Father's Day: It's All About the Donuts

Warm and dripping,

Super glazy

Perfect food for

Super lazy

People, I go

Super crazy

When the donuts come.

Dozens by the

Cardboard box,

With only paper

Flaps as locks,

I’ll fill myself down

To my socks;

I think, in fact, I’ll have some.

Does anyone know what this Sunday is? No? Nobody?
Sunday is Father's Day.

That's right, it's the one day every year that we set aside for making every child feel guilty for what their father's have done for them while simultaneously making every father feel guilty that they haven't done enough for their children.
It's like Mother's Day except that, face it, Dad's just kinda suck more at the job.

So why not make everyone feel better. Give the man a donut.
Oh wait - he's eaten too many of those already? Well how about a book instead?

Coffee: Grounds for Change

Is it really that hard to make a cup of coffee?
(An article I posted on Medium)

https://medium.com/the-coffeelicious/coffee-grounds-for-change-bfbfce0b528f

Round & Holy: The FAQ

As a prospective buyer of Round and Holy: An Homage to Donuts, I am sure that you have important questions about the book that you'd like answers to before spending the entire $4.95 that it would take to own a copy.

I can't answer those questions, but here are some other, completely different questions, along with adequate answers. Maybe they'll help.


Q: Why did you write a poetry book? What about another programming book? Or humor book?

A: Please constrain yourself to one question at a time. This format completely breaks down if everyone's shouting multi-part questions at me at the same time. This is an FAQ, not a presidential press conference. Nevertheless, I will, just this once, answer this question with a multi-part answer:

A1: Why poetry? Because I want to do the best I can at every endeavor. When it's was clear that I was being successful at writing humor books that don't sell many copies, I realized that I had to go further, and be better than I had before. If I'm going to publish books that don't sell well, I should publish a thin volume of poetry, because that kind of book doesn't sell better than every other kind of book. I fully expect to not sell many copies of this book and, in so doing, it will be my most successful humor book yet.

A2: Because programming books take a lot of effort. Seriously. You lose like six months of weekends and evenings, and editing the book is slightly less pleasurable than gouging out your eyes with a salty oyster fork. Poetry, on the other hand, is fun to write.

A3: This is a humor book. It's just a lot shorter. And it rhymes.


Q: Why donuts?

A: Er, uh, um, ... because donuts. Obviously.


Q: What's your favorite kind of donut?

A: The one that's in front of me.


Q: Why is the book so short?

A: Great question, thanks for asking! There are a couple of answers to this one:

a) Because it's a poetry book. Have you heard the term "slim volume of poetry"? Of course you have, especially if you read my answers above. But have you ever heard the term "monstrously long volume of poetry"? Of course not. Nobody wants a huge volume of poetry; it will just sit there on your end-table, weighing it down and making you feel guilty for never picking it up and actually reading it. What we really want from a poetry book is something like that we can pick up, enjoy, and put down again easily. And it can double as a drink coaster. This is another book in this classic tradition; it has just the right amount of poems in it for a poetry book.

b) Because donuts. Whenever you have donuts, you think you're going to want a lot of them. You plow through the first one without even noticing it. Then you take on a second and really enjoy it. Then somewhere in the middle of the third donut, you realize you've probably had enough. You might, in some critical situations (like, for example, you wanted to) go for four donuts. But you'll feel and probably regret that decision for the rest of the day.
This book, about donuts, realizes that fundamental truth about its subject and offers just enough poems to satisfy, but not so many that you'll feel stuffed, obese, and nauseous.


Q: Why is there no electronic version of this book?

A: Can you consume donuts on your Kindle? Obviously not. Likewise, you'll need the physical form of this book to really enjoy it.
Honestly, I could have published the electronic version of the book, just like I did for my When I am King... books, but I don't think that electronic books do justice to illustrated books. And the illustrations are such an important part of this book that I didn't want to lose that dynamic in turning to digital. Sometimes, old-fashioned is best.


Q: The art in this book looks different than the drawings on your two When I am King... books. Did you take classes? Or practice?

A: Again with the multiple questions. But I'll overlook this and rephrase your questions as a simple "What gives?"
When I realized that I would need to provide illustrations for every poem in the book, sometimes more than one per poem, I soon saw that: (a) it would take me a long time to draw illustrations I was happy with and (b) I was incapable of drawing anything but my own self portrait. So I sought the aid of an old friend of mine, Jim Bias, who was able to work through the material with me, figure out a style that we both liked, and quickly deliver all kinds of options for the book.
I hope this marks an important change in the direction of my books; whenever there's an illustration that's not my self-portrait, maybe it will be done by Jim.


Q: Could you give us just one poem here?

A: Can't rhyme. No time.

Round and Holy: An Homage to Donuts (The Book)

Q: What's better than a donut in the morning?

