“...in spectating the violent extinguishing of another’s life, the thrill of one’s own existence is further emphasised.” - Spectatorship and the Consumption of Dying at Public Executions, Reb Xu 2021

"With every bite, my memory of him grew stronger” Armin Meiwes, cannibal, The Guardian 2003

Two weeks ago, Kansas State outscored the North Carolina Wolfpack at the Pop-Tarts Bowl—a branded sports competition sponsored by Kellog’s marketing arm, Kellanova. For those who didn’t see it, you missed the weirdest stunt at a sporting event since Left Shark.

ICYMI—behold the Pop-Tarts bowl activation and its mascot, Strawberry:

The idea…was wild. No matter your take on mascots or “sportsball” or the side effects of frosting for breakfast, people paid attention. It was absurd “gallows humour”.

I cannot think of a piece of live communication as violent. Not “active violence” but…dark. Insidious. Like some Mr. Poopybutthole subplot from Rick and Morty. Performative sociopathy. Brand barbarism. As witnesses, we are participants in a collective murder.

It wasn’t too long ago our ancestors watched Gladitorial executions. We’re fooling ourselves to think we’ve evolved that dramatically from only a hundred years ago. The collective viewership of Strawberry’s self-elected unaliveness is sickly appealing.

Most marketers would be deathly afraid of the fallout from killing a brand asset. But this stunt worked very very well.

Some thoughts on why…

Throughout the game, we see Strawberry playing with other mascots, waving, smiling and being *blissfully* enthused. We like that he’s having fun. We generate trust from this affection. We admire its relatable qualities (there are rabbit holes you can go down studying media consumption behaviour from anthropomorphized sports mascots if you’re curious).

https://twitter.com/gifdsports/status/1740523410705240275

But we spectators know Strawberry will meet his demise when the event ends. Not just die but be consumed. This may be met with scepticism or with fulfilment of our morbid anticipation. It ties the sporting competition in a nice bow:  “if nothing else, at least a sentient being will be eaten when this is all over”.

The funniest part of the event is Strawberry’s enthusiasm to be toasted. He holds up a sign that reads “Dreams Really Do Come True!” as he descends into the hot coils of a toaster below. Strawberry’s desire to be “unalived” absolves us of any feelings of guilt. We are dogooders by bearing witness.

After winning, Kansas State tore chunks of Strawberry’s skin off and gobbled its frosted body. Like some dark rite…the body and blood of Strawberry. We have permission to witness and cheer on this ritual—Kellanova on high Amen.

The death of the mascot is a subversive act, one most marketing managers would be skittish about doing. Strawberry’s sociopathy resulting in “unaliving” himself for the sake of others is so absurd it makes fun of the entire concept of branded sports entertainment.

The stunt seems to have paid off. From Kellanova’s CMO:

“It certainly is the single biggest earned-media campaign that the brand has had. The search responsiveness is six times what we’ve seen in previous types of activations. We’re feeling really good about what it’s doing from a comms standpoint, a resonance standpoint, certainly from a fan standpoint.” —WSJ, Jan 3rd 2024

Kellanova has stated they’ll be doing the stunt again next year, proving their brand asset in the shape of an edible mascot is resilient. They did what most marketers would be afraid to and paid off. I’m unsure if this was completely thought through by concept testing something so potentially risky, but, who cares? They now have a consistent ritual event people will be excited about (for now).

The flippancy of CPG brand assets can make the most of brand resilience. Obviously when it’s a product made to be eaten. I.E. you couldn’t shove the Michelin Man in that toaster and expect the same results. Mr Peanut died but on a commercial—not live. Strawberry was killed diegetically. We all saw it. Plus Mr Peanut wasn’t eaten. Still, did Planters walk so Pop-Tarts could run?

Now the question is: with Strawberry gone, who should play the next Mascot (victim)? Perhaps put it to a vote with customers? Or, since Strawberry is their best-selling flavor, just keep bringing the same mascot back every year. Strawberry can ascend as a Promethean fable for our post-brand world—bringing us humans firey laughter only to be doused in flames himself, forever and ever.