237 texts between a teenage Bagel and a Donut*

 *Inspired by Eric Clapton's love for Pattie Boyd and his son Layla.

** 237 is the average number of texts teens send to each other per day.

A bagel and a doughnut have met on social media only.

Dearest D,  (text #31, 7:20 am)

I wanted to say from the first day that I set eyes on you on Insta,  you were the one. Never have a touch such a soft, bouncy, dough ball, and with a hole in it!

Greasy but not too greasy, can expand, swell in size whilst dunked, your talents exceeds all my expectations! So dope!

Dear, Dear B (text #55, 8:58 am)

Thank you for your sweet words, so Gucci.

When my Uncle said I should marry a bagel I thought he was joking.

But when I imagined meeting u in Philadelphia, u were smiling at me, with that white, pure smear of cream cheese, gently smeared between your halves, looking at me with such pure sincerity that my donut walls were about to burst.

Beloved D, (text #74 10:17 am)

It seems like an eternity since we last spoke. TBH 237 text messages a day are just not enough. It all goes so fast. Send me more pictures, recount feeling of how it is to be dunked in hot coffee 100 times a day. Just because I'm a bagel doesn't mean that I won't understand.

Yours always,

Da Bagel

My "so sick Bagel", (text # 90, 11:10 am)

You make me out to be a hero, in text #158 you compared me to Beowulf

but you should know my skin is not as thick as his.  However, you, having had your

doughy self boiled and then backed, are a true warrior whose courage never ceases to impress me.

If I were a bagel, I would ride over the highest peaks, put myself at the disposal of shipwreck victims of the Titanic. You can do so with a wave of cream cheese, YOLO.

My only Doughnut, (text # 114, 11:53 am)

It has been a busy morning. One of my colleagues was insulted because a client said he was so hard that she called him a "Jurassic Bagel". People are so unforgiving these days. Do they even know, how, 60,000 years ago Bagels looked like? (Hint, we were not round.) I hope those who dunk you know what they have between their fingers.

Thinking of you always,

xo

BAY-GEL! (text #115, 11:54 am)

That is sooo insulting! But we get lots of attitude as well in this business. Once I had some nail varnish drip onto my cinnamon crust and I almost passed out. Know that however crusty you may be on the outside, I know you're all mush on the inside.

My sweetest Dough-Dough, (text #162, 2:05 pm)

Lunchtime just zapped by today. Texting you and smearing the creme cheese made the rush go by even smoother. How did I manage for so long not knowing that a doughnut soulmate was out there supporting me? My life was Vanilla.

Yours always, 

Big B

Big B (text #177, 2:58 pm)

I almost choked on my own doughnut because the last 23 texts were so emotional. No one has ever made me feel that way. I think when we meet I will let u roll on top of me, but just for a minute, I first want you to meet my parents before this gets more serious.

My only D (text #178, 2:59 pm)

Of course one minute would be even too much! Who do you think I am? I would never take advantage of you, but it would be nice to see if our holes align. Please, give me the names of your parents so I can write them a text.

My hot, fierce B-flame, (text #212, 4:17 pm)

I have had to take a little nappy, I was feeling dough-nutted out.

Dad is Morris and mom is Carmelita. They are both from Queens but mom

is from Columbia where they make Buñuelos, sweet like a doughnut but...

(text #213, 4:17 pm) I know Buñuelos, my friend from Honduras made them!

(text #214, 4:18 pm) Yes, but they're Columbian, way better!

My sprinkles from Paradise, (text 221, 4:56 pm)

It's so nice to talk about Buñuelos, my Doughnut Pie!

I will text your mom, we have sooo much in common, it's sick!

Sweet Bagel Aladin, (text 230, 6:21 pm)

Your text to mom was so dope she was on fire; had to get extinguisher.

She says she's ready to put u in the constitution, "Doughnuts love Bagels forever".

My curvaceous CEO, (tex 234, 7:40 pm)

Showed some pics to my FAM (had to flex a bit) and they all think you're dope.

Who would think a Bagel could love thee so? 

