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On Realism


I am more than capable of suspending my disbelief for many things. Crank and Crank 2, as a for-instance. Terrible horror films as well. I'm not sure why I even have a soft spot for musicals when I don't know anyone who regularly sings to get his or her point across - maybe some of you are out there, I wouldn't know as I tend to steer clear of people I want to slap and you would certainly be one of those people - but I'm perfectly willing to set aside realistic walls and enjoy my popcorn. Usually.

I've just never really understood how or why the people of the commercial world take talking condiments as every-day. I understand that it's television and marketing, sure, but still: my cereal doesn't speak to me. Nor to my apples or my bananas or the cartoons on my fruit snacks. If they did, I'm not sure what I would do. Perhaps there would be an adjustment period where I and the cereal kept our distance at first regulated to separate areas of the house much like you might warm a cat to a dog's scent by keeping them from one another for a time. I could hang out in the living room with the cereal in the kitchen and then a week later we swap places and get used to one another. Something like that. Maybe that's what's happened with Bobby and his Mini-Wheat friends and we're to just assume that an elaborate backstory is involve; the family and Mrs. Butterworth have a long-standing relationship of abuse we're just not privy to.

Speaking of people I want to slap, I have someone outside my window lighting fireworks. In September. While blasting Night Ranger. Yes, I'm serious.