I was six years old when the penny dropped and I realized I was light in the loafers. While I wasn’t happy with the anagnorisis, I had no doubts about it. It was about the same time I discovered Saturday morning cartoons. At some puerile level I connected the dots and  figured there must be answers on the TV.  I started watching cartoons hoping to find someone like me. Witchipoo came as close to a match as I could figure, but this was not what I was after. If I couldn’t find queers like me I would settle on mooning over heartthrobs. Even then I was attracted to the hirsute types with whiskers.

Here are my childhood paramours. I was a degenerate child from the get-go.

BlueBluto

Ok, he was a bully and a clod. But, oh! those muscles! Those whiskers! They looked like they could cut through iron! He was the original “bear”. I fantasized he would take me away and not that wispy Olive Oyl. When I look back, I can’t help but feel Popeye and Brutus’ long time antipathy was just a ruse for suppressed mutual longing.

Popeye, in contrast, evoked no longing. He was short, hairless, and got Olive Oyl (yuck). And spinach from a can is loathsome.

 

 

jjonahjamesonJ. Jameson

He was another jerk, but just look at that crew cut. The gray in the temples, the cigar, and loosened tie suggest he is quite the dominant daddy. I was mesmerized. I thought Peter Crane was wasting an opportunity; I would be Mr. Jameson’s gofer boy without question.

 

 

 

Captain-Hook-Wallpaper9Captain Hook

I did not long for him,  I wanted to be him.  What’s not to love? He was master of a boat of sailors. He had a butt boy in Mr. Smee. And he dressed fabulous!  To compliment his authoritative demur he had a shriek like a drag queen; I can still spot-on imitate it.

 

 

 

tve19565-19580801-2244Paul Bunyan 

Do the math; connect the dots!

 

 

 

But – the winner by a country mile in my boyhood fantasies was –

 

pDr. Benton Quest.

Hirsute. Redheaded. He traveled with his ‘buddy’ Race Bannon (who was not hard on the eyes either). I think I spent many a Saturday morning hoping to see them stop shooting their silly guns and go swimming or something. “For Pete’s sake,” I would think while they leaned over some science project or map “Give him a kiss!”

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