Explaining Leprechauns As Only I Chaun
My kids are busily preparing for a big day of revelry on March 17th. But for them, it’s not about St. Patrick. Thanks to the power of modern marketing, they think all the hoopla is in honor of the "Lucky Charms" leprechaun.
Here’s how popular this cartoon character is in my house: My boys' March 17th rituals include smudging their foreheads with ashes from charred Lucky Charms marshmallows.
However, this year's observances may be marred by festering arguments between the kids regarding key aspects of the Lucky Charms canon. For example, they disagree about how tall the leprechaun is. Sons No. 3 (age 11) and No. 4 (age 9) emphatically believe that he’s taller than No. 5 (age 5). This makes No. 5 positively green with anger, sort of like a leprechaun-sized Incredible Hulk.
This year marks the 45th anniversary since the creation of Lucky Charms cereal, and the recipe hasn’t changed a bit since 1962: Sugar-coated chunks of sugared oats, mixed with “magical” sugar-coated marshmallows that come in a variety of shapes, colors and sugars. What’s been kept under wraps all these years is the secret ingredient that gives the marshmallows their magic: Finely ground bits of sugar-frosted leprechaun.
(Note to all the sensitive kids reading this column: get a grip, take a deep breath, and tell your gullible, freaked-out parents that I’m just joking! Everyone knows the REAL secret to Lucky Charms is that critical final step in the manufacturing process, when all the ingredients are stirred together one final time with a shillelagh that’s been dipped in sugar-coated crack.)
Does anyone out there remember the shapes and colors of the marshmallows in their first bowl of Lucky Charms? It might be a bit of a challenge. There have been almost as many marshmallow variations as there are men claiming to have fathered Anna Nicole Smith’s baby.
The original Lucky Charms marshmallows were pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers. Since then, kids have driven their mothers crazy by ignoring the “healthy” sugar-coated oats and only picking out and eating the blue diamonds, purple horseshoes, red balloons, orange pots of gold, and tiny black pints of Guinness.
Since its creation, thousands of execrable cartoon shows have paused for hundreds of inane commercials wherein Lucky Charms are hawked by the aforementioned leprechaun. What hardly anyone knows is that he’s actually the long-lost “Fourth Elf,” originally hired by Kellogg’s to work with his brothers, Snap, Crackle and Pop. With a costume change and some unfortunate plastic surgery on his ears, he became the Lucky Charms leprechaun, and General Mills’ marketing staff worked for endless hours at herniatingly large salaries to come up with his highly imaginative name: “Lucky.” (His real name is Zeppo).
I’ve always found it odd that a product aimed at children would be promoted in TV ads with such blatant animosity between kids and the mascot. It’s been the same story for 45 years: some kids plan ways to pilfer Lucky’s cereal; Lucky tries to prevent their thievery and fails; the kids taunt Lucky for being unable to thwart them; Lucky writes doleful letters to Snap, Crackle and Pop, begging them to take him back. It’s been a half-century of Irish tragedy worthy of Eugene O’Neill.
Now I realize many anal-retentive readers will e-mail me to quibble that “O’Neill wasn’t Irish! He was born in Connecticut!” to which I’d be tempted to retort “I know that, you smarty pants! I was gonna use Irish dramatist Dermot Bolger instead, because his name sounds way goofier, but nobody knows who Dermot Bolger is!”
But what I’d actually retort is “Forget O’Neill, there’s another celebrity featured in this column who ISN’T Irish, but wants everyone to think he IS!” Hold on to your hats, readers; I’m talking about Lucky the leprechaun!
Aye, the voice of Lucky for 30 years ‘twasn’t no bonnie lad of the auld sod. Lucky’s brogue was faked by American voice actor Arthur Anderson (nickname: “NOT the Guy Who Started the Huge Consulting Firm”).
More shocking still, Lucky found his own product repulsive! The story goes that Anderson tried the cereal just once; he immediately spewed the first spoonful out, and forever after privately referred to it as “Blecchy Charms.”
