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The official Anthony Daniels Web Site - Scrapbook

Well. I thought I was the only one.

Then I dialled into
Matt at XEntertainment.com

And saw my past flash before my eyes.

What memories, weird and wonderful
The crazy days I spent with the fine folk of Kellogg's
in the studio
in Death Valley
in Mono Lake
(well just beside the lake really)...

All to bring to the peoples of the world the most Extravagant and important commercials
To bring to the same people the most interesting Breakfast product known to droid.

I thought I was the only one

The only one to remember

The only one
To own the original beautiful blue art box
Used for the 'pack shot'
The Hero box itself
Unsullied by the need to contain the product
Just there to look good.

I thought I was the only one
To own a full, unused box of the cereal

In my darker days
I thought I would go to the top of a high mountain and unleash the Terror that lies inside.

Now I know there is another.

There are two boxes.

Together they could bring Terror to the Galaxy

AD

 


With three older brothers who were teenagers in the 70s, I was born into a Star Wars family. I became infatuated with the lore at womb age and never abandoned the love.

The trilogy has a gazillion fans, but the luckiest of them were people like me: kids of just the right age to enjoy every promotional scheme, slice of merchandise and odd movie tie-in Lucas and pals agreed to. There was tons of that shit. Toys, comics, television specials, cartoons. I wasn't fanatical, really. But if you were a kid who loved Star Wars in the early 80s, you could take that love to the playground, to sleep, to school, or even to...the breakfast table.


C-3P0's Cereal, featuring naughty little sweetened bits vaguely shaped like droid parts, hit grocery store shelves in 1984 and enjoyed modest success. They weren't a tremendous hit, but the cereal lasted through at least three different promotional giveaways .The lack of marshmallows, chocolate and gratuitous sugar kept C-3P0's from being the cereal with our preferred taste, but no young fan of the movies could resist trying the stuff at least once. I was more fortunate: I actually liked it. For the short time it was available, this was Cereal Choice #1. Somewhat of a cross between Honeycomb and Apple Jacks, it was an inoffensive sci-fi delight that was even better for dry snacking than it was in filthy milk.

Plus, it came in a great box. In a solid starlit blue with the famous gold robot peddling his bowl of crunch in the center, C-3P0's plainly stood out from the competition. Every "version" of the cereal came with some kind of free toy and yes, the premiums always had to do with Star Wars. Even crappy plastic rocket shooters that had been given away in countless cereals for decades were treated to a Mos Eisley makeover with new stickers. As if this wasn't enough, many grocery stores placed specially made C-3P0 standees right in the cereal aisle. If you're six-years-old in 1984 and passing by a life-sized C-3P0, you're going to take his breakfast suggestion whether he's cardboard of not.

Tthrough some miracle, a sealed box of the foodstuff-in-question fell in my lap from the skies above. Odorously rancid, the box contains a sealed bag of C-3P0's from over twenty years ago. Scary what you can find if you wish hard enough.

SOOO, the year was 1984. It was breakfast. I sat with my chosen bowl of droid kibble, happily munching away while trying to make sense of the i not-at-all-like-the-movies storyline found in the Star Wars newspaper strip. I can't remember who sat at the table with me, but I seriously doubt that they had any interest in trying C-3P0's -- that box was all mine, and when you're that young, anything that's all yours is a big deal. I recall a great sense of victory stemming from the fact that C-3P0's face rested in our cupboard next to a stack of tomato soup cans. If only life could still be so simple. Rancid as it is, I think I'll keep this box in my cabinet from now on. It won't be the same, but it'll remind me.

The cereal expired on December 21, 1984. Soon it will grow leafy arms and gain the ability to speak. Then, the terror.

Okay, the stench is pretty explosive. Twenty years of fermentation will do that. Still, underneath the very bad odor is a kinda nice one -- a smell I distinctly recall from those long ago mornings. No 1984 cereal could fail with 3P0 on the box. He was a hero. A legend. Made of gold.

Maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal if I just walked hand-in-hand with Maw into the grocery store and saw a box of robot food. A nice new cereal with a recognizable character. How it progressed from that into something so much more can only be credited to one of the most insanely high-budgeted cereal commercials in the history of breakfast itself.

