As sad as tale as the demise of the New Dawn, I think today's news just may be even sadder.
No, I'm not shuffling off to Davey Jones' Locker. You'll have to decide if that's the good news, or the bad. The real news is perhaps, even worse.
As children, we all grew up being regaled with heroic tales of history's Great Captains. The courage of Nelson, the resolve of John Paul Jones, the unrivaled courage of Farragut. Countless are the boys who sailed the seas of imagination with Horatio Hornblower, who sought the Great White Whale with Captain Ahab, and even those who sailed the darker seas with the likes of Hook, Blackbeard and LaFitte.
There is one Cap'n though, who has touched the lives of more children than all of the above, combined. For decades, he has steered his course across the milky seas, finding favor everywhere, save for those cruel shores where he and his kind were never welcomed.
Scorned by the humorless scolds who find pleasure in nothing and evil in all, the number of ports offering him welcome dwindled in numbers ever less, until it came to pass that he was Cap'n without a flag, navigating the doldrums of bottom shelf passages, endlessly adrift as a merchantman's worst nightmare, a cargo without a market. Unwanted, unwelcome and turned away nearly everywhere, his once bright career ended, with hardly a ripple to compare with the mighty waves his ship's bow once displaced, everywhere he sailed.
It is with great sadness, that I mark the passing of this once great Cap'n, and mourn forever the void that his passing brings.
The cruel bastards at Quaker Oats/Life, Inc. have done that which no Somali pirate ever dared, much less even dreamed of having the temerity to do.
They've forced the Cap'n from the seas, stripped him of command, are making him walk the plank, never to again sail the milky seas of children's cereal bowls around the globe.
My anguish runs deep. I sailed aboard the Cap'n's ship for most of my youth, and still enjoyed the occasional pleasure cruise, even to this day. My annual time on those sweet decks was a treat indeed, one to be savored. Not only for it's sweet, crunchy immediate rewards, but for the aftertaste of young memories, carefree pleasures and so much of the lost innocence of simpler times.
Such an ignominious fate, for such a Grand and Noble Cap'n, must be properly noted, observed, and mourned. And so, it shall be.
It was a pleasure and an honor sailing with the Good Cap'n Crunch. I was proud to be amongst his crew, and would gladly have sailed with him as long as his red, boxy ship plied the churning whitecaps of the spoon-churned bowl.
I hereby order a Twenty-One Bowl salute, in honors.
Godspeed, Cap'n Crunch, may you one day sail again!