Judging the Judgers
So Much Hate Alarms ‘The Lunks’
‘We don’t need your judgement or your jealousy’, Wally says
There are ‘lunks’ here at the gym, but we have to conceal our ‘shameful’ identity
And because we have to stay secretive, we don’t feel in a ‘safe place’ — even with the silent eye stares from grannies and grandpas who are trying to stay in shape — and alive. And I say, ‘God bless us — every one — even ‘the lunks,’ and even ‘Tiny Tim!’
I work out with Ricardo and how do you think my friend feels being castrated before the entire gym?
A sign reads for all to see: ‘Ricky is slamming his weights.’ Would you like a sign that shames you — with your ‘name’ for such a simple social faux pas? Like — ‘Mickey doesn’t wash his hands for thirty seconds’ or “Janey didn’t change her underwear this morning!”
In the gym, my friend Rickey goes by Biff Winchesterfield — and he won’t lose anyone’s number! My alias is Wilbur “Wally” Chapstick. Would anyone tag us as ‘lunks’ with such names of pedigree and distinction and white privilege?
A sign in the gym reads ‘everyone is welcome?’ Really?
Are ‘lunks’ not included in that absolute statement? Everyone means 100%. That’s a logical fallacy then. Oh, you didn’t think ‘lunks’ study rhetoric?
You have done a great job scaring away other people you deem ‘lunks’
‘Sign, sign, everywhere a sign — right?’ ‘For Whites Only.’ ‘Aryans Only.’ ‘No Long Haired Freaky People.’ “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.’ We get it. ‘Do this, don’t do that — don’t you read the sign?’ Is this still the 1960s? But the good thing is, Biff and I feel really good about bringing some top ‘closeted lunks’ to the gym.
I don’t drink from a gallon jug of water
I have to drink my whole milk in private in the locker room bathroom. Why should I be embarrassed by my thirst and need for healthy hydration?
I’m not sure why I need to drink my healthy nutrition in such shame and with the odor of someone else’s explosive bowel movement.
Not all lunks bang weights!
My ears are very susceptible to loud sounds. Biff — or my wife — helps me gently place the 300 pounds on my back. Are you just playing on stereotypes? Aren’t you prejudging me just based on my physique and sexual cis-gendered identity. How would Achilles feel here? Or Hercules? And we know the Ancient Greeks were sexually fluid right? And I say, Amen, brother and sisters, to our complex humanity!
We’re all bones in the grave!
Biff and I like to think we help ‘up the game’ of others
When I see a top soccer player — like Zizou from France — that wants me want to ‘up’ my play on the pitch. Reading F. Scott Fitzgerald makes me want to “up” my use of oxymorons and vivid imagery, but maybe you think ‘lunks’ are just ‘morons’ and not a-tuned to the nuances of language and word play.
In fact, when I’m not lifting and walking my 16-minute mile on the treadmill, I’m usually listening to fine works — like right now I’ve been listening to Daniel Defoe’s classic — and timely — The Journal of a Plague Year from 1722. He is not to be confused with William Dafoe — the brilliant American actor who was amazing as Jesus in Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ, btw.
Biff and I were quite upset the other day when someone reported us
That’s right! Someone reported us to the very sweet people behind the desk. This one, sweet girl, reluctantly pulled the ‘Lunk Alarm.’ Why? We merely pushed harder than before, and I grunted — just one ‘grunt’ — pushing the 350 weights for ten times. A PR — a personal record.
We fist pounded and gave each other a Mediterranean welcome on both cheeks and then — the blue alarm sounded. We were issued a ‘warning.’ Now I don’t fully trust my fellow gym mates. Who ratted us out? Was it over jealousy? Our friendship? People may find that sign funny — unless you happen to be labeled a “lunk.’
I don’t wear ‘lunk wear’ like half shirts that display my six pack — but what if I did, punk?
COVID has been bad for my belly with more craft IPAs than normal with the wife, even though we split. So now I wear shirts from Bar Harbor or Camden, Maine, where my wife and I vacation. My daughters bought me a workout ‘Stud Muffin’ shirt for Father’s Day at Five Below, and I wear it with pride!
I even wear my Bluetooth headphones as a headband to listen to Charles Dickens — and Q-Tip or Panic! At the Disco, sometimes. Would you label the dress and speech patterns of other stereotyped, historically maligned people in such fashion? Or are we just an easy target?
Don’t hate on ‘the lunks!’
We don’t like being called ‘lunkheads” anymore
‘Deadheads’ are fine with that name — I think — and I love my Jerry Garcia, man, but the name of our organization the International Association of Lunkittes, the IAL had been renamed the United Friends of Hardcore Athletes — the UFHA. The epithet ‘lunk’ ’is derogatory. It demeans so many of us — straight, lesbian, gay, queer, trans and, maybe even Republicans. I don’t know too many of them who I recognize as Jack Kemp Elephants, but you’ll have to ask them.
Think about all the other maligned and marginalized groups throughout history
How were they depicted on film and in books? Was Rocky a ‘lunk’ for chasing chickens and jumping rope and drinking raw eggs? Was the Karate Kid? Mohamed Ali?
Or the greatest linebacker of all time — Dick Butkus. And with a name like that — man — you needed to be a butt kicker, right? Like Johnny Cash naming a kid “Sue.’
What’s next, signs saying ‘Lunkheads Not Allowed.’ Will we need to use our own water fountains?
Just put yourself in my sneakers. They are only a 9 — or 8 and half on a bad day — and I know that surprises you — because of the ‘lunk’ stereotype of having very large, ape-like feet, but take a walk in my midget sneakers and you can feel my pain for being maligned as a physically superior human — like the Ancient Spartans. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to piss off those warriors!
‘Haters are gonna hate,’ sings Taylor Swift — OMG, I love her, but Lady Gaga — love her, too, sings ‘She was born this way.’
Why should I deny my identity as a UFHA — or ‘The Hardcore’ for short.
Excuse me while I ‘plank’ in private to further strengthen my ‘core.’ And I’m parched. Time for a whole milk break in the bathroom!
Sincerely Yours, in Friendship and Unity,
Wilbur ‘Wally’ Chapstick
E pluribus unum!
