Art Or Crap?

There I was. Standing in the bathroom of a little restaurant called 'Breakfast Club' in Mammoth Lakes, California, relieving myself while staring at a clever bit of graffiti on the toilet paper dispenser. It said 'Cruz Control', but spelled in such a way that the 'cruise' part was written like someone's last name rather than the feature found in most cars.

Graffiti in public restrooms is one of those things I've tried to wrap my head around for some time now. I mean, as cool as it is to chisel nonsensical symbols and misspelt words on toilet seats, mirrors, toilet paper dispensers and trash cans, I don't quite understand the allure. Maybe I just need to embrace the subculture.

Maybe I could be a leader among them. I could start an underground public toilet graffiti gang and call myself Muad' Dib. Then we could ransack whole towns, pillaging and defacing all of their public restrooms, wreaking untold havoc and creating fear and panic among the citizenry.

Soon they will all fear Cruz Control.

Muahahaha.

Why not?

Sometimes this is the best way to talk to your parents.

Agreed, but bad punctuation.

Did I "borrow" this picture from Flickr? Yes. Is it worth it even with that annoying line though it? Absolutely.

Good Cereal Advertisements

It is one question that has plagued the minds of all Americans for years: "What ever happened to good cereal advertisements?" Back in the day we had Tony the Tiger, the Smacks Frog, Count Chocula, Lucky the Leprechaun, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, the Trix rabbit, Sonny, The Cinnamon Toast Crunch guys, Captain Crunch, Toucan Sam, and the Honey Nut Cheerios Bee. But where are they now? Where have all the good times gone?

Well, if you remember from only a short while ago, that cute little chimpanzee who starred in the Cocoa Puffs commercials went bonkers in Connecticut and mauled a lady (my condolences to the dead ape and his victim).

But what about Tony? Well, it's true that he shows up from time to time with Olympic celebrities, but it's been widely reported that he is an overweight alcoholic. Apparently the stress of always saying "They're Grrrreat" as his life was falling apart around him was too much.

Count Chocula on the other hand, met a much more immediately fatal fate. As it turns out, he got into a fight with Lucky the Leprechaun over whose cereal had more vitamins and was staked in the heart by the marshmallow that didn't make it into the Lucky Charms box: the shillelagh.

The Smacks Frog also met a similarly abrupt end. While on vacation in the French Riviera, he was confused with someone's frog leg dinner. After he was made an amputee he went to Paris and committed suicide by weaving in and out of traffic on the Champs-Elysees.

The Honey Nut Cheerios Bee is not around as much anymore because of the recent and mysterious bee plague that is killing off much of his family. General Mills has given him the year off.

Captain Crunch became Mayor of San Francisco and spends most of his time in the Castro District.

The Trix rabbit, enraged by always being denied the cereal he so adamantly promoted went berserk, throwing carrots and eating children in a strip mall near Boca Raton, Florida. Prior to being caught by authorities, he posed as the Easter bunny and was trampled by little children.

Snap, Crackle, and Pop started a Boy Band that flopped, and now they are pursuing solo careers. Snap might even make it into next season's American Idol.

The Golden Crisp Bear is still around, but he is even more mellow now than he was in his commercials. He spends most of his time in a refurbished VW bus toking it up with his edgy buddy Sonny, from the Cocoa Puffs' commercials.

The Cinnamon Toast Crunch Bakers have all recently died of heart related problems. Too many cinnamon rolls and not enough exercise appear to be the main cause. That and the skinnier one had a heroine problem.

Toucan Sam was released into a wild game reserve in Brazil earlier this year, and was subsequently killed by a very accurate blow dart hunter.

So there you have it. Is there a chance that cereal advertisements will make a comeback? Maybe. But you can be sure that we will see plenty more generic American breakfast table scenes with everyone smiling and laughing for no apparent reason in the meantime.

The Whole Grain Conspiracy

There is a common misconception that exists in our society. This misconception has gone too far, pushing some people to the brink of starvation and unemployment. You may have guessed it already. "Hay is for horses."

In fact according to recent Harvard study, hay is not just for horses. Hay is a fabulous source of fiber, is low in cost, and is widely available. For decades the hay industry has been stifled by this harmful myth of hay being 'just for horses.' Many within the industry believe it was an insidious lie promulgated by the makers of oatmeal like Quaker, and Carnation Instant Breakfast. Bill Turley, a hay farmer from western Pennsylvania has been trying to undercover what he calls "the hay hater conspiracy" for years.

 "I'm just trying to make an honest living. I sew my fields, and reap them when they're ready. My hay is some of the finest you can buy, but for some reason people only want to buy it for their horses. Little do they know that sheep, goats, cattle, and even people can eat it too. Why, every morning I wake up to a steamy bowl of haymeal and radish drink. It's delicious. I might look like I'm 35, but I'm 72. It's all because of the hay. But no, those stupid oatmeal quakers have to shrink my market with the whole 'hay is for horses' campaign."

Mr. Turley has brought up his concerns before, even picketing by his town hall with signs strapped to himself and some of his farm animals. The signs are more clever than one might expect from a hay farmer. On his sheep the sign says, "Baaaaai like hay too." On his cows, taking from the Chick-Fil-a commercial campaign, is written "Eat more hay." But, his own sign is more direct with the inscription, "Eat haymeal for breakfast! Screw the Quakers." It might be easy to see why he has lost some supporters. Confused quakers who live next to his farm now refuse to do business with him. When he tried to explain they just threw instant oatmeal in his face.

"It's a tough rode I travel, but I believe deep down that one day hay will take its rightful place on the throne of whole grain foods," said Mr. Turley.

I think we can all agree that Mr. Turley's cause is a noble, but hard one. The misconception is so widespread that even his horses get ornery when he reaches in their feed bags for a handful of hayliciousness, even nipping him and stomping around their corrals in angst. 

Good luck Mr. Turley.

Breakfast in Bed

Breakfast in bed.

It frightens me. Is that what you really want in your bed? I would generally prefer not to have bacon, sausage, pancakes or eggs anywhere near my bed. I overheat with just me in my bed, so thinking about hot food under the sheets with me just seems like a bad idea.

Not only that, but it's a messy idea. Here someone is, thinking they're being considerate, or even helpful, and you wake up with a burning gooey sensation on your calf, and your hair is full of oatmeal.

Furthermore, it encourages laziness. If I can't get up enough energy to pour a bowl of cereal and peal a banana, I'm on the verge of being declared completely incompetent.

So there you have it. If I want you breakfast, I'll get you. Don't even think about coming to me.

I'm sorry breakfast

Breakfast. I remember you. We had some great times together. I would saunter from my early morning sleep-induced zombie coma to you at the table. We would sit and stare at one another. You would smell good and I would just grumble and glare. You were hot and I was disheveled. But we got along so well. You awoke me to a bright new day, and I started to open my swollen eyelids and realize I was still alive. Thank you breakfast.

But now we have become less intimate. Sometimes I see you, other times I don't. I don't help you exploit chickens anymore. I help you exploit cows and grains, and occasionally banana trees. 

But it's all business now. I don't stare at the wall and back at you with my usual dazed confusion. I'm quick and methodical. Uncaring. I don't spend as much time with you because you bore me. You are a chore. You're a simpleton now. We can't even carry on a decent conversation. I'm sorry breakfast.