Rancid milk sucks! Nonfat milk has the ability to duck under the “Hello I’m filthy rancid milk” radar. It’s odor is satisfactory, but once in your mouth, something is incorrect.
So, this morning, I pour myself a bowl of my beloved raisin bran. My raisin bran fills me up, gives me a good amount of fiber, and quells the incredible hunger I always wake up with. I finish off the box – that’s the last of it.

I pour milk on the cereal, and then head into my office to read the morning news on CNN or Slashdot. I get four bites into my mouth before I began to suspect that the taste of pure dirt and filth is not my morning mouth tricking me, but is indeed rancid milk.

Spit out the current bite, smell the milk – no smell. Sequestor just some milk, taste it. Does it taste bad? Yes! Rancid milk! Gag, wretch, run to the kitchen fighting back puking. Pull out the snake faucet, rinse out my mouth, prepare for expulsion of rancid milk from my belly (isn’t that the rule? Rancid milk always expels?).
I’m still waiting, in fear. I feel fine now, but I’m not fond of the idea that I could ralph without warning at any second. This is not a good way to start a day. And I ruined the last bowl of raisin bran with the putrid liquid. Now I must go hungry.