Why Donut Holes Matter

The Hubble Space Telescope did not take the image accompanying this blog. It is not a snapshot from the mystifying ether in some light-years away locale in our unfathomable universe. Rather, it’s an ordinary donut—plain as plain can be—that I placed directly on my scanner glass and one that’ll probably eat for breakfast tomorrow morning.

I purchased a six-pack of these donuts from one of my least favorite retailers and one that I patronize all the time—Rite Aid, a pharmacy chain that theoretically should be providing its customers with economies of scale bargains. They are not. Nonetheless, I was peculiarly struck by this dollar pack of six donuts and couldn’t resist. As far as I was concerned, the holes in each one of them set a new and incredibly low standard. What must today's onion rings look like? The donuts seemed, in fact, to embody the times we live in—a less for more society with little hope for a turnaround anytime soon.

Alas, our toilet papers’ widths have been considerably shaved while the circumferences of their cardboard nuclei have noticeably expanded. The bars of soap in our showers are smaller and less dense than ever before. In other words, they self-destruct in very short order after only a few full-body cleanings. And when half-gallons of our favorite orange juices morph into 59-ounce cartons and cost more, too, one cannot help but envision even bigger and bigger donut holes in the offing.