Top 10 Greatest Cereals Ever (by Sprinkles)

I really don't think this needs much of an explanation.  3, 2, 1...GO!

10.  Frosted Mini Wheats

These make the top ten for a few reasons.  First, they get you more full than just about any other cereal.  They're big, hearty pieces of heavy fiber goodness that feature a tasty frosting on one side, which means they keep you more regular (it's dietary science).  The reason this is one of the reasons is that originally, this cereal wasn't frosted.  It consisted of fat pieces of shredded wheat (I think some stores might still sell shredded wheat, but I'm pretty sure almost NO ONE buys it anymore).
     Now I know you're thinking, "Well being frosted doesn't make you great.  There are a lot of frosted cereals."  You're correct.  What makes this cereal better than a lot of others is that because it is so rich in fiber, as a diabetic, you can actually inject less insulin into your body than you would normal cereals when you eat it.  I don't mind my insulin injections, but I'm all about saving insulin so that I don't have to make another trip to the pharmacy as soon as I normally would.
     Another reason I respect this cereal is that it's relatively unique.  It's so different that no one has tried to make a copycat because they know they would fail miserably.  There really is no better way to improve shredded wheat.  They achieved optimal wheat goodness.

Of course, this cereal does have a large, ugly weakness:  The after-milk.  The number one reason FMW can't get higher (or is it lower) than number 10.  All the remains and broken off pieces of shredded wheat that remain from the consumed minis is the worst after milk on this list.

9.  Apple Cinnamon Cheerios

While this is probably the least well known of the Cheerios, it's the best tasting and most consistent.  The reason this is impressive enough to make a top ten list is because Cheerios might have more clout than any other family of cereal, and because so many kinds of Cheerios exists.  How many exactly?  No one knows for sure.  We might as well say 8 dozen.  This one, however, tops them all.  Mind you, it's pretty tough to single out one kind of Cheerios over the rest of them (as close as I've ever come to picking a favorite child).

The two things that set ACC apart are taste and endurance.  Its apple-cinnamon coat acts as a more powerful shield to the soggy-ing effects of milk than its younger brother Frosted Cheerios, it has the sweetness of its older brother Honey Nut, and maintains the heartiness established by the firstborn of its family more than the rest of the family.  It's apple and cinnamon, so I almost feel like I'm eating healthier then when I eat most sugar cereals.

Another interesting thing about ACC is that we have seen so many apple cinnamon pastries, granola bars, oatmeals, and virtually any other snack or breakfast food you can think of, but we've only seen ONE cold cereal.  I don't have an explanation for why this is.  Maybe no one dared.  Maybe no one thought that people wanted it.  They were wrong.  I want it.  I've always wanted it, especially when it disappeared a few years back for a little while.

Finally, and probably the thing that made the experience of eating this cereal most unique was the flip book that came with every box (still not sure why they discontinued those).  I don't ever remember feeling disappointed with them either.  Call me crazy, but it was refreshing to get something that wasn't a piece of plastic I had two dozen copies of.

8.  Smorz

In many ways, Smorz is as much a triumph of marketing as it is of taste.  Many cereals feature marshmallows.  Many feature chocolatey pieces.  Many feature marshmallows and chocolatey pieces.  Heck, many even feature graham cracker-flavored pieces.  But who can possibly resist the idea of America's favorite campfire treat compact and ready-made for your cereal bowl?  The mind does half the work in formulating a delicious experience even before you actually eat anything.  It just helps that they also happen to live up to your expectations (at least they did mine).

One of the reasons I respect Kellogg's for this cereal is that they didn't take the easy route and make a chocolate golden graham cereal and decide to throw mallows in it.  They actually put together a mixture of all three of the elements of a smore that fit together just as well in a bowl of milk as they do over a fire.  The graham cracker pieces taste more like graham crackers more than the Golden Graham pieces do and stay puffier and crunchier longer.  They added just a little bit of chocolate to the grahams and the marshmallows (as far as I know, no one has made a chocolate-normal mallow hybrid before or since.  Genius.).  This helps you taste every bit of flavor that you want and love.  It makes it taste like you actually have half a graham cracker with a piece of chocolate on it and a marshallow on that.  No easy task.  Thank you for rising to the occasion Kellogg's.

7.  Frosted Flakes

As it turns out, they really are gggrreat.  As far as cartoon mascots go for cereal, Tony might be the coolest one.  His voice could make grown women purr.  He might be the only person (or non-person) to have a bandana with his name on it (possibly inspiration for the famous tie sporting gorilla we all love?).  Another great reason to love Tony:  He's a sportsman.

But as for the cereal, it's Corn Flakes on steroids.  I don't just mean the frosting though, because the flakes themselves are actually better than Corn Flakes (Corn Flakes are awful, let's be honest.  Okay fine, they are almost as old as railroads.  I don't care.  People didn't eat sugar back then, but they always had honey.  There's a reason why only the unemployed touch Corn Flakes).

One of the best things about Frosted Flakes is that it makes people but Bananas in their cereal.  Mind you, not many cold breakfast meals can compete with Frosted Flakes and bananas.  The combo really is that good.  That should be a big deal for all these Michelle Obamas we have parading through school cafeterias nationwide.  People actually want to eat fruit at breakfast with these babies.  My father doesn't buy Frosted Flakes without bananas.  I know the box shows strawberries, but people put berries in a lot of different cold and warm cereals.  How many cereals do people put bananas in?  Normal people only put them in one.  I admit it, putting bananas in cereal doesn't sound like anything close to a good idea.  Who knew right?  Just don't let them sit too long because you don't want a mouthful of soggy flakes and banana (it's like eating a slightly tasty, sugary, wet piece of skin).

