The little kids only want to see Nemo. They race past the clams, anemones, nautilus and octopus, and press their sticky fingers to the tank searching for the orange-and-white celebrity look-alike. When it darts from the coral, they shriek, "NEEEEEEEMO!" in ear-splitting unison, and their trip to the Waikiki Aquarium is, to them, a rousing success.

So why do we need a Kaka'ako aquarium, again?

The Waikiki Aquarium is small and old and just about perfect. Its brochures remind visitors that it is the third-oldest public aquarium in the United States, founded in 1904 — which makes it old in a venerable, historic way, not old in a crusty tank, stinky hallway sort of way.

Sure, some of the ulua orbiting the shark tank look a bit threadbare, but the grampas in their hanapa'a jackpot shirts gaze through pterygium-filled eyes and imagine hooking that big old bugga' with the help of the mo'opuna clinging to their legs. Those old ulua still inspire dreams.

Because it's so small, a trip to the Waikiki Aquarium isn't exhausting, even to worn-out tourists and parents. Kids can run free without a 100-yard chase. Tired backs and sore legs have plenty of places to rest. Wheelchairs and strollers roll right up to every tank, and visitors leave with the rare feeling that they saw everything there was to see.

Now that the Ko Olina Aquarium idea finally bit the dust, why did talk of a Kaka'ako Aquarium rise up again?

"World Class Aquarium" has become as ubiquitous to tourist towns as the Hard Rock Cafe was in the late 1980s. Seattle has a World Class Aquarium, as does L.A., Monterey, Tampa, New Orleans, Chattanooga, and Bloomington, Minn.'s Mall of America, to name just a few. Even landlocked cities have World Class Aquariums.

Why House Speaker Calvin Say caught the World Class Aquarium itch is a mystery. Its victims are usually last-term governors looking for a legacy project, or politicians with high-roller friends looking for a tax "gimme."

Say comes off as the rare politician who seems to be happy right where he is — sitting in the same chair until it's time to build the Calvin Say Memorial Culvert or some such. Contrast the always-climbing Colleen Hanabusa, who, after an unsuccessful run for Congress, cleaned her closet of these potentially stinky fish bones.

If some moneybags business wants to buy the land, follow the regs, buy some fish and put up an already passe "World Class Aquarium," let it be that person's own folly.

State government has no business backing a fish show with a huge tax credit, the schools of homeless families washed up on Kaka'ako Makai don't need an aquarium, and the Little Waikiki Aquarium That Could is just fine.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.