Case-in-point: The only snack food regularly available in my house growing up was Nabisco Honey Maid Graham Crackers.

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Breathing Cisco and spitting Yahoo, the little lady jabbed and windmilled the Omaha Mauler, who, weakened from a 20-year diet of Coca-Cola and Graham crackers, lost his legs and went down 20%.

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Back when I was a kid, growing up on the mean streets of Mahopac, New York, we returned home from a day at school and did (always in this order) three things: First, we had a snack (long story, but my mother hid the treats in the trunk of our '80 Datsun 510, leaving my brother and me a choice of plain graham crackers, carrots or -- dear God -- homemade yogurt).

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