I ran out at lunch and picked up a Speedo or two prior to jetting off to Cannes with ten or twelve starlets.
To those who carp that there's no way to look dignified in a Speedo, my friends, you're missing the point. A Speedo is about a display of your manliness, an ersatz assertion of your vital bodily fluids. It it your soul and essence, not necessarily your aesthetic. But what matter.
Up at the Speedo store on 41st Street, I ran into a variety of C-level executives using flag-emblazoned lycra to mold themselves into more perfect creatures. Here's one pic I took. Sure as shootin, that ain't Nina De Sesa.
