Proof of Evil

It is way too early in the morning to be learning lessons, but that’s exactly what just happened to me.

I had just cleaned up the entire kitchen and living room first thing in the morning (women out there, I’m sure you know what that means — unpredictable bursts of cleanliness), and I was making a pot of coffee with the last of the Trader Joe’s Bay Area Blend when I noticed the new Starbucks pound of coffee sitting on top of the microwave, eagerly waiting in line to be the new coffee of the week. I picked up the freeze-dried bag and read the side.

Since her first sighting, Starbucks Siren has seduced us with her songs. Earth and air, fire and water combine to create her distinctive voice, the voice of Starbucks Coffee.

Wow. How much does that coffee love itself? Excuse me, herself? I couldn’t believe how high and mighty this new coffee was, not even opened yet, bragging that it was worthy of mythological status. I smirked at the coffee bag and put it back on the microwave, creating the copy for my Trader Joe’s tried-and-true blend.

It ain’t fancy, but you can make it every morning and it always tastes like coffee. Trader Joe’s, where cheap doesn’t mean shitty.

I chuckled in my morning haze, so proud of myself for being so damn funny, as I went to the other room to compulsively clean something else while taping something to my vcr while checking my email downstairs. I like to multi-task.

I wandered back into the kitchen, impatient for my first cup of coffee, deciding to play a game of “Catch the Stream of Goodness.”

I found coffee everywhere. The pot was spilling over — boiling hot brown water and coffee grounds covered my kitchen counter, dripping into the sink. A volcano of java was dropping molten caffeine everywhere and I saw myself being electrocuted as I licked burning hot coffee grounds from the kitchen tile.

It took half a roll of paper towels and fifteen minutes to clean up the mess. I’m still not sure what I did to cause such a spill. Either I didn’t set the pot into the coffee maker correctly (it’s a little tricky where the handle has to go) because I was laughing at Starbucks, or I put too much coffee into the filter (because I was trying not to waste the last of the Trader Joe’s blend), or… or… the only logical explanation this early in the morning…

Starbucks Coffee Has Evil Powers.

Anyway, I’m drinking the Starbucks Coffee now, as I’ve learned my lesson. Never will it be chosen second in my house again. I will bow down to the altar of her rich, complex, full-bodied range of more than twenty-five coffees — mild, smooth and bold — who consistently delivers a special experience, a taste like no other.

Oh, Starbucks. I am spreading your word, singing your Siren Song. I learned my lesson, stopping my ship just before demolishing on your rocks. I may have had a little wax in my ears, like your old friend Odysseus, but I’m intentionally disobeying my scary doctor so I never miss your sweet song again.

Oh, Starbucks! I’m so sorry to have disobeyed you. I am humbled at your feet. I know that for more than thirty years Starbucks coffee buyers have traveled the globe in search of the treasure I now hold in my hands. To bring me the finest beans the world has to offer — the top one percent! — your experts taste over 150,000 cups of coffee each year. Transformed by the distinctive Starbucks roast, my Arabica coffee is guaranteed to provide me an exceptional taste experience.

Oh, Starbucks! Your gospel seeps into my bones! My marrow rushes with your chocolate-nutty goodness. You are so world-concsious. Through your participation in origin country community projects and your purchase of sustainable coffees, you contribute to the people and places that produce coffee. Like me, now. My blood bleeds Starbuck.

Thank you. Thank you. God bless the FlavorLock Packaging System that delivers you from Heaven.

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