The C-3P0's commercial was unforgettable, awesome, hunger-inspiring and full of special effects. How could Lucky the Leprechaun compete with mere marshmallow call-outs? How could the Trix Rabbit compete by not being able to eat the cereal he was promoting? How could Sonny compete solely on the merits of being cuckoo? You know why C-3P0's didn't last? The rest of the mascots went on strike.

 

It may very well be the most expensive cereal commercial ever, and there's been at least sixty trillion cereal commercials. We kick off with a shot of the droids running amok, trying to avoid Imperial laser fire as they transport delicious boxes of cereal from Point A to Point B. If you were a Star Wars fan, they just got your attention.

C-3P0 then introduces his cereal to R2, aboard a spaceship that looks suspiciously like a photo lab with all of the employees' family photos and Chinese food calendars temporarily removed from the walls.

He's a proud droid, and why not? Those fortunate enough to be blessed with their own brand of cereal have room to brag. R2 beeps with envy as his counterpart glows and gloats about being the only character in quite possibly the largest cinematic universe ever conceived to have his own cereal. 3P0 really lays it on thick. Like honey thick.




In a shocking Jedi twist, the stuff was good for you. You know, in an arguable sense. While Franken Berry and Sugar Bear were off rotting teeth, C-3P0 was fueling young Jedi with nux-shaped animal feed. It was all about the oats, wheat and corn.




The only other notable is the declassification of the C-3P0's secret ingredients: corn, oats and wheat. And sodium phospherella...

It wouldn't be a big budget extraneous Star Wars commercial if some unknown, unimportant alien didn't make an appearance. I firmly commend the producer for making the alien hold the cereal box, providing a sight so irresistible, so charming, so plooky plocky, it makes me want to jump up and yell "ALIENS HOLDING CEREAL."


C-3P0's Cereal came armed with enough free shit to entice even the most skeptical-of-droid consumers. One of the better premiums was a plastic rocket toy that could be assembled and shot up to the heavens, but more desirable were sets of four die-cast "micro figures" -- leftover stock from Kenner's somewhat misfired attempt to branch out the toyline with a tiny-sized series. There were other freebies too, though nothing as interesting as dildo rockets or lead-dipped micro figures. One was a set of stickers/trading cards, while the final prize was cardboard cutout masks on the boxbacks. There were other characters available, six in total.


The box's side panels intended to make you look at C-3P0's and see destiny in wait. The "New Force at Breakfast" outsmarted lesser cereals with its patented "double crunch" technology, a modification that provides you twice as many crunches with C-3P0's than any foreseeable contender, symbolic of the advanced technical achievements seen in the films.

I thought I'd feel the same about my miraculously located box of C-3P0's as I did as a child, but I don't. I can look into it, figuratively transform it into a crystal ball and remember things I otherwise never would've remembered, but no, it's not the same. Might have something to do with how much I've changed, and how my priorities have changed, or maybe it's just because I can't eat it. I've taken away one lesson, small as it may be, and consider learning it well worth the eighty-five thousand dollars I spent to get old cereal.

It's okay to pretend. I'm not hurting anybody.

Matt (1/1



 


You will be aware that C-3PO has absolutely exquisite taste
so we wont be telling him about this drole offering from the humourous brush of artist
Gordon Carlton


 
ANTHONY WAS LOST FOR WORDS!

BUT JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED THIS ON
THE FORCE.NET
CAPTION CONTEST NO 50

HERE IT IS AGAIN...

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated."
Teg Navanis

"Quick!Get a doctor! No! Make that an electrician!"
chaoticneutraldrow

His days of shock rock over, Marilyn Manson was banished to the Saharan desert where he was uncharacteristically happy.
Tokugawa

He's more machine now than man...
Mara Jinn

"Whew, barely made it out of that Tron video game with my life."
Jedi Master Bob

Mr. Rogers removes his cardigan and we realize the secret to his longevity
Darth Chuck

"We can rebuild him, we have digital technology." Anthony Daniels as the $10 Million Dollar Man
Dex1138

After being abducted by the purple spaceship seen above, this guy tries out the nifty set of cyborg legs the demented aliens attached to him.
Darth Huh?

