As I sit back, delay the inevitable tasks of the day and gulp a tall espresso, I rewind back about 10 minutes to think about the cafe from which I bought this coffee from. Every patron that was seated and sipping had this wistful look on their faces, like the future was a perfectly curved nude booty on the cloudy horizon.
Wipe yourself off. You dead.
This is actually a fascinating social phenomena, more prominent than ever in the “post-modern-post-conformist-oxymoronic hipster era” that is currently in full effect.
Coffee despots are no longer the nesting grounds of blue collar office workers or backpackers and graduates hooking up an ad hoc date ala spontaneous office romance before a mad scientist with robotic octopus limbs.
S/O and mad respect to cafe hangars who are mooching free wireless. Kings in the making.
Peckham’s Urban Penis defines the term coffee douchebag as:
“somebody who took an exam in coffee douchebaggery and passed. He or she will be the coffee douchebag for the next year. Required skills are; backstabbing, laziness, major work avoidance strategies, excellent in gossiping, having a really fat arse and some knowledge of coffee. Must feel superior over those who perform real work.”
But these are fundamentally the same people that order brioche instead of brown bread, muesli instead of cereal, and bagel sandwiches instead of… just order a fxcking whopper with cheese bro #elvispresley
The reality is, if you are a fo-reals coffee drinker, then there’s only two truths: there’s bad coffee and there’s a matter of taste. For instance I love Toffee Nut Latte’s from capitalist Starbucks. I also enjoy Grand Americano even though in the back of my mind it taste like complete dog shxt.
So if we could all be cool for a moment and drink coffee because a) you don’t like tea or b) fxck hot chocolates (c’mon man) then we’d have douchebaggery exclusive to coffee drinkers… not coffee douche bags. Am I d-bag? Of course.
Feel me? Dopamine or doo doo baby.