Friday, January 11, 2019

Yankee Off-Season ( In Picture ) B. Cashman, GM

This is a bowl of breakfast cereal, designed for children.

The round things use artificial dyes and plenty of sugar.

If the cereal sits in the bowl for more than a minute, it absorbs milk to the point of sinking.

It becomes soggy, tasteless and bad for your health and well being.

It is cheap and unimaginative.

It is what any dolt can buy off the shelf and present as useful.

Children may be deceived.

But not adults.


John M said...

I loved Fruit Loops as a kid. And Cap'n Crunch. And Cocoa Puffs. And Lucky Charms.

Pretty much anything that was 90% sugar. And if I was down to Life or Corn Flakes, I just spooned 90% more sugar on them than they already had.

Did I mention that half my teeth are now crowns?

Alphonso said...

Hey John,

The likelihood is that half your teeth would be crowns even if you only ate Kale and broccoli.

At least you enjoyed yourself.

Here is the really gruesome news; when you get irretrievably old ( as in my case ), even the crowns need replacement. Like knees and hips.

Nothing lasts.

Except sugar.

And Gentleman Jack.

TheWinWarblist said...

'Phonso, this is genius.

Mustang said...

Seconding that, WinWarblist. I'll think of that picture every time they post the lineup.

Anonymous said...

I love, love, loved Quaker Life with 90% extra sugar, John M...and almost half my toofies are now implants - - they will rot no more... LB (No J)

Local Bargain Jerk said...

I used to like Cap'n Crunch also. The roof of my mouth is still scarred, however, and I believe there is still some of it stuck to my teeth.

HoraceClarke66 said...

Beautiful metaphor, Alphonso (or is it an analogy? I get confused. And don't even ask me about similes...).

HoraceClarke66 said...

When she read about how much sugar there was in most cereals, my other insisted on getting sugar-free things, like Rice Krispies, and then Grape Nuts.

To which we responded, of course, by dumping a small ton of sugar on it when her back was turned.

Her back was turned, usually, because she was making my father's orange juice by hand. She would cut up a bunch of oranges by hand, and squeeze them—by hand—with the help of some black, iron device that looked as though it were left over from the Industrial Revolution.

She would also hand-squeeze our orange juice, but we would complain bitterly that there were too many pieces in it.

Then she would clean up the kitchen and go off to her job.

I think that the fact that she did not poison us all says volumes about the strength of maternal bonds.

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