A Few Things That Kept Me Awake Last Night…1) The giddy feeling of knowing that someone else gets Stephen King’s “Hearts in Atlantis” as much as I do. I mean, really gets “Hearts in Atlantis.” I’ve been singing this novel’s praises ever since I first read it in 1999, urging, cajoling, threatening others to read this book, dammit!
As I stated in this meme, it’s one of my all-time favorite books, but it’s been a solitary passion - despite my recommendations, my cajoling and brute threats, I’ve not succeeded in recruiting other admirers to my lonely, lonely Hearts In Atlantis Club Band.
Ah, but there are other Club members, even if they don’t realize it-- well, at least one, anyway. The purveyor of good sense, the Doctor of All That is Groovy, Poppy Z. Brite, extols the many virtues of this significant, beautiful book, and does so with proper sound and fury:
“I suppose a certain kind of person will think I'm an idiot when I say I think it's one of the most important novels of the nineties and probably the single most important, or at least the truest, novel written about the seventies…”
So there, ignorant haters.
2) The fact that Post Golden Crisp and Honeycomb cereals have serious identity issues. As a consumer, I am dismayed by these cereals’ many incarnations (Sugar Smacks, Sugar Crisp, Super Golden Crisp), as well as the exasperating indecision on the part of Post’s ad execs regarding mascots -- Bear, Frog (my personal favorite, because that‘s what I grew up with -- diggum!), back to Bear, and inexplicably, the present mascot representing Hioneycomb, The Unidentifiable Thing That Should be Skinned, Rolled in Flour and Fried to a Succulent Golden Brown, which replaced the loveable Hideout Club Kids.
See, Lar does the shopping every Saturday, and I am in charge of list making. When I crave nostalgia in the form of crispy sweetened unwholesome grains, it would help ever so much if I knew what the hell to write down on that list so as not to confound my easily confounded husband. I’ve a mind like a sieve (what exactly is a sieve, anyway?), and never fail to forget the dastardly cereals’ current names and mascots. If I write “Frog cereal,” Lar will invariably return with some marshmallowy concoction that tastes like solidified lip gloss; if I write “club kid cereal” I get a psychedelic box of Kaboom, featuring the iconic club kid of all time, The Clown -- and if I write “Sugar Smacks,” well, let’s just say that I might as well have not bothered at all, because Lar will show up empty-handed. “There’s no such thing as “Sugar Smacks” he will say, and then I am forced to slap the confounded expression off his face.
So, to the good albeit idiotic people of Post Cereals, I ask this: Bring back the Frog, even if a frog has no business promoting cereal, call a spade a spade and title the cereal as was intended -- Sugar Smacks. Despite your deceptive promotional efforts, your cereal is indeed sugary, and it does inspire much lip-smacking. I also ask you to consider tossing the grossly inarticulate Honeycomb Craver and reinstating the Kids. Not only would this eliminate consumer confusion in my demographic, thus increasing sales, I‘m confident that the rate of domestic violence would go down considerably. Thank you.
3) Halle Barry’s feet.
Now I don't feel so bad about the vagina on my back.