The National Dance, and the cultural heart, of tiny Tobago is the giant phenomenon known as the limbo. Much of the world regards it as a contest, but its pioneers and evangelists regard it as more than that, an exacting displace for body, mind, and spirit.

This the height, or impossibly low bar, a world class limbo champion can achieve. Breathtaking.

And here’s what it looks like when a big fat westerner does it an Obese Man Competition.

Did we say obese? What? It appears my notes were wrong. This post was supposed to be about a completely different fat man, Mr. Zeus’s Limbo and his obese new bestseller:

…and Joseph McCarthy was about to screw up the secret war against communism. But on the plus side, Mrs. Limbo was carrying a baby of such impressive cerebral development that she looked like her pregnancy was pregnant… Hey, I like that! For the truth was… I’m already a few words in and I haven’t used the word ‘truth’ yet, so I better do this… the truth was that if I weren’t such a decent, virtuous, happily married man, I’d compare her appearance to that of a woman with a third breast, because that’s how far out the baby’s cranium protruded from the otherwise perfectly round shape of her belly… uh, let’s see. WHERE IS THAT DAMN SNAFFLE? AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT GET ME ANOTHER CIGAR. THAT LETTUCE I’VE BEEN EATING FOR THE LAST YEAR-AND-A-HALF TASTES LIKE CRAP, YOU KNOW IT?!

Where was I? Uh, that’s right. I don’t want to overdo the round belly thing. Everybody that only sees me on the radio thinks I’m still fat. Well, she was carrying big, and although she didn’t look like she had a third breast because that might offend some of the female bitto-heads, it did look somewhat as if her pregnancy was pregnant. Fix that all up, and show it to me when it’s typed, and I’ll jazz up that best of times, worst of times thing. Who did that originally? I think it must have been Buckley. Well, Bill and I are good friends, and he’ll know I mean it as a respectful homage.

Uh, best of times….? uh, make a note. Find out who was winning the National League that year. Was it the Gashouse Gang? I’m not sure I like that one. Anyway, look it up. Maybe it’ll work for some kind of sports metaphor with my life. It’s got to be good, because I want this book to be really literary sounding. It’s nice to sell a billion copies or so, but just once I’d like to see a nice review in the Times.

Anyway… best of times, worst times opening, then, uh, something humorous. It should be witty, like that stuff they write for my show, but it’s got to be… uh… OOPS! Time for golf. I’ll be back on this tomorrow.

Uh, it’s tomorrow, I mean, it’s the next day. Where was I? Why I’m Right by Russ Limbo. Chapter One. Did you get that? And don’t forget the O-N-E. Good. Now then… I was doing something about the best of times and the worst of times. It was really good, really intelligent, and what I was going to say next was arma virumque cano Troiae qui primus ab oris Laviniamque venit. Multa ille terris iactatis et alto. Dux femina facta. Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.

Arma virumque cano Troiae qui primus ab oris Laviniamque venit. Multa ille terris iactatis et alto. Dux femina facta. Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.

It won’t be that long till Russ Limbo celebrates a big anniversary too. In honor of that, here’s a link to what might be said on that occasion;

A 20th Year of Broadcasting for the Number One Talk Radio Guy