Coffee
Keith Sullivan
ESCONDIDO, CA -- Need for caffeine won out over intense, searing pain
Tuesday, as Escondido-area coffee drinker Stephanie Cutler continued to
drink her morning cup after sustaining third-degree burns on her tongue,
lips and esophagus. "Must have coffee," said Cutler, pausing to scream
between sips of the deadly 150-degree beverage. "Must have coffee."
© Copyright 1998 Onion, Inc., All rights reserved.
The Onion <http://www.theonion.com/onion3402/index_3402.html>
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
NEW STUDY
A new study by a Duke University Medical Center researcher indicates
that people who drink four or five cups of coffee a day may have higher
blood pressure -- and therefore a higher risk of heart disease or
stroke. Starbucks Spokeswoman Angie O. Plasty rejected the findings.
Jim Rosenberg <jrose...@usa.net>
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
YOU KNOW YOU'RE DRINKING TOO MUCH COFFEE WHEN ...
All your kids are named "Joe."
Instant coffee takes too long.
Juan Valdez named his donkey after you.
People can test their batteries in your ears.
The only time you're standing still is in an earthquake.
The Taster's Choice couple wants to adopt you.
When someone asks, "How are you?" you say, "Good to the last drop."
You answer the door before people knock.
You can jump-start your car without cables.
You can take a picture of yourself from 10 feet away without using the
timer.
You can type 60 words per minute with your feet.
You channel-surf faster without a remote.
You chew on other people's fingernails.
You don't sweat; you percolate.
You don't tan; you roast.
You get a speeding ticket when you're parked.
You have a picture of your coffee mug on your coffee mug.
You have to watch videos in fast-forward.
You help your dog chase its tail.
You just completed another sweater, and you don't know how to knit.
You ski uphill.
You spend every vacation visiting Maxwell House.
You walk 20 miles on your treadmill before you realize it's not plugged
in.
You're so wired, you pick up AM radio.
Your birthday is a national holiday in Brazil.
Your lips are permanently stuck in the sipping position.
Your only source of nutrition comes from Sweet & Low.
Your three favorite things in life are ... coffee before and coffee
after.
Terry Marchal <gazt...@aol.com>
Charleston Gazette <http://www.wvgazette.com/Columns/Terry.html>
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
GRINDERS
"Grinders" is the street name used to describe those associated with the
espresso trade. They are organized into small sects or gangs. They
handle every facet of the espresso trade, from growing, packaging and
distributing. They are easily distinguished by their penchant for
wearing specifically colored ponchos. A specific color designates which
sect, or gang, the grinder belongs to. A grinder wearing a green
poncho, for instance, would be a member of the "Green
Mountain-Grown-Boys Gang." Those wearing brown are of the "Arabica
Raiders." While those wearing red or blue are members of the "Bloods"
and "Cripps," respectively.
Lately street grinders have been spotted in and around school yards
selling inexpensive "nickel bags" of espresso to innocent school
children. These doses, as small as they may seem, are surprisingly
strong enough to get these small children hooked on espresso. Once
hooked, these children often steal money from their parents and are
often forced out of their homes when caught stealing by their parents,
some of whom are addicted to espresso themselves. Once on their own,
they often turn to prostitution or become grinders themselves. There
have been numerous "turf wars" recently, as grinders vie for a larger
slice of the ever growing espresso trade pie. These wars have been
known to be very bloody and viscous.
http://members.tripod.com/~bflobuzrd/grinders.html
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
NESCAFE ICED COFFEE, WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND?
by Joe Lavin
Last week, I received a call from a marketing company that was
conducting a public opinion poll. I was overjoyed. This is a sad
confession, but I love opinion polls. It's not because I enjoy the
opportunity to let my voice be heard. No, I don't care about that at
all. It's because I enjoy the opportunity to develop a different
persona and completely screw up the sample.
"Hmmn. So, Mr. Lavin, you're a member of the Religious Right and a
supporter of Newt Gingrich, but you're also strongly in favor of
abortion rights and gun control."