# # #
TakefiveT5@yahoo.com
Here’s how popular this cartoon character is in my house: My boys' March 17th rituals include smudging their foreheads with ashes from charred Lucky Charms marshmallows.
However, this year's observances may be marred by festering arguments between the kids regarding key aspects of the Lucky Charms canon. For example, they disagree about how tall the leprechaun is. Sons No. 3 (age 11) and No. 4 (age 9) emphatically believe that he’s taller than No. 5 (age 5). This makes No. 5 positively green with anger, sort of like a leprechaun-sized Incredible Hulk.
This year marks the 45th anniversary since the creation of Lucky Charms cereal, and the recipe hasn’t changed a bit since 1962: Sugar-coated chunks of sugared oats, mixed with “magical” sugar-coated marshmallows that come in a variety of shapes, colors and sugars. What’s been kept under wraps all these years is the secret ingredient that gives the marshmallows their magic: Finely ground bits of sugar-frosted leprechaun.
(Note to all the sensitive kids reading this column: get a grip, take a deep breath, and tell your gullible, freaked-out parents that I’m just joking! Everyone knows the REAL secret to Lucky Charms is that critical final step in the manufacturing process, when all the ingredients are stirred together one final time with a shillelagh that’s been dipped in sugar-coated crack.)
Does anyone out there remember the shapes and colors of the marshmallows in their first bowl of Lucky Charms? It might be a bit of a challenge. There have been almost as many marshmallow variations as there are men claiming to have fathered Anna Nicole Smith’s baby.
The original Lucky Charms marshmallows were pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers. Since then, kids have driven their mothers crazy by ignoring the “healthy” sugar-coated oats and only picking out and eating the blue diamonds, purple horseshoes, red balloons, orange pots of gold, and tiny black pints of Guinness.
Since its creation, thousands of execrable cartoon shows have paused for hundreds of inane commercials wherein Lucky Charms are hawked by the aforementioned leprechaun. What hardly anyone knows is that he’s actually the long-lost “Fourth Elf,” originally hired by Kellogg’s to work with his brothers, Snap, Crackle and Pop. With a costume change and some unfortunate plastic surgery on his ears, he became the Lucky Charms leprechaun, and General Mills’ marketing staff worked for endless hours at herniatingly large salaries to come up with his highly imaginative name: “Lucky.” (His real name is Zeppo).
I’ve always found it odd that a product aimed at children would be promoted in TV ads with such blatant animosity between kids and the mascot. It’s been the same story for 45 years: some kids plan ways to pilfer Lucky’s cereal; Lucky tries to prevent their thievery and fails; the kids taunt Lucky for being unable to thwart them; Lucky writes doleful letters to Snap, Crackle and Pop, begging them to take him back. It’s been a half-century of Irish tragedy worthy of Eugene O’Neill.
Now I realize many anal-retentive readers will e-mail me to quibble that “O’Neill wasn’t Irish! He was born in Connecticut!” to which I’d be tempted to retort “I know that, you smarty pants! I was gonna use Irish dramatist Dermot Bolger instead, because his name sounds way goofier, but nobody knows who Dermot Bolger is!”
But what I’d actually retort is “Forget O’Neill, there’s another celebrity featured in this column who ISN’T Irish, but wants everyone to think he IS!” Hold on to your hats, readers; I’m talking about Lucky the leprechaun!
Aye, the voice of Lucky for 30 years ‘twasn’t no bonnie lad of the auld sod. Lucky’s brogue was faked by American voice actor Arthur Anderson (nickname: “NOT the Guy Who Started the Huge Consulting Firm”).
More shocking still, Lucky found his own product repulsive! The story goes that Anderson tried the cereal just once; he immediately spewed the first spoonful out, and forever after privately referred to it as “Blecchy Charms.”
# # #
TakefiveT5@yahoo.com
posted by Don Stuart at 10:10 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home