Some Serious Donuts have Arrived

Dear Members and Constituents,
There appear to be a lot of folks out there taking themselves a bit too seriously these days. The leaders at the G-20 summit in London. Serious. The protesters outside. Serious. The pundits reading between the lines. Serious. The satellite radio company. Sirius. Heck, even the NY Yankees are debuting a $1.5 Billion stadium this year, full of granite coverings and themselves. That's some serious spending on a pastime (even if it is the national pastime). Seriously, a lot of serial seriousness going on out there. Something needs to be done to counter-balance the somber mood, and I know just the thing. It's infantile, immature and unproductive. No, I'm not talking about about that co-worker who keeps sending you chain e-mails. I'm talking about yo' mama jokes. You know what I'm talkin' about. Picture in your mind's eye a ghetto scene with two kids going back and forth indulging in this offbeat, off color, offensive humor. Are you ready?

Yo' mama so fat, her friends call her Jelly Donut!
Yo' mama so stupid, she returned a donut because it had a hole in it!
Well, yo' mama so fat her cellulite looks like an apple fritter
Yo' mama so gluttonous the only bar she hangs by is a maple bar

OK, so maybe my jokes are corny and, yes, maybe "gluttonous" is not a widely used term in the ghetto. Fortunately, Rusty Corne takes his responsibility as donut boy very seriously this morning, ensuring a LaMar's donut for every taste is here (yes, even my infantile desire for a Bavarian Cream has been fulfilled). So, don't make me go out and drag you down to my desk.

Happy Friday!

Comments

Ashes to Ashes

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BIrds of a Feather

Friends, The early bird catches the worm, however, as the sun rises I’d much rather have a Denver omelet than a diet of worms . Ready to fly the coop, my ducks all in a row, I ponder one more time whether a bird in hand is truly worth two in the bush. Egged-on by my quest to tuck away a nest egg, I’ve decided to change industries and hope that, like the phoenix, my career will also rise from the ashes of change. After all, I’m no spring chicken –my crow’s feet and gray bely my age – however, I have to trust my judgment and believe you can’t catch this old bird with chaff (whether or not folks think me an odd bird for my actions). And so I shall attempt to soar like an eagle, aware that counting my chickens before they hatch would be ill-advised. As I learn to talk turkey in the language of cybersecurity, I will endeavor not to hide my head in the sand, choosing instead to be like a duck – calm on the surface and paddle like hell underneath! And while my excessive use of bird-inspired

Friday Donuts

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