"Yes, and I also think marijuana should be legalized for all church
functions."
I was looking forward to similar fun this time, but it turned out only
to be a survey for Nescafe Iced Coffee. Even I couldn't come up with a
persona who gave a damn about Nescafe Iced Coffee, and so I had no
choice but to tell the truth.
And the truth probably was not what the Nescafe people wanted to hear.
That's because I absolutely hate coffee. To me, its only redeeming
quality is the fact that it's hot, and so the idea of cold coffee is
simply disgusting.
What's worse is that I had never even heard of Nescafe Iced Coffee.
Until this phone call, I was completely and entirely oblivious to its
existence. The Nescafe people couldn't have chosen a worse person on
this planet to take their opinion poll.
After I told her that I had never even heard of the drink, the Nescafe
woman asked cheerfully, "Would you be interested in trying Nescafe Iced
Coffee then?"
"No." I said honestly.
"Oh.... Well, I have just a few more questions to ask. If you were to
drink Nescafe Iced Coffee, would you drink it in the morning?"
"No."
"Would you drink it at home?"
"No. I wouldn't really drink it at all."
"I'm sorry. I have to ask these.... Would you drink it at work?"
"No."
"Would you drink it in your car?"
"No."
"Would you drink it for its bold taste?"
"No."
"Would you drink it as a refreshing pick-me-up?"
"No."
"Would you drink it on a beach in the French Riviera with a naked
Claudia Schiffer, just after Claudia leaned over and whispered in your
ear, 'Oh, Joe! If you drink this Nescafe Iced Coffee, I'll do
absolutely anything to you.'"
"Well, maybe once."
Okay, the last part was made up, but that's all. And the Nescafe Lady
didn't stop there either. Soon, she started asking me general questions
about coffee, which I stopped drinking at age eighteen.
"Could you tell me whether you think the following brands are excellent,
good, fair, or poor. Maxwell House?"
"Poor. I don't really like coffee."
"Folgers?"
"Poor."
"Taster's Choice?"
"Poor."
"Nescafe?"
"Poor."
Later, she asked, "Of all the brands that I mentioned, are there any
that stand out in your mind as being of a higher quality?"
At this point, I was starting to feel guilty for being such a miserable
git. I decided to be nice. I thought long and hard about brands of
coffee. Finally, I said, "Well, General Foods International seems to be
a higher quality."
She paused. "Um, that's not one of the ones I mentioned."
"Oh."
With a hint of hope in her voice, she asked, "So are there any others
which you think are of a higher quality?"
"No, not really."
Next, she gave me a list of statements about Nescafe Iced Coffee to
which I was supposed to agree or disagree. I again reminded her that I
had never drunk the stuff, but she didn't seem to care. "I enjoy
Nescafe Iced Coffee when I come home from work."
"Disagree."
"Nescafe Iced Coffee quenches my thirst."
"Disagree."
"Nescafe Iced Coffee gives me that little pick-me-up I need."
"Disagree."
This went on for a while until she actually said, "Nescafe Iced Coffee
is my friend."
I'm still not quite sure what kind of survey this was. "Disagree." I
said quickly, though I shouldn't have. If I had agreed, who knows what
kind of follow-up statements there would have been?
"Nescafe Iced Coffee is my soulmate. Together, we are one."
"Agree."
"Nescafe Iced Coffee and I like to hang out and watch sports together."
"Agree."
"I never drink Nescafe Iced Coffee, because it's my friend and my mother
taught me never to drink a friend."
"Agree."
And I really wonder if anyone did say that Nescafe Iced Coffee was a
friend. Now that I think about it, someone probably did. After all,
this was in about the seventh minute of the phone call. The people who
were still on the line were probably so lonely and so desperate for some
form of companionship that they really did need Nescafe Iced Coffee as a
friend.
Either that or they had a humor column to write.
Copyright 1997 by Joe Lavin <j...@joelavin.com>