Funkin' Donuts

Of course after my morning piss of victory my usual routine involves throwing a brick at the first person I see...a ritual which I find captures the spirit of that great Robin Williams movie Cadillac Man, in which he urged his young mechanic apprentices to "Seize the Day". By hurling the brick I am making a statement, "Hey world, I ain't gonna take any of your fucking shit today!"

The sun, if he has the balls to show himself, usually hangs silently in the sky in a cowardly gesture of acquiescence. Then I put on some pants and go about my business, which of late has been varied and of dubious legality. My boycott of Dunkin Donuts for instance. Frustratingly this heroic undertaking has been usurped by a counter boycott, which, although sharing the same enemy, in this case the enemy of my enemy is not my friend, but rather a collection of dim witted assholes. I suppose that maxim is not as catchy, but as it is closer to the facts I will continue to use it.

It appears as though the cute little scarf Rachel Ray wears in donut ads resembles something Palestinians wear shortly before they blow shit up in that godforsaken hellhole somewhere east of New Jersey and across an ocean. Hers is paisley, and a scarf, which she wears while holding some iced coffee in front of some pretty trees and flowers, as if to say, "wow, I really like this fucking coffee", but according to some the purpose the donut people had in mind was to show solidarity with Yassar Arafat and my keyboard is refusing to even finish the rest of that thought it is so ridiculous.

The great tragedy of all this is that my boycott, which is of course based on the soundest of principles, is now clouded by this simple minded nonsense. We should not boycott the donut shop cause Rachel's delightful print reminds some simpletons of bombers, but because they feature Rachel Ray herself! Truly it is the scarf who should be most offended by this, and if I was that scarf's agent I would lobby for it to be tied around a bomb and thrown into an orphanage, as surely that fate has more glory and honor than adorning the neck of an overrated TV chef.

Come to think of it I've never really watched Rachel Ray, and know very little about the woman, who quite possibly could be very nice, but my gut tells me that her ubiquity cannot be justified, and her cheese sandwich making ability can in no way be so good that she seems to be on TV 40 hours a week and is becoming a bigger celebrity than Sofia Vergara or Jessie Camacho can ever hope to be. That does not seem fair.

Could this chick's food really be that much better than a can of soup? The average slice of pizza? I seriously fucking doubt it. And her greatest crime of all? She is not good looking.

So then, I demand that she be replaced in all her future advertisements by Padma, and then and only then will Dunkin Donuts enjoy my patronage, not that I ever bought coffee there before, or donuts for that matter, cause such food is part of the reason why America is populated by such a plethora of disgusting fat sacks of shit.

Perhaps Rachel can make amends for her plain looks, (doubtful), and advanced age, (impossible), and fashion one of those flaming explosive neck ties around Sharon Stone, who has recently taken a page out of the Pat Roberston nutjob playbook, and blamed the earthquake in China on karma. There there Sharon, just go back 20 years and show your pussy like a good girl. No one wants to hear you talk dearest! Rachel could cook up some extra large donuts, slip them over Sharon's head, adorn them with a paisley scarf for fun, and then light it up!

If my demands are not met I will throw more bricks, and may wind up boycotting all English language programming, including the NBA finals, since the officials are conspiring to put the Lakers in again. In the inspiring words of Ben Affleck, "You're suspect!"

Affleck doesn't need to make sense and neither do I.