I'VE got to jot a quick note to Gov. Ben Cayetano. It turns out we are in the same boat: we are both trying to lose weight. Dieters should not be afraid to jump ship
But I just realized we are in the wrong boat.
The kind of boat we should be in is the kind that those two fishermen were in who got stranded for 28 days at sea. Richard Enslow and David Summers were returning from fishing near Nihoa Island north of Kauai when their boat sank Dec. 9. Their emergency equipment failed, so they couldn't contact anyone and were forced to live on a raft.
The Coast Guard looked all over the place for them but gave up. Then, out of the blue, another fisherman came across the two guys bobbing around near Niihau.
According to press reports, the men were in good health, though very thin. Very thin, Governor, did you hear that? They were "very thin." Ben, you and I haven't been very thin since we started taking solid food.
Thin, Ben. Think about it. Think about what people would say as you walked past. Hey, there goes the governor. Boy, he's thin. No, he's VERY thin. Man. That would be great, wouldn't it?
The problem is that for guys like us, thin is a word that doesn't jump to mind when people see us. Porky, pudgy, chunky, chubby ... those are the words that leap to lips too often to describe us. And we hate it, don't we, big guy?
PERSONALLY, I think I have more of an excuse for carrying around a little extra burger baggage than you do. I mean, you've got a cook and kitchen staff. I'm at the mercy of the fast-food industry.
If I had a cook, I would take him or her aside during a sober moment (sober for me, that is) and say, "Look, no matter what happens, don't bring me cheeseburgers." I'd say, "Ignore my pleas and threats. If I threaten to sic the sheriffs on you if you don't bring me a taco platter, ignore it. No matter what I say, do not, under any circumstances, serve me a Spam-and-cheese omelet."
I'd have the cook so scared he wouldn't serve me anything but Grapenuts, tofu and tepid glasses of water.
Wait a second. You tried that, didn't you, Governor? It didn't work. That's why you've set out on this new program of weight loss and fitness. But let's be honest, this isn't going to work either. The problem is that there is just too much food around. And we are weak, pathetic creatures.
That's where the two very thin fishermen come in. These guys have hit upon the greatest weight loss program of the decade: The 28-day Stranded In The Ocean Without Any Food or Water Diet. They could become millionaires. We could be their first customers. They would just haul us out into the ocean - separate rafts, of course - and leave us there.
We wouldn't actually be lost. I mean, we wouldn't know where we were but the guys running the diet program would. They'd monitor our progress. If they saw we were getting too weak, they'd fly over with a helicopter and drop pieces of raw flounder or dried chunks of Gravy Train into our rafts. You gotta be really hungry to eat dried dog food. Occasionally, they might drop a few orange peels or the tops of celery so that we wouldn't get scurvy or rickets.
Then, after 28 days at sea, they'd tow us ashore to the amazement and delight of all our friends and family. People would write newspaper stories about us. They'd say, "How was your ordeal at sea? You must be awfully brave. You look kind of tired and sunburned. But you also look thin. Did I say thin? I mean very thin."
That could happen, Ben. By 1998 we could be reed-like. Chopstick-ish. Walking Q-tips. Our ship could come in.
So, if you two skinny fisherguys are reading this, get cracking and file those articles of incorporation for your new business. Your first two future castaways are ready to be lost at sea.
