Saturday, March 28, 2020

Doing the Netflix Thing in Quarantine

Ranking my top 5 binge-worthy TV series

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.”
-Groucho Marx

The whole world is watching America, and America is watching TV.”
-Sam Levenson

All work - no way.
During COVID-19, all our gigs have been canceled, my hours at work are reduced, and now under a self-imposed quarantine (because I'm over 65!), what’s a guy to do?

I’ve played my guitar as much as my wife can handle, scrubbed the toilets (honey-do) and even braved the line at Costco to ensure a continued supply of toilet paper, so now what? Well, my hand-washing friends, it’s TV time.

Give me something good… wah, wah.

I’m not a critic. At least when it comes to television programs. I’ll watch anything, if the writing and acting are good, or it’s entertaining and not crap.

Okay, I’m a critic.

Nowadays, I find there are so few original ideas. Everything old is "new" again. Studios tend to rely on what worked once, slap some younger actors in place, and call it a series.

My question is: Can anyone write a rom/com where guy doesn’t meet girl, lose girl by doing something stupid and then get girl at end? Apparently not.

Action shows aren’t much better. Guy has girl/family. Bad guys kill girl/family. Guy gets revenge on bad guys for killing girl/family.

Because of all the drivel out there, I’m going to save you viewing frustration by giving you my top 5 Netflix shows that won’t suck up hours of precious time you’ll never get back.

Watch this.
In this list, the hierarchy of numbers is meaningless. These are just my favorites. I only numbered them because…. well, eh, it’s a top-5 list.

1.  Dark German/Netflix/2 Seasons
Do you love sci-fi/thrillers? Time travel? Subtitles? This has all three.

Young people in a small town begin to disappear. Here’s the thing, it’s not a matter of where they are… it’s when. Oooooh, me likie.

Subtitles can be a bit challenging to some – according to Jerry Seinfeld who claimed, “The reason we watch TV is because we don’t want to read.” But I disagree and guarantee it'll be worth your efforts. There’s an English, audio-dubbed option, but to me it loses something. Man-up and read the dang subtitles.

I suggest you pay careful attention to characters' names or else you’ll be tempted to start over from the beginning.

When you finish, don’t get angry. There are loose ends, but due to overwhelming hair-pulling and grumbling from the fans, they're filming a third season to tie up all those loosey-gooseys.

Crazy good series.

2.  The Tunnel British-French/Netflix/3 Seasons
You'll be hooked on this series from the get-go.

Here's the skinny. A well dressed, dead woman’s body is found in the Chunnel (the Channel Tunnel between England and France that goes under the English Channel).

The killer placed the body exactly on the line between the two countries, head on one side, legs on the other. When the body is moved, they find the woman had been cut perfectly in two, one-half in England (a politician), and one-half in France (a prostitute).

So, what the heck, and whose case is it? Wait… the two halves are from two different women. What, what?

The two main characters – a married male detective (English) who has a hard time keeping his piece in his pants, and a quirky female cop (France), team up to catch a serial killer called the “Truth Terrorist.”

When you get to the end of this limited series, you'll be mentally drained and yelling at your big screen.

Harry Potter Trivia: The socially awkward female cop, Elise, is played expertly by Clémence Poésy, who's known for her magical portrayal of Fleur Delacour in the Harry Potter film series.

You've gotta watch this.

3.  Marcella British-Nordic noir/Netflix/2 Seasons
Who doesn’t love crazy British female detectives?

In this dark series we're not talking Chief Inspector Clouseau, inept, sight gags, wacky. We’re talking blackouts, uncontrollable anger, cheating husband and murdered mistress, while trying to capture a crazy killer. This one is almost uncomfortable to watch, in a car-accident kinda way.

You’ll quickly fall sympathetically in love with this flawed cop, Marcella. I did. Don't tell my wife.

Okay, it’s another serial killer (yes!!!) but has a plot that will keep you not only on the edge of your seat, but just plain on edge.

The end will leave you begging for more.

4.  La Mante French/Netflix/1 Season
French female Hannibal Lecter? Holy spleen-eater, pass the Chianti and fava beans, I’m all in.

After being locked away for 25 years in solitary confinement, serial killer (again?), Jeanne Deber-dubbed The Mantis- is enlisted by the gendarmes to help find a copycat, psychopathic serial killer (old premise, I know) who seems to be slashing pages from her blood-soaked playbook.

