Addictions 1 Convictions 0

Coffee moves more than just the Earth.

After sighting God, soak liberally in Scotch or Bourbon for a softer splash down.

 As many of you know, I enjoy my time atop the soap box, railing against Corporate America. Unfortunately my righteous stand against injustice faces compromise by insidious caffeine.

Officially, I am a card carrying member of the Starbucks Addiction Club. Our motto: “S.A.C. up and shut up.”

I recently received my ECT (Electronic Coffee Transfer) Starbucks Gold Card. With it arrived the equivalent of a “Golden Ticket” for an e-ticket ride into caffeinated orbit, fueled by as much free chemical go go juice as  I could cram into a single cup o’ joe.

I stood at the counter of the tiny Starbucks shop by SDSU and contemplated my choices.

Chantal waited patiently while I contemplated  a girlie drink packed with blended ice, caramel sauces, and exotic elixirs, which in turn would crowd the counter top buried under a mountain of whipped cream and rare powders.

Hows 'bout a nice big cup o' STFU?

Naturally, all ingredients would be culled from strange fruit, picked by malnourished children in distant lands whose bloated bellies ached for a McDonald’s double cheeseburger. Ya, I though about it, for about five seconds.

This moment of personal triumph, tempered by corporate compromise, demanded more reverential homage for the blood of the bean.

Sometimes more really is more.

I called for an iced hammerhead. Silence accompanied Chantal’s quizzical response, confirming that Starbucks does not recognize this vital vernacular as part of their varnish remover lexicon.

Switching gears I asked for my old standard, iced coffee. But then, deviously, I threw in my junkie twist, asking casually  if there were a limit to the number of espresso shots I might inject into the mix.

Lemme tell you, brothers and sisters, Starbucks won’t put a limit on the number of shots you can jam into a freebie jumbo cup of java. Suddenly the heavens opened and communicated new truth in a still, small voice.

Unwilling to ignore the cogent ministrations of divine wisdom, I ordered my iced mocha fully charged with 6 shots from blood of the bean, savagely drained from countless tortured fruits, stripped from their  mother tree and roasted to death for the sake of my salacious moment of pleasure. Exploitation never tasted so damn good!

Let’s look at the stats:

$0.00 – My price.

$6.75 – Retail value for my unmarketable, heart-popping, colon cleanser.

$Priceless – Dominating the abject fear brewing in my loins from this customized coronary in a cup.


5 comments on “Addictions 1 Convictions 0

  1. The cacao bean bleeds in the same color but tastes superior and does Not need as many girlie drink additives to make it the nectar of the gods. Also it seems to cause a lot fewer coronary demises. To your cuppa joe in the am you say hello with your lips as you taste the dark blonde sweetness and good bye to your heart as it packs its bags and prepares to depart the premises. You could probably live without coffee, but you can’t live without… yer hart.

  2. For a pretty interesting blog, check out this one. It is even read for you. I am intrigued by the descriptions of the different places he went to visit on this trip to Israel.

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