6. Lucky Charms

This is a little bit of a mixed review. The truth is, Lucky Charms are just okay. I don’t believe that kids are always after them. They don’t taste better than Smorz. However, they started a revolution, a revolution of dehydrated marshmallows (I’m not sure if they are actually dehydrated, they just feel like they are. Even as a kid, I knew that they didn’t taste like any other marshmallows I had ever eaten). Smorz cereal might not exist for another couple of years if Lucky Charms hadn’t come along when they did. There are far worse cereals than Lucky Charms (Crispex), but there are also a lot of better tasting cereals.  And they did provide us with some humor in Austin Powers:  International Man of Mystery.

I don't want to make them sound terrible, because they aren't.  They are decent enough.  There's just no getting around the impact they have had on the cereal game.  Was Kareem more skilled than Wilt?  Probably.  But Wilt stood alone when he was in the league, and he probably influenced the game to a degree that impacted how Kareem played and dominated.

5.  Honey Graham Oh’s

If Frosted Flakes are Corn Flakes on steroids, O’s are Honey Nut Cheerios on Bane venom (supervillain from Batman mythos who grows huge when he injects said “venom” directly into his bloodstream). This cereal is like the Kobe Bryant of cereals. It’s deliciously good, younger than a lot of the greats, and not respected by a lot of cereal-eaters. Its taste is far superior to almost any cereal in existence, and it is by far the crunchiest. This cereal consists of giant “O’s” that have the consistency of a Cap’n Crunch/Cheerio love child, but the holes are filled with some delectable form of grain or granola (not really sure) that keeps the cereal crunch even when the outside starts to get softer. I don’t want you as the reader to get nervous when I say ‘crunchiest cereal ever’. This cereal isn’t so hard that it’s uncomfortable to chew, but the bottom of the bowl tastes just as good as the beginning. Two kinds of cereal in every O. Honey goodness. Sustenance. My goodness I can’t even speak in complete sentences…

4. Cinnamon Toast Crunch

Seeing as how cinnamon/sugar toast is the best way to have it, it would only make perfect sense that turning it into cereal would be a great idea. CTC has an attitude that I respect. It doesn’t get puffed up with a whole lot of air to make itself look bigger, but it stays crunchy for a much longer period of time than it’s evil counterpart Golden Grahamns (at least, that’s how I view them).

The CTC/GG dichotomy is such a great allegory of life too. Both claim to be tasty and terrific, but instead of boasting about the things you can’t see (honey and graham cracker taste, could be compared to personality), CTC shows you what’s up (“there are cinnamon and sugar swirls in every bite”). In other words, they bring it; they don’t sing it (as my older brother would say). I mean, really readers. If I have to explain all the reasons why CTC is great, then you clearly don’t eat cold cereal.



3. Cap'n Crunch



If I had to choose one, it would be the original because it led to Peanut Butter Crunch. I could write a whole blog post on Cap’n Crunch alone. Cap’n Crunch was the first cereal that wanted kids to feel like they could accomplish something (“You and the Cap’n make it happen”. Sound familiar?). It made me want to be bigger than myself. It just helped that it tasted and still tastes amazing.

One of the reasons I love Cap’n Crunch is that the original flavor/style has remained unchanged through all of the years it has been in existence. They haven’t changed the taste because kids or the world have changed (this is probably the only beef I have with CTC. The taste has changed slightly in the last 5 years). I respect this, not just because they aren’t fixing what isn’t broke, but because it seems like sales have probably been through some ups and downs (why else would you make Crunch Berries?), but they trust themselves to get through anything (that’s why the o.g. Crunch is still in Crunch Berries. What they were thinking with ‘Oops, All Berries’ will always be a mystery to me, however. Really though, whose idea were they?), and they haven’t cheapened their production process just because the economy in the toilet.

Another reason is that they made a ridiculously good milkshake at Carl’s Jr. (and, you’ll never believe this, but in my kitchen as well). Think of that. What other cereal can say that? “We’re wonderful in your cereal bowl. Try us in your milkshake.” It’s like the suggestion Go-gurt makes for freezing itself (quite good actually, but not as good as a Cap’n Crunch milkshake). I’m telling you, the next time you make a milkshake, make one with Cap’n Crunch in it. You will want to thank me 10 times over. It’s okay. Just thank the Cap’n.

Finally (sorry for having to cut this short die-hard CC fans), the Cap’n is probably one of the few cartoon old men who is actually cool and not a creeper (think Family Guy) or object of ridicule for comic relief’s sake (think Abraham Simpson). He even has a cheesy smile. Nope. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t creep me out. He just makes me happy at breakfast time.

2. Reese's Puffs

Ok, seriously, it’s Reese’s for breakfast. They actually did it. They made candy breakfast. I don’t know how, I don’t care how, just as long as they don’t go anywhere. I actually have a friend whom I met in Texas who, at the time I met him, hadn’t partaken of the peanut butter/chocolate outrageousness. Upon tasting them for the first time, he said the exact same thing I just said; only he added the word ridiculous to his comments.

