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You’ve seen the guy. At least 70 years old, with hardly any hair, as gray as a stormy Seattle sky. Rocking his stringy orange thong on the beach for everyone to see.
You wonder if he’s joking with everybody or serious. Did he wake up and decide he wanted to freak out everyone on the beach with his unsightly body not covered up except the very small section, three inches or so, between his legs? Or did he wake up and decide he looked stylish and attractive?
Why are there so many people like this creepy old man in the thong on the beach? It seems to be a breeding ground for all sorts of people you don’t see in everyday life.
How about that guy who comes on the beach around 6 pm with his metal detector waving it across the sand hoping to find millions in coins so he doesn’t have to do anything the rest of his life? He’s literally hunting for riches in public. How uncouth. And he never talks with anyone. Not a socialite. Maybe that’s why he has to hunt for money because he hasn’t made friends his whole life.
And how about that high school punk who shakes his towel in the wind so all the sand hits you in the face, arms, and back so you have to get up and rinse off in the ocean when you had planned to lie in the sun and relax. So inconsiderate.
The beach blows.
And how about the fat family? Dad’s fat. Mom’s fat. Little Agustus is fat. Little Tabatha is fat. They sit there eating Doritos and hot dogs and pizza by the boxes.
Then they get up all at once to go for a rinse in the water.
Everybody turns away.
Then there’s the lifeguard who has an excessive amount of uber-white suntan lotion on his nose. There’s always a teenage girl standing in front of the lifeguard chair flirting with White Nose pretending she just wants to be his friend.
Then there’s Sportface. He’s all covered up, blocking his belly from being a beach bummer for everyone, with some unimpressive t-shirt that seems inappropriate for a man his age to be wearing.
He sits there for eight minutes then decides he’s hungry. So leaves the beach and heads to get four funnel cakes.
“That dude’s fatter than every one of us,” says Father Fat. “Good thing he didn’t take his shirt off. That would have been just too disgusting to look at.”
Then Father Fat heads up to the boardwalk and gets in line behind Sportface, dead set on getting five funnel cakes as a display of one-upmanship against Sportface.
“I ordered the last of the funnel cakes,” says Sportface. “That means you, Fat Daddy, need to put on a shirt and stop scaring everybody off the beach.”
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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