WEIGHT OF GOLD STEM CELL PROCESS MAKES FAT PEOPLE RICH IN NATURAL RESOURCES.

Byline: Kimit Muston

I am a modern medical miracle, or I soon will be.

Scientists have recently been able to isolate stem cells from human fat cells, making my waistline a virtual biological Fort Knox. Yes, I am stem cell dot com.

A stem cell is so named because ... well, I'm not sure why it's called a stem cell. But that's OK because I'm rich in them. And if being fat is a good thing today, think how much being stupid will be worth in a few years. By then I'll probably be in charge of everybody.

Here's the way Tom Brokaw described it to me on the evening news, which I watched because I dropped the remote between the couch cushions and I couldn't switch to The Food Channel: Stem cells are like little business school graduates.

They've got their B.A.'s and their briefcases and they're lined up, waiting for some greedy, selfish, arrogant corporation to mold them into a limitless supply of whatever kind of greedy, selfish executives it needs to replace.

Soon these replacement executives will be running Internet companies into the ground and bankrupting entire Wall Street investment houses, just like the original executives.

Well, stem cells are like that in the human body. They can be trained to be heart cells or lung cells or brain cells or even toe cells. That's right, toe cells. In the future, if you lose a toe and you've got fat, you've got a new toe - think about that!

Why, in a few decades you'll be able to spot skinny people a mile away. They'll be the ones limping because they don't have any toes. Because they're skinny. How very sad.

So, skinny people, eat your hearts out. Literally. All you supermodels who seem to have no place to store your liver? Well, one day soon you're going to look at me and instead of thinking ``yuck,'' you'll be thinking ``Wow! Look at the size of the spare liver on that guy. I want him!'' But you can't have me. Because you're too skinny.

It's ironic, if you think about it - and normally I don't - but we have finally arrived on the cusp of the final frontier of health care and who would have thought the couch potatoes would have gotten there first. They don't move. The rest of us just went around them in a circle and ended up right back on the couch.

Could this be what Disney meant by ``the circle of life''?

Now we can awaken from our celery and bean sprout nightmare. A new day is dawning and breakfast is going to include Canadian bacon, Belgian waffles and ... eggs. American eggs. Lots of them.

Clog my arteries - I'll replace 'em.

Fill my lungs with smoke - I'll replace 'em.

Cirrhosis my liver - I'll replace it.

Cut off my head - maybe, not.

Finally the tyranny of the skinny people will be overthrown. Just in time, too; last week the entire board of directors of Sara Lee was subpoenaed to testify before the Malibu City Council. They stood despised and alone in enemy territory, facing the legal trap set for them by the beautiful people.

One after another they insisted, under oath, ``No, I don't believe our cheesecake is addictive.'' Oh, they were going to jail for perjury, every last one of them. But now the cheesecake has turned. And it's delicious.

I suspected something like this was going to happen; it's a variation of that Christian thing about the meek inheriting the earth. But never in my wildest imagination did I ever believe that potato sticks would be considered health food; that the newest spa resort for Euro-trash hypochondriacs would become Hershey, Pa.; that the path to eternal life was through the golden arches; that Rubens would be considered modern art; that the only true New Age prophet would turn out to be some loser in Encino who has been channeling Chef Boy-R-Dee.

Who knew? Oh, I can hear the doomsayers now: If I put on enough weight to have four or five extra organs hanging over my belt my own heart will probably explode. But that's OK; I'll have four or five extra hearts hanging over my belt, too.

Besides, you have to put this all into perspective. In the history of human endeavors nothing great is ever achieved without risk. It is in the nature of humanity that our reach should exceed our grasp.

Could you pass me the potato chips?

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Photo: no caption (Scale, junk food)

David R. Crane/Staff Photographer