The logo said, “Hand Forged Doughnuts” with a picture of a blacksmith hitting an anvil. Hmm…

A boy sat down next to us. His legs dangled happily, too short for the chair. His cute eyes trained on his dad who eventually came with a glazed one with colorful sprinkles all over the top. The boy held up the doughnut and buried his head into it. A while later, he reached for the milk and smiled at his dad. A few more bites and he handed his dad the half-eaten doughnut. He then put his hands to the face, inhaled, and gave a smile that was so satisfying. Daddy put the doughnut in a bag. They walked out of the door hand-in-hand.

Does it get better than this?

At 9am of this drizzling Saturday (this is Seattle), there were more than a dozen people waiting in line to get their doughnut fix. I bit into my Bavarian Chocolate Filled one and understood. The dough makes the difference. It was light yet with the right texture. The dough must balance the sweetness. It needs to give just enough substance so that it is a doughnut, instead of a piece of cake, bread, or just sugar.

Of course the coffee must be right too. This is Seattle so that’s a safe bet. It was strong and flavorful. With my companion, this makes it a near perfect breakfast.

Every software engineer knew, surest to his bone, how to do it right. After all, he did the first version and fixed all those bugs that came the years. He has been bothered by all those bad decisions that caused him hours of late night work. Had he had the chance to do it from scratch. It would be perfect.

Everyday, he sees the mess that is and think of the perfection that could be. Most likely there is nothing he can do, since he has jobs to do and the code belongs to the company. If he was lucky, he got to participate the project that would actually do it. That will be like opium for the addicted.

Those who studied the history of computer would be too familiar with stories like this. They would know that the first team were as smart as the second, the third, or the fouth. Re-writing is usually like growing-up. The likely outcome is most likely the same as the previous attempt.

It is the irresponsibility of the senior manager to launch a “re-do” project without knowing what exactly would have made a difference. Re-writing is not the right way to clean-up the old mess or to save maintenance costs. It is justified only when the existing architecture has truly run of steam. Even then the project must be done with extreme caution. Backward compatibility is tricky and usually demands the same kludges that caused the original mess.

Tony Hayward got fired for not knowing how to behave under crisis. (Well, it is not clear that he actually was fired. He is no longer doing the job before the oil spell happened. Rumors said he did it voluntarily to get his life back.)

I am sure he is a competent manager, no one rises up to his level, running a 265-billion dollar company, without some serious skills — crisis management not part of the repertoire.

First, get engaged. Senior management are trained to think long-term, on vision, strategy, long-term, talents, messaging, etc. The best of them delegate effectively and have processes and lieutenants to handle operational level tasks. For crisis, though, the big guy needs to set up a war room, staff it with the highest level personnel whose sole responsibility is to handle the situation, and command directly. This is necessary since the main job is to grant exceptions to rules and processes that himself set up. Otherwise, the system can only follow existing processes and that just won’t work for crisis.

Second, guide with righteousness, not laws or economy. Too many would advise him on the corporate liability or fiduciary responsibilities. The instinct would be to avoid the accountability. But the liability and damages are inevitable and only public perception can possibly be a positive influence. A transcendent stance, at morality level, can turn things around. Losses and law suits will come and can be dealt with. Money will be spent no matter what. How would history remember it?

Get emotional. The only time Tony Hayward showed any emotion was when he wanted his life back. He appeared a cold-blooded corporate man on TV and no one believed when he promised that he will fix it. Crisis require leadership. No one follows when there is no personal connection. Mr. Hayward, by not showing any emotion, proved that he was the wrong person in charge.

President Obama behaved similarly in the beginning and quickly corrected himself. Guess there are better advisors in the White House than BP headquarters.

How do you move 1,000 packs of poker cards from China to the USA? Daughter decided to design a pack of cards years ago. She doodled with Photoshop on and off and refined the definition of “finish” for over a year. She kept on tweaking and finally reached the limit of her creativity. The perfection is elusive and a matter of opinion. Changes would just please a different set of people, instead of making herself more satisfied. So she called the project done and hired a production manager (Ahem) who also would finance this venture. The idea was to print certain quantity and sell them to recuperate the costs. There is, after all, a difference between designers and artists.

Email messages flew. Weeks became months and time tried the patience. Money changed currencies and changed hands. Finally, 1,000 packs of poker cards arrived a friend’s house in Beijing. Those of you jumped up and shouted “Fedex” just sit down. Put together, they will cover your coffee table and stack 10 inches high. Yes, about 260 pounds in weight.

If we ship them, the unit cost will be way too much. So we hired couriers: those friends and family who happened to be flying to the USA. Twenty packs in the suit case and hundred packs as a separate luggage. The last batch came when I went to Beijing on business. I filled an extra luggage with about 100 packs and another 250 in a separate box — a hair less than the limit of airline weight limit.

A bone-skinny officer picked me out after the airport X-ray station. She led me to a windowless room with a elevator door, two low tables, a phone, and no chairs. She made a phone call and waited siliently. For 25 minutes, I rehearsed Richard Gere’s Red Corner. Then someone came in with one of my luggage. She was surprised to see those cards. My explanation brought a hint of smile, “so, she tried to become a designer.” I offered her a pack and she declined.

