Confessions of a Cereal Killer

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“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.

Nah.

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

Theeeeey’re alllll great.

Kenneth Goorabian

www.kennethgoorabian.blogspot.com

Got my GMO-JO Working

Have no fear! Spidey is here.

-Peter Parker

I am not an animal.

-Elephant Man

I’m ready to put my name on the list when they begin genetically modifying people. My wife says I’m fine just the way I am. Well, except for my constant fidgeting when she’s trying to sleep, my insistence on using dryer sheets (I abhor static cling), and my refusal to eat any cereal but Honey Nut Cheerios. Aside from that, I’m loyal as a dog, walk myself, and do her laundry. I think she’d rather leave well enough alone.

I have a few ideas for GMO-ification that I really think could benefit society.

They could give car wash guys extra-long arms and legs. I have an SUV, and they always miss spots on the roof. Now, I’m not Andre the Giant, and my eyesight is so bad I had to have contacts put in to pick out new frames for my glasses, and even I can see the dirty spots they missed. This means that every single carwash guy is either legally blind or they all have abnormally short arms and legs. They could fix this with a little monkey/giraffe DNA and I would be perfectly okay with it. Oh, and I promise not to giggle, or stare at them too much when I get my car washed.

A deviled-eggplant would be delicious. There are never enough deviled eggs at holiday parties. This combo would ensure generous quantities of slippery, mayonaisey goodness, lower the cholesterol count a smidge, and the purple color would add a festive flair.

I think we should engineer babies to immediately become 35 years old upon their third birthday. This would eliminate stress and monetary burden for parents and effectively wipeout all future boy bands.

K.G.