My opinion of the storied Indiana Jones film franchise continues to hang in the balance (last time I checked, the one with Sean Connery was missing some high-powered space lasers and a hilarious Eddie Murphy cameo). However, I can tell you what I think of the old dog’s cereal. I bought a box this afternoon because, well, I wanted something interesting to happen before I went to bed tonight.
No good, Docta Jones!
As I mentioned in the title of this post, Indy’s breakfast concoction tastes like all the Cocoa Puffs that fell off the line and got swept up by Stinky the Janitor. Could the lack of flavor have something to do with the fact this crap has been sitting on the shelf of my local grocery store since late June? Probably not. This is the 21st Century. Cereal doesn’t spoil and cause famines any more like it used to in olden times.
The label seems to suggest there are four kinds of marshmallows waiting to be discovered in INDIANA JONES: THE CEREAL!, but I think the box I bought literally contains only four marshmallows. I saw but one “Crystal Skull” floating in the bowl I just had. Funnily enough, one of the marshmallow shapes is supposed to be Indy’s fedora. Because that’s what every kid wants to pretend they’re eating at breakfast every morning – the old, worn out hat of some sweaty archaeologist from the 1930s.
Wanna see something scary? Look at the young, vibrant Harrison Ford depiction on the front of the box:
Now that’s the Indiana Jones millions of women want to have sex with. Now take a look at the real photo of Indy taken from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on the back of the box:
Jesus Christ. Couldn’t they find one where he didn’t look like Toothless Joe, King of the Box Cars? Stay away from my sammich, Gimpy Lou! I’ll fix you good once we get to Tuscon!
That concludes this session of “JG2 Rags On Some Commercial Product That Was Interesting And Topical Four Months Ago.” Join me tomorrow when I bust on the Dark Knight Slurpees I’m sure 7-11 was offering this Summer. Blueberry Batpod? Fuck you, Corporate America!
Here’s a topical dream for you: I attended an advanced screening of the new Indiana Jones movie with my parents. It was at Steven Spielberg’s house, I think, and the movie was projected on a tiny screen on his back porch.
The opening credit sequence was thirty minutes long and bled into the first scene—Indy cleaning somebody’s pool while simultaneously looking for his famous hat. Right after that, there was this weird “Three Stooges” montage that hinted Larry, Curly, and Moe would be making an appearance in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Said montage featured the classiest photo of Larry Fine I’ve ever seen in my life. He was in a tuxedo, bending over a table of dignitaries as if to say, “How do?”
Did I mention this was apparently taking place on Christmas Day? There was a Christmas tree and people were slowly exchanging presents as the film rolled. I think I saw Harrison Ford there. He looked very happy.
I don’t remember anything else about my dream version of Indy 4. I assume the rest of it was just as crazy as those first parts. I eventually found myself in conversation with a nearby friend about our favorite movies based on historical events. I offered The Untouchables. She said something like The Blues Brothers. Then I woke up.
New movie looks good
no Short Round, but that’s okay
he’d be thirty-eight.