Toady's Crux: Pay Attention to Punctuation (and Spelling, too)

     Definition of crux:  The most important fulcrum-point of a complex issue on which a decision depends. 

 

     Example:  Whether a visual pun is considered funny (or not) depends on a viewer's ability to quickly re-interpret relevant images into words.  The crux of my visual pun hinges on knowing the difference between a frog and a toad, being aware stool is a synonym for poop, and what a toadstool is.

 

     2:00-3:00pm, 6 Jan 2021—immediately following lame-duck-President Trump's very carefully worded speech (excitement without incitement) which was given after Trump-toady Giuliani encouraged "trial by combat"—thousands of marching flag-waivers cheered-on a core group of hundreds as they attempted a violent coup d'état of the US Capitol building.

 

     Definition of coup d'état:  French for 'strike-hit to state-government'; violent political change.   

 

     About two hours after this lame-duck-President's insurrection began (and, clear-to-all who were watching-in-real-time it was unsuccessful) Trump posted a brief video where he said:

     I know your pain. I know your hurt. We had an election that was stolen from us. It was a landslide election and everyone knows it, especially the other side. But you have to go home now. We have to have peace. We have to have law and order. We have to respect our great people in law and order. We don’t want anybody hurt. It’s a very tough period of time. There’s never been a time like this, where such a thing happened, where they could take it away from all of us. From me, from you, from our country. This was a fraudulent election.  But we can’t play into the hands of these people. We have to have peace. So go home. We love you, you’re very special. We’ve seen what happens. You see the way others are treated that are so bad and so evil. I know you how feel. But go home and go home in peace.

     The crux of his message was not the 'Go Home' parts (highlights mine) but the calming: 'We Love You, You're Very Special,  Others Are...So Bad and So Evil,  Go...In Peace' larger section.

 

     The next day (after rational minds began to debate The Best Way To Remove a Leader of a Failed-Coup) Press Secretary/Toady McEnany, made a verbal statement:

     I am here to deliver this message on behalf of the entire White House (breath) Let me be clear, the violence we saw yesterday at our nation’s capitol was appalling, reprehensible and antithetical to the American way (breath) We condemn it, the President and this administration in the strongest possible terms (breath) It is unacceptable (breath) and those that broke the law should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law...blah blah blah unimportant-shit blah blah...

     The crux of her message—whether it was a verbal faux pas or an outright condemnation of the President—requires a close examination of punctuation.

 

     The Press Secretary starting a statement with 'on behalf of the entire White House' is very unusual.  Initially, I thought this phrase was appended to the beginning because it wasn't a statement President Trump wanted delivered.  I no longer think that's the case.  The purpose was to set up a point-of-view switch from first-person: "I am here..." to second-person: "...the violence we saw...".  The switch in POV was necessary because, otherwise, it might sound like the president was condemning himself.   

     When searching for the official text of this 7 Jan 2021 message, you will find it is documented:

          ... the violence ... was appalling ... We condemn it — the President and this administration — in the strongest possible terms ... 

     If a speech writer wanted an explanatory phrase (contained within two m-dashes) to be understood correctly, it would have been written:

          ... the violence ... was appalling ... We—the President and this administration—condemn it in the strongest possible terms ...

     But McEnany read it as if it had been written:

          ... the violence ... was appalling ... We condemn it, the president, and the administration, in the strongest possible terms ...

     Deputy Press Secretary's write press releases.  It's unknown who wrote this wondrous kerfuffle, however, Deputy Press Secretary Sarah Matthews submitted her resignation during the turmoil of these events with her own statement:  As someone who worked in the halls of Congress I was deeply disturbed by what I saw today.  I’ll be stepping down from my role, effective immediately.

     Definition of toady:  In French, flagorneuse /-r; a sycophant; a person who grovels/attempts to please for personal gain.  Toady is also a common misspelling of the word today.

