"You know what the trouble about real life is? There's no danger music."

Here's a mid-week special. Black List foreign correspondent Durtis Cevlin was assigned to Hawaii a few months ago to report on the strange island and this thing called "poi." Apparently it's related to the potato of southeast Asia, taro. Well, the interesting thing about Durtis is that he's a caveman soldier, who's been certified to jump out of a plane. Who knew cavemen could jump out of planes? I think, though, it's a conspiracy from doctors trying to get rid of us cavemen by hoping that we'd all want to jump out of planes, once we heard other cavemen were doing it. Then, we'd all die out or hurt ourselves, because we'd delegate packing our parachutes to our secretaries or paralegals, who would just luuuuuv that assignment. Speaking of which, the doctors almost got Durtis because he broke his foot during training, but like any other good cavemen, he jumped out of 3 more planes with his broken foot. We're a smart lot of cavemen. The caveman motto: if at first, you don't offend, try, try, again. Anyways, here's Durtis' report:

Understanding Hawaii's demographics allows one to understand the bewildering and intricate mosaic we call, "Hawaiian Cuisine."
Contrary to popular belief, Hawaiians and visitors to Hawaii do not subsist entirely on coconuts and sand. In this multi-part guest feature, the author will attempt to categorize and detail the main subdivisions of Hawaii's population, as relates to the wide variety of food we eat here.
Hawaii's entire population subdivides thusly:

1. Tourists.
2. Locals.
3. Military.
4. Homeless.

This installment will address Tourists.

1. Tourists come in three varieties: American tourists, Japanese tourists, and Other.

a. American tourists are generally fat, loud and sunburned. They camp outside Cheesecake Factory days in advance to secure a table for dinner. Why do they do this? I don't know. Perhaps their overpriced and vaguely pan-Asian-American-European-fusion crap tastes better in Hawaii than in Omaha. It must, because folks wait hours and step over homeless people to get in there. No joke. Same goes for TGI Fridays, Chili's, IHOP and every other suburban hell-hole that has somehow managed to infest Honolulu. They're packed. Constantly. With Americans. Their food sucks.

b. Japanese tourists can be identified by their smaller stature and distinct plumage of cameras and other electronic devices. They spend their entire Hawaiian vacation riding around Waikiki on trolley buses.

Occasionally their handlers allow them to disembark from these buses, at which time they buy T-shirts emblazoned with English gibberish. I have personally seen T-shirts proclaiming, "Las Vegas: Felt-Tipped Marker" and "Know As Pinky". My favorite was the simple, almost Zen-like, "Pine." Besides buying T-shirts, Japanese tourists also visit indoor shooting ranges and eat Japanese food. Honolulu abounds with Japanese restaurants, some of which truly deserve praise.

Actually, "Japanese food" includes many sub-varieties—a topic worthy of an article all its own. Watch this space.

c. Other encompasses the various Australians, Germans, Canadians, Italians, Columbians, Martians, Mutants, etc. etc. etc. who come to the island. Watch for oddly attired, hairy, moustached men and women wearing scarves. God only knows what they eat. I think they go to luaus every night, where the locals attempt to reduce the staggering oversupply of poi that built up during the 50s. They pretend it's traditional, and the suckers gobble it down like there's no tomorrow.

In the next installment, I will address Locals, and how they hate everyone.

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Stay tuned in the coming weeks for part 2 of this 4 part special from Durtis, Black List foreign correspondent.