“Having fame is like hang gliding naked over the Grand Canyon”—Robin Williams.

Have you ever yearned for fame and fortune in your own disgusting, roach-infested, little corner of the world?

Have you ever wanted to know the meaning of success, the feeling of being released from a life of boredom and strife?

Have you ever wished to be recognized by the average Joe or Jolene on the street for something you said or did or wrote?

Well, stop yearning, wanting and wishing (you’ll get a hernia). Look no further. Success is just around the corner…if you’re willing to get naked.

Now, some of you might have been there, and you probably view it like today’s guest speaker. Fame can be a nasty business—no privacy, you don’t know who your real friends are, everybody always tells how wonderful you are and then tells you how you can stay that way or what you should do next to become more wonderful; when people see you anywhere, anytime, they want you to rehash what you’re famous for and if you don’t rehash it, they will do it themselves.

Others have never been known for anything. They think being famous would be the best thing that could happen. They think popularity is the ultimate drug. Although, I see how it could work as an aphrodisiac. Consider this simple exchange:

“Hey, aren’t you (insert name and incident or situation that makes one famous).”

“Why, yes. That is me.”

“Can I see you naked?”

This whole fame thing does seem to operate around nudity. (The guest speaker even mentioned it.) Think about it. A lot of actors and actresses get nude photos taken of themselves while trying to make it big. Then, when they get famous 10 years later, everybody wants to see them naked again because most of us didn’t catch it the first time around. Now, either the old naked pictures or the new ones will do. The general public isn’t very particular about its nudity.

So apparently you have to get naked to get famous. Now, how could the average NIU student possibly procure fame through naked methods? Bimbos of the Week don’t count. Let’s keep the nudity on-campus. (Geez, that sounds like a slogan for some sort of cause.)

If you’re a guy, why don’t you run naked through a meeting of the Feminist Front? You might end up dead, but I guarantee you’ll always be remembered.

If you’re a girl, run naked through the tuba section of the Huskie Marching Band during a football game halftime show. I guess it might not make you famous, but I know the guys playing the tubas would really appreciate it.

OK, so neither of these ideas sound too great, but you don’t get famous over night.

I once wanted to be famous and I thought writing a column in the newspaper would get me there, but it hasn’t done anything for me. Oh, people still recognize me, but it usually goes something like this:

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who writes those newspaper columns?”

“Why, yes. That is me.”

“Your cheeks look much chubbier in person.”

“Why, thank you. I wasn’t aware my pants were falling down.”