Part of a Complete Breakfast

Imagine me running to the kitchen table this morning – looking dashing as usual in my stocking cap, long-johns, and Garfield slippers. I grab my usual box of the Golden Nibbles of the Gods (otherwise known as Honeycomb) cereal and begin to chew loudly and make disturbing moaning sounds as the sweet nectar covered my palate and slid down my gullet. In between saliva-drenched snaps at the spoon, I surveyed the box as I am wont to do on occasion. Suddenly, I felt very old.

We The Kings group photo

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present Soul Asylum Goo Goo Dolls These guys…

Who were these long-haired hippies that graced the front of my cherished nutritious sweetened corn and oat cereal? “We The Kings”, the box said. I’ve never heard of such a thing. I scan the files of my brain: they can’t be We Three Kings I sing about every Christmas – they’re much too young and, besides, there appears to be four of them – so just who are they? And why do they deserve to be on my cereal box? And why won’t they stop staring at my soul while I selfishly devour yet another bowl in front of my sobbing children?

Were I a more industrious man, I would have consulted the almighty internet. Instead, I scanned the box for any clues to these fellows’ origins. They hail from Bradenton, Florida. As if any self-respecting town in Florida would call itself that. I decide the veracity of the side-panel is dubious at best. I move to the back of the box. And that’s when I see this:

 

 

Limited Downloads

Even my camera was seeing red.

Huh?

While supplies last? Really? How does one run out of digital downloads? We all know how this works, right? My computer copies the 1’s and 0’s on your computer/server and we call it downloading. At what point does the computer say “Oops, ran out. Have to order more next time, I guess. The delivery driver won’t be here with more digital downloads until next Tuesday. Unless, of course, there’s another snow storm in the northeast, then delivery might be delayed until the following week.”?

Frankly, I’m disgusted with my cereal box. After eating two more bowls of the delicious treasure, I tossed the box onto the floor in disgust. I wouldn’t even let my children eat it. And they asked. Repeatedly. I told them cardboard wasn’t a nutritious breakfast.

So, let’s all send strongly worded letters to Post (Parent company for my beloved Honeycomb). Tell them that you will not buy any more of their cereal until they recognize that digital content does not have supply constraints. Or, at least, until they put more respectably follicled gentlemen on their boxes.

Leave a comment below if you wish. Supplies are limited.

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