     Dear careful reader: (who might-still be holding last month's portmanteau essay in the forefront of your mind) did you wonder why I provided the french word(s) to help define toady?  If so—did you try to sound-it-out?  Flagorneuse [feminine form; drop-e-add-r for masculine form] flag or neuse, flag or noose . . . the Trump-instigated domestic terrorists carried many different flags and they built a platform with a noose on the capitol grounds (reportedly, to hang Vice President Pence).  Five people died.  One of the dead carried the Don't Tread On Me flag as she marched to the US Capitol and later died of injuries sustained by being crushed under-foot by her fellow insurrectionists (which is a much more succinct example of irony than my "I survived shirt" essay, from last month).  Allegedly, another terrorist died of a heart attack after a taser discharged in his front pants pocket while he was struggling to steal a portrait off a wall (which sounds too convoluted to be true; but self-tased testicles is funny, even though it's not irony).  

 

more vocabulary essays:

Portmanteau & Malapropism

serendipity & irony

Ataraxia & Pennsylvanian

eglaf 

Accidentally Being a Non-Conformist

 

          How many people are you face-to-face friends with (versus twit-foller or fayzebuk-friends)?  If you don't know the difference, this essay is significantly above your reading comprehension-level.  Go away.  Right now.  Click away from here.

          In the 2020s, (which I’m typing from the very bottom-edge of) each of us belongs to a unique ‘Default Society.’  Every DeSoc [say Dee-Soach]—theirs, yours, and mine—is as different from the quaint,  Mister Roger's Neighborhood  definition of society {an organized group living in close proximity} as ‘cellphones’ are from their Alexander-Graham-namesake.  DeSoc's are different from ‘Society’ not because we don’t listen to people physically near-by, like our parents and teachers (definitely not new), but because we no longer actively listen to anyone we don't choose to actively listen to.

          A generation ago, depending on how one measures a generation *whisper: 25 years*, in order to get information about any routine-anything one needed to first locate a physical collection of information (it was normally referred to as a local library), which might-probably would lead them to searching for a more comprehensive collection of information (distant university's library) and, possibly-eventually, to talking with a subject matter expert.  Unfortunately, that was determined waaay back then in the before-before times by quantity of books published and/or courses taught, in the aforementioned libraries or university (rather than quality of those books or lectures).  [If you're interested in understanding more about the reason 'quantity was valued over quality' read the 📢 paragraphs below.]

 

          Today we have total and immediate access to almost every word in every book in every library, and to millions of people willing to provide their opinion (all for the low-low price of a keyboard/screen and WiFi connection—free at local libraries).  But . . . how does one identify real subject-matter experts (with high-quality information) and not engage with the ubiquitous multitude of underwhelming attention-zombies?

 
           Allow me to go on a tangent, here, and I will - hopefully - explain (in the long run) how to efficiently sort the wheat from the chaff.

          The difference between a conformist and a non-conformist is not who they listen to, but how they choose who they might eventually actively listen to, later-on.  Which is a tricky enough sentence that it deserves its own paragraph.

          Non-conformists seek-out and carefully screen for those who they'll maybe-eventually trust with putting words into their brain; conformists almost immediately allow people who they happen-to-meet because of proximity and random chance (neighbors, coworkers, parish priests, the google or YouTube algorithm, etc) to guide their future actions.

          Deciding to be a non-conformist rarely-never leads to becoming a true non-conformist.  (Usually, it just means choosing to adhere to a slightly different set of norms.)

          Intentional Non-conformists (IN) choose to do something different because it's different.  IN's are focused—first and foremost—with what people in their DeSoc think about them; intentionally looking different/acting differently is their goal.  Being viewed (with pics/documentation) while "swimming against the current" is all that matters to an IN.  They rarely consider their own happiness, comfort, personal growth, well-being or health as the primary reason to act or not take an action.  End result: IN's just conform to a smaller slice of their specific DeSoc.  (Best example from the last generation: hipsters.)

          Accidental Non-conformists (AN) are doing something "outside their current societal norm" with no pre-thought or consideration given to how their actions will, later, be viewed by neighbors, friends, coworkers, and/or family members.  Most AN's actions/inactions are taken because the AN wants to become smarter, happier, more comfortable, or they are/were attempting to improve their well-being or health.  And then AN's discover—after time has passed—that they were, coincidentally, not conforming to an expected norm.