Honestly, the makers must be wizards. Why wouldn’t anyone try to make a Butterfinger or Baby Ruth cereal? Because they don’t know how (don’t try to convince me a Butterfinger cereal wouldn’t be good because I won’t accept that. General Mills, seriously, get on it.). Is it possible to have a breakfast food fail that’s designed by a council of warlocks? I should say not. Every bite tastes magical.

Now, I know some of you are thinking, “Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups aren’t even that great, so this cereal can’t be that good.” Let me enlighten you for a second. RPBCs aren’t my favorite candy. They aren’t even in my top seven. That fact changes nothing about the status of these breakfast-time beauties.

The secret to their greatness probably lies within the chocolate puffs. Let’s be honest with ourselves, most chocolate cereals taste the same, whether you are talking about Cocoa Krispies, Cocoa Puffs, or Cocoa Pebbles, they are almost identical right down to the milk. The chocolate of Reese’s Puffs doesn’t taste bitter (I don’t know why they did it, but in the past couple of years, the taste of Cocoa Puffs has changed, and they aren’t nearly as yummy as they used to be). Another fantastic quality of the chocolate is that it doesn’t ALL disappear into the milk. I like chocolate milk at the end, but Cocoa Pebbles and Cocoa Krispies don’t have any chocolate left in the actual pieces by the time I drink the milk. Finally, it complements the peanut-buttery taste just like its candy counterpart does. Think that’s not a big deal? Have you ever tried mixing Peanut Butter Crunch and Cocoa Puffs together? I have. Don’t do it.  I'm not sure the peanut butter puffs could stand up against PBC if they stood alone, but the chocolate puffs are by far the best chocolate cereal piece ever engineered.  It just blows my mind that they can compliment each other so well.

AND NOW, THE NUMBER ONE CEREAL EVER...

RICE KRISPIES TREATS CEREAL

Let me start by explaining something.  The God-sent manna from heaven that was the cereal pictured to the left of this sentence IS NOT the same as the one you can find now in the purple box in the breakfast aisle of your local supermarket.  Let me repeat myself.  These two cereals are NOT the same.  I don't care what Kellogg's says to try to convince me otherwise.

For one thing, this branch off of Rice Krispies was and is the only box in Kellogg's history to not feature Snap, Krackle, and Pop on it.  Some of you might consider that a weakness, but I consider it a strength.  This cereal had the balls to say, "You know what?  We don't need them to be awesome."  Someone at Kellogg's probably told a group of young amazing minds to make a great new cereal, and the reason that it was discontinued for a number of years was because they didn't follow all of the rules (one of which was to include the poster boys on the box).  Guess what?  Kellogg's was wrong, that young group of proteges was right, and now they are sittin on a giant pile of cash that they got from General Mills for creating Reese's Puffs Cereal (think I missed the box aspect of that issue?  You're wrong.  Look at the Reese's Box.  Have you ever seen a happier group of puffs in your life?  Have you seen a cooler looking cereal bowl that just happens to market and stand for everything that they claim?  No.  You haven't).  

One of the reasons I make up that last story is because the two greatest cereals in the history of mankind have two similar origin stories:  Let's take something that is already hugely popular and delicious and turn it into cereal.  Easier said than done to be sure.  Not only did they take something that was already good and turn it into cereal, but I'm going to throw down some boldness right now and say that the cereal was better than the individually wrapped Rice Krispies Treats snacks that you can purchase by the box.  Yes.  They were.  The thing that set them apart was the lack of artificial weird sweetness that is prevalent in the Rice Krispies Treats

Another thing I'm going to mention is that tagline "wholesome crispy clusters".  I'm going to mention that because it's awesome and because I just looked at the box again and read it.  What makes it awesome?  A few things.  The first one is the word 'wholesome'.  One of the biggest reasons I loved this cereal was because I never got it.  Yep.  You read right.  I never got it.  My mom always told me it was too sugary.  She was fine with sugar cereal, but apparently, these puppies crossed the line.  Thus, they were always that championship to my Jerry Sloan, always that world series to my Atlanta Braves.  And when I finally became the 2011 Dallas Mavericks, even for a few games, vengeance was sweet and no victory was greater for me.  I mention this because the world wholesome completely clashes with my mother's view of this cereal.  What she saw as teeth-rotting, cellulite-building, sugar high and subsequent crash-inducing junk food was to me a pieces of the golden apples Hercules had to get from Atlas (what a great metaphor for my predicament).

The second reason that phrase is great is because "crispy clusters" just rolls off the tongue fantastically.  One of the more excellent demonstrations of alliteration slapped on a box of food.

Honestly, all of the things that you'd want in a sugar cereal were in these.  Sugar, check.  Whole grains (rice), check.  Sweetness, check.  Heck, even marshmallows, check.  Crunchiness, check.  In fact, these nougats stayed crunchy for very long periods of time without managing to produce that nasty scraping effect most cereal marshmallows give your teeth when you bite them.  They aren't hard, they aren't soft.  The milk gets in between the kernels of rice, but doesn't dissolve the marshmallow glue, which it does with the new version.  With the newer version, you get all sorts of loose Rice Krispies bits that feature no mallow, but instead turn soggy and sit in your bowl by themselves because they aren't clustered together with the bits of treat.  Epic fail.

Sometimes I can almost taste them.  Other times they feel like a dream.  They'll always be one of the biggest reasons I wish time travel was possible or that I was still a child.  For now, I'll settle with the rest of the top ten and write hate mail to Kellogg's.  Who knows?  Maybe one day RKTC will be amazing again.