The rub is, she won’t cooperate unless she gets to work one on one with her estranged son who’s grown up to be a detective and wants nothing to do with her.

Will mom and junior catch the bad guy? Will the bodies pile up? I guess you’ll have to watch and see.

5.  The Frankenstein Chronicles British/ Netflix/2 Seasons
Mary Shelly rises from the dead once again. This British series is based on, well, ya know… Dracula. Just kidding. Duh.

When a corpse made of pieces and parts of children washes ashore, Sean Bean (who’s fabulous as river policeman, Inspector John Marlott), starts an investigation into who, and why someone would stitch a dead body together. Who and why, indeed?

Guess he never read the book.

Acting and writing are top notch, and this is not your grandma’s grunting, clumsy, flat headed, neck-bolted Frankenstein.

I’m just going to leave it at that.

These are just a few shows I’ve found to be worth vegging to. Grab a snack and binge on.

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Too Much Time on My Hands

“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

“The future is uncertain, but the end is always near.”
― Jim Morrison

The invisible enemy.
I’m slurping Top Ramen (by choice, for now) and staring out the window. It still looks the same. No killer virus attacking the glass trying to get in. Well, at least that I’m aware of. Those viral droplets are cagey little fellows. Too bad they’re not the size of basketballs. Going outside would be like playing lethal dodge-ball. Unfortunately, a virus is more like the creepy new reboot of The Invisible Man; you just never know where they’re hiding.

Making news more fun.
Since we're all holed up in our homes, many of us have had the news on 24/7 to stay abreast of the COVID-19 spread. We've been inundated with stats and facts, so I'm thinking of more ideas on how to make news more fun.

Here's a thought: The networks should let the narrator from the Curse of Oak Island do the intro to all the broadcasts. If you haven’t invested hundreds of hours watching these guys hunt for treasure, only to be let down week after week after week, you’re missing out, well, eh… on nothing, I guess.

My point, you ask? The narration is quite (unintentionally) humorous due to the fact that most of what he says is couched in the form of a question.

“We’ve been told… to shelter in place? Millions… could be infected? Toilet paper stocks… are severely limited? Could the Knights Templar be involved?"

Fun with math.
What I find interesting about these times is if you've driven the LA or OC freeways at any time during these past few weeks, you've seen the digital LED billboards lit up with messages about COVID-19, avoid social gatherings, and such. One message even instructed on hand-washing.

So here's where my brain went with that message. Let’s say you wash your hands at a minimum of 5 times a day. There are 327 million Americans currently residing in the good 'ole U.S. of A. So if I'm doing my simple arithmetic correctly, that’s roughly 1,625,000,000,000 hand washings a day x 15 days. Forget the toilet paper, I’m hoarding Dove soap.

The upside, our sewers have never been cleaner.

Social distancing.
Interesting new term this "Social distancing" directive. As an anxiety ridden, introverted musician, I’ve been practicing social distancing all my life. I've often been compared to Howard Hughes, sans the long fingernails and personal wealth.

Encouraging me to avoid people and stay home, is like telling a Disney-a-holic that they have to take up permanent residence in the Magic Kingdom.

Score one for the anxious!

All geared up and no place to rock.
With clubs, bars and restaurants cancelling all live music for the immediate future, gigging musicians are relegated to playing with themselves(mind up and out of the gutter, please). Maybe it's better said, "By themselves."

Anywhoo, this isn’t an issue for most guitarists. All they really want to hear is themselves anyway. Truth. Personally, I find that a loud rhythm section always covers a multitude of free-form, fret wanking sins.

Practice is imperative with all this time off. At the end of the two weeks we've been ordered to stay at home, we should all be as technically proficient as Eddie Van Halen. Okay, we'll possibly look like hairy vagrants but we'll have very clean hands.

Prison with a view.
Being under this stay-in-place quarantine seems a lot like livin' behind bars except the jails have better Internet speed, (AT&T, I'm talking to you!) and don’t have to ration toilet paper. With everybody working from home, I'm just watching my Google search screen as it spins and buffers and buffers and buffers…

What crime can I commit that won't look so bad on a rap sheet? I gotta get some work done here.

