Tag Archives: direct trade

OverZellous: On Intelligentsia’s Bubbling Vac-Pot Of Righteous Leftism

6 Feb

From the Desk of Andrew Brewtbart, Esquire, LLC

My friends, I write to you today perched upon a precipice of perspicacity undoubtedly unrivaled in the field of Specialty Coffee. I may have “peers”, but I’m most assuredly without peer in this community. I know that you and ONLY you, oh loyal readers, can fully grasp the caffeinated cufflessness with which I offer my unfiltered opinions. Others may drip, drip, drip their bilious bile unto the bloated blogosphere, but only I, Andrew Brewtbart, am engaged in the perilously salacious slaying of latte laymen, using 30 grams of editorial wherewithal…on loan from God.

As the leading voice in the conservative coffee movement, I know that God resides not only in the heavens, but also in our hearts, our minds, and most importantly, our cups. Oh, I know that some of you Godless third-wavers will start tut-tutting your tutelage and fluffing your peacockles at the mere mention of any relevant reverence for a higher coffee power. But be forewarned, ye heathens; your atheistic aesthetic amounts to an atonal acidocis acetate, a carb-free carbon coffee copy of truth and light and REAL knowledge. It takes a truly forgiven man, a man like myself, to cast the first stone and expose your truly idolatrous idioms.

And so, dear readers, cast stones I shall. You worship false idols! You who read blogs, who write comments, you have bowed forsooth before the pall of a golden calf! For there is a pretender, a great Satan, a false idol in your midst. He makes ludicrous claims. He tells you that he and he alone has died and risen for your freeze-dried macroroasted sins. He may claim “not to want to boast”, he may claim to be righting wrongs or “setting the record straight”, but he is a snake oil salesman, a back roads huckster, and a serpent charmer most egregious. He is the David Koresh of cappuccino, the Jim Jones of java, and a blaspheme of the highest order! His words amount to nothing more than verbal Kopi Luwak of the poorest grade; at best they should be left to rot like feces on the forest floor!

This false prophet is none other than Doug Zell, coffee titan, common Chicago gangster, and kingpin of Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea. His magic is not real; you should not believe in him. He may very well be a Communist, or at the very least a Communist sympathizer. His recent chest-puffed blog boasts expose his true nature: Doug Zell is the fifth column of the third wave, and he ought to be blacklisted like so much french roast!

He claims to have invented the Latte Art Throwdown. Poppycock! Balderdash!

He claims to have pioneered Direct Trade practices. Lies! Obfuscation!

The Latte Art Throwdown was invented by me, Andrew Brewtbart, alongside Alodocious Slade and a like-minded consortium of coffee cohorts, at a meeting of the John Birch Society (Marietta, Georgia chapter) in December of 1980. “The Empire Strikes Back” had just been released, Jimmy Carter’s pathetic administration lay in ruins, and together we poured American flag rosettas and toasted the inevitable collapse of International Socialism. Alodocious won $15 from Jim-Bob Thornton, “Boll Weevil” Branson, Mr. John Snerdly and myself. Upon being declared the victor, Allodocious engaged in braggadocios bravado without brevity, clucking and strutting his bragging rights for the duration of both glorious Reagan terms, thus setting the tone for all future barista competitions.

“Direct Trade” practices were also invented by me, Andrew Brewtbart, during covert ops infiltration of the Sandinista National Liberation Front in Nicaragua, 1979. I can’t tell you whom I was working for, dear readers, or how handsomely I was compensated by the American taxpayer… but I can tell you that, as the Somoza regime lay in ruins and the FSLN threatened to bring Kremlin realpolitik to the Western Hemisphere, Andrew Brewtbart was on the ground protecting your freedoms and liberties, and all the while striking up equitable green buying practices with eager Finca farmers. Much of this history is still classified, and I’ve long since made a habit of ignoring the subpoenas piling up outside my palatial South Florida estate, but suffice it to say, I was there first and not Doug Zell.

As for his other boasts, regarding seasonality and micro-lots, I’m scarcely able to muster the breath and breadth to delve into Mr. Zell’s interminable jabberwock. It goes without saying that I, Andrew Brewtbart, invented the concept of the micro-lot. The year was 1988. I was stationed deep in FARK guerrilla territory in the coca soaked hinterlands of Colombia. There I was approached, at threat of bayonet, by a socialist Finca revolucionaire who answered to only the name “El Jordan”. Unwilling to give up my coordinates, I was very nearly tortured to within an inch of my life, until I remembered the Visa card nestled in the back pocket of my Tommy Bahamas. God bless Capitalism! I purchased a “micro-lot” of his truly primo stuff, escaped with my whims and fathoms intact, and returned home through Miami International Airport with a smuggler’s doubloon ransom of high quality beans. Mr. Zell’s contradictory claims on this matter amount to a mere micro-lot of mumbo jumbo.

And regarding seasonality, I cannot for the life of me comprehend a more myopic misanthropic misuse of coffee cache than an insistence on imposing dates and deadlines from above. This is not your Soviet, Mr. Zell, and you are no First Secretary. Coffee does not ascribe to the rules of man, be he Doug Zell or Karl Marx; coffee lives only by the rules of God, by which I mean the rules of free market Capitalism. Not a day goes by where I don’t indulge my senses in a pour over of Guatemala Antigua;  I may deign to pair that with Jamaica Blue Mountain, or something purchased from the Aceh rebellion in Northern Sumatra. Who are you to impede my overflowing pocketbook? I earned that money defending your freedom, Mr. Zell, in the Contra-infested jungles of Latin America. This is not your Eastern Bloc; you cannot build a Berlin Wall of seasonal oppression to keep me from my crema hedonism! I’ll buy what I want when I want it, Sir, and you just try and stop me. I’ve got the most informed readership in the free world, and they won’t stand idly by while you propagandize and grandstand from your wooly bully pulpit.

In closing…I know a thing or two about big egos. I’ve gone toe to toe with South American dictators, shouted down the women’s libbers, and contradicted  leftists of every stripe and epaulette. But dear readers, I’ve been utterly goaded here before you today by the unmitigated gall of Comrade Zell and his Intelligentsia intelligentsia. Coffee is global; innovation happens at a moment’s notice. This is a movement, and at the risk of sounding counter-cultural, “We’re all a part of it, man”. To tie significant advances in coffee culture to a single man, a single company, a single historical narrative…well, it reeks of a personality cult best left to Lyndon Larouche or Joseph Stalin. Let’s leave this empty empire building to the 20th Century, where it belongs, and move forward with egalitarian entrepreneurial elan. You don’t need to indoctrinate the masses, Mr. Zell. Your empire is absolute and you answer to no one. L’estat c’est Intelligentsia.

Mr. Zell, you have your millions, you have your fame, you have your empire…but have you no humility? Have you no shame?