 

          In January of 2021—at the beginning edge of a new decade (for those who don't begin counting at zero) there are more-n-more people deciding to Leave Social Media *dun dun duunn.*  Droves of people are claiming they left Twitter, deleted their instaccount, and have chosen to close their fayzebuk forever.  Some say they're going to "only keep one" (and the one they decide to keep usually depends on their generation/DeSoc).  Because so many people say they're planning on unplugging from social media (it's unknown how many follow thru) they are all, now, joining a group of IN's.

 

          To follow this example to its logical conclusion, an AN would be someone who never joined any of the social media platforms because way-back-in-the-before-times they suspected the time-suck would be detrimental to their well-being.

 

          So.  Back to my premise of how to find actual, real, subject-matter experts (remember? that was the set-up for this essay!)  Yea, I know; that was nine paragraphs ago.  Everyone who's either intentionally or accidentally lost their ability to follow a slightly complex train of thought, or to read more than a headline, or to concentrate on more than a couple of simple sentences, have long stopped reading this essay.  Those with twit-tok-face-agram induced ADD clicked away before they looked at the above image of a hundred bland-white nearly-identical balls surrounding a single, heavily-timeworn, but still slightly spherical object with a complex surface.   

 

          The simple prerequisites for identifying a subject matter expert are two-fold:  First, one must have an ability to understand enough about the subject to recognize they want to learn more - and - a capability to read and comprehend complex sentences.  And then one must weed out the IN (who routinely claim they possess expertise on YouTube) and find an AN.

 

   📢  Someone may become a teacher if they study/practice a skill (or series of tasks) until they are so proficient they can teach others.  Highly qualified teachers may become university professors.  Because university administrators aren't experts in every subject their schools teach, they rely on book publishers to act as their gatekeepers.  Publishers invest in authors whom they believe will sell enough books for them to make a profit.

   📢 Someone may become a professional artist/musician/actor if they create works of art (or public performances) until they are so proficient (or lucky) they catch the attention of a gallery/label/agent.  Those who desire 'quality' rely on galleries/music publishers/film studios to act as their gatekeepers because they invest in artists who create works they believe will make them a profit.

 

   📢 Today, 'authors/artists' unable to make it thru the gatekeeper system, can self-publish and attempt to self-market {sell their products online}.  Or.  They can invest their own money to open a gallery, music venue, or to produce a film. 

 

more philosophy reading:

 

scroll thru these

Valuable Values Are Values Adhered To

          As this won't-be-missed year comes to an end, I thought it might help to explain (to myself) how philosophy reading might have provided an actual, recognizable, benefit.  I began by writing about values (mine) and ended with a better (bitter?) awareness of hypocrisy.  

          Before posting this, I needed a relevant image.  For grist, I cut/pasted the entire third paragraph of this essay into a search engine and randomly selected an image.  [I suspect the primary reason a page from the US Senate's 1988 record topped my search results is my paragraph contains several dots (⏺) and the page has an incongruous annotation about bullet points at the bottom.]  The entire page of the congressional record is filled with hypocrisy:  from the existence of an opening prayer (not much separation of church & state visible here) to its content (family values)—to its faux concern regarding the popularity of the USSR's then-president Gorbachev—to complimentary words regarding ex-US President Nixon (impeached/resigned 14 years earlier)—to statements about US's support of 'guerrillas' fighting against the then-USSR in Afghanistan. 

          I have "discovered" that reading philosophical writings can help put today's routine, normal, questions into a "deep-time framework" because most theo-philosophizers of yester-century and/or yester-millenia asked themselves questions which are eerily similar to those we ask ourselves today.

• Whathefucq is happening in this ugly world?
• How can I get along with all the terrible humans who share this planet with me?
• Where did we come from?
• Where does all of mankind go from here?
• I know what I am, but what are you?
  

          Many of the wise thinker's attempts at answers to these questions, however, have the same effect on me as yesterday's sunset—comfortable and calming as it enters my eyes and strikes my emotional chime-bones but quickly fading as I try (and fail) to describe it.

