Of course I chose to live in Europe, wherein they celebrate the weirdest of holidays. Berlin, May 1: National Kreuzberg Car Burning Anarchy Day and Molotov Cocktail Olympics. The night before that they burn witches in parks. Hard to imagine there are any witches left. The rest of the time they are celebrating some person or event nobody has cared about for 500 years. Once it's on the calendar, it can't be taken off without burning more cars/witches and/or throwing more Molotovs.
I'm a pacifist. Make donuts, not war. Sure, the sugar of 3 or 4 juicy Berliner jelly donuts makes me as giddy as a schoolgirl, but I am a 6 foot 5 inch tall man (ubergrossenmensch for y'all Deutschers) and that would be funny to see.
THEY DON'T CELEBRATE NATIONAL DONUT DAY IN GERMANY.
Yes, I considered reaching for my pistol, but they took it at the airport.
The only thing left to do (other than inserting bullets manually into my head) is to beg. That's right, I'm on my hands and knees ovah heah. Gimme donuts. There's this button on the top right that says DONATE! Buy Me a Donut!
If you do that I will love you. Long time. And hurry, please. My knees can't take kneeling much longer.
If you send me a donut donation, I will take a picture of myself stuffing donuts in my face holding a sign with your name and/or website on it. Think of the power you could wield with one click! If you DON'T help me out with a donut, a not-so-young man may wind up committing crimes for his fix. And that's just ugly.