vituperation

With a stately blast of trumpets, the five o’clock newscast begins. An announcer informs us that this particular news crew is not only dedicated, but determined and dependable as well.

I sit in my living room in front of the television, excited and a little nervous.

The lead story is about an unfortunate two-year-old boy who was struck by lightning recently as he watched his parents pick vegetables from their garden. They play the 911 call, and interview the EMS chief, who tells us this is a record year for lightning strikes in Alabama. The child died shortly after reaching the hospital.

The anchorman segues right into the weather, and the weatherman gives us many statistics about lightning before covering the local weather. Live Doppler radar tells us there are many thunderstorms - including one in my area - nearby. He teases us with a comment that full weather will be predicted shortly, then hands off the newscast to the anchorwoman.

She looks earnestly into the camera. I lean forward on the couch as I watch.

"A Madison man loses half of his bodyweight, over 200 pounds," she says, "but his loss is someone else’s gain."

She blinks and nods, for effect. Two hundred pounds, I think, I didn’t lose two hundred pounds.

"Our news anchor Melissa is live in Huntsville with his story."

The screen splits in half. On the left is our anchorwoman, Kim. On the right, my reporter, Melissa stands in front of traffic on Memorial Parkway. A line of text across the bottom of the screen informs us that this is live.

"Melissa, this is an incredible story of determination," Kim says.

Melissa smiles broadly and nods. From the couch in front of the television, I nod with her.

"That’s right, Kim. You know, like many people, Fred And3rson was obese, but about two years ago he made up his mind to lose weight. Now, instead of trying Slim-fast or Weight Watchers, he chose charity."

The screen cuts from Melissa to a close-up of my super-fat-face from the picture the crew filmed earlier. A voice speaks.

"I hayud to REST, ev’ry day aftuh I come hawm frum werk!" it says. On the couch, I have time to think the voice sounds strikingly like a redneck version of Kermit the Frog, and then I realize with horror that I am hearing myself.

"Pulling around a 400-pound body all day," Melissa says, as the camera pulls back to reveal the full body shot of the fat Fred, "kept Fred And3rson exhausted. That was then…"

She pauses for effect.

"This is now."

On the screen, I am speaking. My eyes are jittering and rolling around in their sockets as I speak, and my neck skin is flapping like proud flag in a strong breeze. Watching this from the couch, I scream and close my eyes.

Text across the bottom of the screen tells us I am Fred And3rson and that I - contrary to what Kim told us - lost 195 pounds.

"I stopped eating the junk food," I say, then pause and close my eyes like my batteries have run down. My eyes open, my head jerks suddenly, and I continue to speak. "I dawn’t eat much prawcessed foods now." The eyes close. "Most of the stuff I eat is natural," eyes open, "you know, fruits, vegetables, meats, whole grains…"

On the couch, I come to the realization that on the television I sound like Sylvester the Cat, that I lisp like a human Mr. Fancypants.

The TV screen shows my hands effeminately loading cans into a box. Delicately, I arrange them, with my pinky extended.

"This is the food And3rson didn’t eat," Melissa says. What the hell? I think, over on the couch.

"All kinds of tomatoes," I say on the television, "peas, beans, pastas." On the screen, my hand closes the box. The scene cuts back to my face.

"Ev’ry time I lawst a pound," I say, "I wood buy a pound of food, of dry goods, and I kept it in a big pile that I cawled the FOOD PILE." I look earnest. The camera cuts back to a shot of cans in a box.

"As the lost pounds stacked up," Melissa says, "so did the food."

My face reappears on the screen, looking smug.

"There were times when I thought, oh, man, I’m gonna have to do this the rest of my life, and that can be overwhelming but, and what this pile did is it let me go back and see," I twitch violently and suddenly on the screen, as though I’m about to have a grand mal seizure, "just how far I had come." I raise my eyebrows on the screen and look questioningly at something off in the distance. On the couch, I begin to laugh.

"Now that he’s met his mark, And3rson’s hauling it all away," Melissa says. On the screen, the lower half of my body schlumps across the screen holding a plastic grocery bag of food. The scene changes to a view of my Jeep from the front. A dark shape drops a big box of food into the back of the Jeep with a thump, and the Jeep shakes.

"These two bags of beans," Melissa says, picking up a couple of bags from the pile in the Jeep and turning to face the camera, "represent one week Fred spent in the gym." On the couch, I cackle.

A stack of weight plates from my BodySolid gym slams down with a satisfying crack! In my den, I roll off the couch because I’m laughing so hard.

"But all this food’s not going to waste," Melissa’s voice says, as I unload a bag of food from the back of the Jeep on the screen, "with a bag in each hand, And3rson makes a trip to the Food Bank of North Alabama."

I walk across the parking lot holding bags of food. From the couch, I notice that while my ass looks good, my pants are too big and my shoulders are slumped. My feet poke out to either side as I walk. I realize I look something like a duck, or perhaps a clown. I open the door and walk into the food bank.

"Tipping the scales at 205 pounds," Melissa says as the TV screen shows the scale at the food bank displaying 204 pounds, "his inspiration is now going to charity."

The screen shows Gloria, who works at the food bank.

"Never before have we had anybody who lost weight," Gloria says, "and put the food aside as they were losing the weight. This is really something different."

The camera pans across the fat picture of me, and my voice speaks over it.

"I hope that I am proof to people that it is possible to do this," I appear on the screen again, talking and flapping, "really by making some fairly minor changes." My voice fades as I manage to look both smug and condescending at the same time.

Melissa wraps things up live, explaining that the food will be given to churches and distributed to people who need it. The screen once again splits in half, showing Kim and Melissa side by side.

"Melissa, he looks amaaaaazing," Kim says, "and that’s wonderful, and what a wonderful gesture on his part!"

"Right," Melissa agrees, waving a hand around, "and you know, he did it just by modifying what he ate, and by exercising, so let’s hope to anybody that just by doing those simple things that you can lose the pounds."

"That’s right, it can be done," Kim says, "Melissa, thank you."

Kim’s face fills the screen.

"Fred And3rson lost weight by watching his diet and exercise. However, many people turn to diet pills…"

My story segues into a story about ephedra.

See me.
Feel me.
Touch me.
Heal me.

So there it is, my first venture into television. They goofed a little on the facts, but didn’t mess it up too much at all. With the exception of the whole over-the-top nature of the story, I didn’t think it was half-bad.

Fortunately, my next scheduled appearance on television is live, so they can’t edit me.