 

          They were one or more of the following:

• Complex thinkers who enjoyed learning from others.
• Orators getting paid to give speeches.
• Authors attempting to become famous.
• Diary-writers writing for their own benefit.
• Letter-writers hoping to mentor or teach their frequent correspondents.
• All.  very.  ignorant.  men.

          Ignorant in an unable-to-imagine-tomorrow's-question, kinda-way—not in an unable-to-excel-in-school-or-teach-the-class, kinda-way.  Almost all of these wise idiots were also, in some way hamstrung or constrained by their:

• geographical location
• relative, chronological, placement in history
• cultural/societal/religious hierarchies
• individual privileges and prejudices

          Although many of these men were aware of the limits of their knowledge, some thought (and wrote and then proclaimed aloud) that their writings were the best and final answer—without a hint of sarcasm or awareness of hubris.

 

          I am aware of my insignificance.  Doubly daunting when considering this documentation of my thoughts—relative to the magnitude of thoughts to be found on the internet—and then more-so when contemplating the exponential growth of the internet over the coming centuries/millenia (where these words will be digitally housed until who knows how long).  I could go on with 'triply so...' but to what end?

 

          There is, maybe, an infinite magnitude of questions which I will never be wise enough to think of.  Describing the unknown-unknown is paradoxically as simple as writing the two hypenated unk-unk words, and as complex as thinking about their definition. 

 

          I am at-this-moment attempting to get a mental grasp of all the ways that my being a:

• cis-male
• Caucasian 
  
• US citizen 
• alive in the "burgeoning information age" of the late-20th and early-21st centuries
• lower-middle class (relative to my contemporaries)
  
• politically progressive (whatever that means)
• intentionally possessing no obvious superstitions
• unintentionally possessing several situational privileges 

          And how this "mixture of me" has formed any number of unasked for prejudices in my brain's functions.  However, my awareness of some of my biased thought patterns makes me able to curtail many behaviors which otherwise might be considered "impulse-driven" or "innate" but which come into conflict with my chosen values.

 

          This logical description of how I identified a personal value explains why I adhere to it:

• I despise hypocrites who intentionally behave in a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do and/or a 'holier than thou' manner.
• Even observing recordings and/or listening to accounts of hypocrites words/actions can cause me to feel uncomfortable.
• If I find myself in a situation where I have to interact with people whom I despise, I feel various levels of anger and distrust toward them.
  
• I never want to mentally wrestle with feelings of self-anger or hatred.
• Because I never want to think of myself as a hypocrite, I am vigilant of behaviors which might result in a dichotomy or require justification of negative behavior to myself.
  

          This—Never Be A Hypocrite In My Own Eyes—is one of my (maybe my largest) core value.

 

          My ability to meet my own standards pleases me.  Makes me happy.  Or, to be more specific, I am so much more content with my life when I do not have any cognitive dissonance to contend with.  When I compare who I want to be with who I actually am and never need to, then, explain to myself why the jigsaw puzzle pieces do not smoothly and easily fit together . . . I feel virtuous in my own head.

not sated?  here's more:

on hypocrisy

on personal values

 

on becoming self aware

winter cat's thoughts

Cecil winter 2020

previous seasons:

Aggie winter 2019

Solstice (bad haiku)

translation party

Stick a Pin In It for those planning to waste it on a PS5

 

altruism: re-gifting your stimulus money to someone you know needs it for food, rent or heat

staying with "the season":

why I don't do holidays

santa's mailbox

festivus

Three Ways to Identify a Vulnerable (covert) Narcissist Vampire

 

 

still in the vein of narcissism vampirism:

renfield reminder

 

hammer that nail home

 

first, kill all the...

serendipity due dah day unfolds in a beneficial way

 

          Does this phrase catchold due to an ancient echo from the zip-a-dee-doo-dah song?  As a result of the simple rhyme?  Maybe it's thanks to also being a seventeen-syllable haiku, or because—with nine words—it plants a cheesily remembered definition of serendipitous events.

 

          For those following along in your lesson-book at home, please reexamine the above paragraph and answer these two questions from last week's homework:  How many portmanteaux did you notice?  Any malapropisms (and, if so, what were the words you expected)?  [My answer is in the comment section.]

