He’s watching Popeye with the children, sipping his morning coffee. I am writing and hearing, in the background, the noises of Popeye: the music, the wail that is Olive Oyl’s voice (and why is her name Olive Oyl?), the interjections of sound that mean Popeye and Bluto are at it again.
I am satisfied in all of this. They are all occupied, after all, and I Am Writing.
And then Bill raises the honest issue, the one we all have going at the backs of our minds when confronted with this program, the puzzle we have, perhaps, never articulated but have pondered since time out of mind: “I’ve never quite understood the relationship between Popeye and Bluto.”
There is no implication here, no hidden meaning. But don’t you wonder? Don’t you? What is it with those two?
What?
What??
