Laid (REDUX)

10.2.2015  (originally posted this week 2001)


I wish I was born in a donut factory. That way I would have eaten so many I’d certainly be sick of them by now. I ain’t, though. I’m not at all sick of donuts. I could eat donuts from now till doomsday. I was sittin’ on the bus the other day and passed one “HappyDonutChineseDinner” after the other and that got me to thinking about the almighty Donut.

If yer one of the two dopes that reads alla way through this mess each and every week you might remember a short time ago when I pledged my love and devotion to the brownie. There was a sad tale about a brownie that went missing? Anyone remember? Yeh, well, if you read that and remembered it while you were reading the previous paragraph you might be thinking about a conflict of interest. Like, “Oh, what a fickle Robot: One moment it’s the brownie, then it’s the donut. What’s next? The Bugle filled with Rooster sauce? The Number 11? Another story about fuckin’ nachos instead about my fucking belly-dance troupe? What, Robot, is the junk food of choice? And why write about that crap anyway? Some other worthy subjects come to mind immediately: Beer, scissors, buttons, sleeves that are too long, pencil cacti, webcams, quilts, lighters, booty calls, saying “oof” in the middle of the night, film festivals, iron on’s, morning wood, and asparagus-pee-stench.” (All this begs the question, did anyone read the previous paragraph in the first place?) Robot answers his self-perceived critics: Donut is worthy subject matter. Read on and see the influence Donut has had over the years …


When I was a child I saw some after-school special that had this donut machine going shit-crazy-nuts and spitting out enough donuts to fill one room, then another, then the whole building, eventually flooding the world with donuts. That scared the shit outta me, but also inspired me to vow not to ever let that happen. With ample supplies of hot black coffee and ice-cold milk I would lead a group of volunteer 2nd and 3rd graders against the rampaging toroidal carbohydrate units!

When I was a 7th-grader, I had a knack for diagramming sentences. You remember that shit? Here’s a refresher:

I ate a bunch of donuts and gained about a million pounds.

I could diagram sentences like there was no tomorrow. Sadly for my best friend Phil and a lot of other 7th-graders, they were not so lucky. The kick to the nuts was that we had to diagram sentences from the first day of school to the last day of school and every day in between. Phil and the rest of the poor bastards had salvation, though: Tasty Pastry. Oh my gawd the glazed donuts from Tasty Pastry bakery were the best on the planet! They came in these wax paper bags and would kinda get squished and stomped in kids’ backpacks on the way to school. Why were they bringing donuts to school? Let’s just say that for a Tasty Pastry glazed I might let Phil have a look at my paper. Them donuts were legal tender.

My pal in high school who was to become the rock god known as Bob Log III had a cool old car with this bitchin hood ornament. I looked like a jet plane with a long nose-section and fuselage sticking out (kinda phallic-like) and the wings of the jet incorporated in the hood. My friend Danny put a donut on the hood ornament with the plane nose going right through the hole. Ha! Bobby liked it so much he left it until some bird ate it.

Founding Member and Linkey-Loo Coordinator Alan J. Chimenti brought a mess of donuts (from the Sanitary Bakery no less) in to work the morning his co-workers needed them most. The jelly-filled and long johns soothed anxious ex-employees.

Booze from this joint is sure to soothe too:

Tonight - Hi Dive

The ships are in!!  Come on out and buy an able-bodied seaman a drink!
(note parking meters enforced until 9pm) 


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!