Jackass sey di worl' no level. Jackass sey whe some people a do fi exercise some people do fi live an' de wan whe do it fe live ave it betta.

A couple days ago, Jackass was trotting up Chancery Hall hill. OK, trotting is not quite the word; it was more like the worst festival song winner in history, stop and go. But Jackass was going a little faster than a two-footer in front of him and, taking inspiration from the fact that at least somebody was having more trouble with his hampers. So Jackass caught up with him, inch by inch and finally passed him at the speed of two loaded trucks racing up Mt. Rosser.

And about the same size too.

Paid for workout

But just as Jackass was feeling like somebody should be playing the music from Chariots of Fire ("pam-pa-da-pam-pam, pam-pa-da-pam-pam") there was a sound from wide on the outside. It was a man in a construction hat, khakis and work boots, with a brown bag in his left hand, moving up the hill at a pace that was a sports car to Jackass' big truck. He did not ease the pace and was soon out of sight.

And Jackass thought that the world is not level at all. For here are two people trying their best to workout and a working man, with exercise the last thing on his mind, is putting them to shame.

But then, Jackass thought as he huffed and puffed that when it comes on to this exercise and muscle building thing, the people who do it for work are in much better shape then those who do it for a workout.

If you are old enough you will remember the men who used to throw the crates of drinks to the top of the truck. That was in the days when they had real drinks trucks, some old Leylands with a slab of chip paint iron down the middle instead of these fancy trucks with sliding doors. To get the juice to the top of the truck, one man would sit up top and another would throw up the full crates, open crates, all easy and accurate. The men throwing the crates were always small, but what weight they had was all muscle, skin and bone.

No fat in sight.

Then there are the men and women who work on construction sites. Nuff muscle on many of them, looking about as tough as the concrete and steel they are putting up. Same thing goes for the old-time mechanics who actually had to lift stuff (not these nowadays guys who sometimes leave work looking as neat as they went in the morning); they have serious muscle, even when they are going up in age.

So what people are spending to go to gyms and on personal trainers and dieticians and all that, measuring their body fat and watching themselves in the mirror every day, the real working people have it all naturally.

But then, people who work for their muscle and fitness get far less money then those who work to pay to train for it.

Jackass sey di worl' no level. Jackass sey people whe a do real exercise get likkle bit a money fe keep fit an 'elty.