America Would Be Picked Last in Gym Class

Hey, you! Yeah, you! I'm talking to the jiggling blob on the couch between Canada and Mexico. How's it going there, tubby? That's right, swallow the cupcake, put down the Xbox controller, and perk up those greasy ears. We need to talk.

I understand your love for tasty treats, and I know sometimes it's hard to resist that fifth Big Mac. But if you don't learn to reach for a treadmill instead of a pork chop once in a while, the new national bird's going to be the Calorie. I mean, seriously, have you looked at yourself lately? Or do mirrors shatter under the weight of your reflection? You've let yourself go, America, and the rest of the world is noticing. Just last week I heard Australia joking with China about securing your border with a bacon fence and a gravy moat. Now, granted, that sounds delicious. But do you really trust Texas not to gorge itself on heaping buckets of our national defense in the first week? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Did you hear about the baseball game last week? Neither did I. Want to know why, America? Because Japan asked the Dominican Republic not to invite you. Actually, word on the street - and by "street" I mean Denny's.......and by "Denny's" I mean "your mom's house" - is that no one wanted you there. Something about you soaking up all the sunlight and oxygen, and your mass pulling other countries into orbit around you. In fact, you were almost excluded from the dodgeball tournament that you planned! You only got picked because Argentina hoped you'd absorb some of the balls so they could be used later.

Are you tired of being a joke? Would you like to change you life by shedding some of that enormous girth? Well, step into my office, Little Debbie, because playtime is over. Yeah, that's right, move away from the chocolate pie. Move away. Move - DON'T MAKE ME GET THE HOSE!! There, that's better. Now, heave your rippling mass in my direction and we'll get started. Here's how we're going to trim you down - I've designed a 213-step program for you. Unless you perish from a massive coronary at some point, in which case there will be considerably less steps. So squeeze into some gym shorts or a parachute and let's get started! Here are your first three steps, just to help you get off the couch:

Step 1: Cancel all reality TV, starting with The Hills, a.k.a. America's Most Vacuous Wastes of Existence. I know it seems almost impossible to fathom, but you can indeed survive without knowing who cutey-patootey Lauren Conrad tearfully broke up with this hour. In fact, I'll solve the mystery for you - she broke up with the slack-jawed simpleton that she hooked up with in the last hour. Wash, rinse, repeat, and you'll get the next hour. With a few catfights, back-stabbings and snarky comments thrown in for flavor, of course. This may seem extreme, but maybe it'll keep you from sinking into the couch and shoveling bon-bons down your gullet while feasting on the "human drama" that some producer put together.

Step 2: Turn off the Xbox. While it may seem normal to younger generations, your thumbs are not supposed to be the leanest, most muscular part of your body. If this were the Planet of the Giant Digits, you'd be a Greek god blessed with unnatural power, speed, and endurance. However, since we exist on the plane of Earth and not some hand-dominated bizarro-dimension, give your hands a rest and try walking up the stairs. You remember the stairs, right? They're that scary incline that leads to the treadmill you used for forty seconds before turning it into a clothes hanger (By the way, to all you game and movie developers reading this column, don't even think of stealing my hand-dimension concept. A project is already in the works, and I will come at plagiarists like an enraged box turtle).

Step 3: Pick a sport that doesn't involve sitting in a circle and staring at cards. Now, don't get me wrong, I like having my paycheck drained by someone in a vest just as much as the next guy. But think back to olden days, when men were men and women baked pies - the golden age when ESPN actually aired sports that required fitness and physical dedication; before the manly call "Safe!" was replaced with the androgynous "All-in." I thought you'd reached an all-time low when you allowed the Canadians to make curling an Olympic event, but you really outdid yourself when you started watching other people play cards on a former sports network. I say "former" because if you show an event that requires a steady diet of vodka tonics, you're no longer a sports network.

Now, when you've mastered these things, we'll start moving you around a little bit (if your ankles can still support you, that is). Eventually, we'll work up to walking to the TV and physically reaching to turn it off. When you can do that without vomiting, we'll walk up a couple of stairs and go from there. I know this will be grueling, and you'll probably hate me. That is, you'll hate me until some cute young country wants to take you out for a salad. I hear Paraguay used to think you were cute.