Don’t Blame Popeye

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I get tired of everyone blaming Popeye

for everything wrong in the world.

We’re dependent on Middle East Oil

because we need it to grow spinach for Popeye.

The huge Federal deficit is caused

from buying corncob pipes for Popeye.

The worldwide sailor pants shortage

and global warming is all because of Popeye.

 

I get sick of it.

Look there’s Olive Oil and Sweat Pea now.

What are they doing to reduce the jobless rate.

Oh, Oh, it’s Wimpy eating a hamburger on Tuesday.

Nice that he has time to eat a burger,

while this government refuses to fund research

on flesh-eating bacteria.

 

I put down my bag of Pringles and looked out my 12th story window at the commotion in the streets below.

Crowds are  rioting, turning cars over, and burning them.

A man with a piece of beef jerky in one hand,

is carrying a sign on a stick that I can just barely make out:

“Impeach President Popeye!”

 

Hmmm. I didn’t even know Popeye was President.

Don’t blame me I didn’t vote.

Maybe all this is his fault.

God damn you Popeye.

I curse you Popeye.

Or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Before I return to my bag of Pringles,

just to be on the safe side I drop a can of spinach

out the window on the crowd below.

 

Followed by the pouring of  caldrons of moulten led.

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