          Serendipity is best understood by providing negative examples.  Like explaining that the lyrics of the song Ironic, by Alanis Morissette, contains absolutely no ironic phrases . . . is exactly where its irony exists (the song's chock-a-block with misfortunes, examples of poor planning, and whatever idiotic needle-in-a-haystack label fits for: looking for a knife in a spoon factory).  

          Luck does not have anything to do with serendipity.  And, serendipity is definitely not eventual success after an exacerbating period of failure.  Serendipity never occurs as a result of intuitive reasoning or struggle or guile or cunning.

          Sere is a Latin prefix found in words like serene, serenity, and serenade - calm, quiet, evening.

          End and Pity are the core words (which need no explanation).

         

          The primary element to a real serendipitous event is that it must never have been part of the plan, can not have been expected, and can not have been factored into the expectations of any of those who eventually benefited by its occurrence.

 

          When frail, Grampa Jang-n-the-beanstalk (with his cow) meandered along at the most opportune moment and saved my day (career) in a very miraculous way, that was serendipity (full story here).

          But, when we moved to Vermont last year "garage" was on my "desires list" so we looked at several apartments/houses with attached and unattached garages.  Eventually "affordable" bumped "garage" off the list (along with "fireplace" and "guest room") and then two months ago . . . after my neighbor lost her job and their garage became our garage (because we could afford the additional rent) her bad luck became our good luck.  Not serendipity.

 

          I just remembered a good example of irony from my past (just when you thought I was finished kicking that unread horse).  

           In the early 1990s, while stationed at Ft Benning, GA, as an agent with Army CID, I got a call to respond to a drive-by shooting with one injured victim.  This was a rare occurrence on military installations (and a first for me).  The crime scene was an outdoor picnic/fishing recreation area, where a large group of soldiers and their family members had been celebrating their return from deployment.  I talked to some witnesses, looked for empty bullet casings, and then went to the hospital to talk with the victim.

 

          He was in good spirits, had no idea who shot at the crowd (or why it was his bad luck to 'catch a round') and told me that the bullet must have been a dud because it only pierced his stomach muscle less than an inch deep.  He said, "I walked into the ER and the nurse asked how she could help me, so I said 'I just got shot in the stomach' and she looked down, laughed, and said, 'Very funny, what can I really do for you?' which was when I realized I was wearing this shirt."

 

          Then he opened his jacket and I saw he was wearing a t-shirt with: 'I Survived Operation Desert Storm' above a line of bleeding bullet holes.  And there was one small actual hole, near his belly button, with much more real blood below and around it.

          Irony.  Returning unscathed from the first Gulf War and getting shot in the stomach at the welcome home party while wearing this shirt (and not remembering the shirt until the admissions nurse laughed). 

 

 

more similar stories:

 

first suicide investigation

     

normal blackmarket investigations

 

first attempted murder by HIV investigation

The first-annual "For-No-Real-Reason but the End-of-Yeason" Aperçu (which might not be repeated, so this title is slightly misleading)

          

          And now for something slightly different.

          Rather than passing over the obscure words (for autodidacts) or hyper-linking them (for the few link-trusters) or burying the definitions at the bottom in tiny print (for the increasingly rare scrollers who read to the end)—I'm leading with them:

          Yeason is a portmanteau of the words year and season (I made it up).

          Aperçu is a brief insight or sketch (French, pronounced Ah-per-sue).

          Autodidact means self-taught (Ben Franklin is a common example).

          Portmanteaux are distinctly new words (shart, blog, zonkey, email).

         

          This series of excerpts are some of my favorite wordcraftings.  A few are from the last twelve months, but many are from up-to three decades ago (posted in the last decade-and-a-half).  The reason I haven't done this before is because sharing fibers of belly button lint I found while navel-gazing makes me feel like a right-foolish-cunt.  Nevertheless, I compiled this autobiographical best-of listicle to commiserate* the last decade, year, autumn, and this holiday season.

 

          *Malapropisms are expected words (commemorate) intentionally replaced with a similar but humorous, albeit insightful, word.  [The word 'albeit' may be the oldest three-word portmanteau (from the 1300's)!]  

