Respect the Fish, Man

As a little boy growing up in West Texas, I always enjoyed the summer days when my brother and I would walk the six or seven blocks to our local public swimming pool (which, of all things, was called “The Swimming Hole” ... and yes, that's actually a picture of it) to join dozens (it seemed like hundreds!) of other kids in the pool. As one of the youngest, I always stayed and played in the shallow end while my brother dove off the high dive. Not because I wasn’t able to swim (I was alright at it), but because I didn’t want to get caught up in the rough-housing of the older and bigger kids. I just wanted to put my goggles on and go under the surface … so I could look at everybody else underwater.

At the age of twelve, my mother worked a massive amount of overtime so that she could dig a pool in the family’s backyard … something that, in retrospect, probably put the family well into debt. I don’t think she particularly cared. I sure didn’t. We had a pool!

When you take an imaginative twelve year old boy and give him a pair of goggles and sixteen thousand gallons of water on a hot summer’s day … well, so long as he didn’t drown, you had a full-time babysitter. I was always a bit of a loner … I didn’t need friends my age to play with … I had a pool!

Ask anybody who was once a young boy who put on the goggles, went underwater and pushed off the side of the pool … cutting a path gracefully in the water … and they will tell you one thing: Aquaman is pretty cool!

Those of you who read or follow what is going on in comic books these days knows that Aquaman is going through something of a popularity resurgence thanks to Geoff Johns, who made Green Lantern and the Flash interesting in recent years. Those of you who do not follow comic books still know who Aquaman is though. He’s one of the most popular and well-recognized superheroes in history. Unfortunately, for the past couple of decades, he’s been something of a joke.

We can thank Saturday morning cartoons in the ‘70s and ‘80s for that. Why, in the ‘60s Aquaman had one of the best action cartoons around … following in the footsteps of The New Adventures of Superman and then joining the world’s greatest and most popular superhero in The Superman-Aquaman Hour of Adventure. But the ‘70s rolled in and in 1973 there was a new take on Aquaman … as one of the Superfriends!

For the next dozen years Aquaman shared his adventures with Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and (in later years) a number of other Justice League of America superheroes. Thanks to some unimaginative writing and to the show’s focus on being child-friendly, Aquaman got the short-end of the stick. Unless an adventure took our heroes underwater, Aquaman was stuck riding shotgun in Wonder Woman’s invisible jet and standing around asking things like, “What do we do now, Batman?”

But as much as we might joke about a hero who’s biggest contribution to saving the world is often “talking to fish,” I think we all identify with Aquaman. I think we laugh because we relate to him. Aquaman may be the King of Atlantis, but on the surface, he’s just like us. Think about it: here is a hero with a strong sense of right and wrong and with abilities that are very specific, yet very fantastic. He’s not as smart as Batman, can’t fly like Superman and isn’t as strong as Wonder Woman … heck, even Robin the Boy Wonder has better gadgets in his belt … yet in his element, he is something special! He’s just along for the adventure … just like you and I in this world … and waiting for the opportunity to contribute. On top of all of that ... he has a family ... a wife and (for a time) a son ... not something touched on by his other Super Friends.

He is the ultimate underdog among superheroes … and that’s what makes him more human and more relatable than the rest of his Super Friends. He has the doubts and insecurities that you and I have … but he also has an amazing talent and skill ready for display. He rides a giant seahorse, for crying out loud!

So laugh at Aquaman! He can take it. Make him the butt of your jokes. That’s okay. But next time you’re in a body of water, take a deep breath and go under … push off and glide through the waves … and I promise, when you come up for air you’ll remember … Aquaman is pretty cool!

Justice League of Comedy at UC Lounge NYC

Friday, December 30, 2011 from 8:00 PM - 10:00 PM

NATIONALLY TOURING JUSTICE LEAGUE OF COMEDY BRING 'HEROES OF HUMOR TOUR' TO UC LOUNGE ON FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30

King Rich and Kyle Davis, collectively known as the Justice League of Comedy will perform a special "New Years Eve Eve" show at UC Lounge (87 Ludlow Street, NYC), December 30 at 8:00PM. General admission tickets are available for only $10.


The Justice League of Comedy has spent the past two years touring clubs large and small, from high profile comedy clubs to one-nighters in seedy biker bars where they barely escaped with their lives. With nothing but desire, an alarming sense of truth in laughter and a Nissan Sentra, they have hit all four corners of the continental United States ("Well, not really, we haven't been to Maine yet.") performing for enthusiastic and, on occasion, indifferent audiences on their 'Heroes of Humor' tour. They truly believe they are saving the world, one laugh at a time.

