Brigade of Mascots

It might be because I haven't eaten anything all day due to a late start this morning before I went to work, but I want to address some heroes. This might pertain to yesterday's inauguration, I suppose. But it more has to do with a conversation I had with Adri, Taylor, and Marta before I went to bed last night.

We had just finished watching "It's a Wonderful Life". Perfect movie for the occasion, I think. This isn't a Christmas movie. This is a movie for those seminal days of reflection. We reflected afterward. We reflected on our childhood heroes: the Cereal Brigade.

Our favorite cereals were all different. I honestly think that most of the shitty cereals also have shitty mascots. Smacks? That stupid frog? Golden Crisp with it's extremely lacklusting teddy bear?

Marta said Smacks made her think of eating vaginas when she was little. I will never be able to have Smacks now without thinking about the prospect that I will be eating a crapload of pink tacos at the same time.

Tony the Tiger, cool, but sorta lame. Yeah, he's like a personal trainer, but he doesn't have a life. Frosted Flakes are cool during the first couple of bowls after obtaining a box, but after awhile the effect is lost. They turn out to be slightly above Corn Flakes.

Cookie Crisp is a huge letdown, we agreed. Two dumb robbers are flaunted, a bumbling idiot and his trusty pooch. They steal your heart and break it once you realize that what could be little cookies resembling Famous Amos minis turn out to be sub-par Cocoa Puffs or Kix. Fuck you Cookie Crisp.

Cocoa Puffs are fitting. They have been listed as the most unhealthy cereal on the market, and the deranged Cukoo bird is telling in that regard. You know what you're in store for. You must be cukoo if you think Cocoa Puffs will provide you sustenance until lunchtime.

Tucan Sam and Fruit Loops. Promising venture . . . but again, like Tony, in the end you get bored of it. The trusty alternative is Apple Jacks, which is basically the same idea without the variety of flavor. No mascot there. Apple Jacks tells it like it is. Cool upon the first couple of bites, then you may get bored of it. It's humble in it's honesty.

Cheerios: no mascot, just a huge fucking bowl of Cheerios on the front, sometimes in the shape of a heart, saying "We're healthy!" Cool when you get older. Multi-grain Cheerios . . . also awesome! Honey Nut Cheerios . . . awesome! Frosted Cheerios? Too far!! You hit the mark, the limit, with the Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, now you're getting cocky. Fruit? Fucking disgusting! That's like the 9th season of The X-Files, you should've ended it with Season 7!! Quit while you're ahead!! Stick with the classics!!

Frosted Wheat now has this sarcastic little shredded wheat dude. I like him. Not too flashy. Makes me like Frosted Wheat more. They always made fun of Shredded Wheat, saying how boring it was, even though the same company, Post, made it. That takes balls. Because Post knows that old people (and people on the anti-yeast diet) eat Shredded Wheat aplenty, so they don't need to market to them. Kids will grow up and still want Frosted Wheat, realize it's somewhat unhealthy, and go for the healthier alternative.

What else? Oh . . . fucking Corn Pops! The commericials never sported mascots, but they had the Jaws theme (which is friggin' scary when you're little), and thieves who were always thwarted by the rightful owner and their proclamation "Gotta have my pops!" Memorable, and a memorable, odd cereal.

Lucky Charms? That leprechaun can bring you forbidden treats -- to a kid he's a fucking drug dealer! Lucky Charms are always the first box to go in those Kellogg variety packs you get when you're camping or looking for a little different feel in the morning routine. Next are Frosted Flakes, then Corn Pops. Next Raisin Bran (which is cool for the raisins -- the sun was cool, but it wasn't a hero, you know what you're getting there). Next Corn Flakes (a rooster? Alright, I guess I'll try it). Last: Total. Which is totally lame . . . fuck Total. Oh yeah, and fuck Wheaties, too.

Trix? I empathized with that silly rabbit. I think he was the bringer of childhood empathy and altruism. You felt bad for him, and you wanted to break the teeth of every child who showed the rabbit the error of his ways. "They're for kids, you goof!" It teaches you that your peers are the architects for fascism, that being set in your ways leads to corruption. Narrow minds. Those kids were conservative assholes while the rabbit was the fledging liberal. For that, Trix is 100% awesome, for bringing me tasty fruit puffs and political foundation.

Captain Crunch? You know, I always assimilated him into the Captain Kangaroo schema of my brain. Sesame Street was always watched, followed sometimes by Mr. Rogers, but Captain Kangaroo never quite grabbed my attention. I'm sure he was pretty cool, but I never had the urge to go crazy with him. As I grew older I had Crunch Berries, which gives you cancer. So pile that on, they never quite made a dent in my life.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Wow. No pretension there. Just a happy chef who was happy to supply you tasty squares of sugar. God. Those go down like pudding. French Toast Crunch? Was that the cereal that came in little shapes of toast? Cause there was something out there, maybe it's Waffle Crisp, that was really weird and left powder on the roof of your mouth until you actually had to scrape it off with the edge of your finger. Interesting, but not worth the manual labor afterward.

Kix? Eh . . . there was something hidden in them. A secret taste. The commercials touched on that a little. "Kid tested, mother approved." A feast for the tongue, since you could never quite get why Kix were so good. Berry Kix? Holy fucking shit! I loved Berry Kix, but the boxes were always puny and too expensive. I hold a special place in my heart for Berry Kixs, like expensive red wine.

Now drum roll . . . Rice Krispies. Snap, Crackle, and Pop. Three elvish, magical chefs who hid inside your cereal. That was cool. Coolest fucking cereal. My parents actually made me believe that clones of these three chefs made the sounds heard whenever you poured milk on the rice flakes. Now, by itself, Rice Krispies are okay. They just sounded cool, a little novelty act for the morning to boost your brain waves. But when I was in Norway in second grade, my cousins showed me how to dowse the Rice Krispies with sugar. Oh . . . my . . . GOD!!! Nothing beats that. Beats the shit out of the processed sugar all over Frosted Flakes . . . but it doesn't quite match the awesomeness of Rice Krispie Treats cereal.

If you're a hopeful significant other, and you give me a box of Rice Krispie Treats cereal, I will ask your hand in marriage right then and there. I don't think they make this anymore. I would actually look forward to eating Rice Krispie Treats cereal the night before, knowing that the morning would be extra special because of what was on my pantry shelf. The winner of the childhood cereal wars goes to Rice Krispie Treats.

But sadly, due to my self-substaining lower income, I have been reduced to those shitty Malt-O-Meal bags that Adri says resembles dog food. I longingly look at the plethora of cardboard boxes loudly wailing "Buuuuuuyyyyy usssssss" in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. I'm sorry, my old friends, I can't buy you.

But I have found a replacement: honey granola and yogurt. The treat for adults. The new Rice Krispie Treats. God bless you, organic food store!!!

I haven't touched on all the childhood favorites (Count Chocula, Booberry, Reeses Puffs, Oreo-O's, Fruity Pebbles, Honey Comb) mainly because they were far and few in my upbringing, and they were a tasty candy breakfast when I was in middle school. You don't get the lasting effect of positive memories if you were eaten post-fifth grade. You don't hold the same value. All of those were eaten later on in my life. Good, but not as special in a teenage mouth.

Here's to you, Brigade of Mascots! I raise my spoon to thee . . .



Hercules and Love Affair -- "Hercules Theme"