Showing 1 - 6 of 6 posts found matching keyword: cereal
Superman is such an icon, you don't even have to put his name on the box to sell products. Just his logo will do.
The product, as you can see by the price label on the shelf, is officially called Betty Crocker Fruit Shapes DC Comics. Superman's name isn't even on the box! But why should it be? Today's kids are sophisticated and knowledgeable about what they put in their pie-holes. They wouldn't eat just anything out of a box with a hero's likeness on it.
"Spider Berry" cereal "with Lizard villain marshmallows" flavored with natural spider and lizard flavors? I withdraw my statement, your honor.
Hanna-Barbera's The Flintstones went off the air in 1966. Its last spin-off series, Cartoon Network's Cave Kids, aired it's last new episode thirty years later in 1996. The most recent original Flintstones content aired in 2001, so it's been a decade since The Flintstones has been culturally relevant as anything other than nostalgic reruns. That being the case, why do they still make Flintstones-themed Fruity Pebbles?
Introduced in 1971, Post™ Fruity Pebbles weren't introduced to the public until after The Flintstones were canceled thanks to free-falling ratings. Their entire, long-running success has endured without the support of the very product from which they were licensed! That's pretty amusing given that Fruity Pebbles is credited as the first breakfast cereal brand built from the ground up around a licensed property. Since then countless licensed cereals have come and gone, including E.T. Cereal, Mr. T, and Urkel-Os, which had hte the benefit of support from their licensed properties.
My point -- assuming that I have one -- is that I suspect that at this point the merits of the cereal, such as they are, must speak for themselves. Surely no one is buying Fruity Pebbles because of the Flintstones ties anymore, so there must be something in those Fruity Pebbles to enable 40 uninterrupted years of sales longevity. Nothing that The Flintstones actually actively endorsed on their show could have sold this well, right?Never mind.
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After reading on the Mental Floss blog that Snap, Crackle, and Pop had a brother named Pow, I lost my afternoon trying to track down evidence. It was relatively easy to discover that the three elves (a baker, a band leader, and a slacker) were created in 1933 as a response to radio advertisement. It was somewhat harder to find evidence for the existence of Pow, who aparently appeared in animated advertisements. But here it is, as provided by John K Stuff. And all that proves is that cereal commercials have always been just fucked up.
[Note: that link above to shamuskrispies.mov is a Quicktime movie link. In my PC browsers, I can't see it, but downloading and watching it on a desktop (i.e. offline) application solved the problem for me.]
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*Or it may not. The "May" makes it legal. We checked.**
**Anyway, it's chocolate; you know you want it. Go ahead, take a bite. You can stop anytime you want.***
***Trust us, we're General Mills. Sure, we promised last year to reduce the sugar we put in foods marketed at children, but what else are we going to do with all that sugar if we don't put it in foods marketed at adults? Adults like sugar, too, right?****
****Whatever. In any event, there's still a spoonful of real heart in every bowl, and that we don't have to qualify with an asterisk!
I've had this commercial stuck in my head all day.
Call me crazy, but I've decided that Barney is really rapping about raping Fred's daughter, Pebbles. Fred must think so, too, for he sure freaks out over the minor theft of some delicious "cereal."
One would think that an archaic cartoon character rapping about child molestation is probably not the best way to sell sugar to children, but Post Cereals doesn't care. Post blatantly uses drug themes to market Golden Crisp, a cereal with so much sugar it gives Sugar Bear hallucinations, and Honeycomb, a cereal that acts as a nutritious sedative for dangerous feral creatures. It's no wonder that after a childhood of ingesting roofies, reds, and tabs, Post wants me to buy boxes of 100% Bran to cleanse my system.
Just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water: Michael Phelps is the new spokesman for Kellogg's Corn Flakes and Frosted Flakes cereals, and the media wants you to be very upset about it.
Apparently -- and this was news to me -- everyone in the world (except the clever bastards at Kellogg's) wanted Phelps to endorse General Mills' Wheaties, a cereal with much less sugar content and the iconic real estate to which Americans look for their annual re-definition of their sports role-model. (Olympic decathlete Bob Richards was the first athlete to appear on the front of a Wheaties box in 1958, and it's pretty much been a who's who of sport stars-of-the-moment for the 50 years since.) It seems that the Wheaties cover means something to people, and failing to appear on Wheaties must represent some sort of failing on the part of Phelps. (Nevermind that Kellogg's has already paid well over $70 million this summer alone to sponsor the Olympics and Team USA while Wheaties has spent nothing.) Worse still, Phelps' endorsement of Frosted Flakes (once called Sugar Frosted Flakes) is by many considered an endorsement of shoveling cane sugar into America's already obese children. How dare you make America more fat, Mr. Phelps?
I say America, make up your mind. Do you want Phelps as hero (world-conquering, invulnerable super-athlete) or Phelps as angel (life-affirming, affable boy-next-door)? Kellogg's wisely will take what they can get. After all, they have some experience with the original dual-identity sponsor, Superman, who proudly promoted their product during the televised Adventures of Superman starting in 1952, years before Wheaties began promoting athletes on the front of their box.
If Frosted Flakes is good enough for Superman, then it damn well ought to be good enough for Michael Phelps. If you need an orange Wheaties box to tell you who your heroes are, I think you've got bigger problems than even Michael Phelps can fix.