BISMARK: The injured Tiger, the fiesty Irishman and resurgence of golf

Do you feel that?
Do you?
You have to. It's been a while, but It's there. Golf fans have waited a couple years now to feel it again. It's the buzz. And even for just this Sunday, its back.
We all know that buzz. It's the thing that kept us watching dudes in nice slacks slapping balls around grass fields four hours on end four Sundays a year. It's the only reason we are content with Kenny Maine no long anchoring "SportsCenter." It was the thing we felt watching Nicklaus and Trevino go at each others throats at Augusta National year after year. The buzz that we almost cried about being lost during Arnold Palmer's last major attempt in 1994 while OJ Simpson made his headlines in a white bronco. Heck, it's the same buzz that led us to actually holding our collective breath when Happy Gilmore recklessly caromed a golf ball across a broadcasting tower to take down Shooter McGavin for the coveted "golden" jacket.
But we chronic sports fans know the buzz for something more intensely specific. We feel the buzz when we think of a young, slightly darker-skinned kid win amateur after amateur in a black baseball cap that seemed far too big for his skinny head. We felt it when he defied all odds at 21 years old to win his first major, when he almost literally ate alive an entire playing field to mark Pebble Beach his own in the 2000 US Open, when his caddy, field judges, all the spectators, commentators and most of the United Kingdom population marched with him to 18th green at St Andrews to win his first British Open, when he buried his head in his caddy's shoulder and cried, bawled more specifically after winning his first major following the death of his father. This same buzz made red shirts synonymous with greatness, power swings a must and the only real chase for Jack's record possibility we may ever see. Where ever you stand, there is no doubting that, for the longest time, Tiger Woods was that buzz, and when that buzz was on there was purely nothing better.
This recent year has been a time of honest fear for sports fans for numerous reasons. It's been a year of scandal, of breaking traditions, of newly found villains and very few known heroes. More people have cared about sports in Miami since the retirement of "Thunder" Dan Majerle, while less and less people find New York sports at all relevant when not controversial. But worst of all, in the loss of who was the most talented, most determined, most electrifying man to hit a golf course has fallen morally and in many cases athletically, that buzz has dissipated. No exuberant fist pumps to follow long playoff-forcing putts, no ESPN "Tiger or the field" conversations, and no miracle marches to the 18th. Golf was simply irrelevant, leaving that long loved buzz to a stunned silence. And no one knew if anyone, anywhere could spring it back to life.
That was before the Irishman became a household name.
His name is Rory - if you didn't know any better you would mistake his name for the daughter off the "Gilmore Girls." But no WB teen drama has been nearly as compelling as 2011 has been for Mr. McIlroy. Only several weeks saved from the one of the most painful meltdowns in sports history (shooting a horrific 80 for the last round of the Masters and blowing his chance at winning, and what could still have made him the choking-under-pressure flavor of the year had it not been for "Peasant" James in the NBA Finals), Rory came to Congressional with a goal in mind. Not to save face, not to build his image, not even to simply play well. He came to win. He more than anyone in that field knew that the only way to put humiliatingly losing a major championship to bed was to triumphantly win one - to carve every swing as if it were choreographed by Fred Astaire. To make up for every misplaced shot with so much ease you'd think he planned it that way. To make veterans like Phil Mickelson stop on the fairway to applaud what he was doing ever 18 that week. He needed to win, he had to win.
And he did.
Not only did he win, he conquered. Standing on the 18th green with an eight-stroke victory, numerous Open records etched with his performance and thousands upon thousands of bystanders chanting his name, all surrounding a more than humble fist pump that put the punctuation on his first major championship. We all watched it. We all loved it. There was excitement, there was intrigue.
In fact, you might even say... there was a buzz.
In all the pandemonium of the first relevant golf tournament in quite a while, we can't help but have two thoughts.
One - We all want to see Rory become one of the greats. To be the living fairytale athlete that grazes records books, is the topic of comparison and inspires young ins the world over to pick up such a beautiful game. With hope and faith, this weekend at Congressional we saw the next best thing in golf.
And Two- Rory's done his thing, now it's your move, Tiger.
Of every vision of this passed week- we all assumed one. We saw in our minds eye a bandaged knee accompanying one of sports greatest icons, sitting on his couch watching a sweet smiling kid from Northern Ireland capture hearts and make subliminal noise while winning the US Open. He has seen several people win titles since his last, but this last one has him thinking something different.
"That kid's got my buzz."
Like Rocky taking in the fire after watching Draco take down his best friend, there may be no better time for Tiger Woods to begin fueling for competition. Of all the reasons to be a winner again, this is his best vehicle, because for the first time in his career he could actually have a rival. every great athlete has stood the test of someone who challenge their prowess - the David who forced them to dodge flying rocks at every angle, and the greatest of great has stood the test and remained the legends they are. In past years many have made life competitive for Tiger- there were the Sergios, the Vijays, the Phil and even the Roccos - but in the all the years when talented golfers have tried the catch him, he may finally, if momentum keeps up, have the golfer who can stick with him. A Nadal to his Federer, a Megatron to his Optimus, a Happy to his Shooter. Like the jealous boyfriend who can't stand to see his ex with another man, Tiger should be fuming that Rory took his buzz - and if he catches that fire, I suggest you travel the golf world with an extra set of unsoiled undergarmets, because it's bound to amaze.
McIlroy has shown in one weekend all the characteristics that make champions great- several things that Tiger himself, in many ways, has all but invented. We can spend years comparing Kobe and LeBron to Jordan, Brady to Montana, Pujols to Babe Ruth or Michael Phelps to Flipper. What makes this new comparison as refreshing as it is, is even in the littlest way we can actually prove it. Just like when Sampras took down McEnroe over twenty years ago, the skillful old and face the talented new and it could be every bit compelling. Tiger's push to chase Jack's record may even take second chair to him outlasting the smooth swinging Hobbit. Imagine Pebble Beach or Augusta with not one, but two juggernauts jocking for grasp of a world-famous jug - EA sports switching positions annually for who is the face of their video game - making Rory-Tiger as well known of a debatable pairing as Roe-Wade. The visions are staggering, and the stories the stuff of legends.
But as we said, the ball is in Tiger's court. Messy divorces, injuries and a less than dominant putting game need to take a step back. We need to iron-wielding assassin back in action. And we need him soon. Because his widow is here - the window that can restore the visions of heroes on golf courses and Bob Costas monologues that we actually care about, all in all constructing more excitement we've ever seen on the links. A gargantuan buzz we've never before experienced. Maybe it'll happen, or maybe it's all pipe dreams. But one thing is for sure:
Golf is back.
Feel it.

