They're bite-size. You can consume
them without the nuisance of dish or utensils.
Their rough, porous surface is ideal for
capturing sprinkled cinnamon.
They are as yummy as one might hope a
breakfast cereal might be, i.e., somewhat.
They're lovingly frosted with glucose.
They come in big, rectangular boxes suitable
for hoarding in case of emergency.
Q: What kind of emergency? A: One that involves a breakfast apocalypse shortly
after purchase. That's as much time as you get.
Q: Huh? A: Long story, with photographs. Unlike this
other long story
(with photographs) about mutant wheats, the current one
discusses a genuine problem about which Kellogg Company, the
manufacturer of Kellogg's Frosted Mini Wheats, needs to be, and
possibly is, aware. (And, for those readers who are
pathologically attentive to the real-world news, it has nothing
to do with their
due to metal pieces.)
Nope, this is a story about something with which
I have undesired charisma: Insect larvae and the temporal
evolution thereof. A couple of years ago, I opened up a
box of Wheats. Because I normally have more than one box
in the pantry, I am attentive to the "better if used before"
date and always decant the oldest box first. But when I
did: Whoopsie — Insects!
Small, and apparently edible insects, because I noticed them
only after a few Wheats underwent sampling and I suffered no
more than what passes in me for outrage. I checked the
date and found it was still allegedly "better." I am not
unduly fastidious, and once one has swallowed insects, there is
little that can be done without, shall we say, excessive waste,
so my next activity was to take some photos and find the
consumer complaint number for Kellogg. I communed with them,
received what seemed to be a perfunctory apology and the usual
emolument—a number of coupons
sufficient to replace all my Wheats and to try some other
Kellogg products as well. I felt that the infestation was
an anomalous occurrence and lulled myself into what turned out
to be a false sense of security. Fast forward the couple
of years mentioned above.
My Kellogg's Frosted Mini Wheat Hoard
If you are picturing a true hoard—Midas
and his gold, Forry and his books, Imelda and her shoesies,
disabuse yourself. My hoard ranges from 2 to 3 boxes,
although they are size large and each contains two sealed
envelopes. The envelopes, in turn, yield many hundreds of
Wheats. It may not be that much of a hoard, but it's mine.
One day, immediately subsequent to the Reward
of the Residue ceremony, I went to fetch the oldest box in
my hoard to prepare for the beginning of the cycle.
Shortly thereafter I had the experience that tried my
gastrointestinal composure, related gently above. Out came
the camera yet again. Behold!
BETTER IF USED BEFORE JUN 09 2013.
I know it's hard to
read. I had to tip the box - you may have to
monitor. In any event, it's a date comfortably
in the future.
And what are those little brown
at the bottom right? Don't make
me edit the video!
Today is Christmas Day, (of which, by the
way, have or have had a merry one). Hardly the time to
belabor Kellogg's consumer line. But this blog is
nothing if not persistent. Although I have failed here
to detail previously my Kellogg's experience, my
adventure resulted in appropriate recompense after a few
well-addressed letters to Switzerland. I have little
doubt that Kellogg, a company in our own heartland, will be
amenable to my desire for yet another Wheat replacement.
Your Tax Dollars At Work and Play
You don't get a lot of politics in the RIKL
Blog, and I'm remarkably restrained in espousing what ill-formed
and poorly considered theories of taxation that I may or may not
harbor. But I recently read an article that I found
somewhat surprising, and, possibly, somewhat accurate. The
actual numbers (I think they're called "facts" in journalism)
are in the quotation below, and I don't have any interest in
checking them. The point the writer was making is that,
after you subtract the cost of "entitlements" such as my own
personal Social Security payments that I am definitely owed by
the government, Medicare, which I paid for and by gosh better
well get and keep, and security/defense, which is actually
mentioned in the Constitution, and, of course, interest on the
national debt, the remaining funds are almost nil. When
you consider that those remaining funds are pretty much all the
rest of government, you can see that tiny changes in tax
collection make a big, big difference in what we get from Uncle
Which I'm sure is of a lot of interest,
especially to those who want more from Uncle Sam. But I
liked the article primarily for the final sentence of this
the president’s budget,
which by law must include
projections of taxing and
spending over the next decade.
Loath to raise taxes on the
middle class yet unwilling to
cut deeply into the budgets for
Social Security or
Medicare, the president and
his advisers proposed cutting
the discretionary part of the
budget devoted to everything
except defense and other
security agencies to 1.7 percent
of economic output by 2022, down
from 3.1 percent last year.
is not irrelevant spending. It
accounts for every government
expenditure except entitlements,
security and interest. It pays
subsidies for higher education
and housing assistance for the
poor. It finances the National
Institutes of Health and the
Food and Drug Administration. It
pays for the Federal Emergency
Management Agency and training
programs for unemployed workers.
Without such spending, the
government becomes little more
than a heavily armed pension
plan with a health insurer on
Excerpt from the New York Times, 17 December
2012, by Eduardo Porter.
NP: "I Walk the Line"
Mountain House is an incredibly lovely resort and conference
venue in New York's Hudson Valley. I should know!
Not only do I have the T-shirt, I've even seen photographs of
the grounds and happy people cavorting.
Of course, I've never been there, but I've
been to a lot of other places in recent years, so I'm not
jealous. Let's see if the folks at Mohonk can recreate the
Grand Canyon! Nyah nyah, Mohonk weenies!