Thursday, April 23, 2009
In order to truly appreciate what follows, you need to understand that MY WIFE has very sensitive hands. They are particularly sensitive to changes in temperature, and especially to extreme heat. Got that? OK.
So, MY WIFE goes into her favorite coffee shop. It is her favorite not because they serve great coffee, but because it is close to where she works. She'll come out of the subway, grab a cup of coffee, and then head to her office. Convenience counts.
She orders her coffee. It is given to her in a cardboard cup. She requests a second cardboard cup. She will place the first cardboard cup, the one holding the coffee, inside of this second cardboard cup. That is because the first cardboard cup, being full of hot coffee, has itself become extremely hot, especially so to a woman with very sensitive hands.
The server offers her one of those slip-on things that slide over the outside of the cardboard cup. MY WIFE politely tells him that the slip-on thing doesn't really do the job well enough, as she has very sensitive hands. She again requests a second cardboard cup.
The server says that he'll give her one, but he'd really rather not. MY WIFE asks "Why?"
The server says, "Because I'd like my grandchildren to have trees."
(Slight pause here for those who reacted as I did upon hearing this story, and who have a similar need to pick their jaws up off of the floor.)
MY WIFE really isn't a confrontational person. She took the proffered cup, placed her first cup inside of it, and left. What she truly wanted to do was throw the steaming hot coffee back into the smug asshole's face. Personally, I think that would have been an entirely reasonable reaction.
I wish I had been there. I wouldn't have become violent. I would have reasoned with him calmly, in language he'd understand, like so...
"You want your grandchildren to have trees? How much do you want your grandchildren to actually be born, motherfucker? You're lucky I don't jump over the counter and cut off your nuts, you sanctimonious piece of shit. How dare you speak to MY WIFE that way?
If you're so concerned about the fucking environment, Johnny Appleseed, then convince your employer to serve everyone in ceramic mugs. That way, you won't have to worry about trees at all. Better yet, why don't you quit your job - since the performance of it obviously pains your conscience- go live in the fucking rain forest, and throw yourself in front of the next tractor that comes along? It probably won't actually save any trees for your grandchildren - about whom, by the way, I don't give a flying fuck, if they're from your shallow gene pool - but it will immediately make the entire world a nicer place when you die. And then, when I shit on your grave, I'm sure your progeny will be appreciative of the effect the natural fertilizer will have on the grass.
I assume you wipe your ass with your hand and blow your nose on your shirt, right? Do you let your girlfriend use store-bought tampons, or do you make her stuff a sheep into her drawers every 28 days? Hey! There's a squirrel eating an acorn! Shoot the little tree-aborting fuck!
You insignificant little pissant, with your high-and-mighty "I'm saving the planet!" speech. You know what? I'm going to leave here, right now, and uproot a tree just because you suck. And I'm also going to come back in here every day for the next year, order a coffee, and ask for THREE extra cardboard cups with every one. You know why? Because it will piss you off. And, if you then say anything to me concerning your grandchildren and trees, I'll go tear another sapling out of the ground for every single word you utter, Mister Green Jeans."
No, I'm not that insane. I don't want to see the entire world become an arid and lifeless desert. Both MY WIFE and I recycle stuff. I'm not saying we're Mr. & Mrs. Ewell Gibbons, but we try to do our part. Her more so than me, admittedly, which is why this is so infuriating. She's a nice woman, who does more than most when it comes to recycling. And then she's confronted with such terrific gall from Super Barista? It makes me want to throw in the paper towel altogether. Jerkwad.
This blog is actually entirely green, by the way, since the steam generated by me during this rant, had it been captured and converted into electricity, would have powered a 60-watt fluorescent bulb for three hours.
Soon, with more better stuff.
(Due to the title alone, if not the content, this piece will no doubt be picked up by a variety of blog aggregators. I will be visited by all sorts of whackjobs who will want to leave insulting comments. Here's what I have to say to them: If you truly care about saving the planet, shut off your fucking computer. I don't give a furry rat's ass what you have to say. And, if you still insist on getting up on a soapbox to give me a pious speech, I will personally buy a case of Pampers, throw them away without using them, and help to create bigger landfills.)
(Today's lesson, by the way, is in both political science and reading comprehension. Whole bunches of gooheads will not read this paragraph, wherein I say that I'm mostly kidding and that I love trees, and that nearly everything in the next paragraph is a joke. Also, you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar, so if catching flies is your idea of big fun, now you know what to do. In other words, all kidding aside, if you want people to come over to your side of an issue, you don't give them the snark. Case in point: Do any of you think I've made any friends here with this? No, of course not. Neither did Juan Valdez with his off-the-cuff lecture about arbors and genetics.)
(Now, please excuse me. I'm going to go have a smoke, toss the lit butt into a forest, step on a few honeybees, spit on some flowers, drive to the convenience store a half-block away in my SUV, buy a few newspapers to throw in the gutter, and then piss in the reservoir. If I knew where I could get my hands on any whales, I'd force feed them spotted owls.)