Peanut Butter and Pickle Sandwiches (by BAVARIAN KREME)

Do you know many picky eaters? I sure do. My sister - who could literally live off McDonald's fries and ketchup - is one. I, however, am the antithesis of the picky eater. It has been said, in fact, that I will eat and try anything. Once more, I will like it.

Don't believe me? Among the oddities I have established a particular fondness of are grilled bison testicles (free range, please, I like my balls grassy), shrimp flavored chips, and extra virgin olive oil poured over my Aggie Ice Cream. Naturally, this willingness to eat and enjoy virtually anything on God's green earth has led me to some rather interesting sandwich combinations. Among these, I can't help but venerate on behalf of my latest sandwich obsession, the Peanut Butter, Sweet Relish and Dill Pickle.


The PB&SRDP is a symphony of flavors unlike no other. I highly suggest multigrain bread, but any cheap, store brand white or wheat bread will do. Toasting is certainly a no-no, and make sure to buy yourself some high-quality sweet relish. If, like me, you have a particular fondness of chemicals, you might even pour an extra splenda packet into that sucker, although such a statement of boldness is not required. In any case, you'll also want to use a nice, nutty butter, of which I can only suggest a highly pretentious kind. For this particular sandwich, I used Barney Butter. Not in fact named for a large purple dinosaur who may or may not be of the homosexual persuasion (not that there's anything wrong with it), Barney Butter is made from Almonds, and has a strong, licorice-like sweetness and subtle smoke flavor. It's quite good, and contrasted with the sweetness and tang of the relish - not to mention the crunchy element of cut-up dill spears - each bite into this glorious concoction is akin to a raid on the most inarticulate of food oddities. It will, however, render you speechless, and oddly addictive.

Crazy? I think not. I have, like Travis from Carpool, been tested, you know. So please, do not knock it until you've tried it, and do be sure to report in once you've partaken in this taste combination of pure, unadulterated awesomeness.

BISMARK: "The Choice is Yours": How the Blue Barracudas could save Hollywood.

  Friends, I start bluntly - there is something plaguing our good and honest way of society. Seemingly it's been everywhere for near a decade now and shows no signs of going away. This enigmatic, dark, acid-faced demon has warped our minds, destroyed our resolve and done so in the most classless of ways. No, this isn't a ramble about terrorism, obesity or the fall of economy, or even "Saved by the Bell: the New Class" (you had such a good thing with Zack and Slater. Why would you ruin Zack and Slater?! ZACK AND SLATER!) No, this disruption to life is a silver-screened wolf in sheep's clothing, and his name brings tightly-wound nerves on all.
  His name is Marvel. Perhaps you've heard of him.
  Sure, the comic-book-turned-feature-film behemoth manufactured a few well-intentioned, solid films at the beginning of it's reign as emperor of super-power filmdom, but over time it has come to a highly unsettling truth: The super-hero movie is headed toward a very tragic demise.
  You've seen it. Every Marvel flick follows the same pattern. The concept of the film is announced, inspiring a near Internet fire sale-style rush to IMDB and Wikipedia in hopes of finding all the behind-the-scenes info (directors, casting, and signs of failure like budgeting, locations and Shia Lebouf-Megan Fox duos). Months later the trailer is released, of course deemed by the sight of every Facebook member outside of your great Uncle slapping it on their profile with the comment "Sweet effects!" And then... silence. No one says a word until weeks after the movie comes out. Interest mixture, eh? If you want to know why this happens I'll tell you.
  Nobody wants you to know they saw it. Marvel movies a inches near being treated like buying shoes at Wal-Mart or watching Pro Wrestling (Wolfpac 4-Life!) - keep it under the nose, 'cause you'll only get laughed at.
  How did something so noble become so passe? It's simple really. It's become predictable, so much so that they all follow the same pattern whether the stories follow the same lines as the actually comic stories or not. Too much action but no wisdom. Like all Cory and Topanga with no Mr. Feeny. At most angles it seems as if there's no real solution. Until now.
  I'm one of many in the line of those who fully experienced the 90s. I feel I'm not alone when I say such an era was a golden time of risks and treasures, and if we honor ourselves with any accomplishment we can always fall back and be proud of one great invention - kids game shows. Nothing says "wholesome and realistic entertainment" like a batch of 11-year olds in heated competition for the last pair of Sketchers. This realm of being was a beautiful time, when hope and pleasing angst burned in every heart. It is also the heart of my solution to save the action films today. A mixture of nostalgia and suspense, honor and character, talents and ostentatiously bright colored shirts. You've seen many visual medias, but trust me when I say you've seen nothing like "Legends of the Hidden Temple: The Movie."