 

          To read full-articles, click associated thumbnail-pics (for completionists)—but that's not the actual point.  The essays/stories are somewhat long or maybe a bit boring or even kinda shite, while these shiny wordsmith gems are definitely worth the price of admission.

           Unending, selfish, unselfishness is a description for Magpie Love ... Unending - forever lasting with no ability to wane.  Selfish - putting one’s own interests first.  Unselfishness - doing everything for another and putting one’s own interests last.  In Magpie Love ... [you'll] do anything to bring pleasure to the other, because doing so brings the pleasure-giver, more happiness than it delivers.

          Thereby, causing me to spend a few seconds imagining foolish candlelit goings-on betwixt some weed-eaters, tarps, and a backhoe.

           “The denouement of tomes I've borrowed or own.”  After pausing to absorb the phrase for a full-second, he said, “That’s a fantastic one." ... Theodore-call-me-Ted and I had played this game for several years—ever since we learned of a shared Drew Barrymore affinity.  Her best line in Donnie Darko was: This famous linguist once said that of all the phrases in the English language ... Cellar Door is the most beautiful.

 

          Miscommunication causes more problems than malice, hatred, zeal and greed combined.  Don't lump miscommunication in with errors and oversights.  Miscommunications are not mistakes just because the ... word ... began as: mistaken communication.

 

          My Fight Club automobile-accident-experience ... now just electrical pulses across neurons (and, of course, computer software) ... was not an impetus for life reaffirmations or ... born-again-ziness.  I am especially glad nobody had reason to erect a ridiculous, lattice cross on the southbound median of Arizona Highway 17.  It is, however, one of those things that qualify as:  “If it doesn’t kill ya, it makes ya stronger.”

 

             That little ghost almost scared the piss out of me—I'll bet my going for his throat gave him a bit of a pause, though. 

 

 

           There was a pun, bandied about ... who's dumb as a rock, been a pig for eons, and behaves like a gore? ... the pun landed better with those who knew her prior-name had been Gore Behavre ... and were aware she, visually, could be of rock pigeon ancestry.  And—it certainly helps understand the pun better—to know that a gore is a chunk of land, which is on the outside of every local jurisdiction, created by a surveying error.

 

             Coffin windows are referred to, as such, because ... built as fire-escapes ... people climbing out of them would probably be coughin.  (I just made this one up.  If you use this to play six truths and a lie, this is the lie and all the others are real Vermont lore.)

 

“What’s your name?—once finished talking, I’ll buy some without balking.”

Pausing its pecking, it hopped close and stared with such intensity and vigor

I forgot our conversation, and became lost in its feather-sheen and respiration.

 “My nation calls our own name . . . when we meet I say, hello Köal-Lor.” 

 “Hello Veach” I reply with a smile, “no need to remember names anymore;

With how many of my nation have you shared your lore?”

 

 STUPID-CALLOUS FASCISTIC PSYCHO FECKLESS LYING POTUS

Mary Poppins' Super-Calla-Fragi... song,

POTUS = President Of The United States

 

 

          During these Trying Times of The Twenties™ (TToTT^®) although technology makes instant communication simple, our circles of trust have shrunk. ... Now, of course, you have viewers, followers, and 'facebook friends'.  Those screen-names might fit into our circles of associates, but more-than-likely they are a fourth circle:  strangers hoping you Egostroke, Entertain, or Educate for Free™ (EEE 4 Free^®).

  

           “Why hero always eat at Asian restaurant?” ... I replied with, “I don’t know...why?” ... “I dunno either. But Bladerunner, he eat Asian.  Fifth element guy...Bruce Willis: Asian.  ... I smiled. “Well, the guy from Dark City: he ate at an automat.”  “Ahh” He waived the idea away, walking toward his kitchen, “Noir don’t count. Noir always gotta eat at a diner.” 

 

This is an attempt to sculpt my Reminiscence Bump into bumps. Plural. My end-goal is to have a Series of Reminiscence Moguls so eerily similar to the graph of the US 2020-2022 Covid19 infection rate, they become indistinguishable in my memory of this time. One replacing the other.

