Nicotine for breakfast just to put me right

Cos if you wanna run cool ...

You got to run

On heavy, heavy fuel.

-- MARK KNOPFLER

How dare Men's Fitness magazine dub Las Vegas America's Fattest City. I'm so angry I nearly spilled my gravy shake.

Clearly the magazine doesn't understand that physical fitness has a whole other meaning here. The Las Vegas lifestyle is not conducive to traditional calisthenics. People have been known to spill a lot of beer doing jumping jacks. Around here, we improvise.

Did the magazine, for example, take into account that a majority of Las Vegans never sleep, which means they live twice as hard as residents of other cities and, therefore, are double the girth?

In Las Vegas, a large segment of the male population long ago gave up on "six-pack abs" and moved on to the more challenging "24-pack abs." It takes great dedication to reach such widths.

The magazine claims to have employed two dozen factors in separating the sinew from the suet. Its criteria ranged from legislative health initiatives to the amount of available parking space. It even weighed the average number of hours residents spend in front of the television and the approximate amount of time we participate in sports.

But talk about being biased. They didn't even count video poker as a sport. If you think it's easy to concentrate on those lighted buttons after a half dozen shots of Cuervo, you are sorely mistaken, my physically fit friend.

It's not that we're fat here in Las Vegas. Well, actually, it is that we're fat. But it's not that we're fat simply because we eat too much and don't actually exercise.

We also drink, smoke, and gamble too much.

You try staying toned and trim when you're hacking and hung over and hopelessly in debt. A marathon is a stroll in the park by comparison.

My life makes perfect sense

Lust and food and violence

Sex and money are my major kicks

Get me in a fight I like dirty tricks

Cos if you wanna run cool ...

You got to run

On heavy, heavy fuel.

As a lifelong Las Vegan, I blame a lack of role models for our fitness issues.

Other communities have Olympic gold medalists. We have Elvis. Las Vegas is the place Elvis went to feel svelte in a leisure suit.

And then there's Tony Bennett. I'll tell you why Tony Bennett left his heart in San Francisco -- because he was playing Vegas that week and didn't want his pump clogged with cholesterol from an endless lineup of all-you-can-eat buffets. Smart man, Tony.

Then we have Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman. In a Monday USA Today story that noted the magazine's findings, Goodman defended his portly constituency.

This is a man who jogs with a Bombay martini in his hand and has yet to spill a drop. This is a man who counts the olives as a serving of vegetables. Quoting Goodman as a source on health is like taking fire safety tips from a pyromaniac.

Although Las Vegas ranked fattest, four Texas cities rounded out the magazine's obese bottom five: Arlington, San Antonio, Fort Worth, and El Paso. To paraphrase Men's Fitness, fat, drunk Texans don't get out of the house much because it's too hot there in the summer.

On the fit side of the ledger, there's Colorado Springs, followed by Minneapolis, Albuquerque, Denver, and Portland, Ore. To hear the magazine tell it, Colorado Springs residents are a bunch of outdoors nuts, and in Portland the locals eat plenty of fresh vegetables.

They may be healthier than we are, but they couldn't survive a three-day weekend in Las Vegas.

If I could get out of this recliner, I'd show that magazine a thing or two.

"I don't care if my liver is hanging by a thread

Don't care if my doctor says I ought to be dead

When my ugly big car won't climb this hill

I'll write a suicide note on a hundred dollar bill

Cos if you wanna run cool ...

You got to run

On heavy, heavy fuel"

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295.