A great many years ago, in 1776, after long and challenging debate that required many early mornings devoid of adequate caffeination, the Continental Congress voted to declare independence from England. The next night John Adams went back to his rooming house in sweltering, sticky Philadelphia, as yet unpopulated by even so much as a La Colombe to quench his thirst and quell his trembles, and proceeded to write, by candlelight, the most famous letter in American history. Addressing his beloved wife Abigail in far-away Boston, itself centuries away from the single origin offerings of Barismo or George Howell, John Adams delighted in the afterbrith of a brand new nation:
My beloved Abigail,
It is with pride both beaming and booming, gleaming and zooming that I impart upon you this blessed news: We finally did it! The English shall smash our grapes no longer, and cease with the busting of our ball bearings forthwith. But oy, it took forever! That Thomas Jefferson, I tell you what, he’s a genius, sure, but distractable and a somewhat unsavory character. Yesterday I watched him take down two bottles of Beaujolais to himself on our lunch break. His wooden teeth took on this piquant, pithy, tannic glow, and honestly, I wanted to say something to him, but the rest of the Delegation of Five was sitting right there, and you know what an asshole that Roger Sherman can be. Anyway, we finally finished the piece, and I think it’s pretty good; Jefferson is gonna touch it up before we print the “Fair Copy”, which, you know, I always get so neurotic about working with him as an editor, but it’s for the greater good. I’m really ready to get out of here and come home, because Philadelphia is disgusting in the summertime and I miss you, baby.
Your hunka hunka,
Thus was born the greatest nation ever known to man. And since these momentous words were issued, we’ve grown as a nation, and become a legion of liberated coffee libationists the likes of which the world has never seen. We’re truly a Shining Beacon On A Hill, a marvelous redoubt of individualism and freedom, a bunker of buttressed betterment, a summer house replete with brew bar and cupping table, overlooking a finca of opportunity, with a well-functioning filtration system of checks and balances and a Robur-E of robust discourse. The freedom we brew is sweet indeed, gaining balance and clarity as it cools, pleasing to even the staunchest and paunchiest pundits of judges’ table jurisprudence. Can we just agree that today is a day for liberty, freedom, maybe a nice Chemex to start off the morning, a little afternoon baseball, and some sort of sweetened dessert, emblazoned in frostings of red, white and blue?
No. No we can’t. For unfortunately we do not live in a country of reasonable ideals. We live in a country where partisanship cannot be placed aside for even a day, even a moment, for the duration of one single roman candle or the gentle flutter-down of a solitary paratrooper firework. We live in a country half-populated by liberals, and as you well know, liberals hate America. They are willing and eager to spit on her birthday candles, stomp on her pizza party, over-extract her doppio and poop in her patriotic punch bowl on even this, the most bunting-tastic of our nation’s Happy Days.
Harvard University long ago found that July 4th parades help to form beliefs and increase participation in the Republican Party. Democrats don’t care about the nation’s founding! The founding of this nation was a conservative event, and liberals don’t care! They only parade when their freebies are about to run out! They only parade when they get a sniff of legal weed, or a new war to Doth Protest, because it’s an undeniable truth, my friends – to Republicans in the coffee community, every day is July 4th, our cupping table overfloweth with liberty and freedom and peaberry for all. Meanwhile Democrats, of thee I zing, even those who sip the finest brews alongside you cannot be trusted, not to mention the smarmy professorial types sniveling in their Ovaltines, teas and tisanes. Because to them, every day is April 15th – that is to say, Collection Day.
So my friends, when you prepare to attend this afternoon’s well-earned pomp, circumstance, bomp and brilliance, or this evening when you stand proudly beneath the fly-overs of our patriotic super planes, considering steeping a heaping helping of cold brew to take along with you. And be sure to make enough to share with your fellow Americans, for like the sweetest toddy of Nano Challa, freedom quenches a mighty thirst, and those beaming faces beside you, bursting to the Chemex bump with patriotism and joy, may just be the next member to stand alongside you, and myself, in the Conservative Coffee Movement.
God bless freedom, equality, washed coffees and America! In Brewtbart we trust.