Forget the Man in the Iron Mask, here's the Man in the Iron Bodysuit
Grandma Tarkin

"I'm a real live boy!"
Benjamin Richman

"Mr Data! Put some clothes on!"
Darth Paul

Isn't it against his programming to impersonate a deity?
Steven Cavanagh

Transformers! Robots in disguise!
bob

"Really? You did Shakespeare? Wow. Now get back in the suit!"
Waterfarmer

"Oh no, Captain! The Borg got Tony!"
Darth Stimpy

The crossover of Star Wars and Bicentennial Man ran into budget difficulties halfway through filming...
Sreya

"Some day, C-3Pinocchio, you'll be a real boy."
Darth Bludgeon

 


We weren't quite sure what this feature in Maxim Magazine
was going to be about.

And we didn't dare look!





With three older brothers who were teenagers in the 70s, I was born into a Star Wars family. From the scented Yoda eraser that sat atop one brother's small, black and white television, to their feverish discussions on whether there'd be a "Star Wars 4," I became infatuated with the lore at womb age and never abandoned the love.

The trilogy has a gazillion fans, but the luckiest of them were people like me: kids of just the right age to enjoy every promotional scheme, slice of merchandise and odd movie tie-in Lucas and pals agreed to. There was tons of that shit. Toys, comics, television specials, cartoons I wasn't fanatical, really. But if you were a kid who loved Star Wars in the early 80s, you could take that love to the playground, to sleep, to school, or even to...the breakfast table.


C-3P0's Cereal, featuring naughty little sweetened bits vaguely shaped like droid parts, hit grocery store shelves in 1984 and enjoyed modest success. They weren't a tremendous hit, but the cereal lasted through at least three different promotional giveaways .The lack of marshmallows, chocolate and gratuitous sugar kept C-3P0's from being the cereal with our preferred taste, but no young fan of the movies could resist trying the stuff at least once. I was more fortunate: I actually liked it. For the short time it was available, this was Cereal Choice #1. Somewhat of a cross between Honeycomb and Apple Jacks, it was an inoffensive sci-fi delight that was even better for dry snacking than it was in filthy milk.

Plus, it came in a great box. In a solid starlit blue with the famous gold robot peddling his bowl of crunch in the center, C-3P0's plainly stood out from the competition. Every "version" of the cereal came with some kind of free toy and yes, the premiums always had to do with Star Wars. Even crappy plastic rocket shooters that had been given away in countless cereals for decades were treated to a Mos Eisley makeover with new stickers. As if this wasn't enough, many of the time's grocery stores placed specially made C-3P0 standees right in the cereal aisle. If you're six-years-old in 1984 and passing by a life-sized C-3P0, you're going to take his breakfast suggestion whether he's cardboard of not.

Tthrough some miracle, a sealed box of the foodstuff-in-question fell in my lap from the skies above. Odorously rancid, the box contains a sealed bag of C-3P0's from over twenty years ago. Scary what you can find if you wish hard enough.

SOOO, the year was 1984. The table was mine. It was a Sunday morning. It was breakfast. I sat with my chosen bowl of droid kibble, happily munching away while trying to make sense of the insanely convoluted and not-at-all-like-the-movies storyline found in the Star Wars newspaper strip. I can't remember who sat at the table with me, but I seriously doubt that they had any interest in trying C-3P0's -- that box was all mine, and when you're that young, anything that's all yours is a big deal. I recall a great sense of victory stemming from the fact that C-3P0's face rested in our cupboard next to a stack of tomato soup cans. If only life could still be so simple. Rancid as it is, I think I'll keep this box in my cabinet from now on. It won't be the same, but it'll remind me.

The cereal expired on December 21, 1984. Soon it will grow leafy arms and gain the ability to speak. Then, the terror.

Okay, the stench is pretty explosive. Twenty years of fermentation will do that. Still, underneath the very bad odor is a kinda nice one -- a smell I distinctly recall from those long ago mornings. I believe C-3P0's are closely based on a prior Kellogg's cereal, "Graham Crack-Os" (something like that), but whereas the former version couldn't survive with an overbiting cartoon horse mascot, no 1984 cereal could fail with 3P0 on the box. He was a hero. A legend. Made of gold.

Maybe it wouldn't have been such a big deal if I just walked hand-in-hand with Maw into the grocery store and saw a box of robot food. I know I would've liked it, but maybe that's all it would've been. A nice new cereal with a recognizable character. How it progressed from that into something so much more can only be credited to one of the most insanely high-budgeted cereal commercials in the history of breakfast itself.