You and me in this tight Ship of love, (text 236, 8:15 pm)

Feeling crunked and high from Lovey Dovey Feel distracted like a housefly, in my mind's eye, Cupid has shot me in the thigh.

BFF Love Poet, (text 237, 8:57 pm)

Last text was sweeter than sweet. Parents take my phone at 9, Cringe! Text u tomorrow!

Ode to a Battery, a respectful nod to Keats' Bright Star

Bright cell, if I be only as charged as you!

U can shine in the middle of the night

AA, AAA, C and D, eternal battery, do not part, baby.

You are an electric bouquet

Bringing to life toys 'n Ex-citation

Some thinks a battery is like a Hermite, 

Shuttered in a dark, springy compartment

Yet u are nature's sleepless moonlit eye

On display

AAA,

How steadfast thou art!

You swell the hearts of young lovers

Sending surgical emojis 

With priestlike diligence

Never questioning the sweet unrest such

Messages may provoke

Always delivering until your Alkaline is

Sapped; your lithium an artefact 

If the Etna is a source of Energy Eternal

Blowing casual smoke rings in the style of 

Lauren Bacall 

You dissuade me not, Dear battery, 

With apparent blandness

You too are a force of nature that makes

Forests vibrate pure energy

You too

Resist the voltage that All wish to consume

Effortlessly, unselfishly

Zapping nervous dendrite endings

Sending those shocks during 

Cardiac arrest

Giving a second chance to All, 

Racists, Bigots, Humanitarians alike 

Yet today you are scoffed on Reddit and X

Given wicked looks 

Accused of overheating and creating fires

Charged for bringing down planes and burning babies

Dear battery

You mustn't stoop to such humiliation that

A "battery sitter" is called for

To oversee your idle rechargeable days 

While blowing smoke rings in the forest

Let your twilight years glow

Knowing an endless flow of eBikers and EVs

Await at your doorstep

Like a pack of hungry wolves

Awaiting one more charge.

Ancient ‘Dune’-like Sandworm Existed Far Longer Than Thought

Researchers examined fossils of the predatory worm and found a new species that persisted for 25 million years after it was believed to have become extinct.

Researchers found fossils of a new species of predatory worm that lived 480 million years ago, part of a group that was thought to have died out at the end of the Cambrian Explosion 25 million years earlier.Credit...Javier Ortega Hernández

By Jack Tamisiea

March 26, 2024

With a head covered in rows of curved spines, ancient Selkirkia worms could easily be confused with the razor-toothed sandworms that inhabit the deserts of Arrakis in “Dune: Part Two.”

During the Cambrian Explosion more than 500 million years ago, these weird worms — which lived inside long, cone-shaped tubes — were some of the most common predators on the seafloor.

“If you were a small invertebrate coming across them, it would have been your worst nightmare,” said Karma Nanglu, a paleontologist at Harvard. “It’s like being engulfed by a conveyor belt of fangs and teeth.”

Thankfully for would-be spice harvesters, these ravenous worms disappeared hundreds of million years ago. But a trove of recently analyzed fossils from Morocco reveals that these formidable predators measuring only an inch or two in length, persisted much longer than previously thought.

Breaking News: Italian Intercontinental Spaghetti missile misses Salt lake City and covers Great Lake with Salty Pasta

A barrage of missiles and drones launched from Italy over the continental United States avoided radar and mostly hit their designated targets.

 

Italian Prime minister Giorgia Melloni, at a spontaneous news conference, asked for her audience to listen carefully: "Our most prestigious brand, Genio della Pizza, was accused of using grated plastic instead of mozzarella cheese, and without evidence, their products were removed from shelves and banned. Despite official protests, the FDA has maintained its position. The Italian government will have no more of this, and we have taken our own measures to retaliate against this unfair sanction." 

The reaction was unprecedented. 3 missiles, one with ricotta cheese, one with ravioli and one with tomato sauce hit the outskirts of Los Angeles -Skid Row in Central city to be precise- and furnished thousands of hot dishes to unassuming, sleepy homeless residents. (The attack occurred at 3am.) 