          This homage to Ryan North's DINOSAUR COMICS was created by placing my words into Ryan's internet-famous, constrained, six panel comic.  I did make slight alterations to his artwork (which are visible if you follow T-Rex's recommendation).  I regularly read Ryan and highly recommend his daily webcomic or—if he is unfamiliar to you—you can mega-binge during one of your upcoming lock-down/quarantines and catch-up on the nearly two decades you've missed. 

          After informing Ryan, he replied:

Hey, this is great!!  Thank you!
-- Ryan 

RyanNorth.ca / Dinosaur Comics / @ryanqnorth

         

pertinent stuff:

overwhelmed & underwhelmed 

floods & fires

 

more my-words/their-art comix:

fair use vs copyright

meta-thoughts

mayan murals

More Recommended Products (unsponsored)

          Although many have already reviewed the food products made by the company Magic Spoon, which they label with adjectives: expensive, keto, adult, and cereal.  Let me add my fifty dollars worth.

 

          'Expensive' is relative and subject to your anchoring bias.  Comparing a box of Kellogg's Frosted Flakes to a box of Magic Spoon Frosted flavor would be like comparing a Big Mac to a Ribeye steak.  Nobody expects a nice cut of beef to cost the same as a sandwich from McDonald's.  The reason to spend significantly more for Magic Spoon is because it has nothing high fructose in it, an insignificant amount of cane sugar, and absolutely no grains.

          'Keto' has become a marketing word.  The ingredients of anything marketed as "keto-friendly" should be scrutinized for bullshittery.  In this case, a single serving of Magic Spoon contains:  Milk and Whey Proteins, one or more oils from: Coconut/Sunflower/Avacado/Almond/Peanut, Tapioca Flour or Starch, Allulose, Monk Fruit, Stevia, Chicory Root, Salt, and various Natural Flavors (cinnamon in the Cinnamon; cocoa in the Cocoa; fruit/vegtable juice in the Fruity; turmeric and a trivial amount of sugar in the Salted Caramel; Inulin and a trivial amount of sugar in the Frosted; peanut extract/flour in the Peanut-butter; Honey in the Honey Nut) . . . and, no bullshittery.  (I love their use of the term trivial.)

          'Adult' is a marketing ploy for parents who feed cheap sugary carbs to their kids but are interested in eating good tasting, healthy, high-quality, food themselves.  This should be the only snack-food in your house!  To feed Cheerios to your children—because it is 1/4 the price—but buy Magic Spoon for yourself, because it tastes better and contains a negligible amount of carbs is child abuse.  I think you should stop encouraging your kids to become diabetic.  Insulin (the hormone, with an 's') is very expensive, whereas inulin (without the 's', a dietary fiber from Chicory Root) is not expensive.

          'Cereal'—in describing this snack-food—is a form of antimony (bullshittery).  Someone in the marketing department convinced the creators that since it looks like a whole-grain breakfast food and tastes better than all of them, then it must be labelled one, and the people in charge at Magic Spoon compromised and agreed to put the convoluted phrase 'grain-free cereal' on their boxes.  Yea.  And the dehydrated water in my lungs is what currently keeps me alive.  I wish they were forward-thinking enough to use the term 'tooth-sized crunchy protein doughnuts'.      

          Someone in Magic Spoon's marketing department deserves commendation, however.  They let you order any 4-pack from their current inventory of flavors (which varies and changes, obviously) and today that was a choice from Fruity, Blueberry, Peanut Butter, Frosted, and Cinnamon.  Then.  After you've finished submitting your order, shipment, and payment, they close with: 'Would you like to include a box of Honey Nut and a box of Salted Caramel to your order?'  I had to smile at the audacity of hiding those flavors until I was almost out the door!  I call it the (effective) in for a penny - in for a Ulysses S. Grant, marketing scheme.

 

          Final point, there are some free shipping or 10% off codes available out there.  I recommend a quick scan of the webs (I got mine from Wisecrack on YouTube) and treat your family to a trial taste with a 100% money-back guarantee (and, who does that? . . a company, confident in their products, that's who.)

other recommendations:

Four Beginning With a B

Keto How-To's

 

Sun & Bug Repellent