Salve frater! (That's Latin for 'sup bro, a seamless fusion of street and snob) Welcome to the readerharbor, readership. Put down your readersails, allow your readersailors to disembark down the readergangway and drunkenly rampage through the womenfolk, leaving in their wake a trail of bastard children unable to accept the fact they are the offspring of a tenuous over stretched pun. This is the blog of myself, Detective Veritable Galanthus, packed full of rants, metaphors, anecdotes and general misanthropy. Enjoy your stay.

Monday 15 October 2012

Doughnut

 I'm certain most people have had the experience of a disappointing doughnut. Obviously I've just made the gross assumption that whoever, out of my very meager readership, is currently unenthusiastically running their bored eyes through this block of text, lives in an area of the world where doughnuts are readily accessible. That is to say, you, the reader, are not at present living in some impoverished mud hut situated within a third world country, clicking the computer mouse with starved twig like fingers and sitting on a chair more three dimensional than you are. However if that is the case, I would recommend that you sell the computer and use the money to buy yourself food, get something nice like some doughnuts. I'm honored that reading my blog is that important to you but would suggest that staying alive is perhaps ever so slightly more vital.
 To the other relatively non-impoverished majority of readers, I call upon you to recall a disappointing doughnut. In particular, a jam doughnut. It may be difficult, it may be painful, but try to remember that traumatic moment you felt thoroughly emotionally let down by a piece of confectionery. Close your eyes, let your mind wander back. In fact open your eyes since the act of closing your eyes must have prevented you from reading the proceeding instructions unless your eyelids are somehow translucent like the flesh of a jellyfish. Now, close one eye but keep the other eye open to read the instructions (unless you are the jellyfish man in which case your translucent eyelids allow you to see the instructions near perfectly without your eyes necessarily being open) then relax, think pleasant calming thoughts and allow your mind to drift back like a dead body down a river.
 You are a child again, your mind is pure, untainted and innocent. Words like "systematic", "infant" and "abuse" still hold no meaning for you and consequently you would be unable to accurately describe the games you play with your uncle when your parents are out, even if you wanted to. However that is not important at present, you must focus your mind on some doughnuts. Some round jam doughnuts which you assumed are packed full of sweet jam. No, not your uncle's two jam doughnuts, that is a different story for a different time, possibly involving a judge, jury and an anatomically accurate doll which you will be asked to point precisely at.
 Back to the jam doughnuts. Spherical balls of fried dough with a fine snow like sprinkling upon its golden coloured surface. You take one in your hand and bringing it to your mouth and imagining the delicious explosion of sugary flavor that will spread through your mouth as the jam breaks free of its floury confines, you bite down on it. Only to find that it tastes of nothing more than slightly sweet bread. You take a second bite, quickly followed by a desperate third, panicked and frantic like a mother looking for her lost child, you search in vain for the luxurious treasure trove of jam that was promised to you from the name "jam doughnut". Finally you find it, not a treasure trove, not a medium sized storage box, not even a shoe box but barely a scientific spatula full of jam.
 The unappealing globule of slightly sweet scarlet gel, the same colour and texture as congealed blood, lies sullenly, like some severely angst filled teenager sitting knees up to his chin, in a tiny corner of the doughnut. The same air of vague depression that is being emitted from the pathetic section of jam soon permeates your head, darkly filling the void left behind by the happy expectations which dissolved the moment you took your first hopeful bite. Feeling thoroughly let down by the supposed treat turned traitor, you cannot help but think to yourself, "Is that really it? After all that seemingly important build up, there's so little actual meaningful substance there!"
 That feeling, the sensation of surprise, betrayal and vague disappointment, is probably what most of my readership feel at the end of one of my long winded articles and it is more than likely the precise reason why I am yet to gain any followers.

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