The SFO custom could not believe a lone business traveler would bring three pieces of heavy luggage into the country. I, again, offered the inspector a pack. He declined too.

My coffee table is now covered with packs of cards. I would probably move them to the closet, but that involves handling lots of weight. Instead, I contemplate how my grand kids will be amused by their mom’s youthful design works.

Nope. I would never get the money back.

When I was ten, we lived in a suburban town called Yong He (永和). On weekends, Mom would leave change on the table. Brother and I would take the money to this place down the street to have breakfast. There was a grinder that liquefy soy beans into a giant pot. The pot-belly guy would stir the pot with a big ladle constantly. What I wanted would be the freshly made bowl of soy milk.

There are two kinds of soy milk then. The sweetened version taste rich and silky. A popular variation required an egg, pre-beaten before pouring in the boiling soy milk. The result was extra buttery and yummy. The soy sauced version has a crescendo of flavors that came from many condiments. I usually had a hard time deciding which one to get. Legend had it that Mr. and Mrs. Chiang Kai-Shek frequented the very same store. We were having royal foods just next door! They were not even expensive.

The standard companion to the soy milk is the Chinese pita. The cook will moisture their hands (to protect against the heat) and stick the raw pitas inside of a clay oven. Later, they would skillfully pry them off with an iron stick. The standard filler for the pita is the fried flour sticks (kind of like churros, but not sweet, pictured above) It was fascinating to watch the flour sticks expand ten-fold when dropped into the fryer. They come out fluffy like croissant, only crispy. When served with the Chinese pita, the cook would open the pita, fold the fried sticks into it, and press down to crush the sticks inside. When you bite into this thing, the hot bread and sesame aroma rushes into your nostril, the pita will have a nice crust outside and soft inside, the sticks will add the extra chunkiness to the texture.

Yong He has long became just a memory. My favorite soy milk place would be at the corner of FuXing S. Rd. and RuiAn St. (復興南路, 瑞安街). This Saturday, we woke up early just for it. There was a long line at the door. “7:45am. Really?” Wife asked. Fortunately, it was the to-go line and the eat-in area had no wait. We shouted out our orders and sat down. When I had the first bite, I sighed silently and almost closed my eyes. How I did not know those childhood memories can come back so vividly?

Bless his heart. Mayor Mike McGinn of Seattle wanted to improve the city and polled his citizens for ideas. The most popular two ideas were to legalize Marijuana and to extend the light rail system. And the third one? Yep. Nude beaches.

San Francisco is famed for its Bay to Breaker run that features extravagant outfits, or the lack of. Thousands of people lined the street to watch those runners, including several of my co-workers years ago. They were young and shy Asian girls. The sight of a group of port-belly, mid-aged, buck-naked men running down the street traumatized them for many years. (I did not go. Someone took lots of pictures.)

Nope. Nude beaches do not mean Sports Illustrated models or the Birth of Venus.

I guess the arrival of summer, and the dry season, is an major event for those who endured the long and gloomy winter in this city. I checked. Sun light at this altitude does little harm to the health. (It also does not generate enough Vitamin D.) Before Mayor McGinn finds a way to fulfill his citizens’ desire, people can simply participate the Fremont Solstice Parade, held on the weekend before summer solstice. It features dancers, floats, foods, and nudist cyclists. Several hundreds of them, usually wearing nothing except paints, would ride down the street to roaring parade watchers.

What if it rains on the parade? Hmm…

In Collapse, Jared Diamond explored the possible reasons civilizations chose the path leading to their own demise. There were societies that lived in plentiful and nature will provide them forever. Yet, without external interferences, such as natural disasters or foreign invasions, they vanished. Frequently, they chose a ruinous short-term project at the expense of long-term viability. Spare no expenses! Let’s build a glorious monument. Alas, those monuments depleted the very resources that made those society rich enough to have such monuments.

Americans are making very similar decisions. A decade or so ago, they borrowed from the future so that they could have a easier time. When the future came for redemption, in the form of sub-prime crisis. Americans chose to borrow more from the further future, in the form of stimulus bail-outs. Future, after all, is not our problem. The next president will deal with it.

The most horrible choice is cutting education. Every states, every school districts, is firing teachers and reducing education budgets. Next decade will see under-educated Americans competing in the world defined by knowledge. They have no chance to win.

To worsen future competitiveness, Americans took on a harsher stance against immigration. Immigrants are the young, the strong, the smart, the driven, the competitive, the survivors. Those are the ones who sailed across treacherous sea for a better life for the family. Those are the ones who braved the wilderness to pursue gold in the west. Those are the ones Americans are turning away. “We don’t want you,” said Americans. “Because we don’t want to share with you.” Americans forgot that most of the wealth they have today were created by first or second generation immigrants to begin with.

Let’s see. This is the society that stole from its future. It sabotages its children with less education. It closes the doors for new comers that will make them stronger. And it now worries that their children will live shorter and poorer lives than themselves.

Oh yes, it also thinks that whoever think differently must be wrong or stupid.