Ladies and Germs, what’s next?
As I have time to ponder, and my mind begins to wander, he's where it goes. 

·         When this whole pandemic is over will this forced isolation cause us to crave the company others?
·         Will we finally be kind to the people who cut in line at Starbucks?
·         Will we willingly talk to our neighbors?

Biggest question of all, will we find out who hoarded all the toilet paper?

Don’t expect any miracles, my friends.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Can't Spare a Square

“Today you can go to a gas station and find the cash register open and the toilets locked. They must think toilet paper is worth more than money.”
-Joey Bishop

“Sorry, I can’t spare a square.”
-Elaine Benes (Seinfeld)

Déjà flu.
Just when I thought life couldn’t get any more bizarre, along comes the coronavirus. Now, it’s not like we haven’t had our share of outbreaks, but if memory serves me right, they've involved animals of some sort; birds, swine, cows, sheep, and bugs (the buzzing kind), mostly. Oh, and the now infamous Ebola, which though it's not named after, but in my opinion should be, called the Cheetah flu, just to keep this whole animal theme going.

The end of the world as we know it.
Do any of you remember the Y2K hoopla? What about the Mayan calendar hooey and the frequent giant asteroid predictions that have caused similar, but not this panicky of reaction in people?

My assumption is because those events were meant to either wipe out all humanity as we know it, or at the least send us back to the stone age - which, considering the legalization of marijuana, we might already be there.

You can rest easy, though, my friends. This Corona thing will apparently only take out those of us who don’t have enough double-ply Charmin on hand.

Just crying wolf.
Don’t we have enough real-life disasters with floods, tidal waves, earthquakes, tornadoes and the McPizza (not a McJoke) and Urkel-O’s cereal to freak out about than this virus? The thing about these other global and regional disasters is there’s no warning. No chance to panic due to amped up media coverage until after the fact.

Hmm… is there a connection here? Could the news be spreading the flus?

Are you feelin’ froggy?
My curiosity pauses at this question: Has anyone done a study on leap years and wacky behavior?

Perhaps the alignment of the planets Dagobah and Andor every four years produces a ripple in the force, causing a gravitational pull on the tiny part of the brain that controls rational thinking. I’d like to think so. Otherwise, “Crazy you are, I think,” as Yoda would say.

Life is a masquerade, old chum.
As I let my mind wander (I know, a dangerous thing to do) I wonder if bank tellers and 7-11 employees get nervous when someone walks in wearing a white dust mask. I would. People are hard enough to read as it is.

Without seeing the mouth, how do we know if someone is smiling?

If you’re having a bad day, I would like to know it. I don’t want to piss you off any more than you already are. For. Sure.

I’m Dow Jones-ing it.
Why does the stock market always do a big Sherman during these mysterious pandemics? I see nothing but golden opportunities. When life hands you Lyme’s, make a margarita. Companies that sell products like latex gloves, toilet paper, water, and masks are set to make a fortune.

Famous actors, sports stars and musicians should jump on the bandwagon. This is a marketer's dream. Imagine Michael Jackson's signature medical masks and limited-edition, white glitter latex gloves, or a Seinfeld-promoted hand sanitizer? It’s gold, Jerry! Gold!

She gives me fever.
I did a little research. All flu illnesses and deaths are estimated calculations by the CDC and may take years for the numbers to jive. I also read, (you should read, but not Facebook. Real reading is good for you) that the coronavirus test kits are proving unreliable. Really?

Could this mean we have no idea how many true cases there are? This fact might make you feel less stressed or may cause you to feverishly search the Internet for the latest flu-conspiracy theories.

Zika the truth and you will find it.
·         What’s left for humanity?
·         Are we to be squished like a bug by a bug named after a beer?
·         Is Sears going to reissue their famous catalog due to a toilet paper shortage?
·         Will three ultimately really be a crowd?

Don’t call me for the answers.

I’ll be in Hawaii. I hear flights are getting cheaper by the minute.

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Ready, Set, Go (Are you prepared for disaster?)

