Jughead Jones. This guy has always given me the creeps. There’s an aloofness there that’s disconcerting, a feeling that he’s always hanging back and silently judging. His metabolism is superhuman, remaining very lean even with his extravagant diet. He hates women. He thinks they’re all evil and leads them on. He’s left behind him a string of broken hearts all across Riverdale – callous rogue…psychopathic vag-tease. To him, they are a mere distraction from the more important things in life, mainly hamburgers, hot dogs and shakes.

Interestingly enough, Jughead Jones is not singular in the cartoon world as far as asexual foodies are concerned. There’s also Wimpy, the shnorer from Popeye who was always willing to pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today. Wimpy is cheap and inconsiderate. Moreover, he’s shifty, and scheming. He too has an air of superiority. He is above a hard day’s work for honest pay. It’s no small wonder that Geezil – an anti-Semitic, Jewish caricature straight out of Der Stürmer – “Hated him to pieces”. I do too.

Two more of these assholes – Shaggy and Scooby. Guess what? They’re both secretly lovers, I’m sure of it. This is the only thing remotely interesting about them – their clandestine romance. But they’re both vile, insensitive creatures, caring not one whit about anything but sustenance and each other’s sexual pleasure. They bring whipped cream and olives with pimento into the bedroom – they’re kinky that way. They are also cowardly and simpering and I’ve always loathed them both. They are the first ones to run from a fight. They are not good friends.

More cartoon characters I’ve always reviled? Heathcliff. He was a poor man’s Garfield and Garfield is an amoral, violent, lazy scumbag. He is also a foodie with a penchant for lasagna and an over inflated opinion of himself. He thinks he’s so clever with his pithy little insights. “I hate Monday’s”? Fuck you, you bloated insufferable feline. Who doesn’t hate Mondays? Go choke on your lasagna.

Another foodie I can’t stand is Dagwood Bumstead. He’s got a gorgeous, blonde wife who adores him, yet he dedicates the majority of his existence on earth trying to build the perfect sandwich. He’s not satisfying Blondie’s carnal desires, that’s for sure. He’s also a lousy employee, constantly getting on the nerves of his boss.

Someone should airlift Wimpy, Jughead Jones, Shaggy, Scooby, Garfield, and Dagwood to a cartoon desert island somewhere and leave them there with no food so they can all eat each other’s rectums.

That I would watch.

I think I’ll pitch the idea to Hanna-Barbera.

About Author

I'm a writer/editor with a penchant for saddle shoes, pontification and fried pork rinds. Equal parts gadfly, cut-up, provocateur, philosopher, and silly-willy. My personal heroes include Reggie Jackson, Elvis Costello and Philip Roth.

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