I’ve been lying low this April. It’s Cereal Awareness Month, and I’ve been keeping to the shadows to see how the cause was growing. People, I have to tell you something. We’ve got a steep hill to climb on the road to awareness through the tunnel of hardship in Metaphor Valley.
To all you lucky bastards out there with cancer or AIDS, enjoy your awareness while it lasts. Oh, wallow in your glorious grant money, Ad Council campaigns and sweet, tangy awareness! Like 19th century textile mills, you churn out awareness upon massive pallets of social engagement. As the rest of us queue through discarded piles of urban reach-out programs and rows of headstones from crisscrossing fundraiser walks, we hold out our hands for a few drops of your toxic awareness runoff.
Breakfast cereal, on the other hand, is quietly hidden in the dark corners of social consciousness. I have to flip from the History Channel to Nickelodeon just to catch a glimpse of what the Trix Rabbit is up to these days. Why do they hide these cereal commercials so? These are our public service announcements. That stupid SpongeBob commercial for Burger King is on 24/7. SpongeBob is for kids and gays. Yet it’s plugged at 11pm during the UFC show? What gives?
Cereal, my friends. How can it be so disregarded? Despite last year’s aberration, a box of cereal once again costs more than a gallon of gasoline. Deservedly so! It is the fuel of our souls. Now let’s get out there and spread the word. That word is SpongeBob. I mean, breakfast cereal.