The Sailor Man's Propaganda

As noted previously, when I was a child I was a sucker for all sorts of cartoon mascots. Stick them on a cereal box and that's all the nudging you'd need to get me to beg my parents for it. However, it was one thing for Tony the Tiger to peddle his sugary cereal and another thing entirely for an actual, honest-to-god star of a full cartoon show to become the mascot for something other than their show.

For instance:

I vividly remember being at the grocery store, sitting in the cart when we happened upon Popeye's large forearmed, scurvy-mouthed visage on a can of spinach. Look, I'd seen all the cartoons. Pops would open a can of spinach any time he needed extra strength to whip Bluto's ass. It worked for him, surely it would work for my four-year-old self.

My parents told me I wouldn't like it. Fuck 'em, I said. I knew what was what. Too bad for them I had dreams of being a swamp-ass sailor with a corncob pipe. So, like any spoiled rotten kid whose parents were attempting to air on the side of caution, I begged, whined and threw a fit to get it. I knew I'd like it. How could I not?

They agreed to buy the spinach if I ate the whole thing.

Bargain done.

Once we were home later that evening, mom plopped the steaming pile of green slop down in front of me. If I was deterred by its look and smell, I sure as hell didn't show it! No way were they going to get the satisfaction of being right.

Then I took a bite.

Needless to say, they were right. They initially refused to let me up from the table until I finished. After much whining and, probably (definitely), crying, I was released from my torture. I'm sure I was supposed to learn some sort of lesson about my parents knowing better than I did, but being a kid I'm sure that part didn't sink in.

What did sink? I haven't ate spinach since.