The C-3P0's commercial was unforgettable, awesome, hunger-inspiring and full of special effects. How could Lucky the Leprechaun compete with mere marshmallow call-outs? How could the Trix Rabbit compete by not being able to eat the cereal he was promoting? How could Sonny compete solely on the merits of being cuckoo? You know why C-3P0's didn't last? The rest of the mascots went on strike.

Look, I know it's not important. I know it's just cereal. I know, I know. But it's C-3P0's. It's gone and it's never coming back. It's forgotten by all but me. This was a special thing, folks. It wasn't just breakfast. Don't you dare.

It may very well be the most expensive cereal commercial ever, and there's been at least sixty trillion cereal commercials. We kick off with a shot of the droids running amok, trying to avoid Imperial laser fire as they transport delicious boxes of cereal from Point A to Point B. If you were a Star Wars fan, they just got your attention. .

C-3P0 then introduces his cereal to R2, aboard a spaceship that looks suspiciously like a photo lab with all of the employees' family photos and Chinese food calendars temporarily removed from the walls.

He's a proud droid, and why not? Those fortunate enough to be blessed with their own brand of cereal have room to brag. R2 beeps with envy as his counterpart glows and gloats about being the only character in quite possibly the largest cinematic universe ever conceived to have his own cereal. 3P0 really lays it on thick. Like honey thick.

In a shocking Jedi twist, the stuff was good for you. You know, in an arguable sense. While Franken Berry and Sugar Bear were off rotting teeth, C-3P0 was fueling young Jedi with nux-shaped animal feed. It was all about the oats, wheat and corn. Too bad the cereal couldn't have been named after Vader -- maybe then we would've gotten a few marshmallows.

It wouldn't be a big budget extraneous Star Wars commercial if some unknown, unimportant alien didn't make an appearance. I firmly commend the producer for making the alien hold the cereal box, providing a sight so irresistible, so charming, so plooky plocky, it makes me want to jump up and yell "ALIENS HOLDING CEREAL."


GIVEAWAYS: C-3P0's Cereal came armed with enough free shit to entice even the most skeptical-of-droid consumers. One of the better premiums was a plastic rocket toy that could be assembled and shot up to the heavens, but more desirable were sets of four die-cast "micro figures" -- leftover stock from Kenner's somewhat misfired attempt to branch out the toyline with a tiny-sized series. There were other freebies too, though nothing as interesting as dildo rockets or lead-dipped micro figures. One was a set of stickers/trading cards, while the final prize was cardboard cutout masks on the boxbacks. There were other characters available, six in total.

Shown above is one of the box's side panels -- its intent is to make you look at C-3P0's and see destiny in wait. The "New Force at Breakfast" outsmarted other, lesser cereals with its patented "double crunch" technology, a modification that provides you twice as many crunches with C-3P0's than any foreseeable contender. Symbolic of the advanced technical achievements seen in the films, "double crunching" is more powerful than any cinnamon sprinkle.

The only other notable is the declassification of the C-3P0's secret ingredients: corn, oats and wheat. And sodium phospherella. Click here for the nutritional information panel, if you're a completist.


I know what you're thinking, kid. "Man, life sure is gonna suck when this stuff tanks and I can't buy it anymore." I wish I could tell you that it'll all work out, that everything will be fine...but I can't. I've been there. I lived through it. I've eaten and lost many a fine cereal. I've munched on crunchy Gremlins and cried in their absence. I cry foul at how Fruit N' Fibre dropped at least 47 of its previously available brands, including "Cranberry Walnut" and "Same As Original, But In Orange Box." The truth is, it'll hurt. It'll hurt for a long, long time. You won't be absolved until you die, and at the rate you're smoking due to the associated stresses of having lost C-3P0's Cereal, that won't be long. I guess the only advice I could give you is this: genie lamp last wish. Screw world peace -- we're talking about double crunching here.

I thought I'd feel the same about my miraculously located box of C-3P0's as I did as a child, but I don't. I can look into it, figuratively transform it into a crystal ball and remember things I otherwise never would've remembered, but no, it's not the same. Might have something to do with how much I've changed, and how my priorities have changed, or maybe it's just because I can't eat it. I've taken away one lesson, small as it may be, and consider learning it well worth the eighty-five thousand dollars I spent to get old cereal.


It's okay to pretend. I'm not hurting anybody.

 

-- Matt (1/16/2005)