  Gold, right? Now, before you flutter this blog with commented doubts and hold boycotting sessions at the front door of our non-existent office, give an ear to the set up.

  PLOT: In a far off and well-respected land lies many jealously-guarded treasures, most of which are thinly plated in gold. These emblems contain not only value but many symbols and representations of life in this land. Living under the respect of these emblems comes quite routine until one day when the nation consulate discovers that most of the sacred emblems...ready for this (Dan, start the dramatic music)...have been STOLEN (duh, Duh, DUHHHH!)! This horrifying act enrages Kirk, that national leader and token wise man Olmec, a talking wall full of wisdom and paid advertisement to boot. In an earnest effort to retrieve something of such immense value to the land, Kirk and Olmec call upon twelve of the finest historians, anthologists and A-list remainders to form six teams of two in hopes of scattering the earth to find the mysterious temple which is believed to hold the sacred emblems. The duo to first find the temple and return the items will be emblazoned with glory and riches forever. And the others... possibly a consolation set of K'Nex. Together we follow these young and courages beings as they learn the storied legends of the emblems, go through daring steps to know of their being and finally to approach the ever-coolwordthingy temple in a stroy of glory, honor, history and piles upon piles of bright yellow mouth guards.  In theaters July 2013.



  CAST:

-Kirk, leader of the land and search coordinator: Robert Downey Jr.

In Kirk we need an energetic, fine-leading know-it-all who can instill strength with a purpose. So, basically Iron Man without seemingly EVERYTHING blowing up. With Just enough fast-paced grit and snappy one-liners, this initiator of adventure is sure to have heads rolling and butts at the end of their seats. And he may even bring bagels for a change.

 -Olmec, the Temple wisdom-seeker: James Earl Jones -

  This is the perfect fit for voicing over a talking wall. My reasoning? It's James Earl-freaking Jones. He was MUFASA for Pete's sake! You give me a better option.

-Team one: The Blue Barracudas: Topher Grace and Ellen Page -                       

It's a fact, every protagonist team must be laden with half-way puny, half-way intelligent and all-way adorable home style characters, and that's where these two champs come in. These two stars meet at the interview process for the treasure search and form an automatic bond when they both find they know all the words to "Rock Lobster" by the B52s. They come together, build upon trust and fight against all odds in a suspenseful feats to.... well...ya know how this one goes. The big difference - instead of a romantic kiss to signify their undying relationship they share a package of wild berry pop tarts.

-Team Two: The Red Jaguars:  Josh Hartnett and Avril Lavigne -

The Jaguars are the rival team, who use tricky tactics to outlast the others. For this I needed two people who could come off as overpowering yet have many, many many a plethora of weaknesses. It also would be nice for them to be people I rather dislike. I might as well enjoy watching them lose.

-Team Three: The Green Monkeys: Ben Savage and Zooey Deschanel  - 

Best friends and confidants to the Blue Barracudas, they work in unity with our stars and show character that only warms hearts and...uhh...does other, cute things. A great re-defining moment for Savage of "Boy Meets World" fame as he expels real drama during a near death scene.


-Team Four: The Silver Snakes: Andy Samburg and Amy Jo Johnson (yes, the Pink ranger)

-They're hot, they're charismatic, they're the favorites to win, taking the search by sheer storm with skill and their already cemented fame.
  They die within the first ten minutes.



-Team Five: Orange Iguanas: James Roday and Dule Hill - 

The well-established contending comic relief. And yes, I understand that I generally put a guy with a girl in this pattern, but it's Shawn and Gus from "Psych", YOU try and split them up!



-Team Six: The Purple Parrots: Lady Miss Kier of DEEE-LITE and the Kool-Aid Man -

   I believe this one speaks for itself...

 -Mr. Mrs. Eckerburg - the evil emblem thieves: Geoffrey Rush and Molly Ringwald - 

Hey, I needed a reason to get Molly Ringwald in a movie. If you think it's a bad idea go watch "Pretty in Pink."





 


 - And finally, Gilbert Gottfried as the genie.   

 


  And there you have, my cinematic plan to save Super Hero films, and seemingly all of Hollywood, as we know it. Until Marvel comes up with a plan themselves, or those ever-successful natural disaster flicks ("Dante's Peak" anyone?) make a comeback, you'll just have to have your heart set on a game show that changed a youthful and the highly-acclaimed film that let it shine once again - with your support it can come true. In the words of Olmec himself, "The choice is yours and yours alone."

 And for the record, I hope I win the Moon Shoes.

-BIZ

Adrian, we did it! (by Sprinkles)

While most of the sporting world is talking about the Dallas Mavericks right now, I thought I might take the road less traveled by and talk about something other than the current NBA champion and the current NBA loser (you'll never be better than Kobe, Lebron, and I don't care who does or does not want to make comparisons).  I want to talk about someone who most people don't even consider an athlete.  I want to talk about Silvester Stallone.

