Break me into bigger pieces, so some of me is home with you.

Squeaky Wheel

Friends, what have you taught me?!?

A few weeks back, I posted A (non-)ode to Bad Coffee (which you should read for context before going on), a tongue-in-cheek gripe session about the chalky, bark-flavored swill I’ve been drinking during graduate school.  It’s sold as “coffee” but I think it was mislabeled.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease.  So far, the non-ode has yielded six pounds of delicious, high-quality, free trade coffee beans.  Is more on the way?  I’ll have to wait and see.

Attached to a pound from Durango’s Raider Ridge Cafe was a response poem, reprinted here without any form of permission:

An ode to Good Coffee:

Here is some coffee that is not shitty,

It will wash away your sad self pity.

It does not taste of bark or soil,

It will not make your tummy boil.

It is 100 percent Fair Trade, you see,

The beans are roasted locally.

It has the most delightful aroma,

It would even wake you from a coma.

The taste, oh my!  It will make you swoon,

You may choose to add cream and stir with a spoon.

So toss out that cheap bad coffee swill

And dig out your trusty coffee mil.

Don’t fret about saving your hard earned dough!

I think by now you already know:

That some thiings in life

Are not worth such strife.

Special thanks to my bean providers, Dave Noir (from Kaladi Coffee), Mother Dearest (hooking it up with Camp4Coffee) and Tracey and Jarrod (of the aforementioned Raider Ridge Cafe).  You’ve all reinforced the notion that I should bitch and moan until treats arrive to shut me up.  I appreciate it!

Now, about the shitty beer I’ve been drinking…

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