RIVER CITY JOURNAL: READING THE FINE PRINT CAN BE FUN, USEFUL

Printed words are amazing sources of facts, some interesting, some useless, some notable, some that make you say, "Gee whiz."

While reading a magazine the other day, a small item -- actually, it was a filler, the kind at the bottom of a column of type -- popped right off the page.

"When Elvis Presley died, there were 48 professional Elvis impersonators. Today, there are 7,328. If that growth rate is projected, by the year 2012 one person in four on the face of the globe will be an Elvis impersonator."

Imagine that.

Whoever said that didn't take into account all the unprofessional Elvis impersonators. Back in the Dark Ages of high school in your favorite hometown, every boy enrolled was an Elvis impersonator. Boys who had had crewcuts and flattops all their lives started growing their hair long and combing it into a ducktail in the back. Shirt collars were turned up so the ducktail would hang over them, which meant most boys had to stop wearing T-shirts and ask their mothers to buy shirts with collars. White socks moved out of the gym locker room into the wardrobes of every boy in school. And it also would have been a good time to buy stock in shoe companies that made loafers.

All because of Elvis.

As a veteran of the tour at Graceland in Memphis, you know some of those former high school students never got over their Elvis infatuation. The difference, of course, is that the widening in girth that comes with maturity throws the total Elvis look all out of proportion. Of course, Elvis would be no spring chicken if he were still around.

The point is this: When Elvis died there were several million unprofessional Elvis impersonators. Today, most of them have grown up and bought business suits or work overalls and wear glasses with bifocals. If that decline is projected, by the year 2012 hardly anyone will remember how to comb a ducktail, but a lot of former unprofessional Elvis impersonators will be applying for Social Security benefits.

There are other tidbits just as interesting to be found right here in this very newspaper. A good place to look is the classifieds, because they are full of you-have-to-read-between-the-lines stories.

Example A: A classified ad for an original nude watercolor with the firm asking price of $10,000.

Here's one possible explanation: A guy goes to an art fair and buys a watercolor of a very revealing woman. Later the guy gets married, and the watercolor becomes community property. But the wife grows weary of the comparisons the husband draws between the artwork and herself. Finally she says, "Either the painting goes, or I do." The husband offers a compromise. The watercolor is history if a buyer can be found. He slaps a $10,000 price tag on the frame. He even places a classified ad, just to show his good intentions. Then he waits. And waits. And waits. Meanwhile, he continues to enjoy his taste in art.

Example B: Lots of classified ads for exercise equipment.

In the good old days, the only ads for body-building gizmos were in comic books. Skinny twerps were promised miracles after some muscle-bound hunk kicked sand in their faces. They all would become Charles Atlas, the comic books promised. But that all changed when Baby Boomers hit the last notch on their belt loops. It suddenly became fashionable to get healthy.

First it was running, which the fashionable set called jogging so as not to make it sound like too much effort. Then the exercycle fad hit. This was where people who still remembered how to ride a bike sat in the family room and peddled uphill without moving an inch. Next came cross-country skiing without snow. Treadmills, once used by doctors to induce heart attacks during physical exams, have become de rigueur implements of body sculpting.

Now look at the classifieds. They are all there. Weight sets, exercise equipment, cross-country ski machines, rowing exercisers and exercise bikes.

Take your pick. Find the one that suits you. Then put on some shorts, turn those old jogging shoes into exercise footgear, comb your ducktail and try to get healthy in just 30 minutes.

All of this from the printed word.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.