🎥 The Mini Powdered Donut Café Symposium #1: Seductive Sugar, Robust Coffee, and the Meaning of Life
Satire Disclaimer
The following is a work of satire.
No donuts, mini or otherwise, were harmed during this discussion.
Only reputations, waistbands, and a perfectly good black turtleneck were ruined by powdered fallout.
(Scene: A small café table. A half-empty box of mini powdered donuts that once promised transcendence sits between four mugs of steaming coffee. The critics circle the table like gladiators, except stickier.)
Zen Cinephile (calm, brushing sugar from her sleeve): Let’s not overcomplicate this. Mini powdered donuts represent impermanence.
One bite is bliss, two is regret, three and you’re explaining to strangers why your jacket looks like it survived a snowstorm in August.
The powder lingers longer than the joy. That’s life itself.
Nikke Ammo (snorts, dunking a donut into his mug): Oh please. Impermanence? This isn’t a Buddhist parable, it’s breakfast.
The real lesson is sacrifice.
You wear the dust. You take the shame. You endure the barista’s look that says, ‘Sir, are you okay?’
Enlightenment isn’t about balance. It’s about humiliation.
Popcorn Prophetess (waving her cup like a crystal ball): Sacrifice, impermanence—you’re both missing the prophecy. Mini powdered donuts are impartial.
The sugar doesn’t care if you’re a billionaire in a limo or an insomniac in pajama pants. The dust marks us all the same. It is the true democracy of breakfast food.
Silver Screen Sage (stirring cream with deliberate gravitas): Equality? Admirable, but shallow. The truth is abundance.
A single mini powdered donut is a fling. A box of six is philosophy. A full twelve? That’s transcendence.
Only through abundance do we experience the cycle of desire, indulgence, and regret.
Moderation is propaganda spread by people who didn’t bring enough.
Zen (serene smile): And yet abundance collapses without impermanence. If each donut didn’t vanish in a puff of sugar and shame, you’d never notice its beauty. The fleeting bite is the lesson.
Nikke (pointing with a powdered finger): Wrong. The fleeting bite is just weakness dressed as wisdom.
Sacrifice is strength. You have to walk out of here looking like you just lost a fight with a bag of flour and still call it devotion.
Popcorn Prophetess (cutting in, waving her mug): Oh give me a break—no one’s canonizing you for looking like a failed baker! The prophecy is bigger than your martyr complex.
Zen (sighing, brushing sugar from her lap): Can we at least pretend we’re discussing philosophy and not auditioning for the Food Network?
Sage (smirking, reaching for another donut): And yet here we are, covered in dust, proving abundance while arguing about dignity.
Prophetess (leaning in, triumphant): And while you two squabble, you’re proving my point.
Look at us—four critics, all covered in the same dust. We’re united by the evidence of indulgence.
Mini powdered donuts are not impermanence or sacrifice alone—they are collective destiny.
Sage (chuckling, lifting the box): Collective destiny is meaningless if there aren’t enough to go around.
Only the Many teach us the full truth. A dozen donuts, a table of critics—that’s not chaos, that’s enlightenment.
(The table falls silent, crumbs everywhere. Each critic sips their coffee. A thought dawns.)
Zen (softly): But… the donuts alone aren’t enough, are they? The philosophy collapses without coffee.
Nikke (grimly nodding): Finally, something we agree on.
Mini powdered donuts are the suffering, but coffee is the fuel. Without coffee, you don’t survive the shame.
Prophetess (interrupting, waving her mug): Fuel? Please. You make it sound like we’re guzzling diesel at a truck stop. Coffee isn’t just fuel—it’s revelation!”
Zen (rolling her eyes, taking a slow sip): Revelation that you’ve had too much caffeine, maybe.
Sage (grinning, raising her mug): And yet here we all are, jittering together. Proof again that abundance wins.
Prophetess (eyes widening): Yes! The prophecy was always dual. The dust of the donut, the darkness of the cup.
Coffee completes the circle. It binds us.
Sage (raising her mug like a toast): Exactly. Abundance isn’t just donuts—it’s donuts and coffee.
One without the other is imbalance. Together, they form the breakfast philosophy of truth.
Nikke (mocking): So what, coffee is salvation now?
Zen (calmly sipping): Coffee is the grounding force. Mini powdered donuts teach us to savor impermanence, but coffee roots us in the present. Yin and yang.
Prophetess (smiling smugly): Or better yet, communion. Donuts are the body, coffee is the blood. Together, they are a balanced prophecy fulfilled.
Sage (finishing the last donut): Call it what you want, but the truth is simple: abundance demands both mini powdered donuts and coffee.
A full box, a full pot, a full table. That’s philosophy worth living.
Nikke: Perfect. Now if I can just get you guys to see the real message of ‘Time Cop’.
Zen: Can we end one discussion without a Van Damme movie!
Sage (deadpan, licking sugar off her thumb): Only if he brings a dozen mini powdered donuts to the screening.
Mike worked in the radio industry for 35 years which means sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek, satirical, trash talking characters to remind you laughter is good for the soul! Let’s have some fun with entertainment, movies and TV, sports, budget food and games, lifestyle and we’ll get ridiculous.
