Debbie Did Dallas

Debbie Did Dallas back in the ’70’s but now a whole new generation of baby boomers who probably were too busy protesting to even enjoy the pleasures of the famed porn film are doing Petra, and the Terra Cotta Warriors and the Wall. It’s a kind of travel porn in which people fuck the Seven Wonders of the World. At least that’s what it sounds like. You do the Taj Mahal. You do Kilamanjaro. You do Machu Picchu. You do Stonehenge, You do Victoria Falls. You do the Pyraminds, providing they don’t end up doing you.. It’s a virtual gang bang of history. You do the Forbidden City in an exchange program where a bunch of your Chinese counterparts does the Empire State. Then you all meet up the half way point and do the Galapagos and the Fjords. You have always wanted to do Antarctica, but not as much as the Grand Canyon or the Great Barrier Reef. All of this doing is one way to combat the problem of mortality. What better way to deal with the limited amount of time you have left on earth than to fit in as many sites as possible. It’s unbearable to think that you might leave the earth without seeing the Terra Cotta Warriors for example, though there’s no way to store up the spoils. They won’t do you any good once you’ve departed.

Diasporic Dining: Episode III

Every 8 seconds a new baby is born in the United States. That’s 15 babies in the last two minutes. But have you asked yourself how many new Dunkin’ Donuts have opened in that span of time? Even if you figure in a much shorter gestation period, Dunkin’ Donuts’s parents must fuck like bunnies. The proliferation of Dunkin’ Donuts has unleashed a jihad of food fundamentalists willing to throw themselves from the frying pan into the fire.

Since Dunkin’ Donuts is not a form of organic life and doesn’t contain DNA or the messenger protein RNA (which would enable it to transform into a retrovirus), what accounts for its enormous growth? The answer may be found in the poppy fields of Afghanistan, for donuts are a mood-altering, addictive substance.

The glazed variety is the OxyContin of donuts. It is a painkiller, which when inhaled can produce feelings of euphoria. Then there are the crullers, with their rococo architecture, the iced strawberry with sprinkles, the custard filled, the chocolate covered, the sugar dusted, and the spicy cinnamon. They sound like characters from a sequel to Debbie Does Dallas.—“Spicy’s in the sack with Dusty!”

There was the thousand years of Rome, the Napoleonic Dynasty, and the British Empire. What kind of global dominion is brewing in Dunkin’ Donuts’s famed coffee? Is it a nation-state, a fiefdom, or a monarchy, like the House of Windsor (or the House of Pancakes)? Let’s face it: Dunkin’ Donuts is as ubiquitous as water and potentially more plentiful. It has cracked the space-time continuum by being in all places at all times, impervious to past or present, producing the accord between the general and special theories of relativity that Einstein failed to deliver.

The creators of Dunkin’ Donuts have no beef with science or culture. They have nothing to prove. Whether or not Dunkin’ Donuts conforms to the laws of thermodynamics, quantum mechanics or string theory is irrelevant. It’s like the guy who says, “I can’t complain,” when you ask him how things are going. Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t aspire to greatness, only triumph. Armed with hot coffee and jelly donuts, it is now on the verge of an exploit that eluded both Hitler and Napoleon—conquering the Russian winter.