Maybe it was last week’s unusually bad karma — taxes and the
death of God just do not go well together — but I found
myself reflecting on the arbitrariness of opinion writing. Articles
you think will outrage people grow stale and dry up quickly;
dashed-off pieces and throw-away phrases are much more likely to
stir the pot.
Case in point: the responses to my last column and to a review
that appeared simultaneously in the Weekly Standard. The
first argued
for exporting American Christianity to Iraq. I called for the
separation of mosque and state. I said Ann Coulter had a point
(though not so much about the invading and killing bit). When the
column was posted, I expected a deluge of letters, spontaneous
protests and a few roasted effigies.
The overflowing mailbag ran to three letters. There were two
pats on the back and one polite disagreement — a collective yawn.
Instead, readers chose to sound off on a much more important and
lively issue: coffee.
The caffeinated standing head for this weekly meander drew all
kinds of comments. The title was judged to be perfect, effeminate,
cryptic and/or elitist. And the Standard review only added
to the grist. I had ended the brief notice on the book Creed
and Culture, by saying it would appeal to “readers who take
their coffee black.” I added, “even us two creams, two sugars and
hold-the-foam types will find much to ponder.”
It seemed a good metaphor at the time, but I didn’t bank on the
Standard copy elves changing a few words to fit it into
the issue. “Black” became “strong” and “two creams, etc.” turned
into “decaf types.” Readers understandably wondered why I’d write a
column called “Latte Sipping” if I only take decaf.
Good question. Coffee without caffeine is like near beer or
methadone. It’s all bad taste, no buzz; vice parading as virtue in
the most tedious possible way. Though the preferred delivery
vehicle for my drug of choice is Coke, I’d sooner drink hemlock
than decaf. (Hell, I’d sooner drink Pepsi than decaf.)
So why “Latte Sipping”?
Call it a regional thing. I come from Washington State, land of
espresso stands and coffee shops on every corner. Starbucks,
Seattle’s Best and other franchises and imitators are slowly
bringing this fresh-brewed buzz to the rest of the U.S., but not
fast enough for select residents of the Emerald State. At airports
or train depots, I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard
returning Washingtonians confess to friends that while they were in
Denver or Cincinnati or some other locale, they had a devil of a
time finding a double tall vanilla latte with cinnamon and a
biscotti. The Philistines!
Perhaps we non-Seattle types should balk at this coffee
colonialism. From one angle, it stands for everything we hate about
pushy, trendy, faux sophisticate Seattleites. But we’ve decided not
to mind. My own tiny northwest Washington town has two coffee shops
and two espresso stands, in addition to a small espresso-bookstore
combo. The farmers can get lattes or iced mochas before they go out
to plow their fields.
I guess the idea is if you can’t beat ‘em, drink up.
