I Aspire for the Confidence of an Old Man in a Speedo
Sunday Funnies #6: Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say
Growing up, I was a big fan of the comics section of the Sunday newspaper, which we called ‘the funnies.’ This is an attempt to tap into that energy.One year when my kids were young, we visited an indoor water resort for the weekend. It was an all-inclusive place, in that once they had you there, they wanted to keep you enthralled until they’d bled you sufficiently. There were a couple of places to eat—I hesitate to call them restaurants—as well as a knock-off Starbucks, an arcade, and a chintzy interactive game that evoked Harry Potter; you practically needed to empty a Gringotts vault to pay for the wand and the wizardly garb. (The outfit was optional but what’s another twenty bucks if it makes your kids briefly happy and then they can stuff it into the back of their closet and forget all about it?)
The water park was the primary draw. It echoed with the trapped screams of previous guests, as though their souls were bound to the water slides for all of eternity.
Young children are exhausting. Mine. Yours. Especially yours. The only thing more tiring than hauling my own inner tube up eight flights of stairs is listening to the unending shrieks of someone else’s wild offspring. Maybe that makes me sound like a crotchety old man; we can sort it out once you get off my lawn.
The resort offered only one respite from the chaotic masses. Well, technically two. You could rent a private cabana and recline on chaise lounges while a hard-bodied staff of vaguely exotic origin served colorful drinks and fanned you with palm fronds. I assume that’s what happened. But since I’d already spent $100 enrolling my kids in the world’s crappiest Hogwarts, I had only the one option to escape the chaos: the lazy river.
I’ve reached the point of my life where I’m actually pretty content just floating. I will never go to a resort strictly to drift on that unhurried current, but once I’m there, I will spend probably 75% of my water time gently bobbing around like a majestic sea lion. In my wildest fantasies, I’d be reading while floating, but splashing children do not respect the sanctity of the river; I cannot willingly subject a book to such casual violence.
I was so arranged that fateful day and drifting in every sense. If not at peace, at least peace-adjacent. I came wandering around a bend, unaware that I was about to encounter a man who would unknowingly loom large in my memories to this day.
He stood at the river’s edge, hands on hips, a bronze god surveying his kingdom from behind a pair of mirrored aviators. He was lean and had the wrinkled tan of someone who retired to the sun belt. One foot raised, resting on the river’s concrete lip. Wispy strands of white hair aflutter on a faint breeze. Naked save the tiny sliver of red fabric veiling his private bits.
I didn’t mean to see. I didn’t want to see. But he stood with hips thrust forward—would it be too on-the-nose to call it peacocking?—and there was just no escaping it.
Yep. That’s a penis.
I drifted past, never more aware of just how slow the current was, awkwardly looking everywhere but at him. And then finally, mercifully, the river bent him out of view.
The river takes several minutes to complete a full circuit. The possibility that he might still be there never even entered my mind. But when I rounded the final bend, there he was, arranged as before. I gawked up at him, but I was beneath him in every sense of the word.
You know the scene in The Fellowship of the Ring where the group comes upon the ancient statues of the Kings of Men, and are dwarfed by their majesty, and can only look on in mute wonder? That’s what it felt like. He was more statue than man, his eyes trained on things I could not see.
As I ever-so-slowly drifted underneath the unblinking gaze of his silhouetted schlong a third time, my astonishment turned into outright awe. Even at my best, I’ve never had a fraction of this man’s quiet confidence. I wouldn’t have stood in his place fully clothed while dozens of strangers drifted past, much less only wearing a bit of spandex. Where does such courage come from?
I never got to ask him. Like a ritualistic ceremony, he vanished after three revolutions, sent back to Ancient Greece from whence he came. Or his cabana was ready.
It’s been ten years and I’ve never forgotten him. Is it weird that my brain held onto this five minutes, prioritizing it over something to do with my wife or my children? Probably. Then again, encountering the unexpected leaves a mark. In this case, it happens to be penis-shaped.
As you age, you tend to care less about what other people think. We’re all just making it up as we go. Even so, I don’t know if I will ever possess such brazen confidence. Some men are just cut from a different cloth.
Bright red spandex, specifically.
Previous editions of the funnies.
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Notes, With Additional Commentary
When someone asks why Gen X/Xennials are the way we are.
To this day, The Fly is one of the most disturbing movies I’ve ever seen. I saw it when I was 10 or so, which makes it all the worse.
Because I was a dumb kid, I watched it multiple times. The 80s really were a different time.
Sticking with the bra-on-the-head theme.
It cracks me up that RDJ was a playboy bully in Weird Science, and the movie ends with him willingly wearing a woman’s bra on his head. Wacky fun.
Yoda bringing the truth.
As all writers know, the hardest part isn’t actually writing. It’s getting someone to read what you’ve written. Having readers is a privilege.
Btw, thanks for reading. 🤓
Skeleton Crew is a delight. I especially love how it’s treating Jedi.
Seriously though: It makes so much sense that kids in Star Wars would pretend to be Jedi. I’ve been doing it for years! One of the great additions to lore.
This one isn’t exactly funny, but the responses cracked me up.
Two people actually gave me crap for having Excel open! I’m just trying to feed these kids, bro.
I could’ve just as easily picked The Beastmaster or Dragonslayer for this. The 80s offered a cornucopia of such delights.
The Ice Pirates is a fever dream blend of Star Wars, Mad Max, Back to the Future, and Alien. If that sounds awful—you’re probably right. It’s been at least 30 years since I’ve seen it, so I can’t really vouch for it. On the other hand, there’s a scene where our heroes are castrated via conveyer belt. I think that speaks for itself.
That’s it for this edition of the Sunday funnies! Have a great week.
"Up a lazy river, by the old mill run/A lazy, lazy river in the noonday sun..."
Any mention of "lazy river" to me automatically makes me think of that tune.
Ice Pirates, Dragonslayer, BeastMaster. Classic movies that I will still watch!!! Ahhhh but a man in a speedo…oh boy where else are you gonna look? Kudos for the peaCOCK dude. Old men, huge bellies and a speedo abound on cruise ships. It’s traumatizing! Lucky for me a little alcohol softens my judgment. lol lol