RICE KRISPIES
I had an interesting morning; I got into an argument with my Rice Krispies. I distinctly
heard, “Snap, crackle, fuck you!” I’m not sure which one of them said it; I was reaching
ro the artificial sweetener at the time and not looking directly into the bowl. But I heard it
and I said, “Well, you can all just sit there in the milk as far as I’m concerned until I find
out which of you said it.” Mass punishment. The idea was to turn them against on another
	Silly me. Big punishment! That’s what Rice Krispies do. Sit in the milk. That’s
their job. You’ve seen them. Delicate, beige blisters of air, floating proudly in the milk.
And you can’t sink them. They refuse to sink. The navy ouhgt to use Rice Krispies in life
preservers. That’s where they’re really needed.
	And do you know how Rice Krispies manage to float for such a long time? By
clining to one another; they buddy up. They gather in little groups of eight, ten, ore
sometimes twelve, but if you’ve noticed, it’s always an even number. That’s because the
electromagnetic polarity of the Krispies attracts them to one another. It binds them into
pairs, like subatomic particles. They form little colonies, and you can’t sink them, not even
with a spoon. They just come bobbing up over the sides of the spoon, laughing at you and
reveling in their buoyancy. Hard to sink.
	That’s what the fruit is for. Not for added taste; not for nutrition; it’s for sinking
the Rice Krispies. Believe me, a good-sized peach, hurled at the bowl full force from a
step ladder, cna take down eighty or nintey of the little buggers in one glorious splash.
	And I have absolutely no mercy. If I’m really pissed, I’ll climb up to the upstairs
balcony and drop a watermelon on them. That’ll teach them to sass me at breakfast.

-George Carlin; Napalm and Silly Putty