Happy Birthday

Last week, Dunkin' Donuts turned 60.

They deserved the biggest, flamingest cake in the world.



Wait, that doesn't sound quite right...





image from http://www.dpchallenge.com/image.php?IMAGE_ID=132746

A New Invention

A brilliant webcomic you must read.

It's from DOGHOUSE and you can read it (and more) here.

Saint Dunkin', Saint Krispy Kreme

Saint Dunkin’, Saint Krispy Kreme

 by Julie Steward

Toroid and tiny

terrible and torrid but always

with the blackest

coffee, your service begins.

Holy as an 8-track, you testify to a better time.

Promises and partakings, people

speaking to strangers like dervishes in the desert.

We wait in line for coffee, obsidian and hot.

And the dust of you, sugar everywhere, on fingertips

and promises we make as we blurt out

the name of someone we love,

or used to love,

one sweet symphonic a fake for another.

Is it better to start the day with you,

slam into sunrise’s inky streaks,

or find you, midday torpid, too tired

for torrid?

What of the secret sin of night? You

under covers and everywhere sugar and sheets?

Some kind of holy adultery,

some kind of nascent rebirth?

Toroid and tiny, open

the door

between savor and bite,

hold it,

hold it,

one minute more.

image from http://sageofdiscovery.com

Holy Donuts - A Short Story

Holy Donuts

 A Short Story by Neil Shurley

            Torus of love. Frosting of light. Sprinkles of peace.

            Wherever we gather, whenever we gather, we take the donut, we break it and we bless it, saying, “Take. Eat. Holy pastry purchased for you.”

            And so it is with the coffee. We fill our mugs and bless them, saying, “Brown liquid of understanding, poured for you. Take, blow gently, sip. Creamer is in the back for any who need it.”

            And the service begins.

            Most days, Jack shares first.

            “Good morning. My name is Jack and I love donuts.”

            “Hello, Jack,” we reply.

            “Sunday mornings were all about the donuts,” he begins. “My parents popped an 8-track into the stereo, usually the Kingston Trio, but sometimes Neil Diamond or America’s Greatest Hits. Then Dad would say, ‘Let’s go,’ and we’d hop into the car and drive the ten blocks to Dunkin’ Donuts. I’d always pick the chocolate crème filled, even though I kind of thought it was gross. My sister would get maple logs or some other godawful thing. I used the comics section of the Sunday paper to capture the drifts of powdered sugar.”

            Here he gets a little misty-eyed. “Damn, I miss those times.”

            And we raise our mugs to Jack and we dunk or not dunk, depending on our personal choice of donuts, and we take a large bite, savoring it, trying to become one with the donut, even if only for a moment.

            After we go around the circle – always a circle – I step up to the center and make my plea.

            “Friends, we thank you for coming. We thank you for partaking in the holy donut. And we thank you for your generous love offering of cash or gift cards.”

Folks drop what they can spare into the coffee canister I keep perched on a chair next to the door. They shuffle out, with promises to return next week.

Today, a young woman, she’d called herself Ruth during her testimony, held back after the rest of the group cleared out. She helped me stack chairs.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said. She couldn’t have been more than 25. Not conventionally pretty, she maintained an air of disarray that vanished, I’d noticed, while partaking in the donut.

“No, no,” I said. “Thank you for coming. We wouldn’t be here without folks like you.” Trite, I know, but in my experience, donut worshipers prefer their pastries large and their talk small.           

            She stacked the last chair and followed me to the front of the room.

            “I just know there’s something in them,” she said. “It’s, well, more powerful than us.”

            I nodded. “The sugar. Real addictive. You’ve got to be careful.”

            I flicked off the lights and motioned for her to lead us out of the room. She lingered in the doorway.

            “No,” she said. “It’s more than that. There’s an energy. A light. You guys seem to understand it. There’s power there, something…” She trailed off, bit her lip, then finally walked outside.

            I pulled the door closed.

            “We all sense it,” I said.

We put the group together last year when Jack and I found ourselves waxing poetic about the appeal of donuts. We started meeting at a local Dunkin’ Donuts until a rather dour woman named Charlotte started going on and on about Krispy Kreme. So to be more ecumenical, we started meeting at a local rec center.

            “Well,” I said, “thanks again for helping straighten up.”

            Ruth nodded, shoved her hands into her pockets and walked toward the parking lot.

            I locked the door, then turned to find myself face to face with her.

            “Oh,” I said.

            “I’m Jessica,” she said.

Before I could ask about the name change or even blurt out my own name she backed me against the door and kissed me.

And kissed me.

And kissed me.

I did not resist.

She took two steps back, shoved her hands back into her pockets and then smiled at me.

“The power of donuts,” she said.

I nodded. The power of donuts indeed.

“Same time next week?” Ruth who was actually called Jessica asked.

All I could do was nod and watch her vanish into the darkness.

Torus of love. Frosting of light.

image from http://beyondthenatural.org

I am weak, but the donuts are strong

This morning I popped into the grocery store to pick up a bag of carrots and a bunch of bananas.

By accident, I also purchased these.

If you'll please excuse me, I have to go fill my coffee mug now.

Donut Crown

Behold, the Triple Chocolate Donut Crown from Dunkin Donuts.

Truly we are blessed to be living in a time of such abundant sweetness. Frosting of light, spread your goodness upon us.

Spare Change

From Michaela Stoughton, the full story of the incident she highlighted in the list we mentioned earlier.

The infamous Dunkin' Donuts incident…..
I pulled up to the squawk box and gave my order. Then, this is what I heard.
“That was one large iced coffee with ahhh! Thump. Laugh. Snort.”
I drove around the corner wondering what was going on, because she couldn’t speak, she was laughing too hard. That’s when I found the adorable little blond girl lying on the pavement in front of the drive-thru window. As soon as she saw my car, she got up and ran inside.
Moments later, the red-faced blond poked her face through the window, and tried to take my money.
I said, “Not until you tell me what just happened.”
The adorable little blond simply replied, “I saw a shiny quarter on the ground, and thought I could reach it.”


Thank you for sharing, Michaela. You never know what might happen next time you order donuts...

For your amusement

Check out this list.

The last item is a testament to the power of donuts. Er, sort of.

Ode to a Donut, Opus #5 (opus spicatum)

Is a donut from a box
 purchased at a supermarket
  a true donut?

Is a baked donut
 not just some shadow
  of reality but the real thing?

The answer lies within
 yet more questions.

Do they bring you joy?

Do they hearken back to a time of
 happiness and sweetness and youth?

Do they lighten your burden?

Do they delight or inspire or please?

If you can answer "yes" but once to any of these,
 then you have your ultimate answer.

In the News

This is one of the finest news stories I've ever read.

Headline -- Toyota: "We're Sorry. Have a Donut."

Seems Toyota management plans to visit dealerships with donuts as ablution.

As our intrepid (anonymous) reporter writes, "Only time will tell if delicious glaze is enough to distract owners from their worries about a fiery death."

Indeed. Indeed.


Image from Redbook.

Morning Devotions

So I wake up to this news -- fellow contributor Ms. Otaku is starting her day with this.

Oh holy donut. Toroid of love, frosting of light, sprinkles of hope. You tempt us with your precious sweet perfection and we indulge ourselves so that all may share in your eternal tastiness.

I'm so jealous.