“If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend six hours sharpening my ax.
-Abraham Lincoln

As native Californian I’ve experienced my share of earthquakes. Some I’ve slept through, others were over before I could even react, and one I thought must be a large truck rumbling by, only to feel the heart-stopping jolt seconds later. A few (thankfully only one or two) had me running for the door. I instinctively know this is wrong, but hey, we’re talking self-preservation here. Somehow a doorjamb or our dining room table with its half inch thick glass top doesn’t instill a lot of confidence in me as a life saver

It’s like the ol’ duck and cover (yes, I’m that old) drill I learned in elementary school. They obviously meant well, and were concerned for our safety, but although furniture in those days really was built like a tank, I’m dang sure my initial-scarred, solid wood third-grade desk wouldn’t have fared well against an atomic bomb.

Living in sunny, southern California, most of us choose to not think about earthquakes, or prepare for any sort of natural disaster. The closest we come to preparing is shopping at Costco where we can’t help but buy thirty rolls of toilet paper, a four-pound tub of Best Foods mayonnaise and a six pack of underarm deodorant. Because buying in bulk is cheaper, right? Even in an emergency we will not have to resort to leaves, or have body odor, and if you have the twenty pack of Chicken of the Sea tuna, we will sooner or later find each other.

Every time I see the news about a tornado or a flood, I wonder what’s wrong with those Midwest people. Get the heck outta there. You know it’s gonna happen. I know it’s gonna happen. For goodness sake, everybody knows it’s gonna happen. Yet they say earthquakes scare them. Are you kidding me?

Am I prepared for the big one? Well, eh… I have some peanut butter, a couple bags of ramen and two hundred paper plates, so, yeah.

That was obviously a joke. Not the supplies. That’s real. Actually I’m woefully unprepared. The real preppers are probably sitting in their concrete-lined bunkers right now, shaking their heads. Because if you’ve ever seen news reports f before a hurricane, you know the grocery store shelves look like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard and the dog definitely ain’t getting’ no bone. Imagine that in California where they eat their young. It would get ugly fast, so I’ve got a backup plan. I’ve downloaded a map to all the stars homes. Not to sight see, but so I know where all the food is.

In the event of a natural, or unnatural disaster, here’s some things you should have and know.

The Haves

H2O is the big number one. If you’ve ever watched the television program “Naked and Afraid,” between squinting at the blurry images, you’ll learn that thirst can take you down fast. You can live for weeks without barbecued lizard or a handful of grubs, but only days without water.

The average person needs one gallon of water per day. Oh, and don’t forget man’s best friend. Spot needs water too. Stash at least two weeks’ worth of unopened, bottled water.

Make sure to check periodically and replace when expired, or every six months. While you’re shopping, grab a bottle of unscented liquid chlorine bleach that’s safe for sanitizing and disinfecting water 

You can also purchase survivalist straws such as ones sold by They are designed to filter out contaminates like lead. E. Coli and the fungus that’s among us. They generally last six months or 200 gallons of water.

I realized this is a no-brainer, but how much non-perishable food do you have? This isn’t counting the two dusty cans of Campbell's “cream of what-the-heck” that the previous renters left behind and the packets of soy sauce that have a thousand-year shelf life.

Here’s what you might need according to an article at called 12 Tips for Stocking an Emergency Food Pantry

Cowboy Food
Jerky has been around since the 1500’s or forever, depending on who you believe. Jerky is cool. Clint Eastwood always chawed on it in his spaghetti westerns movies. It’s full of protein, and if sealed is edible for at least two years. Homemade… well it’s a disaster. Beggars can't be choosers. Can you say squirrel jerky? Oh, and its high in sodium, so you might need more water. Grab your survivalist straw and hit the toilet tank or the neighbor’s pool.

Peaches and Pears and Peas, Oh, My
Unless you or your neighbor (assuming he’s nice and not armed) have a fruit tree, you gotta go to the can. Fruit is full of vitamins and vital minerals. You can add beans, beans the magical fruit to this list. Hot or cold their delicious. Leave the tent flap open. You’re welcome.

Soup Is Good food
I like the chunky variety. It’s a hearty meal, even without water. Vegetable, chicken noodle, minestrone are my favs. Cream soups are suspicious. What’s hiding in there? Cream is milk. Milk goes bad, I don’t trust it. Cup-o-Noodles is good, but requires heat, a pan, and a trip to the toilet tank.

Nuts and Seeds
I love nuts and seeds. They are nutritional, tasty and great for attracting small, woodland creatures that would look good on a paper plate with some packaged soy sauce and a heap of cold pork and

Dehydrated Fruits
I’m not a raisin fan. Not in my cereal or in my trail mix. But dried fruit is chock full of good stuff, and you can put it in your pocket, so no one hits you over the head and steals it. Win, win.