Road Trip of Self-Discovery

He wasn’t asleep, but he sure wasn’t awake either. His arms were crossed with each hand tucked tightly into the opposite armpit. He knew he must look a damn fool … but he was chilly and hadn’t had hardly any sleep the night before. He also knew he would have to take over the driving soon, his companion having driven the past seven or eight hours. He cursed himself for not being able to sleep in the car. At least then he would be a little rested.

The sun hovered just above the horizon in front of him. Had it moved in the past few hours? He didn’t know. It sure hadn’t seemed to. The radio played a sad top-40 hit and, in the state between sleep and awake, he was sure that this same song had been playing for the past hour or so. He felt a little numb. And as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering …

He used to enjoy these trips. They were trips home. To his loved one. This one, however, was misery. Sure, it was still a trip home … but home to what? “Well, at least it will be nice to spend a night in my own bed,” he thought to himself … until it dawned on him that his bed would be empty when he got there.

“Jesus,” he thought, “I’ve got to clear my head. I can’t go through life feeling this depressed each and every passing moment. For God’s sake, somebody throw a pie!”

He reached over to the cup holder to take a sip of the coffee he had bought at the gas station an hour before. It was cool now. Gross. He then searched his pockets for his lighter and lit a cigarette. “How many of these damn things have I smoked this trip?” He looked in the pack and counted. There were thirteen cigarettes still in there. Oh yeah, and an empty pack on the floorboard. Twenty-seven cigarettes in around sixteen hours. “Oh my throat is gonna be a mess when I get home,” he mused. “If I get home. How much further now?” He looked over at the GPS and its arrival time … still nearly six hours away.

“God dammit.”

The wind blew a loud whistle through the crack of his window. He didn’t want to open it any more because it was well below freezing out but he couldn’t shut it because, well, he wasn’t about to put his cigarette out. Not yet. So with the cold wind blowing directly into his hairline and the sound of rushing air drowning out that stupid damn song on the radio, he decided to try to wake himself up and concentrate on the task at hand and not the events that had left him alone and feeling worthless.

In his mind the sound of the wind slowly transformed to the sound of applause from last night’s audience. “Why can’t every moment be like that?” Somehow or another he had transformed himself the night before. Somehow or another the weight of the world was lifted when he hit that stage. He smiled as he thought of the autographs he had signed afterwards, the hands he had shaken and, most of all, the group of women who clamored around him after the show. “How many shots did they buy me last night? And how am I still functioning?”

Last night he was a rock star! Drinking heavily (or rather slurping … “Jell-o shots are stupid,” he thought) and dancing (dancing, for crying out loud!) with a group of beautiful women. One had pulled him into the bathroom and they made out for a while … but when the time came to consummate the filthy event, he just couldn’t do it. He was disappointed with himself for having let it even begin. “Hell, I’ve never been one to screw a perfect stranger in the bathroom … even on my best day. Then again, who am I being faithful to?”

The last half-hour of the previous night’s frivolity had been spent with him deflecting their advances and desires to be taken back to his hotel room. If it had been fifteen years earlier, who knows what debauchery he would have indulged. He questioned whether it was a case of him not being in an emotional position to take advantage of the situation or whether he was just getting old. “Twenty-five year old me would have at least taken the blow job.”

Or maybe he had just developed a moral compass? Nah.

Emotions are a funny thing. Somehow he had lost himself, lost his confidence, lost his desire … and he couldn’t quite understand why. Or how. Most of all he was angry with himself … for having blown it with her and for not getting it through his thick head that she was the one who had blown it. He deserved better and he knew it … he just couldn’t convince himself of that fact. Not totally.

“I thought I was over this already.”

He flicked his cigarette butt out the window and rolled it up. “My God, that same stupid song is still on the radio!” In the quiet he started to analyze his life and his character, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he was worthy of love and happiness … even if she had thought otherwise. He had done some great things, he had done some selfish things, he had given and he had taken … and not always in the same ratio. He was quiet and aloof yet could be the life of the party when called upon. He was a jumble of both positive and negative character traits. He also suspected that he felt everything a little more strongly than most people … love, hate, joy and regret … and that maybe was his weakness.

Then again, perhaps that is what made him human. Perhaps that is what made him relatable on a stage. Perhaps he was just like everybody else … even if at this moment he wallowed in self-pity … because sometimes everybody does the same.

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live.”

Perhaps he wouldn’t ever get to share that vow with the one he loved … but there in the passenger seat of a filthy Nissan flying down the highway in Virginia, he made that vow to the stage. Perhaps the reason he was so comfortable on the stage is because that’s the one place where he could share truth, his truth … and show that his weakness was no different than anybody else’s. He wouldn’t wallow in his self-pity … he would share it and invite others to laugh at it … and in time, it would go away. It will go away.

There were people more valuable and more important all over this planet … “but none of them are me … and a lot of them would be damn lucky to be with me.”