Cereal Killers

Variety packs of cereal were a staple in my household during the late 1980s and early 1990s.    I had my go-tos like Pops and Golden Grahams, which consistently provided just the right amount of diabetic crisp without inundating my senses with a rainbow of ingestible food coloring.  I'd almost always eat these first, followed by the likes of Honey Nut Cheerios and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which for some reason I regarded as keystones of a healthy breakfast. Probably because a single cheerio looked like a Somalian bagel and I still believed French Toast was a good source of iron.  Anyway, I saved anything with a mascot for last.   Not because I didn't enjoy the majestic flavor of marshmallows and toasted oats unleashed with each bite of Lucky Charms or the fiery textured crunch of Frosted Flakes.  But because, even at an early age, I regarded the ardent mascots for these cereals with more than tinge of childlike circumspect.  Cartoon adults hanging out with Kids?  Creepy.  And I, naturally,  believe(d) them all to be pedophiles attempting to lure me in with their boxes of sugary candy.  

There was Tony the Tiger, who framed himself as some kind of uncertified coach and mentor for children.  He always found the weakest, most vulnerable kid within the larger group, who was usually being bullied, and devoted some extra special attention to him or her along the morally blurred sidelines.  This seems like standard red flag predatory behavior, but if you're not convinced, his promised secret to success was eating his "Frosted" Flakes.  I don't think I need to spell out what I'm getting at here, but I'll leave you with an excerpt from his not just good, but grrrrrrreat theme song. "A taste of Tony's Frosted Flakes, brings out the tiger in you!"

Toucan Sam's nose looked like a giant penis. And he was always following it towards the scent of Fruit Loops, where I think it's fair to presume young children were waiting. 

The Silly Rabbit was continuously thwarted in his efforts to rob the kids of their Trix.  Thankfully.  

And finally, the most complex of all cereal mascots was Lucky the Leprechaun.  He understood that he lost the lottery of life with regards to his sexual proclivity, and he's actually desperately attempting to fight his urges.  He continuously cried, "Those kids are after me lucky charms," which I've come to interpret as the plight of an unbalanced drunken sex offender, who is in a constant internal battle with his warped mind that apparently has convinced him the kids really want to eat his "Lucky Charms."   

I guess this is why I believed, up until recently, Serial Killer was spelled Cereal Killer