Going Crackers
This healthy carb alternative will outlast bread, and unopened can stay reasonably fresh for six months. I prefer Ritz and Saltines. To each his own. So, if we run into each other in the abandoned grocery store, and all that is left is raisins whole-grain crackers, don’t shoot me.

Chicken of the Sea
Canned fish is a great source of protein, vitamins, minerals, and omega-3 fatty acids. I believe mayonnaise has this omega stuff, but I don’t recommend using it after the power goes out. They come in a variety of containers that can be McGyvered into drinking cups and foil pouches, and if sewn together, make a darn good acid rain-proof poncho. It’s all about re-purposing, folks. Lastly, sardines are awesome with crackers (saltines, please) and make great bait.

Well, that’s enough for now. I need to get to Costco before the big one hits.

Friday, September 29, 2017

Wandering Wendy

Wendy was born in a wonderland
Or a wander-land if you please
For she was often known to go wandering
In the midst of the willow trees

From just a wee lass she’d heard whispers
Of wizards and witches and such
Who waited for children to whisk them away
And feed them to werewolves for lunch

Not one to wilt from such long-winded tales
Or whine from the thorns that will prick
She waved off the warnings from well-meaning folks 
And wandered off into the thick

She followed a wheel-rutted path that led in
And soon heard a warble or trill
Perhaps just the wind or a trick of the mind
A wren or a whippoorwill

With strong-willed suspicion she continued her way
Walking as fast as she could
When she felt something wicked was watching
From the darkness so deep in the woods

Without any warning a witch did appear
Face withered and bleached white as snow 
Her thin wrinkled neck wore the teeth of a wolf
A wart graced the tip of her nose

She stared at young Wendy with black wrathful eyes
Winked and then gave her a sneer
I’ll grant you three wishes to test your desires
So you’d better wish wisely, my Dear
For if you are greedy or show weakness of will 
And wish for more wishes or gold
The test will be over and the wager you’ll lose
As the winner I’ll be taking your soul

Wendy wasn’t one to get worried or fraught
And was always well-mannered and nice
So she weighed all her options like a good Welshman will
For to wilt would be too high a price

Here are my wishes so please listen well
I’ll promise I won’t wax or wane
I wish you were a young child just ‘bout my age
With beauty all seek to attain

I wish for you wisdom in all of your ways
That you no more cause children to weep
Wherever you roam all will seek out your words
For the good you will sow you will reap

My last wish is selfish and wrong I suspect
Though wistful I must go ahead
I wish we would never remember this day
When we wake we’ll be sisters instead

A whirlwind of lights washed the darkness away
White heat from the flash warmed her face
When she opened her eyes the old witch was no more
A mere child stood there in her place

Wendy gave the young girl a wide smile 
Let’s be going was all she would say
Our mother will surely be worried by now
I think we should call it a day
-Kenneth Goorabian

Monday, September 25, 2017

‘til Death Do Us Part

Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.
-Groucho Marx

I don't believe in an afterlife, although I am bringing a change of underwear.
-Woody Allen

A few days before our wedding I was dying.  Really.  Laugh away.  I was convinced I would never set foot on Italian soil for our business trip/honeymoon.  I would undoubtedly clutch my chest and crumble to the ground, all the while watching the wedding ring roll across the floor in a grainy, black-and-white, slow-motion like a scene from an Orson Wells movie before I could croak out, “I do.”

The phone call to future wife went something like this. Or at least how I choose to remember it.

Bonnie:  Hi, Babe.  What’s up?
Ken:  We need to talk.
Bonnie:  What?
Ken:  I’m dying.  I won’t live to see Milan.
Bonnie: (Crickets)
Ken:  Don’t weep for me.  Just start a home for abandoned hamsters in my name.

Well, it went something like that.  Bonnie agreed to meet me after work, (so much for compassion), picked me up and we went to the doctor.  Luckily, I was still alive by the time we arrived at the office. 
After checking my blood pressure and pulse, I was weighed and measured (for undertaker’s purposes, I surmised) and invited to spend some time alone in a cold drawer… er…room, waiting for the doctor.

