The cereal aisle is a hallowed space, a haven for those alimentary substances which we introduce into our bodies every morning, around seven thirty, the time at which humans are most vulnerable. Each day begins, essentially, in that consecrated aisle, and, if you are truly devout, it is also where each day ends. Just last week, in fact, I was there, in the cereal aisle, going about my business, picking up the usual suspects, when I received a phone call.
I received this phone call just as I was tip-toeing into the deep pool that is cereal-aisle-Nirvana. The long prim row of carbohydrates had opened slowly before me like a lotus blossom, its immensity offering itself to my thorough inspection, its daunting size lowering itself to my level, like a petal landing on the ground, settling before the intent gaze of an ant. At this transcendent moment, I had only just begun to revel in the thrill of the varied packaging, inhaling gratefully the sweet perfume of the grape nut, marveling at the NEW! MORE CLUSTERS! pseudo-stickers, when I felt the phone buzz in my pocket.
“An annoyance” I muttered angrily. “Here in this, most sacrosanct of all grocery aisles! Here in the inviolable temple of breakfast foods! That some under-human should dare to interject via this small but persistent mobile device, which takes up residence in my pocket, is a heresy of grandest proportions!” I cried. “A blasphemy most odious!”
But I answered, anyway. Continue Reading…

Subscribe








