Often on Sunday afternoons, I will turn on a car race or golf or some other sport that will allow me to fall asleep, miss most of it, and still not have really missed anything for the end. And then I fall asleep. This was the case last Sunday. Peacefully, I had dozed off, while some monotonous sport that I enjoy played dimly in the background.

Recently, Burger King launched a commercial whereby “The King” (not to be confused with Elvis or Richard Petty or any mattress salesman anywhere) sneaks into the room of a sleeping person and blasts an air horn at said sleeping person who promptly jumps up with a confused facial expression. This is met with laughter from several people in the room whom apparently hang out with “The King” on a regular basis.

Now, the air horn is rather loud…at least, significantly louder than the rest of the projected TV volume. And in Dolby 5.1 digital surround, it was enough to wake me from my slumber that fine afternoon. And thus my disdain for “The King” has reached new heights.

“The King” breaks through all previously established levels of fast food character creepiness, which is not an easy task. Ronald McDonald is fright night in stockings. Yet, “The King” with his gargantuan plastic head and ridiculous perma-smile is now, indeed, the king…the king of creepy.

First, you should never trust anyone with a head that forms a perfect shape. See figure 1.1:

Second, what is with the hair? And the beard? I realize your head is plastic, Mr. King, but you have to let the Bee Gees go. And those little curls that go upward toward the crown? It looks you’ve got a like a couple of breakfast croissants stored up there. And the bling…a big gold chain with a giant BK emblem? Nice.

That perpetual glare is enough to unnerve anyone. His features resemble the stereotypical portrayal of Satan. There is no doubt he is a sociopath. He never says anything. And that’s what they always say about sociopaths. Right after they hacked up about a billion people, the neighbors always say “He was a quiet man”.

I have never been one to be afraid of clowns, but I can understand why those who are find them frightening. Now, we’re going to have a whole new generation of phobics. Please, Burger King, do away with your insane looking mascot. It is a matter of corporate responsibility. Do mankind a favor, wipe that grin off his face, and give the king a normal sized head.

Tonight I have a rant. About cereal. And the government. Yes, a rant about cereal and the government.

Earlier this week it was reported that the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has cracked its whip and taken on America’s most popular cereal, Cheerios. The FDA has determined that because the Cheerios packaging claims that “eating two servings a day of Cheerios helps to reduce bad cholesterol when eaten as part of a diet low in saturated fat and cholesterol”, Cheerios is now a drug. Moreover, it has not been tested as a drug, and therefore General Mills must change the packaging or the FDA will call for the removal of Cheerios from store shelves.

Seriously? I dare ya. Remove Cheerios from store shelves and see where that gets you. There is only so much government interference that can be tolerated. I dare say that a government which attempts to sink the unsinkable Cheerio is a government that will soon face mutiny. O-O-O-Cheerios is mightier than O-O-O-bama. You can bank on it.

Mind you, these are difficult economic times. Millions of Americans are surviving these times solely on Cheerios and bologna sandwiches. This is no time to be screwing with our food chain. People need their soluble fiber infused, circular oat based goodness. Leave it be!

Is this really the best use of the FDA’s time? What is the worst that could happen? Is there some poor sap out there buying Cheerios as his sole means of combating his high LDL diagnosis? And even if there were such a moron, would it really warrant pulling Cheerios from stores? Could one possible overdose on Cheerios? I think not.

Doesn’t this send a mixed message to our youth? Just say no to drugs, we’ve told them. Yet parents everywhere have faithfully fed their children Cheerios when they’d much rather be eating sugar coated marshmallow honey chocolate fruit crunch. Now we’re saying Cheerios is a drug.

Hey, maybe that’s it. Maybe this is a secret plan in the war on drugs. Let’s take something completely innocuous, healthy even, and label it as a drug. Convince teenagers everywhere that Cheerios is the new weed. They’ll be going to parties with yellow cardboard boxes everywhere. Michael Phelps will be getting photographed with a bowl and a spoon. Parents will be getting suspicious when the milk goes missing. People will be talking…”Awesome party, dude. I had like four bowls. I got so much oat in me, my urine still smells funny.” “Who was the kid that brought the honey nut? What a loser!”

I don’t know. It could work.

I can sleep through almost anything. Sleeping is one of my best skills. If sleeping were a major sport, I’d be a first ballot hall of famer, no question. I can sleep anywhere, anytime, give me five minutes, and I’m out.

So, it was quite a surprise when I was awakened this morning (at 5:40 am) by the persistent calls of a duck with bad timing. That may be understating it. This duck was insane with her noise making skills. And it was so consistent. It was quite impressive. I thought it would go away, but after a few minutes, I realized this was a matter that was going to require me to get out of bed. So I did. And to the back window I went. And sure enough, there she was…clamoring away.

For the most part, you rarely see a female duck (a hen, for all you sticklers of wildlife nomenclature) without a male (drake) following close behind. Ducks mate for life, and you’ll most always see them in pairs. But this duck was alone, early in the morning, causing a ruckous. My guess is that the male duck was probably hiding around the corner. He’d probably gotten fed up with her nagging and had snuck off in the night. She was trying to track him down and he was likely just trying to get a moment’s peace. Like me, at 5:40 AM.

So I prepared to rid my yard of said duck. I grabbed a bowl and went to the freezer and filled it with ice cubes. (I have experience chasing ducks out of my pool and ice cubes are great for throwing because you don’t have to clean them up). I went and got my flip flops as I didn’t want to step barefoot into the quarter inch layer of pollen that presently adorns everything outdoors. Her clamoring continued. I went to the back door, opened it prepared to step out and begin launching my frozen projectiles in her general vicinity. But as soon as the door opened, she flew off.

Darn, I so needed to throw something.