Side Note: Doctor’s visits are like Disneyland, where you’re convinced you're near the ride until you reach the corner and discover something constructed by the same sadists that designed rat mazes.  Only at the doctor’s office they shuttle you from room to room and you don’t get cheese.

After a wait that seemed no shorter than showing up at DMV without an appointment, a female doctor (who could have played Gidget if they rebooted it today) entered.

Doctor Gidget:  What seems to be the problem?
Ken:  Holy minestrone, I’m dying. (All right, the Gidget quote wasn’t in there, but I wanted to say it.)
Bonnie:  He’s not dying.  We’re getting married.
Ken:  She’s an optimist, not a doctor.

Let’s cut to the chase.  She checked my heart and lungs (both still there) and then pronounced me fit, and free to get married.

Ken:  It’s not that I don’t believe you, but is there anything else you can check?
Bonnie:  Stop.  You’re not dying.  We already paid for the trip.
Ken:  You can carry me in one of those urns, but not a fancy one.  Something plain, in blue…  I’ve always looked good in blue.

Bonnie looks at the doctor and shakes her head.

Doctor Gidget:  We can do an EKG (My first thought was Electrocute Kenneth Goorabian, but that’s how my mind works) if you like.
Ken:  How much will that cost?

Okay, I was in for $80 so far and dying or not, I am a freelancer.

Doctor Gidget:  $60
Ken:  Let’s do it. If I’m dying who cares about the bill.
Bonnie: (Gives me a look that would scare a terrorist off a plane.)

After a few minutes, the doctor came back with the results.

Ken:  How much time do I have?
Bonnie:  Oh, my gosh.
Ken:  I just bought these shoes.  I want to get some wear out of them.

Funny how the mind works.  Apparently, it was a simple panic attack due to my already-existing generalized anxiety, the wedding, the trip abroad, moving, yada, yada, yada.  The doctor presented me with my first Xanax prescription.

Lesson I learned:
I’ve seen my share of doctor shows, so I knew what an EKG was, but was not so happy when I came out looking like a dog with mange after they hacked away my chest hairs to attach the electrodes.  My chest looked like a smiley face.  If I had to do it all over again, I would visit both a tanning and waxing salon before submitting myself to this procedure.  I really want to look better as a corpse.

Kenneth Goorabian

Saturday, September 16, 2017

Confessions of a Cereal Killer


“I like any cereal. I like the idea of eating and drinking with one hand without looking.”
-Jerry Seinfeld
“Four out of five doctors say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I guess the other guy sleeps in a lot.”
-Kenneth Goorabian

Honey Nut, oh, Honey Nut, how I love thee. Let me count the ways.
I won’t really list them, but… I will sing their praises.

For those who poo-poo America’s contributions to gourmet cuisine, consider this:  The very first breakfast cereal, granula, was invented in Dansville, NY, in 1863 by James Caleb Jackson. He was the owner/operator of Our Home on the Hillside, later renamed the Jackson Sanatorium. Whether this change from home sweet home to insane asylum was due to consuming vast quantities of sugary loveliness has never been proven, but rumors abound.

Before long, surgeon and health spa owner, John Harvey Kellogg, got wind of Jackson’s granula, and renamed it granola (I read that as a play on vowels and plagiarism – but who am I?). And to add another twist, Kellogg was then quickly bested by a former patient, C.W. Post. What did Post offer to the mix? His tooth-shattering creation, Grape-Nuts, championed by tree-huggers and dentists alike. Post was the first to offer a discount coupon in his cereal boxes. Not sure if this coupon was for the product or dental services.

Kellogg retaliated by adding prizes. Soon there were millions of baking-soda submarines, comics, and other fabulous toys that caused us to feverishly rip apart the box like a spoiled kid on Christmas morning. Pure genius.

After half a century gobbling down truckloads of sweet grainy goodness, drowned in gallons of milk, I’m still hooked. How could I not be? What’s better than dessert for breakfast?
I must confess that during the writing of this piece I mercilessly killed Cap’n Crunch. The whole box.  I feel nauseated and a bit remorseful, but it had to be done. Perhaps this is a cry for help.


Forget about the cavities and hyperactivity. Grab a bowl, a spoon, and cereal of your choice because…

Theeeeey’re alllll great.

Kenneth Goorabian