I would advise the faint of heart to turn away now—I would rather not induce a heart attack in you, my beloved reader base. For those with thicker arterial walls and not an inkling of tachycardia, I have a bold assumption to make: Captain Horatio Magellan Crunch is not real. Certainly, he exists a la Tony the Tiger or Sir Charms—as a colorful mascot on beauteously designed cardstock boxes; but no man or woman may take Horatio out for a night on the town: there is no touching Horatio, no warm interpersonal fleshy exchange; there is no hearing Horatio, no sweet nothings that incite passionate loins; there is no smelling Horatio, no intoxication by his sea-beaten, salty air-whipped personage; no tasting Horatio, no crashing together of red waves in an alimentary cavern; and there is no seeing Horatio, save for idolatrous images emblazoned on the wonderfully delicious corn and oat breakfast cereal. Certainly, the argument, my argument, remains that, in some perverse Pascalian wager, humans have breathed life into the beloved Captain. It is in this willed existence that the Captain has been made—and unmade. Begotten of the Mother (Pamela Low), though still of Her divine substance, one can very well argue that there exists a new Trinitarian relation: The Mother, the Captain, and the Holy Consumer. Contained herein is no blasphemy, for this second Trinity is derived of the most Holy Trinity; instead, what one may gain from looking at the Captain is the power of Will. This free will, bestowed unto humankind by God – “For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another” (Galatians 5:13) – has been exerted to its utmost. As was mentioned in my last piece on the beloved Captain, Horatio is the closest entity to God that humankind knows. I spoke to William Low, the brother of Mother Low (hence the Uncle), and his words were rather different than those of his sister’s—though they were still certainly not to be ignored. He said that the Captain was as he was viewed—the perceptions of the consumer shaping Horatio just as much as Pamela Low did—and that one would be remiss to posit that Horatio was as Pamela wholly intended him to. To refer back to my first blogpost, I had a conversation with Pamela Low, wherein she said the Crunchman (my nickname, not hers) had 200IQ. Just because she said this does not mean it is true; it also, however, does not mean that it is a falsehood. If the vast majority of Horatio’s grocery store consumers believe the Captain to be of the highest possible intelligence quotient, then he most certainly is. Furthermore, the simple, mathematical way to calculate one’s IQ is as follows: MA (mental age) / CA (chronological age) = IQ (intelligence quotient). As previously stated, Captain Crunch is not real. He is an ageless being—his having been begotten puts him beyond the confines of time that an aging human is under the yoke of—and it is this ageless quality that would have his IQ be, for the most part, undefinable. I am no expert mathematician – my good friend, Michael Feinstein is the mathematical part of this endeavor – but the division by zero (his chronological age) over whatever his mental age may be results in a paradoxically infinite large, though impossible to pinpoint number; it is for the sake of convenience that his IQ is rounded down to the system’s upper limit: 200.