Man, fuck you guys. Anyone who reads this, I hate you. I hate you more than I hated goldschlager and cinnamon toast crunch. I hate you because you're going to view my suffering, my exquisite agonies, and laugh. And, if you're not me, I guess it is pretty funny. But I am, so, yeah, I hate you all, fuckers.

I've consumed only a few tiny spoonfulls of my breakfast of champions today, but that small amount of this vitriol was enough to really make me doubt the sustainability of these awful liquor and cereal articles. The previous standard in bad liquor cereal combinations was undoubtedly goldschlager. But even that had the decency to at least knock me on my ass.

Let me state this clearly now: Sake and Rice Krispies do not… do not knock me on my ass, and do not do them. Ever. This is the anti-alcoholism commercial that will scare you straight. This is a liquor and cereal article that didn't even get me tipsy. Right there you know this is something especially tragic. I think I've prefaced this enough and gotten over the worst of the suffering, so here we go with the article:

The distant east. A land of mystery and bamboo, and panda bears that are definitely not supposed to be hugged, as the news has aptly demonstrated. But it's also a land where rice is grown. Some of this rice is destined to become rice krispies, while some is destined to become sake, the Japanese rice-beer. But are these two dissonant harmonies destined to meet in the same symphony? Yes, yes they are, and it is a symphony of the damned.

When I began this article, I was weak and flabby, grown decadent from my easy survival of the previous experiment with whiskey and corn pops, so I knew I needed to train for this. Luckily, much like the cornpops box, the rice krispies box was ready to help me! Only, rather than with zig-zag-fag-tag, rice krispies offered me a recipe for a rice krispies treat that was supposed to look like a panda, a dvd of kung fu panda, a blanket of kung fu panda, a kung fu panda stencil, and, with three tokens, a kung fu panda vaginal douche kit.

I wasn't a panda, but I can be kung fu. I quickly whipped up my kimono, my katana, my daikatana, a headband and a scarf, and J M Ninja was ready to fight again, for the first time since the great ninja-pirate debate!

You've probably noticed that my usual tactic when consuming liquor and cereal (editor's note: it is fucking weird that I refer to this as usual) is to sit at my computer desk. Firstly this allows me to write while I suffer, and secondly it lets me be right next to my bed should I need to pass out. But a ninja is humble, and, as is customary in the orient, sits on the floor for his meals. I removed my mask, also customary in the orient.

In keeping with my theme, I first used my sword to eviscerate (read: open) the rice krispies. An act of pre-emptive vengeance, if you will. I next freaked out because there was a fucking pile of little rice bits all over my rug.

Naturally, I blamed the sake, and the bottle was the next object to feel my wrath. Let me tell you, stabbing a bottle cap with a sword is hard work. Keep your feet clear at all times and make a short jab downwards. Hopefully, you'll hit it on your first try. Otherwise it rolls around a bit. Me, I'm an expert, as you can see.

I shook the wounded rice krispies violently, watching my nutriment spill into my bowl. Crackle had already bled to death on the floor, and it was left to snap and pop to watch in terror as I jiggled the corpse of their friend to reopen the wound and allow his innards to slop out into the bowl.

With this done, I held my slain bottle of sake high up and sprinkled its contents down as I sat humbly on the floor awaiting the meal that my Daimyo had set me to. For my honor, I could not fail. The sake had to be poured just right. Never the less, as I watched the silver droplets fall, I felt a quaver of terror in my crotch (pictured)

Despite my genital misgivings, everything seemed to be nominal and I was coasting on my way to a pretty easy conclusion. Then, the worst that could happen, happened: I tried it. The rice krispies were still krispy, but the sake had washed away every semblance of flavor from the little rice puffs. The slightly sweet toastyness that I had lukewarmly accepted as a kid was now replaced with, well, with nothing.

As I found from my experiments with cereals bearing marshmallows, alcohol is a potent solvent, and in this case it seemed to be acting quickly to dissolve any sort of goodness that existed in my rice krispies. I was not a happy ninja, I was not a happy ninja at all. The first thing you notice is that flavorless rice krispies are exactly akin to Styrofoam packing particles. And then the sake flavor hits. It's a light, crisp alcoholic taste, so light in fact that it ALSO has no flavor. So I was eating a bowl of styrofoam that tasted slightly of alcohol. And then it got worse because the styrofoam got soggy.

You'll notice that the pictures stop right as I started to get ready for the tasting. There is a reason for this. The musty, mushy boozy stuff in that bowl…. It was not something man was meant to see. I expected an elder god writhing in tentacles to pop out of it at any moment. Indeed, in a way, I hoped for the coming of Shub Niggurath, the goat with a thousand young, to clean the stain of my tortured existence from reality. Such is the dread majesty of the sake rice krispies.

I am now a mere shell of the man I once was, my soul shattered and a void opened inside me by the lack of anything, anything at all, in this so-called meal. It was emptiness that I ate, I have consumed the nothingness, and become one with it, and I don't feel that it is fair to the world to drag others into the depths by showing them the hollowness in my eyes where once my soul existed.

Also, my camera ran out of film, because the amounts of pathos and existential angst apparent in any experiment like this caused it to hemorrhage exposures somehow. As though the lens itself were revolting at the sight it had to see.

I say now, with no shame, that I failed to finish more than a quarter of the bowl. I did not even dare to slurp down the remaining liquor as I usually do. There hadn't been enough alcohol in the sake to give me the liquid courage that I needed, and now I sit here, staring at a brown, squishy void in my bowl that reflects the horrible hole inside my chest where my heart used to be,

And it stares back into me............


Rice krispies and sake
The infinite gorge they make
In my heart it burns