Oh Fuck You Starbucks (Venti Hate)

(Don’t hate Starbucks yet? Well maybe you should)

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

And not because it’s trendy and cool to not like you. You know, like the people who say they don’t like Leno then secretly watch him? No Starbucks, I really mean you can eat a bag of dicks. I can see your mass appeal of manufactured culture with your brown and green color motif and wall murals but some of us can see through this elaborate makeup. This isn’t rural Nebraska where the only java hole is Uncle Billy’s Coffee N’ Cigarettes, this is a major city and we have tons of options you charlatan.

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

Your heyday passed 10 years ago but we’ve become wise to your caffeinated tricks. You may have been able to temporary pull the burlap over our eyes with your American/Spanish/Italian cup sizes but we’ve pulled it off and we see what’s sitting there. You’re just a hairy naked fat man in a diaper pulling levers. I don’t even know what that means Starbucks but that’s you. I’m so high on rage and biscotti right now.

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

All you’re good for now is wifi, a hobo toilet, and eavesdropping on awkward first date theater. We don’t need you Starbucks. If a 16 year old can make your product it its probably isn’t that high quality. And you can tell that rule of thumb to your cousins Applebee’s and Denny’s too.

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

Don’t even try to tempt me in your shop with your new wine and booze options. I splash my goblet in your face and spit at your feet. Is it complex? Does it have the hint of cherries? Does it Starbucks? Does it? I take off my white glove and slap you in your mermaid face.

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

I’ve found a new boyfriend. He wears tweed and flannel. Where’s your paperboy hat and pointy boots on the outside of your skinny jeans Starbucks? You are as uniform as your uniform.

Oh fuck you Starbucks.

He’s kind of high maintenance. I mean the baristas wear suspenders and paperboy hats here. I don’t even know how hipsters pay for all these cool clothes. So fucking sexy with their perfectly tousled hair. God, apathy seems really expensive. But he still puts hearts in my cappuccino so I know that he loves me…

Oh fuck you Intelligentsia.

I’m sticking to my home brew Chemex pour-over coffee maker. A tried and true model that has withstood the trends and waves of time. All I have to do is heat the water to an exact 204.61321980 degree temperature, grind my beans to a perfectly sliced but not crushed state, fold each cone filter six times, wait for it to “bloom”, then pour the hot water in a circular motion while waiting for each cycle to drain.

Oh fuck you Chemex.

You and your super expensive filters. Who do you think you are with your wood collar and hourglass shape. I bet a more sophisticated design can be made a 14 year old in wood shop…

Oh fuck you cocaine.

[Photo: Intelligentsia Coffee, Venice CA]


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