Now I know some of you saw on Sports Center that Stallone got inducted into the boxing Hall of Fame this afternoon along with Mike Tyson.  Before you start to harass or ridicule Mike Tyson, and without dropping some ridiculous stats on you, let me just say that I believe that Mike Tyson was, bar none, the most entertaining athlete from the press table in the history of sport (The Macho Man Randy Savage didn't have press conferences, so he holds the title for Most Entertaining Interviewee).

But back to Stallone.  If you for one second think that Stallone shouldn't be in the Hall of Fame, then I think you should take a long look in the mirror and make a change.  For once in your life (I promise that it will feel real good and it will make a difference.  It'll make it right.).  Rocky was the first movie about a sport that had a hero who won even though he lost.  Now, I know many attempts have been made since to make good movies about losers (Coach Carter, Friday Night Lights, among others), but none of those movies made me believe and feel like the man I rooted for and yearned to win actually won without doing so.  Watching that movie as a child, I actually believed Rocky won that match.  I don't think I realized the truth until I was in Junior High School or High School.

Rocky was also the first human being in the history of mankind who made someone want to run stairs as part of their workout.  Don't tell me about any trainers or show me workout tapes that are older than Rocky.  Sure people ran stairs before Rocky, but not because they enjoyed it or because it empowered them.  They did it because it's a tremendously beneficial workout.  I challenge any man to run up a set of stairs in workout clothing in any location that isn't a stadium (who of course has seen Rocky) and not have the melody of "Gotta Fly Now" run through his head.  As my friend Jim Rome might say, "It's not happening."

Interestingly enough, Sly was also the first person who made people want to run to their town hall without even having to go inside to get some sort of paperwork filled out or acquired or having to attend a city council meeting for the Citizenship in the Community merit badge.  Don't believe me?  Do you think any of your local politicians leave the town hall without a single piece of paper on any given work day?  Forget about it.

Now, I don't need to go through all the Rocky movies and all the reasons why Silvester should not only hold a secure spot in the Boxing Hall of Fame, but in the Life Hall of Fame.  Yes, he had Rocky five.  Jordan had gambling and his Hall of Fame Speech.  Magic Johnson had HIV.  Tiger Woods...well you know.  Kobe Bryant was an adulterer.  Even Peter denied Jesus Christ.  But to say that Silvester Stallone gave nothing to boxing is to say that Kobayashi gave nothing to hot dogs.  Silvester Stallone makes me love boxing at a time when there's almost nothing to love about it.  When nobody knows the names of more than two fighters and when nobody in the sport looks like they could fight a full grown bull with their bare fists and win.  I want to box when I watch Rocky.  When I watch Manny Paquiao...I want to stop watching Manny Paquiao.  In short, Rocky posthumously keeps a dead sport alive in the hearts of sports fans everywhere.  I challenge any film-maker, writer, director, and or actor to do that.  O wait.  He was all of those things:  writer, actor, director, inspirer, champion, Sly, Rock, and now...

Hall of Famer.

More than a center and more than Kazaam - A tribute to one of my childhood heroes. (by Bizmark)

 If you knew me in high school and ever found your way to my bedroom you'd find my walls were pretty bare. I wasn't one to fill a room with tons of pictures and posters - so long as it had a bed I was very much content.

  However, up until I graduated and left for college, there was always one framed 18x30-inch poster that hung across from my desk - one I looked at every day and drew a bit of leverage from in my adolescent years. It was white, with the word "CONFIDENCE" stretched across the bottom frame, all supporting a photo of the 90's era Chicago Bulls big three - Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and Dennis Rodman - on a three-and-one fast break, Rodman and Pippen setting up the offense, and as always Jordan taking the shot.

  The only difference, unlike most of Jordan's finer moments, in an hardwood-induced allegory of the confidence the poster claimed, and hardly seen on any Jordan-grazed poster worldwide, this shot was being blocked. Every morning as I woke up and night asIi went back to bed I'd look at that blocked shot and find some way to regain my own confidence and something in myself - all because the player blocking that shot had always been a staple of confidence for me.

  In more ways than one, I capped off a childhood of gathered support with my poster of Shaquille O'Neal.

  Now, before I move on, let me be frank: I know I'm going to get a ton of flack for this. I live in Northern Utah, a geographical region where any faint smell of Laker purple is about as frowned upon as death by guillotine, and I'm sure there are times when I ask for it. In recent years I've tried to avoid playing the sports card in discussions with persons because trying to support my teams only to recieve the aura of betrayal stopped being fun. I've never enjoyed prancing through the streets and being labeled the "bandwagoner" or the fan who lacked judgment, and to be honest, who does? Basically, in this state if it's Pro-Laker or Anti-Jimmer, there's a chance you could get your license revoked, so you learn quickly to keep your mouth shut.

  With that said, before you all role your eyes and shoot mental arrows as I take a moment to speak on the upcoming retirement of great player, bad actor, even worse rapper and all around fun guy was Shaquille O'Neal, I just hope you'll take a minute and let me share why this day is as somber for me as it is, and why Shaq, the "Big [insert here]" is one on a strong list of people who have given me reason to be who I am today.

