All glazed in white

Well, looks like we've got another four years of Dick in the White House. As I had tragically predicted, Sponge Bob Bush Pants has once again taken the title of President of the United States. While the news roused Bush voters, causing them to jump for joy in their overalls and wife-beaters; Kerry fans, like me, were left with no other options to curb our depression but developing a life-threatening addiction or moving to Canada. Since I am not a big fan of hockey, bears or Celine Dion, I decided to go with the former.\nRather than turning to powdered cocaine to ease my political woe, I turned to powdered doughnuts. For the last week, whenever I felt depressed, I'd gallop over to the Wright Quad bakery and gorge myself on a bag of circular goodness. Doughnuts and I have a very bitter-sweet relationship; I use these sugary pastries to glaze over my bitterness, both political and relationship related. \nWhenever I get distressed about being single, I head for the Krispy Kremes. Most people curb their depression -- I carb my depression. Instead of having a real, monogamous relationship, I whore myself to the doughnut industry, gettin' the goods from a smorgasbord of local bakers. \nWhat can I say? I love me some yeast. I often fantasize about an imaginary doughnut utopia where I gallop along rivers flowing with icing on a Bavarian Crème-filled unicorn. My obsession has become so colossal, a friend of mine recently mocked me by sneering, "If you like doughnuts so much, why don't you MARRY THEM!"\nTo which I began to ponder, "You know what ... that's not such a bad idea." \nThe more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that doughnuts would be the perfect mate. They're sweet, well-rounded, have lots of dough and will always stay in shape (unless you accidentally sit on them). \nFurthermore, doughnuts would always be faithful (inanimate objects are incapable of committing adultery). You'd never have to worry about them canoodling with another muffin or fondling somebody else's Pop-Tart. \nBut even if you did discover your wife in bed with another pastry, you wouldn't have to get a divorce. Just feed her to the dog! Wouldn't that be great? Instead of the awful break-up chit-chat (It's not you, it's me), you'd just throw her in with the Kibbles and Bits, trot on over to a nearby Village Pantry and pick out a brand-new, chocolate covered spouse. \n"But what about a sex life?" you might be asking. "You can't very well have relations with a doughnut!" Well, considering the shape I guess you theoretically could, but then you might get a yeast infection. Besides, studies show that chocolate and sugar release the same endorphins as sex. So anytime you're feeling aroused, just take a bite out of your spouse's face. After all, the taste is orgasmic! Doughnuts are heavenly, like little rings of fluffy Jesus. Every bite is like a mouthful of utter bliss. Bliss packed with 457 grams of saturated fat, but bliss nonetheless.\nThe only problem is that it's illegal in most states to marry a doughnut. Trust me, Starr Jones has tried several times. Even if it did become legal, though, you know that Bush would just create some ban against doughnut marriage. \nBUSH: "We're trying to protect the sanctity of marriage. We believe in doughnut unions, not doughnut marriages ... but still support doughnut rights. After all, Cheney's own daughter enjoys eating doughnut holes."\nQuestionable legality aside, these engagements seem like the perfect marital solution.\nWho needs a mate when you've got a bear claw? So the next time your feeling lonely, you know what to do! Propose to a doughnut, roll it down the aisle and prepare to hear the words, "I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Duncan Donuts. You may eat the bride"