Humbolt Park in Chicago was also peppered by drones providing shredded Roman marinated artichokes and pizza wrapped in a wrap. In New York, Hamilton Fish Park in the lower East Side received tubes of risotto and asparagus in a puttanesca sauce doused with white wine.

This is still breaking news and we cannot confirm if other cities have been victims of this audacious attack, but in Salt Lake City, there is news of missiles that missed their targets and landed in the Great Lake, rendering hundreds of kilos of spaghetti alla marinara so salty it was inedible. 

President Biden has stated that this is an uncalled for escalation and Italy shall pay a price. A war cabinet meeting is taking place at this time.

There is a consensus with Military experts who believe we should not be surprised if major Italian cities shall be hammered with doughnuts and bagels and possibly hailed with expired marshmallows that could render streets sticky and unfit for driving.

Dialogue between two Italian puddles

 A Roman and Milanese puddle have an early March talk. They have known each other for some time.

Roman Puddle: Hey, I heard you've had more rain since Hannibal crossed the Alps.

Milan Puddle: You're not kidding. The city's drains are so stuffed that even if it stopped raining I could be                                       puddling for weeks.

RP: You in heaven! I remember when I was puddling under Romulus and Remus, everyone walked around us, even the children, you know why?

MP: No

RP: The puddle was white, white with milk.

MP: Of course, ma certo!

RP: If you remember, my puddle is just at the base of the aqueduct, at Piazza Maggiore. Everyday dozens of ancient trams screech by me, and there's this newspaper vendor who sweeps me dry every morning while whistling some tune about a boat.

MP: Yes, I remember you telling me about the whistler. I'm at the exit of the main train station, where hundreds of tourists discard their used tickets to the point where I look like a floating lily pond of tickets. 

RP: Pity there are no frogs.

MP: Very funny. My Milan puddle pals call me "Gunk".

RP: Gunk with no reflection. Ah ah ha!

MP: Ha! You remember the puddle from Geneva, when Frankenstein the monster saw it's reflection for the first time in that clean, Swiss, puddle, it took the joy out of its heart.

RP: It wasn't a Narcissus moment, that's for sure.

MP: The monster would't have seen much if he were looking at my puddle.

RP: Ripple. * (An expression used by puddles to express agreement.)

MP I also remember 700 years ago, in the day of Dante, there was the puddle from Ravenna that was bragging it always had 9 rings going around it.

RP: You serious? How could you control something like that?

MP: Divine intervention, I guess.

RP: A puddle in Hell, Purgatory and

MP: Pahradize! (Accentuating its Milanese accent.)

RP. That's la divinitá for sure, which reminds me of Oppenheimer.

MP: Oppen-who?

RP: Heimer. If you look at th beginning of the film, you'll notice it starts with a puddle and you see

MP: Concentric rings moving ...

RP: How do you know?

MP: What makes a puddle puddle?

RP: So sage, to get to the point, yeh, the puddle ripples.

MP: And you're going to tell me why.

RP: The ripples are like nuclear shock waves, get it?

MP: Dang!

RP: You remember Chernobyl?

MP: Never forget.

RP: The radioactive rain, we were

Together: GLOWING AT NIGHT!

The two puddles remain silent for a while.

MP: I heard they're cleaning the drains in Rome, is that true?

RP: Yes, it is.

MP: Are you ever tempted at night to go stuff them?

RP: Without proper papers? You want to corrupt me?

MP: Just saying, our drains in Milan are all good, in puddlespeak of course. I have contacts, you know.

RP: You have contacts?

MP: We've been friends for a long time. I do you a favour, you do me a favour.

RP: Ok, I get it, but what can I do for you?

MP: Not sure, maybe something to do with Leonardo. I have to puddle it over and get back to you.

RP: Listen, I can't hear you anymore, this huge cloud -most likely from the north- is unloading more rain than a cargo ship. Talk to you soon, hey, Milan Puddle, you hear?

Derida, Chomsky and Foucault at the Superbowl

 

We are in the Allegiant stadium in LasVegas for the Superbowl LVIII

Kansas City Chiefs and San Francisco 49ers are on the field. It's after the national anthem sung by Reba McEntire, and Brock Purday, the Captain and quarterback, is about to call the toss.

