Presidential Donuts

Dear Members and Constituents,

I love my Friday morning commute! Having skipped breakfast to make room for donuts, my body goes into auto-pilot as my mind wanders. Answering the world’s pressing questions, such as, should I get a bullet-proof vest to protect against flying shrapnel from my car’s airbag? The majestic clouds and mountains assembled on my dashboard remind me I have yet to make good on my resolution to carry a camera with a telephoto lens. News reports on the grand sheik of a mosque make me ache for a milkshake. Switch stations. Blast the radio, knowingly butchering The Cranberries’ Dreams. Asynchronous air drums, inharmonious hollers, and an oblivious driver make for strange sideways glances from my fellow commuters. Hit the brakes, I’ve arrived! (thank God for auto-pilot reflexes!).

As I walk up from the parking lot, one final glance at the foothills (by now bigger, but framed by duller skies). Will donuts be here? Yes! Chris Hynes (donut boy) delivers in style. Four dozen LaMar’s donuts that would make Washington, Harrison, Lincoln and Reagan proud (for you Jeopardy fans, who are U.S. presidents born in February?). As you ponder your plans for this Friday the 13^th/Valentine’s/Carnival/President’s day weekend, head-on down to Ed Stocker’s vacant office (he’s on PTO, but donuts aren't). And remember, decisions are always better with a half-eaten donut in your hand.

Happy Friday!

Comments

Ashes to Ashes

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To an end to Covid Games

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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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