Coffee

This post was originally a part of the now defunct Somnaplegic blog.

You don’t have to dig far under the crust of empathy, humor, and compassion that I normally exhibit to find a roiling mass of judgement, frustration, and a dirty jabbing fight-or-flight-like need to crush all signs of weakness.

I bet you saw the title of this post and thought it would be another of the somnaplegic’s comedic romps. A humorous retelling of the time she accidentally adopted a three-legged puppy and sucker-punched all the white nationalists in the world while trying to get her grande latte half chai espresso mocha zucchini spiced morning pick up. WRONG. This is the post where I reveal my true nature and crush your soul.

I hate coffee. And if you drink coffee, I hate you to. This hate is both personal and clinical. “Wait,” you’re thinking. “Did she just alienate the 79% of the population that drinks a nearly daily cup of coffee?” You bet I did, and I’m not sorry.

I’ll even up the ante. I hate coffee and coffee drinkers and I’ve never once had so much as a sip of coffee. “Maybe she’s a mormon or has a gastrointestinal condition?” NOPE!

“So, she’s just a misanthrope troll throwing stones to get a rise out of people?” Nope. Well, yes, I am a total misanthrope, but no trolling here. Just genuine red blooded judgey-judgement.

Why do I dislike coffee? Well, I’ve always disliked coffee because it smells like the 7th circle of hell and the stench penetrates every corner and crevasse of every space it invades. I also dislike the smell (and taste) of alcohol and vinegar. This part is probably just my own weird biology. But even if I didn’t feel like retching every time I smell coffee on an empty stomach, I’d still hate it.

Why do I hate coffee? I hate coffee because of coffee drinkers. This hate actually extends to all habitual drinkers of all caffeinated beverages, especially the hot ones (that’s right tea drinkers, you’re included in the cluster of resentment and rage, to, so you can stop feeling smug while you dip your little bag of ground up plant offal into your “worlds greatest wanker” carafe).

I judge you. I judge you obnoxious, stinky, and weak. Literally every time I see someone with coffee I must suppress the urge to rush up to them and give a quick jab to the solar plexus. Cull the weak from the herd, the little voice inside me says. Drop them and then kick them while they are down. The relentless crushing hand of nature and evolution demands this of you. Sadly, I am dependent on the rest of you for streaming internet content and infrastructure so I do not go around jabbing people in the abdomen. But oh, how I want to.

Imagine you live in a world where you are surrounded by people who carry around ferrets. Wherever you go, ferrets, just ferrets. People buy special outfits for the ferrets, and talk about their favorite breed of ferret while standing in circles together petting ferrets. They smile and say, “I just don’t know how I’d get up in the morning without my ferret!” Um, you’d open your eyes, roll over and put your bleepin’ feet on the ground. It’s literally what you do every day . . . unless you don’t have feet or your feet aren’t good for standing on . . . but you get the point.

This is a ferret.

Why do they carry the ferrets? I’ve got no bloody clue. It’s a stupid thing to do, but no one complains, because everyone does it! Maybe the ferrets all have toxoplasmosis and people are compelled by a brain parasite to think ferrets are just the best thing EVAR!

The ferret needs to be gently cradled and looked after as people go about their daily routines. They frequently drop purses and papers and phones while balancing the ferret. They block lines at restaurants while ordering customized snacks for their ferrets. Meanwhile, the hungry ferrett-less person behind them has to listen to the ludicrous instructions and wait while no less that three people prepare the artisanal ferret snack, when all she needs is just for one person to grab the maple bar out of the case. It will only take 15 seconds! Please, for the love of atheist god, just give me my donut and let me get away from the damned squeaking ferrets!

People who do not have their ferrets walk about like zombies and demand that others not engage them until they’ve had some quality time stroking their ferret [1]. People become annoyed when hosts do not provide ferrets at social gatherings. Office administrators are expected to deliver ferrets to supervisors and then take the ferrets away for cleaning. “But,” you counter, “research shows ferret people live longer!” Uh huh, let me introduce you to my friends correlation and causation. Correlation is a really social butterfly, you can find her all over the place. Causation, she don’t play. And ice cream doesn’t cause drawings.