  My mother died in her sleep when I was nine years old, a mere three years after we lost my youngest sister in a car accident. My three older siblings and I were left with questions, concerns, and lots of broken-hearted words, and it didn't look like it would get any better any time soon.

  And if I could be honest, it didn't.

  No more than a week after my mom's funeral we packed up the little we had, leaving the firewood-laden cavern of Koosharem, Utah (I'm pretty sure we made up at least a quarter of the population) and made stay with our father in Los Angeles. Me, my sisters and my then one-year old nephew were all confined to a guest room in a make-shift garage, under the care of a father who wasn't there when I was born, never there when I was a kid and didn't show intense signs of being too affectionate then. In the years since my dad and I have found a better relationship, but there was no questioning that life at that point - to be blunt - just didn't seem worth living.

  I hated LA. Loathed it. Blame it on the smog, the amount of people, possibly the dead palm fronds ever falling from the trees, but it took forever and a day for me to feel welcome in the town. For a long time, there was just nothing to look forward to. Was I scared? Of course. Was i ever happy? At times, but not often. Did I want to end everything? I'd be lying if I said I hadn't. And that was it. A small white kid in a black and Hispanic neighborhood with no mom to seek comfort, no camaraderie to get it off my mind, and nothing to accompany me but the ever-red lit Southern California sky. I hated it. Every little bit.

  Fast forward to 2011. Sufficeth to say, things have picked up a little. I'm happier. I'm in college. Heck, there are even days when I catch myself smiling. There is no single aspect of my life that isn't better, and I can say with confidence that I can credit two things that got me on the road to finding worth in my life: membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Laker basketball.

  I remember when I first noticed the man that was the Shaquille O'Neal. My then close friend Cameron Newman, who was a limber giant in himself on the friendly confines of the Eagle Rock Elementary School playground told me all about this purple ad gold basketball team that did everything for the city of LA but fix it's plumbing. He'd brighten up as he'd go on about players like Rick Fox, Derek Fisher, Robert Horry, Glen Rice, a young prodigy by the name of Kobe Bryant and numerous others. And then he'd stop, look off for a moment, and talk about Shaq - the seven-foot, brick wall, power lane drilling behemoth whose talent and drive were as big as his smile.

  I'd chat with my dad, who lived and breathed the colors as he watched Magic, Kareem and the boys in the 80's turn the team into the franchise it is today, and do everything to hide his faint smile while doing it. For years I watched basketball, but finally thist was starting to stick. And better yet, as I was looking into to it by myself, the team was getting good,mighty good. Twenty-wins-a-row good. Excitement filled the air, energy came into my life and chants of "this is our year" became a staple to a town full of hopefuls - all led by this talking tree who had quick hands, a quicker spin move and a presence that seemed to breathe life into his entire squad. Some days the guys would be down, but you'd be damned to see that of Shaq - if they were going to get anywhere it was going to be on his shoulders.

  And that's where it started. I finally got excited about something. Something I could relate to and cheer for and use as a crutch. You can laugh, but for the first time in a long time I had a reason to live.

  If I had time and space I'd go all into every single moment and memory accompanied with the joy of watching the then number 34 take the court. The blocks, the dunks, the smile, the on court antics, the off court antics, the antics performed to take breaks from the usual antics. I remember being in my living room when he scored 61 points on his birthday. I was in the stands when he hoisted his only regular season MVP trophy. I honestly remember giggling a little bit when he nearly took off Brad Miller's head, shoulders, knees and toes with his fist and forearm after a heard foul. I remember him leaping in the air to catch Kobe Bryant's absurdly perfect alley-oop pass and careen it in to the hoop with one hand and exuberantly point into the stands to cap off the 2000 Western Conference title, and overcoming a 17-point deficit to do so. I can still remember two weeks later when he walked off the court with soft tears in his eyes after winning the first of his four career NBA titles followed by his water gun-fueled rap sessions at the championship parades in downtown LA. And watching it? Good gracious, it just felt good.

 Everything else in my life was a mess, but at least for a few months out of every year I got to enjoy the big man in his prime. I got to watch him be the first to prove basketball could move on after the Jordan era took it's bow. I got to experience him subliminally teaching me that it was okay to feel happy about something. When he was on the court, nothing else was on my mind. When he'd flash his always noticeable and dangerously infectious smile, I smiled along with him. Finally I was no longer the white kid with the dead mother. I was a fellow Laker fan, I was even a small part of something great. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

  So,yes, maybe he should have retired a couple years ago. Perhaps he did make some sub par decisions because that evidently never occurs with human beings let alone professional athletes. But in full sincerity, I don't care a small bit for that. The man could have done far worse, but for the sake of his character, his devotion, his drive and his way of at least giving a ten-year old, scrawny lil' Mormon lackwit a reason to live and love living, I will forever raise my glass to the Big Diesel, the Big Aristotle, the urban-style genie, the rock-solid beacon of slam that was Shaquille Rashaun O'Neal. Love him, hate him, heck, foul him with under two minutes left, but none can doubt that as he leaves the sport, Shaq leaves as one of those who leave a profound dent in the annals of basketball history. But hey, better left there than on Brad Miller's dome piece.

  So, thanks Shaq. I've found joy in my life over time, and I feel there is a road to success for me, and a small part of that I owe to you. You leave a legend of the game, and a vibrant character to be missed. And when welcome you to the Hall of Fame, we will know firmly that you were a very special part to a very special game.

  And, yes, we can dig that.