A Bowl of Philosophy

1. Do you think Joker Phillips is a good football coach? Why or why not? If you think he is a good coach, how does it feel being delusional?
2. If you were the last human-being alive, what would you do to make your existence meaningful?
3. What is your favorite kind of cereal? Why?

Last night I was talking to my friend and we somehow or another got on the subject of cereal after talking about John Steinbeck. She said her favorite cereal was Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I told her my favorite was Cheerios. She asked me how I could possibly like such a bland and paper-like cereal. The following was my response.

Exactly. That's the point. Cheerios have never hurt anyone. Their taste is indiscriminate, non-polarizing. No one hates Cheerios. They are essentially neutral save for the flavor of that humble drop of golden honey. They are flora and fauna in harmony. Almonds and honey. They leave no after taste. They can help settle an upset stomach, or cleanse your palate for an upcoming meal. They lower cholesterol, and have a solid serving of whole grain and fiber. Cheerios won't give your kids cavities, or a sugar rush. Instead, they will be nourished with thirteen vitamins and minerals. And informed by the packaging's witty facts concerning heart health. They are eternal (and even nonperishable); from infancy to senescence one cannot help but enjoy them. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, Cheerios never fail to be fulfilling. Yeah, they aren't as flashy as Cocoa Puffs, or Fruity Pebbles, but they are whole and responsible. They are good by themselves. Simply beautiful by nature of their circular design. Demure in dress rather than loud and brash. And they are even better with milk. And when you're done, only milk sweetened by the Cheerios remain. They are thoroughly responsible, philanthropic, thoroughly devoid of a single drawback. Among the sordid affairs of the breakfast-foods aisle, Cheerios offer salvation.

When I eat a bowl of Cheerios, I eat a bowl of philosophy.