Research does show that ferret people indiscriminately kill other people.

Oh, they don’t mean to, but cradling a ferret while driving is, unsurprisingly, rather challenging. Each day, 9 people die and a thousand more are injured in accidents caused by distracted driving. Ah snap, this stopped being funny, real quick, didn’t it?

One component of the definition of addiction is that the need to fulfill the habit changes behavior. Addiction results in behaviors in which people wouldn’t normally engage - in furtherance of serving the addiction. If the individual has an addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, or even a really out of control collection of cat figurines, we call it an illness and agree that they need therapy and help [3]. If they they stumble through the world annoying the crap out of others and risking lives, we collectively smile and nod because, you know, it’s ferrets.

Hey, remember that time I nearly got killed by a distracted driver petting their ferret who cut me off by swerving into the bike lane? Remember that time that person cut me off darting into the last parking space in front of the Ferretbucks? I remember those times. I call them, “most Mondays, and also Tuesday- Friday.” Fun fact, pedestrians and cyclists are at an all time high of danger from distracted drivers. Remember this guy, he seemed like a cool dude.

It’s not just drivers, nothing raises my hackles more than a cyclist cradling one of those fancy aluminum ferrets while navigating traffic. I mean really, DUDE! And while you’re at it, put on a bloody helmet! They’re never wearing a helmet. This also contributes to my theory that ferrets kill brain cells and make you suicidally optimistic about your place on the planet.

Hey, remember that time (or dozen times) you nearly walked into someone while looking at your phone? No real harm done, eh? Shoulder bumping another pedestrian is hardly a life or death situation. Hey, remember that time you stepped off the curb right into the bike lane and got really ticked when I buzzed super close to you on my bike? Yeah, I remember that time, I call it “most Mondays, and also Tuesday-Friday.” A little pee escaped my bladder as I swerved left trying not to hit you, but also trying not to veer into the car coming up on my left. Cyclists have a term for pedestrians who stumble into bike lanes without looking, we call them “zombies” and they nearly always have a ferret in their hands.

Hey you know what happens when a cyclist and pedestrian collide? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not like when a car and a pedestrian collide. Cyclists aren’t surrounded by by a ton of steel. When hitting an object with a relative velocity much lower than our own we tend to obey Newton’s Laws of Physics and continue on our original vector, but now without the rolling wheels underneath us. So you know, we fly a few feet, smash into pavement and slide for a while. Fun!

But FERRETS! They’re so cute and essential! We couldn’t get through grad school and Mondays or in-laws without FERRETS!

Hmm, but I get through Mondays and finished grad school and tolerate my in-laws without ferrets [4] . . . ergo, I must be the nietzschian übermensch!

There you have it. The logic cannot be denied.

I hate coffee . . . I mean ferrets

People who use ferrets are weak and inferior

I am superman

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[1] I would like “stroking the ferret” to become a widespread shorthand for doing something pointless and annoying. Can we make that happen? It will be an expression that people think has dirty origins [2], but in fact is just rooted in innocent hatred.

[2] Did you know that the expression “Balls to the Wall” has nothing to do with testicles? It refers to aviation and has brought the same meaning as “pedal to the metal” or “full throttle.” The pilots would push all the levers, which were topped with ball shaped handles, forward to the wall to go full speed.

[3] We do a really crap job of providing that help, but at least we agree that this behavior is not ok.

[4] Or cheese, which I think horrifies people even more than when they find out I don’t drink coffee. “So what you have to eat that soy cheese? I don’t know what I would do without cheese!” Yeah, that’s because cheese is like heroin . . . but no one has tried to kill me while eating cheese, so carry on.

*This post was originally a part of the now defunct Somnaplegic blog.