Wimpy, I share your love of the hamburger.
I miss your sweetness and your salt. I gladly post this homage to you on Tuesday, your day of days.
Little known facts about this moocher of burgers:
He originally was a referee for Popeye's professional fights.
He has at least 24 college degrees and a "lofty" IQ.
Wimpy is quite the ladies' man. It's his silver tongue, again. He can sweet-talk any woman on Earth (and will surely try it if he finds out she has access to hamburgers). He has wooed all sorts of females, human and otherwise. He has had more than one affair with the SeaHag, and their relationship to this day is questionable.
He's a poet and here's a sample:
J. WELLINGTON WIMPY'S
APOSTROPHE TO A DESERT DAISY
(imagine our Hero waxing poetic to a flower he has just plucked from the eye socket of a cow skull)
Oh, flower of death, so frail, so red,
Growing from a thing so dead -
Even as l will! be quite soon-
Merely bones 'neath sun and moon
Oh, life -oh, death-so close akin,
Though death can't lose- life can't win
For death is sure, but life-ah well,
'Tis not for me to break the spell
That binds all things in a mighty plan
That can't be changed by laws of man -
That can't be altered by human tricks,
Or e'en be tilted by politics-
Fate alone can pull the strings
That control all human and earthly things.
It is just so: and so 'twill be,
Till the very end of Eternity-
So I cast my lot along with my kind,
And there'll be nobody above to remind-
To remind the gatekeeper an' pass the tip
That J.W. Wimpy was only a gyp.
But-shall you Live? You-just a weed!
To scatter forth your worthless seed-
While I, creation's thing supreme,
Pass on to further nature's scheme?
Nay! Nay! Not so! I'll turn about-
I'm Fate today, you lowly sprout-
I'll pull you up, you little cuss-
Hah! Dust do dust the each of us!
Oh, desert daisy, so pure, so sweet,
You grew from soil that once was meat-
Aye, meat of my choice you chose for food-
Oh, why?-Why have I been so rude?
We both crave beef; we're unlike the others- We're kindred souls; we may be brothers-
But I've killed you. my flower so bright, Plucked you from your home so white.
Sorrow stills my desert madness,
Wild emotions turn to sadness-
But in my brain there is no lull.
ror I picked you from your desert skull-
A skull your throne, whereupon you sat-
And the skull of a cow at that, at that-
And the skull of a lovely cow at that-
And the skull of a lovely cow at that-