O Captain! My Captain!

Upon hearing the tragic news that, in the face of immense pressure from the federal government, Quaker has decided to halt production of the delicious (but very unnutritious) Cap'n Crunch, I felt compelled to do something to eulogize this staple of every morbidly obese child's diet. And, while Quaker is refuting parts of the story- a company statement said that "reports of Cap'n Crunch's demise are greatly exaggerated"- they fail to flat out deny it. One can only surmise that Cap'n Horatio Magellan Crunch is on the cereal equivalent of the plank, taking his first steps towards the shark- and health food-infested waters below. It is now but a matter of time until he is no more.

This is a tragic loss for all cereal lovers out there. So what if it had 12 grams of sugar per serving? So what if after CC Sabathia stopped eating it this offseason, he promptly lost 25 pounds? This cereal is America!
It is fitting, then, that we say goodbye to this legendary figure by invoking the words of Walt Whitman, perhaps the most legendary Captain eulogizer there has ever been. A few slight alterations more befitting to this solemn occasion have been made to the original poem, though I doubt you'll be able to tell.

O Cap'n! my Cap'n! our fearful trip is done;
The bowl has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the children all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady spoon, the kernels sweet and pleasing:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Cap'n lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Cap'n! my Cap'n! rise up and hear the calls;
Rise up—for you the children pine—for you the fatty bawls;
For you delicious crunch berries—for you the flavors abounding;
For you they call, the hungry mass, their eager faces smiling;
Here Cap'n! dear father!
This milk beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Cap'n does not answer, his 'stache is pale and askew;
My mouth's roof does not feel your cut, there is no life in you;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
For many meals, the victor ship, made breakfast tasty and fun;
Exult, O Michelle Obama!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Cap'n lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


When you sit down for your next bowl of cereal, tip out a little milk for our dearly departed Cap'n. May he rest in peace.

Cap'n Crunch: 1963-2011