This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
But first, the video of the day. Description: No, no, no, no. Don’t do that. Don’t lean out.
CAP’N CRUNCH UNMASKEDThis is actually in Foreign Policy:
The U.S. Navy has confirmed the shocking news that Cap'n Crunch, the legendary explorer of many an uncharted cereal bowl, is a fraud.
After 50 years of purporting to be a naval captain, the imposter was finally unmasked yesterday by an alert fan on culinary site Foodbeast, who pointed out that Crunch is wearing the wrist stripes of a U.S. Navy commander rather than a captain.
"You are correct that Cap'n Crunch appears to be wearing the rank of a U.S. Navy commander," Lt. Cmdr. Sarah Flaherty, a U.S. Navy spokeswoman, tells Foreign Policy. "Oddly, our personnel records do not show a 'Cap'n Crunch' who currently serves or has served in the Navy."
On his popular Twitter feed, Crunch is replying with hip-hop broadsides: "They see me crunchin', they hatin', milk soakin', they tryna catch me crunchin' soggy."
Sure, that’s just how he talks. It’s almost as if the controversy is being inflated to make you pay attention . . . to this.
That’s one long commercial. It follows the time-honored script of cereal ads: someone is attempting to gain access to the cereal, against the wishes of its possessor or against some arbitrary rule set down by unnamed forces. In this case, the pirate Jean LaFoote is after the Crunch, and to sneak on board the ship his crew is dressed like a boy band.
Interesting choice of hats:
Of course, that’s supposed to remind us of this guy:
Dirk Dastardly from the Penelope Pitstop cartoon, right? The guy with the snickering dog, which was funny for about 14 seconds? Hanna-Barbera junk from the 60s/70s now prized by boomers for qualities it never had, and ironically admired by post-Millennials for its irony-free banalities? Something like that.
Here’s an original Crunch ad. The very first.
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