There are days when a person just craves a Dunkin’ Donut. Craves a Dunkin’ Donut more than coffee, more than even finding a twenty dollar bill on the grass in your back yard, obviously dropped by a bird that had scooped it up from an outdoor café, where it had been left to pay for a light lunch, but with its absence now appeared that the diners had perhaps dined and dashed.

Oh, we’ve got donut joints up here in Canada. Tim Horton’s, Robin's. We even have a few rare imported Krispy Kreme outlets. They ain’t Dunkin’ Donuts though. A Dunkin’ Donut is about as perfect a donut as you’re ever going to find.

I’m not going to offer any proof of that claim. Does the Pacific Ocean need to prove how pacific it is? I say no – it is what it is, and that’s good enough for me. Plus I’m too distracted by my Dunkin’ Donut desire to even think straight at this point. I’m looking over at a little Frisbee on my bookcase, and it looks just like a double chocolate that’s been dyed blue.

Mwaaahhhhmmmmmmm………

Guess I’ll have to settle for a local donut. I can always dream of Dunkin’…

Chow for now!!