted my head on a plate but never on their walls. As far as Sasquatch is concerned, copulation with a female of the species might be an experience worthy of an article in the New York Times, if I survived.
Funny and refreshing beginning to another week lived within the confines of clothing and social rules.
This specific posting, “NAKED IN HOOSIERLAND | Zachary Klein” was terrific.
I’m making out a reproduce to clearly show my close friends.
Thanks,Lynda
Dear Kathleen, Heather, & Lynda:
I’m currently negotiating buying fencing for the property. I’m told it will require roughly 800,000 board feet, or enough to build a moderate-sized suburb. I’m also in talks with zoning commissioner, plumbers, carpenters, the local sheriff, fire marshal, and at least one nursing home is threatening to sue me if I don’t design the colony to be “geriatric friendly.”
Therefore, before I commit all this money to lumber, sewer pipes, and bribes I think a test-run is in order. Would you be willing to come here, leave your clothing in the big box by the gate, and enjoy the casualness of the nudist lifestyle free of charge for a couple of weeks? Think of it as a merry experiment to see what a fledgling business needs in the real world. While Zach gave me the idea, he was rather short on details.
I shudder to call my insurance agent.
Yup.
Well now, Kent, I’m a great admirer of the American Entrepreneur, but feel it’s my duty to tell you about nudity. If it were to catch on, what would shows like Project Runway do? Oh, I know! The designers could design body art, painting things like the Eiffel Tower in conspicuous spots. You could have a contest every month for best camouflage of unsightly sights. A second career in selling cootie-killers to spray on chairs might bring in a satisfying amount of money which you and your lovely wife so admire. You’d do away with such embarrassments as toilet paper sticking to your shoe, because there will be no shoes. Yes, I can see the possibilities for many ways to make money off of this. You’ll need someone to keep away the camp-peeking creeps, and I feel I’m the right person for the job. I mean, only the strongest pervert could stand the sight of an 87 year old naked body. Good thing my mama already done went to heaven. She’d skin me alive for making such suggestions. And if you think an 87 year old looks bad naked, just imagine one without skin!
Rofl naked!
Well, you make a point, Louise. Creeping through the forest to peek through the colony’s fence only to be confronted by a stark naked 87 year-young lady toting a shotgun should be enough to send even the most determined Peeping Tom running away in shock and confusion.
However I’m concerned about you tramping up and down these steep hills all day long weighed down by a belt containing your pepper spray, handcuffs, Tazer, and 12 gauge Winchester. (Non-lethal shells only. I figure rock salt ought to do.)
Instead, you could be my receptionist-bookkeeper. I’d set you up a nice office in a shady grove and you could welcome guests, assign them cabins, and cook the…I mean keep the books for me. Also, should any spectacularly well-developed young ladies show up alone it’d be your job to radio me at once so I could help them find their cabins and unload all the luggage they won’t be bringing. Nothing but the best for my guests!
I need to install an electrical fence and skip over the gates for them to still be used. is this possible and how do i do it?.
Hmm. Barrier, are you talking about a nudist colony or a zombie apocalypse fortification?
If it’s the former, just ring the buzzer and someone will let you in at the gate. It’s that simple.
If it’s the latter, for heaven’s sake don’t do what one survivalist did a few miles from my home. He rigged electrified barbed wire atop his tall wooden fence and foolishly went out to inspect everything with the power system turned on. Not being able to get back in he removed a cattle rope from his truck, climbed a tree and tied it to a branch, and attempted to swing Tarzan-style over his wall.
He missed.
His wife found him sometime later, wrapped from head to toe in electrified barbed wire just inside the fence, jerking spasmodically every five seconds when the control box sent another jolt through. Apparently she’d had enough of his survivalist antics and left him there until several hours later when she called the power company to shut the system off and cut him free.
He’s okay now, save for some strange scars and the fact that he forgot how do do simple mathematics and is color-blind.
In your case I would recommend a powerful catapult or trebuchet to fling you over the walls. A tennis net might be rigged to catch you, but I would prefer a stack of mattresses. Aim carefully.
Kathleen, please accept my apologies, but it’s getting below freezing at nights here. A person could stay alive naked if only they worked hard 24 hours a day.. You could attempt this and probably succeed for a maximum of two, perhaps three days. Then you would die of exhaustion. This is no way to enjoy a vacation.
However, my invitation to “test run” Kent’s Nudist Paradise still stands. You may come in the spring when all the wildwood flowers are blooming and the place looks like the Garden Of Eden. Or, if you prefer a winter expedition, wull, I ‘spose you could visit the place and I could drive you around in my truck with the heater on full blast. My conscious could not allow you to stay naked outside in these temps. Therefore, if you agree to run around nude, you will not have to camp but can stay in our guest bedroom. Nudity will still be required, but you will have the comfort of a warm house and interesting conversation. Don’t fret. We’ll cook your lunch and dinner. If I’m not killed in the meantime.
Kent