Marshmallow Blasted Froot Loops
Eat as much sugared cereal as I have and you start to be able to imagine
the taste of the latest day-glo breakfast transgression without even
breaking the seal. Take, for instance, Marshmallow Blasted Froot Loops. "Blasted" appears in this case to be a synonym for "accompanied," because it's
just Froot Loops with marshmallows. And it tastes, paradigm-shatteringly
enough, like Froot Loops would if you added marshmallows. The whole
"Blasted" thing is just a desperate adjective pasted on a pretty dull
Requiring your cereal to converse with you is -- how shall I
put this delicately? -- so tragically pathetic as to make Sally
Struthers look like an Ayn Rand heroine by comparison. But then, it has
elves on the box, so what would you expect? It tries to look like
a kids' cereal, but it's beige and basically unsweetened, so the noise
gimmick and the elves are the only thing keeping it from getting
shelved next to the eight different cereals with "bran" in the title.
If you're not of age to provide your own breakfast and your parent
or guardian won't get you the sweet stuff, it's not a bad compromise.
Does this sound good? If you were a cereal magnate and one
of your creatives came up to you and said "I've got a great idea for
a cereal. It's named after drugs and it's got a frog on the box,"
don't you think you'd put him down to be culled in the next downsizing?
"Smacks" itself is actually a more parentally-acceptable version of
the original name: "Satan Worship Smacks." It got shortened in the
same anti-Satanist trend that changed the labels of "Satan Crisp"
and "Satan Frosted Flakes." Silly, really. C-
Strawberry Shortcake Cereal
This is a defunct cereal, dead as the line of deformed, ill-smelling
dolls that inspired it. And I'm mature enough to be able to
admit that I loved it. Hey, bite me. It could have
been called "Advanced Leprosy Puffs" and I still would have loved it,
because strawberry-flavored cereal is a fine idea and it's a pity you
can't get it today. Can you blame me because I was able to see past
the cloying, over-merchandised evil on the box and appreciate the cereal
within? Yeah, your mom. B+
Oops! All Berries
I guess it's supposed to be charming to pretend that this
cereal was invented by accident, like potato chips, penicillin,
and the Church of Latter-Day Saints, but frankly the lack of
quality control over on Crunchberry Island is a little disquieting.
Who's to say that the next box won't be labelled "Gosh Darn It! Discarded
Turkey Parts"? Commercial fantasias aside, though, they're pretty darn
yummy. In the long run, you really need the Cap'n Crunch to balance
your ch'i, but as an occasional distraction it's pretty good. B+