O Cap'n! My Cap'n!

If anything good came from America's Vietnam debacle, it's in how we treat our soldiers. We may not agree with the rationale for putting them in harm's way and we would never let our own children enlist, but we’ll damn sure stick an American flag magnet on the wife's Honda to show our support!

And yet, there remains one soldier our nation has sadly forgotten. One selfless patriot for whom no prayers have been offered, no parades have been held, no magnets have been affixed.

I am speaking of the honorable Cap’n Horatio Magellan Crunch. Since first setting out in 1963 to rid our well-balanced breakfasts of the dreaded Soggies and all others who would destroy our right to a lasting crunch, the brave Cap’n has tirelessly patrolled our milky seas. Ever vigilant. Ever valiant.

In his more than 40 years at the helm of the S.S. Guppy, the steely Cap’n has never lost a battle in his one-man war on mush. Sure there were dark moments. Like when the rapscallion Jean LaFoote, the barefoot pirate, absconded with the Cap’n’s golden cargo. Or when our Cap’n journeyed deep into Volcania to save the Earth’s supply of precious Crunchium (clearly above and beyond his prescribed duties). But the plucky Cap’n has always prevailed, ensuring there will be one cereal that stays crunchy– even in milk.

But this heroic commander remains largely unsung. Where, I ask you, are those parades? Where are the statues? The monuments? The yellow ribbons calling our sugary protector home to safer harbors?

Do some question the rank? (Is Cap’n, after all, even an official designation, or has he merely dubbed himself as such in an attempt to bring legitimate military standing to his brand of sweet, crunchy vigilante justice?) Perhaps. But some of our most celebrated cartoon heroes – like Batman and Ross Perot – have been on-the-margin fighters, operating without official sign-off from the establishment.

Maybe there’s discrimination at play. Our finely mustachioed bachelor Cap’n is far jollier than your average Navy man, what with his bouncy step, exaggerated voice and jaunty waistcoat. Could it be that we as a nation aren’t ready to allow room in our pantheon of idols for a homosexual animated seaman?

Whatever the reason for this sad neglect, the time has come for us as a nation to pay overdue homage to one of our greatest American heroes. To right this unforgivable wrong. The time has come for us to sing his praises.

O Cap’n! My Cap’n! Rise up and hear the bells. Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills.

And keep our cereal forever crunchy. Even in milk!