ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, December 28, 1994                   TAG: 9412280036
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium


EXERCISE SHOWS MAKE MY 'ABS' START HEAVING

Aged persons who get up to let the dog out at 5 a.m. and cut on the TV while waiting know about this exercise-machine subculture we have in this country.

You shouldn't watch this early morning garbage, but you get intrigued by how dumb and tasteless things can get.

There is this loud, muscular and very obnoxious person who peddles this device that is good for your "abs." Your "abs," in case you didn't minor in biology like I did, are your stomach muscles.

This guy's name is Tony Little, and your abdominal muscles are his game.

He has a pony tail, and he runs around in white shorts and screams about his device - ignoring what must be a considerable number of people in this country who don't care about their "abs" and quite possibly never had any to begin with.

Take it from me, pal. This guy is serious about stomach muscles. He's too hard-sell for me. Even if I wanted great "abs" I'd stay away from him.

I don't want to suggest that anybody shoot Tony. Maybe he could get drafted. Or get fat. Or lose his voice. Or develop conspicuous varicosities.

Maybe he'd come around if somebody sedated him and cut off his pony tail.

I won't mention any brand names here because I keep forgetting them, but there are two machines that look alike and make you look kind of indecent when you use them. Let's just say you wouldn't want your Aunt Zelda to see you doing such things.

One of them has a video segment that shows a group of people happily weighing - not in their kindly doctors' offices or in their bathrooms, but on what appears to be a college campus or in a large graveyard.

There's Sylvia. She lost 15 pounds. I'm afraid she is still more than a trifle fleshy.

One of these machines is hustled by a guy called Covert Bailey, who wears bad ties and probably would try to sell you what's left of the Roanoke Viaduct. Covert. How's that for a name you can trust?

Old Covert, who is "a best-selling author," says his machine makes your body say:

"I can burn fat

"When you exercise like that."

Poetry yet.

And pathos. There is this woman who gets teary-eyed when she thinks about what this machine has done for her - which is not a whole lot as far as I can see.

I'd advise fellow males to ask their wives to let the dog out.

Woman are smart. They'll check the Weather Channel and go back to bed.



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