Any of you have this in your state? I REALLY hate these little snots pretending they know something about civics and sticking us with the official this and that, like they even deserve an opinion about it at that age. The legislators think it is cute. They should roundfile these proposals in committee, show the snots what government is really about! Besides, everyone knows it should be the honey-dipped variety.

I do, of course, agree with the Tabby designation, except that I felt compelled to enlighten my cuties, and they have been pretty arrogant about it ever since.

http://www.boston.com/dailyglobe2/151/living/Pretty_please_with_chocolate_on_top+.shtml

Pretty please with chocolate on top

Emma Krane, 11, crusades for the Boston Cream doughnut

By Joanna Weiss, Globe Staff, 5/31/2001

SOMERVILLE - The Boston Cream doughnut is easy to love. That chocolate on top, that cake on the sides, that goopy glob of filling suspended in the middle. It's no wonder Emma Krane believes it should be Massachusetts' Official Doughnut.

Actually, Emma decided this three years ago, as an idealistic third-grader. She brought her cause to the State House, figuring it would be easy. Instead, she learned that politics isn't a taste test; it's a battleground, with land mines. She learned that in government, people smile at you when they're saying no.

And she learned that when you're told you can't have something, you want it even more. Which is why Emma Krane, now more world wise at 11, has been back at the State House this year, lobbying again for the supremacy of the Boston Cream.

Massachusetts already has a proud pantheon of Official Things: official insect (ladybug), official muffin (corn), official cat (tabby), official bean (navy). That's mostly because of kids like Emma. The Official Thing bill is an easy way to learn about the legislative process, and it's TV-friendly to boot; in 1998, a media juggernaut came to watch Emma and her classmates present the Boston Cream bill. (They say ''if it bleeds, it leads,'' but actually cute works just as well.)

But between ''awww'' and ''yea,'' something went wrong. The Boston Cream doughnut got caught in the mostly-good-humored-but-a-tiny-bit-serious crossfire of regional tension. Boston, home of the Big Dig and the Tea Party and all the attention, was trying to get the doughnut, too? No fair, some lawmakers said. So they voted to study the bill. Usually, that's the kiss of death.

It could easily have gone that way for the doughnut, especially after Emma switched schools and lost touch with some of her allies. But she never lost interest in the Boston Cream. So when state Senator Charles Shannon, the Winchester Democrat who sponsored her first doughnut bill, called her last fall to ask if she wanted to refile, Emma said yes.

''The first time, I thought it was more of a fun thing. I didn't want it as much,'' she says. ''But this time, I actually wanted it more.''

As she talks, Emma sits on the front steps of her Somerville home, contemplating one particular Boston Cream doughnut. A photographer is making her pose with the doughnut in front of her face and above her head. In a sweatshirt and jeans, Emma sports a look of unsugared seriousness. She submits to this for the sake of a good cause. But what she really wants to do is eat, already.

Stuck in the middle

For as long as she can remember, Boston Cream has been Emma's favorite kind of doughnut - but her bill had more scientific beginnings. Shannon, whose district includes part of Somerville, had visited her school at a time when the students were making graphs, and Emma proposed a chart on the class's favorite doughnuts. Boston Cream won, five votes ahead of jelly. And Emma, whose interest in the State House had been piqued, decided legislation was in order. She called Senator Shannon herself.

At the time, she now admits, her argument wasn't terribly sophisticated: It largely revolved around the fact that the doughnut had the word ''Boston'' in it. Which is exactly where she ran into trouble.

''Nobody west of 495 would be caught voting for the Boston Cream doughnut,'' says Representative Cele Hahn, a Republican from Westfield - which, truth be told, would prefer not to be in Boston's shadow. She was a chief opponent of the bill the last time around and is sticking to her principles.

''It was really hard to turn down the kids,'' says Hahn, who prefers sugar-and-cinnamon doughnuts. ''Still, we were not swayed.''

In retrospect, maybe this wasn't so hard to predict. Official Things bills aren't as fail-proof as they look: In 1997, the tollhouse cookie (born in Whitman) and the Fig Newton (from Newton) waged a fierce battle for the title of Massachusetts' Official Cookie. Tollhouse won, but then-Governor William F. Weld, who apparently had a preference, filed a bill to make the Fig Newton the state's official fruit cookie.

Emma Krane, however, was determined to try again - without much prompting from anyone else, says her father, David Krane, a first- and second-grade teacher.

''She's a very directed kid,'' he says.

''I was mad,'' Emma says.

Crop of the cream

Emma does, at times, seem like a curious mix of an 11-year-old and a 40-year-old. She does kid stuff - she has a collection of frogs in her room - but her demeanor is focused. She prefers to read nonfiction. And she approached her doughnut crusade with a grownup determination.

This time, she did research on the Internet. (She even found her name on the Southborough Police Department Web site, which had posted a 1998 newspaper story about the doughnut.) She e-mailed Dunkin' Donuts and Boston-bound Krispy Kreme, which doesn't even name its cream-filled doughnut after Boston - yet.

There are, it turns out, some legitimate arguments for Boston Cream. It's already the state's official pie, and the formula - born at the Parker House Hotel 130 years ago - has made the transition to other forms. The Omni Parker House makes a liquid version, with Stoli Vanil, Bailey's Irish Creme, and a Godiva chocolate liqueur. The Federalist, in the shadow of the State House, serves a Boston Cream Creme Brulee.

And when Massachusetts-born Dunkin' Donuts held a vote for America's Favorite Donut last year, customers nationwide elected ''Boston Kreme.''

Of course, Emma has some legislative allies who live outside Boston city limits. Representative Marie Parente, a Democrat from Milford, has nothing against the state capital.

''It's where freedom staaaaahted,'' she says, in an accent that conjures up Eastern Massachusetts. ''It's the frosting on the cake of democracy.''

Even with that kind of endorsement, Emma knows there's a battle ahead. Her bill passed the State Administration Committee and the Senate this year but now faces the House, a notoriously tough nut. Besides, she knows there will be people who suggest, with eyebrows raised, that the Legislature has more important things to do than argue about a doughnut.

There, she respectfully disagrees.

''That's their job, to spend time on what the people think,'' she says. ''It's not really a waste of time if somebody thinks it's important.''

Maybe lawmakers should remember that when they consider a bill, introduced this year by some Maynard sixth-graders, to make the state's official number ''six.'' Though given the state of affairs on Beacon Hill, someone probably has an issue with that one, too.

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001

Answers

An Official Doughnut? Ludicrous! Besides, don't y'all have Krispy Kremes up there?

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001

KK's are due to infiltrate our border very soon.

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001

She'd probably convince them if she had free Boston Cremes delivered to the house.

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001

The obvious thing to do is let the policemen decide.

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001

This grassroots movement reminds me of what some young people in California did some time ago. They were accordion players, and wanted California to declare the accordion as the state musical instrument. To publicise this worthy cause, they formed a little group called "Those darn accordions!", which would quickly invade a restaurant and delight the diners with a quick "Lady of Spain" before running out again.

I never found out if their campagn succeeded.

-- Anonymous, May 31, 2001