Ignorance isn’t Bliss, Naivety Is


I miss being young sometimes, really young. I remember that feeling I had while watching movies or cartoons; I remember being told stories and seeing them in my mind. The feeling is that anything is possible. The world is so full of wonder and magic when you are just a kid. The older I get, the less magic is left. The older I get, the less wonder there is, because I understand more about the world, and the more I understand the world, the more I hate being a part of it.

The Pop-Tarts Crunch Song

Strawberry_Pop_Tarts_CrunchAs many of you are aware, I have a ridiculous memory. It preserves about 90% of what it experiences. This could be big things or little things or completely ambiguous background things that have occurred in my life, or maybe even yours.

That being said, I remember (verbatim) the song for Pop-Tarts Crunch. In the mid-90s there was a cereal that was little bite-sized versions of Pop-Tarts. The commercial featured a grunge-rocky looking teenager who appeared to be composing a (horrible) song about the cereal and his experience with it. I will now, from memory, transcribe it from my brain.

I thought Pop-Tarts were really cool, but if you poured them in a bowl they wouldn’t fit,
Until Kellogg’s made a cereal called, ‘Pop-Tarts Crunch!’
I love to munch…

[pause to eat some of the cereal]

…on them.
They’re like Pop-Tarts only smaller and you can pour milk on them.
They’re crunchy and you can pour milk on them.
Pop-Tarts Crunch!

The point I’m trying to illustrate here is that this song takes up a chunk of my brain, probably where some useful knowledge could have occupied in its stead.


sponch_1Just the mere mention of the word, “Sponch,” to anyone that has yet to hear it produces a wince. The person that you are speaking with has never heard of this snack before and the name of it fails to do the unexplored brain any favors. What could Sponch be? Where the hell does one even find Sponch?
Sponch is a snack food distributed by Marinela, that operates under the umbrella of “Bimbo,” a Mexican food company that mass produces various baked goods and snacks, similar to Drakes, or Little Debbie here in the U.S. (or Wonderbread for that matter). They have an assortment of desserts, some are winners and some are losers, but I find Sponch to be a particular gem.

Sponch is (packaged in groups six) a butter cookie, topped with four little coconut-covered marshmallows (two regular and two colored pink with a hint of strawberry), and with a dab of strawberry jam in the middle of the of the marshmallows.


On the underside of the cookie they have placed the name of the snack, just in case you forgot what you were eating…


That’s all wonderful on paper, but how does it taste? I usually find them for $1.50, meaning they’re 25¢ a pop, so my expectations were low going into this I was pleasantly surprised. Sponch works in perfect harmony and is greater than the sum of its parts. I tell myself that I will hold off on downing all six, but find that almost immediately, four of them have already been devoured.

What I’m trying to say is that Sponch is awesome. It’s certainly my candy/snack of the month.


I usually see these in bodegas and corner stores, I strain to think of a time that I found them in a bigger name store. Perhaps that is different from region to region. Suffice it to say: yum!

My Day in Transit

I just need to vent.

On the L train this morning I was awaiting the arrival of the Manhattan-bound train at Dekalb ave. An announcement was made that due to an incident at 8th ave, trains in both direction were running with delays.

Finally, a train came. It was too crowded. A second train came. It was too crowded. A third train came, it had enough room. This train seemed to be barreling through the route to Manhattan, until we got to Lorimer street and remained still. A new announcement was made: due to a stalled train at 1st ave, all train traffic was halted. After some time, the train finally resumed its course. I eventually made it to the uptown N/R/Q train and arrived at work only 20 minutes late.

My journey home would be worse.

The downtown R train that I hopped on stopped at 28th street. We were advised that due to a signal problem the trains on this route were now all stopped. An announcement advised us to take the train back uptown and transfer at 34th street to downtown B/D/F/M trains. Once again the train started moving and we finally got to 14th street Union Square where I could transfer to the L train and take it to the bus. The L train came quick enough this night. I jumped off the train and got to the bus stop on Grand street and Bushwick ave at 6:45 PM. The Q54 bus is expected to come every 12 minutes: 6:42, 6:54, 7:06, 7:18 (PM).

Q59 arrival

Pictured here is when the other bus on this route (the Q59) showed up,

The next bus from when I was there didn’t arrive until 7:10. Guess what? There were too many people and many of the passengers were left (wait for it…) out in the cold.

After ten minutes passed, I hailed a cab and called it a day.

The point here that I am trying to make is FUCK THE MTA!

Like I said, I just needed to vent.

A Quote from Jake Roberts


“When I was brought into this world, I could not rob, I could not steal, I could not lie, I couldn’t even cheat, but boy did I have some help learning. You have taught me so well.
So you see, it is not my fault anything I do out there. You have given me the right to. You have almost pushed the button to make me do it. You have pulled the trigger. So anything that I do, is your fault.”

-Jake Roberts


The Unknown by Edgar Lee Masters

YE aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown
Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.
As a boy reckless and wanton,
Wandering with gun in hand through the forest
Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield,
I shot a hawk perched on the top
Of a dead tree.
He fell with guttural cry
At my feet, his wing broken.
Then I put him in a cage
Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me
When I offered him food.
Daily I search the realms of Hades
For the soul of the hawk,
That I may offer him the friendship
Of one whom life wounded and caged.

Masters, Edgar Lee. Spoon River Anthology. New York: The Macmillan company, 1916; Bartleby.com