In Comic, Robert G. Lee turns being “geezer-adjacent” into an hour of clean, clever fun—mapping old age like a failing car (leaks, bad alignment, dim headlights), begging a Gen-Z “floater” to help him pay with the wallet on his phone, and roasting our emoji-obsessed era where SATs might be graded in smileys. He euphemizes a very personal medical scare as an “elbow” saga (camera, ultrasound, stirrups—violated!), admits he’s become a sentimental softie who ugly-cries thanking a restaurant for hiring a special-needs hostess, and hosts an audience gripe session where chronic offenders are playfully “smote” (bad drivers to the highway’s trapdoor; line-cutters to pillars of salt). Marriage after 42 years supplies endless ammo: drowning in pillows, losing his “Gru” backside, learning to repress the first sarcastic comeback, and staging Broadway-level appetizer wars that explain why men barbecue. Lee caps it with a turbo-charged life-in-three-minutes medley, a pirate-shanty of Romans 7 for church curmudgeons, and a “Woke Wizard of Oz” closer—then lands on gratitude for small mercies, big blessings, and a planet “suspended by nothing.” Clean, nimble, and relentlessly quotable, Comic proves a veteran can still crush with craft, heart, and a perfectly timed “No, the other way.”