Skip to main content

Grab your Walton donuts before they go the way of... the Waltons


Dear Members and Constituents,
A couple of pre-sets on my car radio lead to hip-hop and alternative stations (a byproduct of having two licensed teens). Driving to work this morning, my attempt to find suitable “jam” music led to Pitbull saying he should be “locked-up like Lindsay Lohan”. Needless to say, the analogy put a smirk on my face and got me wondering what others might be out there ripe for the picking. The ones I came-up with are fairly obvious and not all that great:

  • You need to get to work and stop whining like a ninety nine percenter
  •  I’m feeling as stressed as the Euro
  •  He’s such a flirt he fancies himself a Herman Cain
  • That medicine the doctor prescribed was as ineffective as congress

I’m sure you can probably come-up with -or have heard- better ones (and I’m willing to bet we would all enjoy reading them, if you care to share). Speaking of sharing something different, Julius Pasion risked life and limb this morning to get four dozen Walton donuts (located across the street from George Washington high-school). So come-on down and take advantage of this unique opportunity. One might go so far as to say it’s as rare as a U.S. secretary of state visiting Myanmar.
Happy Friday!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love and Marriage go together like a Horse and... Donut!

Friends, My family gained a new daughter last week. As I welcome the freshly minted Mrs. Gonz├ílez, I wish the new couple a lasting, loving, happy and tranquil marriage. I am also reminded of a special delivery I received at the wedding. A few weeks ago, my niece/goddaughter held a “go fund me” and offered to stitch something for the donors. I, of corse, asked for a horse jumping through a donut. The completed masterpiece depicting this unlikely combo now has a special place in my office, and brings a smile to my face every time I see it. That said, I may forgo the obligatory donut today and opt for some of the leftover cake we still have at the house. Happy Friday!   New addition to the Family Horse through donut  with the artist   Horse through donut at it’s new home shelf P.S. The donut wall in action.

Anthropomorphic Donuts

Friends, The human form is the measure by which we frame the world around us. We are, after all, most familiar with (and full of) ourselves. Take the friendly elevator at Shift, the coworking environment where I sometimes migrate to change scenery. It’s no more or less efficient than other elevators, yet, the illusion of a smiley face created by the card reader’s reflection makes the space just a tad more endearing. The elevator could, for all I know, be an evil machine plotting my demise. Nah! Who am I kidding, it can’t be. What with its symmetric “eyes” and understated grin. Nothing so cute could possibly be waiting for the right moment to plunge me to my grave from the top floor. Could it? Another example: receiving two thumbs up is universally accepted as a sign of having done a great job. Unless, of course, if it’s coming from a koala bear. With two opposable thumbs in each hand, anything short of four thumbs has room for improvement. Which leads me to donuts. Last week’s expedit

THE Oasis

Friends, The book  Ready Player One  sent me down memory lane this week. The journey was not triggered by the author’s excessive references to the 1980s, which border on obsessive. Rather, it was the name of the massive virtual reality simulation used by characters in this dystopian future to escape their grim surroundings: The OASIS. You see, that was also the name of my grandfather’s country estate, the setting where a disproportionate share of my treasured childhood memories were created.  La Quinta Oasis was a bucolic old whitewashed house with a massive stone staircase, three foot thick adobe walls and wooden window shutters that, when closed at night, would submerge the residence in pitch darkness. With no running water, electricity, phone or indoor plumbing, the only modern convenience was the battery transistor radio on which my uncles would listen to “Chucho el Roto”, a radio soap opera. The Spanish fighting roosters crowed long before sunrise, making it difficult to fall back