A: A donut book in the morning. And a donut.

Once in a generation, a book comes along that will change your life.
This is not that book.

These richly illustrated poems celebrate humanity's greatest achievement: the donut.

Round & Holy: An Homage to Donuts: Now available from Amazon:

The Fine Print

I've never read the label of my scotches before; drinking whiskey and reading fine print aren't really activities that go well together. But I I finally managed to decipher this one.

Thanksgiving Prayer

Now I lay me down to eat:

I prey upon the turkey meat.

Stuffing follows in its wake,

Buried in a gravy lake.

Now I lay me down to rest,

After some more chicken breast.

If I shall die before I wake,

I won’t regret this food I take.

Amen.

Rounding Factor

Light and fluffy,

Mostly round,

Worth its weight,

Pound for pound;

Donuts are the

Best I’ve found

For eating on a Friday.

It’s not as though

They're fancy food

Or subtle; donuts

Ain't subdued.

Some might, in fact,

Just find them crude.

They’re gourmet food made my way.

They’re shaped like some

Majestic crown

Then deeply fried

To golden brown,

Boiled in lard

Until they’re drowned,

Then dried upon a rack.

Covered with a

Sugar glaze

Or sprinkled with

A powdery haze,

Fill with goop

In many ways:

A torus heart attack.

Donuts: My Turn

It was my turn to go to the donut shop,

But I had no time and could not stop.

The future looked bleak and pastry-free;

I dreaded going to work.

I slowly opened my building’s door

Climbed the stairs, feeling bad, more and more,

Walked past the cubes and the offices,

Feeling like such a jerk.

When what did my drooping eyes perceive,

But something I could not scarcely believe:

Two boxes of donuts were there on display;

I was saved by a kindly co-work-

er.

Donut and Coffee

Donut and coffee,

Together again.

I haven't had these two

Since I don't know when.

Oh, wait - just last Friday,

Before the weekend,

I had three or four

(or five) then.

My Donut, My Savior

She said something nasty

(Oh, holy moley!):

She said that donuts

Are wholly unholy.

Whether jelly-filled bun,

Or a custard-filled roll,

Or simple and glazed;

They all have a hole.

Why she claimed what she did

Is a sad little riddle;

Each donut is holy,

Right there in its middle.

To each his own God;

Or religion profound.

I place my faith in

The Donut, most round.

Friday Donut Poem

It’s not that I needed a donut today.

It’s not like I’d die without it.

It’s just that I know we’d be better that way;

Eat one and then you won’t doubt it.

It’s round and it’s sticky and filled with delight,

Just gushing with goodness and fat.

Was ever there more of a wondrous sight

Than dough boiled in lard in a vat?

So stuff one down; No: two, three, or four!

There’s plenty for everyone here.

We won’t want them later, though there be more;

They’re better with coffee than beer.

Halve Your Cake and Eat It, Too

She halved the donuts, citing fat

And calories and such.

It worked for me; I simply helped

Myself to twice as much.

When There Is A Donut

When there is a donut,

There is nothing wrong at all.

Life could be ruined, people could die,

Nations could crater and fall.

But if there’s a donut, just one single donut,

Then everything’s good as can be;

I open my mouth and suck it all in and

I am a happier me.

Some people might find me vapid,

My philosophy lacking and sad,

But when I taste the warm sugar and fat,

I figure it can’t be that bad.

Everyone has their own weakness,

Their own special thing they adore.

For some it’s true love or power or clothing

Or shopping all day at the store.

For others, it might be fun gadgets,

Or video games played all day long,

And who am I to judge these pursuits,

Or tell everyone that they’re wrong?

But meanwhile, I just need donuts.

In fact, I’ll just have that one.

(And then when I’m done with it, I’ll have another;

This time a cinnamon bun).

So let all the governments fail,

And storms break the Earth’s crust apart;

As long as I have my one single donut,

I’ll also have joy in my heart.

'Twas the Night Before Donut

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a donut was stirring, nor a crumb on a blouse.

The donuts were stacked by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas would see them all there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of donuts danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I with my donut,

Had just settled our brains for a big winter’s donut.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I instantly ate a big donut from the platter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Then back to the donuts (no need to be rash).

A dozen fresh donuts on a gleaming white plate

Were more interesting than anything else on that date.

But what then happened to surprise all our souls,

A dozen fresh donuts, and eight donut holes.

With a donut old donut, so donut and quick.

I donut in donut, it donut St. Nick.

More donut than donuts his donuts they came

And he donut and donut, and donut by donut.

Donut, donut, donut donut.

Donut, donut, donut donut.

Donut donut, do-o-o-nut,

Donut, donut, donut, donut.

Donut donut donut donut

Donut donut donut donut

Donut donut donut donut

Donut donut donut donut.

Donutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonutdonut.

Donut.

Tastes Great, Less Filling

My heart was filled with joy this morn

Because it's donut day.

But biting into my first choice

Didst fill me with dismay.

My solid donut was not filled

With custard or with cream

Or lemon curd or jelly; it's

A nightmare, not a dream.

When I get a donut with no

Hole upon its middle,

But having only dough inside it

Causes quite a riddle.

The pastry contract clearly states

That donuts must have holes,

Or filling otherwise or they're

Not donuts, but just rolls.

Like coffee with no caffeine or

A goal without a goalie,

A donut with no center and

No filling's just unholy.

The Day the Donuts Broke

My Krispy Kreme was cold today;

It wasn't fresh and hot.

They sometimes come right off the line,

But these, today, did not.

I don't know why it happened thus;

Or if it was a joke

Upon this day of infamy:

The Day The Donuts Broke.

I tried one donut, then another,

Then a couple more.

None of them were warm and wet.

It made me sad and sore.

But then I found it didn't matter:

Despite the freshness date.

Boiled in fat and covered with sugar,

Each donut's worth the weight.

Thanksgiving: An Ode to Overeating

Now we sit to eat some bird

I have second helpings, then a third,

For forty-five minutes not a word is heard

As we all eat as much as we can.

There’s relish quivering on a plate

And tons of meat to masticate

And gravy for the mashed potat-

oes (man oh man oh man).

There’s spinach casserole in a dish

Next to the dressing (that’s just delish)

And then mashed potatoes, as much as you’d wish

For, the spread goes on and on.

There’s beans and there’s stuffing (both cornbread and herb)

And some pasta thing that’s simply superb,

The tables of food extend way out to the curb,

From the kitchen right out to the lawn.

Nuts in a bowl go mostly uneaten;

The candies beside have them easily beaten,

Healthy consumption always feels like cheatin’

At the annual Thanksgiving meal.

The turkey was cooked all wrapped with bacon

(If you think our meal’s kosher, you’re quite mistaken)

Anyone’s diet was quite forsaken,

Eating badly is, frankly, the deal.

I’m eating and eating and getting quite stuffed

But of dressing and gravy, I can’t get enough!

So I swallow some more, which is very tough,

But that’s what Thanksgiving’s for!

When I can’t fit more in, I loosen my jeans;

I have to find room, no matter the means,

I must have more meat! more gravy! more greens!

I’ll eat till I can’t any more!

Standing up frees some space for one more bite,

But forcing another takes all of my might,

Continuing eating just doesn’t seem right,

So I just stuff the rest in my mouth.

Mm-mm-rrf sn-ggrrr-fn, r-r-n g-ckn,

Fr gn-gn s shn-gr fn gr n-m-n,

Ck-sn dn-mn frr-gn, d-srn dn-drn-dn,

P frgn dr srn grndy brouf.

There Was No Donut There

When I got to work today,

There was no donut there.

This saddened me beyond belief and

Seemed a tad unfair.

I worked quite hard this week, I did,

But didn't mind the pain.

Because I knew when Friday came

I would a donut gain.

But now that there is no such treat

My joy in life is dead.

I thought I'd get a pastry but

I got just air instead.

My life was once quite filled with hope

Like donuts filled with cream,

But now there is just sadness and

A failed, pathetic dream.

I don't know how to carry on;

My life ahead is bleak.

I feel my soul is dying at the

Ending of this week.

But wait; what is it that I smell,

Wafting through the air?

Its lardy, sugary scent betides

That donuts now are there!

Hooray, Huzzah, and yay for me!

This week before Thanksgiving.

I have, at least today, a dozen

Reasons to keep living.

Donut: A Sonnet

Donut! Thou shouldst be living in my gut.

Eaten for my breakfast (with cup of joe)

Filled with custard, or plain, iced dough,

Yet still abide you on store shelf, but

I am Hungry! Not just somewhat,

But famished, starving, full of woe,

Blood sugar level critically low,

So weak I cannot get off my butt.

So I will hatch a devious plan,

For I must have you, many of you.

And I will get you if I e’er can;

I know exactly what I must do.

“Children,” spake I, “Help your old man.

Go get some donuts, for me and you, too.”

Round and Holy

Round and holy, super gooey,

Light and fluffy, extra chewy:

Donuts are my favorite kind of food.

Have one on a Friday morn,

The day you die, the day you're born,

Eat them when you're ever in the mood.

They're perfect for a little snack;

I always keep some in my pack.

They're the food I really most adore.

There's nothing wrong with eating one,

Or two, or eating till they're done,

And then returning to the store for more.

So have some now, don't be shy,

There's really no good reason why

You can't just eat the whole entire box.

Have them with your morning joe

Eat them fast, eat them slow.

Fill yourself from hat down to your socks.