The three philosophers are sitting in the Premium Lounge on the side of the Chiefs.

M. Foucault: Sorry guys, but this brings back great memories of when I did LSD in the desert. The Super Bowl in Las Vegas, what a trip!

N. Chompsky: Michel, we know you're a sucker for institutions. What difference is there between the power of a prison and the Super Bowl?

J. Derida: Both of you need a little "différence".  Put off that immediate Super Bowl blasting experience. Just because millions are watching, cheerleaders are high-kicking, and Tay-Tay is in the stands -back from her Japan concert- please gentlemen, keep your mental faculties.

N. Chompsky: Jacques, you're so anti-French I could kiss you. Everything is "post" with you: post-structuralist, postcultural, postscience. What the fuck, Jacques, "postfuckingfootball"? We are here now and the game is about to start!

M. Foucault: You may be right Noel, but take a look from an archeological perspective: the nobel Aztecs played  a pole climbing event that included greasing the pole to make it more difficult. The losing team was either sacrifices or imprisoned. Now that's excitement. *

N. Chompsky: Indeed, you are a fan of prison and the vector of power they represent

M. Foucault : -and the power of the word!

N. Chompsky: and the power of the word. But listen to Jacques: are we not imprisoned by cheerleaders, advertising, adversarial hype, and Tay Tay?

J. Derida: Hey guys, did you see? Purdy won the toss. San Francisco is kicking off.

M. Foucault: Jacques, where did u put the LSD?

*In the 60s Foucault published "Les Mots et les Choses", which explored how football banter through history, was the basis of truth in scientific discourse.

The Graduate

 It is that interminable desire to ascend

Always hoping it's around the bend

Graduating, "Please graduate" cries

The falcon as it descends

And yet

The story goes

Bernard didn't graduate and

Was the better man for it

Whether taken by sadness or buffoonery

This Bernard Hermitte didn't complain  about

Not monikering new names for its trove of new ideas 

This Graduate graduated from a natural shell by

Sheltering in the broken socket of a light bulb!

Despite itself it  has a earned a justifiable diploma of biodiversity

Through a sustainable climate adaptation scheme

And has been awarded

By a mindful institution of mindfulness

A Graduate Diploma

On the Big day Bernard didn't show

Up for the Ceremony, 

Academics awaited to applaud its  genius

That between us may be linked to its reproductive 

Genus

Ascending or descending meant little 

Or nothing and

Bernard didn't feel the alienation of a Hermit

Retrofitting  in a broken light bulb was fine and comfy

He joked to himself

What if uncanny Pierrot

Got the Diploma?

                                           

                                                    Salvador Dali "L'amour de Pierrot"

Electronic Highway Signs Written by Great Authors

William Shakespeare: "Hail to a straight driver, hail to thee."

James Joyce: Keep your SUV jigging ajog, hoppy on route on tires ye memory.   

Pierre Boulle (Bridge over River Kwai)  "Approaching draw bridge, don't drawl."

Noam Chompsky: "Think you're smart? Elevated highway over 3 miles."

Maxwell House: "Too much coffee on the expressway? Slow down!"

Junot Diaz (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao)

"Foursome, quartet, four-way stop!"

"AC/DC: Highway hypnosis? Time for Medical Diagnosis."

Billy Colins "Potholes filled with potential."

ChatGPT

Rudyard Kipling: "Watch your ears, Elephant crossing!"

"Fyodor Dostoevsky: "Don't be contrite, it's your right of way."

John Milton's Lost Highway: "Assuage rode rage: it's time to come of age."

Socrates: "Thou should drive to live, not live to drive."

Stephane Gould  "Speed bump good for centipede!"

William Butler Yeats: "Calculating, detonating, tailgating"

JG Ballard  "Traffic congestion ahead: brake or be brain dead."

George Orwell: "Accident! Rubbernecking,  French pecking: more bottlenecking."

David Attenborough: Hear coughing or frothing? Wildlife crossing!