Here in the Pond, when fat fish float by, we wave to them, say hello, and hope, well, that they don’t eat us.
And they don’t.
They seem to have their own predilections and we admire them for not choosing to fill their gills with anything they can stuff in them.
So perhaps we are more than averagely predisposed to caring for the corpulent.
However, this week should be established as Overweight Justice Week.
Frankly, the tears have not ceased flowing for two of our finest human beings, who have risen beyond their wobbly bellies to become extraordinary talents.
Unfortunately, they have also been victimized by a world whose values have become more twisted than Kirstie Alley’s duodenum.
Firstly, let us pay tribute to the exquisite Sabrina Bryan. Whom her mother knows as Rena Sabrina Hinojos.
Sabrina is a little short and a little portly. Let’s call her shortly. She has the kind of grit you only see on East Coast road surfaces in January and she used whatever talents she had to join the singing group, the Cheetah Girls.
To be fair, anyone the hairier side of puberty might not have heard of her until she was invited to become a cast member on Dancing with the Stars.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Disney then made a TV series featuring the Cheetah Girls and that Disney happens to own ABC, the network that pays the BBC for the privilege of having old English dance instructors criticize the movements of luminaries such as lardy-tummied Jerry Springer and lardy-legged Marie Osmond.
Still, Sabrina made the most of her good fortune. While others pranced around the dance floor in a way that made you wish Los Angeles could be hit by a very short and violent earthquake, Sabrina expressed passion, panache and a musicality that made one salivate into one’s ginger ale.
There is something that grips the soul when one is confronted with a performer at the very apogee of her talents, striving to be even better and to entertain anyone who bothers to watch.
Sabrina broke the sound barrio.
This week, the judges gave her very high marks for a foxtrot that was as nuanced as it was sublime.
And the pigfaced viewers at home voted her off.
The obvious suggestion was racism. The mere thought of allowing a Hispanic to win Dancing with the Stars was too much for the Bible Belters.
“Lord, no. We didn’t let Mario Lopez and we’re not going to let you.”
My own worry is that the audience was simply envious that a little fat girl could display such joy, such glory. The homebound fat piglets of America just couldn’t take it. So they gave it to her.
Leaving only this Pond of Tears.
Our eyes had barely dried when we switched on MSNBC to witness another great talent who could lose a few pounds, pleading (in his own gruff way) for the senseless pounding to stop.
Barry (or Parry, as we like to call him here) Bonds has been scapegoated to a degree that is as imbecilic as it is inhuman.
If he took steroids, so did all the ugly men who were throwing the ball at him. So did all the ugly men who continued to whiff at balls that Barry ejected beyond stadium walls.
As ugly pitchers threw harder, he swung faster and still smote the ball in a style that made fans gawk and talk.
For this, a rather sanctimonious and wealthy clothes-designer- a man who seems to have targeted the black community so that his clothes might seem cool- bought Barry’s record-breaking home run ball and then held an internet poll to decide whether it should be shot into space, left as is, or marked with an asterisk before being sent to the Hall of Fame.
Mark Ecko, for that is this little man’s name, thought he was being cool and clever.
Yet from images I have seen he also appears to be very thin.
Perhaps he believes that his thinness gives him some special privilege to have all the girls, all the talent, all the money.
Then along comes Barry Bonds, who may have been thin in a former life, but now betrays a girth not dissimilar to that of an opera singer.
Barry can still blast a ball in the direction of outer space, while Ecko is simply that. An echo from an empty little voice, desperate for attention because he thinks he has the looks and brains and therefore should be heard.
Barry, quite rightly, tonight declared that if the Echo sends the ball to the Hall of Fame with an asterisk on it, then Barry won’t turn up to his own induction in the Hall.
Perhaps the Thin Man will go in his place, just as some Thin Man or Thin Woman will soon hold the silver disco ball that is the Dancing With The Stars trophy.
Please forgive me if I am emotional about these two people.
I simply hate it when the largely talented are discarded in favor of the medium mediocre.
I am not Al Gore and I did not approve this message.