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You can smell the grease
from two blocks away. There's no escaping it. It's omnipresent. It's
all encompassing. The irony is, of course, that Popeye was a character
specifically conjured by adults to teach kids that eating your vegetables
can lead to strength and vitality, and thus the ability to land a
piece of ass like Olive Oil. I certainly don't think this is what
they had in mind. After all, we dare you to find something on the
menu that isn't deep-fried or smothered in gravy. The average Popeye's
customer weighs in at a deuce/deuce-and-a-half, has a shiny chin,
a wonky eye or two and a penchant for patronizing brightly lit, filthy
restaurants (so if you see someone fitting this description on the
street, please call the authorities, and whatever you do, don't feed
them anything green.) The saddest thing about Popeye's is the emaciated
chicken hidden under the miles of batter. In the age of hormones and
robust free-range poultry, Popeye's seems to only get the runts of
the litter. Withered is the only word that comes to mind. Why not
save your pennies and go to the market and buy a nice, juicy rotisserie
clucker for yourself? [MF]
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