The Literally Fascist Expansion of Kaldi’s Coffee

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Image courtesy of kaldiscoffee.com

I must first and always admit I am a person bothered by the smallest inconveniences, much to the chagrin of strangers around campus, my roommate, and especially the poor souls at the student technology help desk. I am easily flustered, not because I am wholly ignorant to the ongoing tragedies others face, but because I ignore them. I battle the malaise of living in a large, privileged community by frantically raising my small voice to fuss over issues other students might find trivial, mostly because it leads to recognition much in the same way a chimpanzee eating its own feces is recognized.

At least, that’s what I planned to do in a pointless Wheel think piece until Kaldi’s literally killed all of my friends and family.

Perhaps I should have predicted what was to come when Kaldi’s burnt down the Administration Building and used militant barista forces to obliterate all the vocally Anti-Kaldian members of College Council, or when they raised the price of an iced mocha from $4.50 to $4.75. Alas, our violent fall from grace at the hands of Kaldi’s overpriced chai french toasts and their other machinations of war and violence was as a result of our own ignorance.

After a night of lighthearted debauchery, I drunkenly described Kaldi’s expansion as ‘fascist’- a “term” with “maybe” “some political” “connotations.” Little did I know how accurate I was, when moments later I watched the Kaldi’s secret police drag away my friends one by one, just for sympathizing with communist values like being annoyed by the preponderance of coffee shops on campus.

With sweet matcha lattes in hand, I watched Kaldi’s expand from the DUC to the Med School, and from the Med School to Zaya’s, and from Zaya’s outwards, spreading like a wildfire and charring all semblances of freedom and virtue. God rest the souls lost that fateful day, for their pained cries of liberty drowned out by gunfire still haunt my dreams.

 

I have attached a poem I wrote during those formative days:

First they came for the Dunkin Donuts, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Dunkin Donuts fan.

Then they came for the Starbucks, and I did not speak out—
Because I did not like Starbucks.

Then they came for the WoodREC, and I did not speak out—
Because I’m not a chicken tenders guy.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to publish my sensationalist think pieces.

Originally, I intended to write a vapid waste of space or so-called Opinion Editorial, and to try my hand at satire by trivializing deeply nuanced, “politically charged” and “sensational” words like “fascist expansion.” It was my greatest hope that my incoherent ramblings would be splayed across the Wheel webpage and archived forever, giving me permanence in a world where life is fleeting.

Now, huddled in the ruins of the Chem building, I write this last testament to a pre-fascist Kaldi’s world and dream of a time when my worst problem was the oil that collects at the bottom of Kaldi’s muffins.

I can hear the militant baristas approaching, they will find me at any moment. Please fulfill my dying wish: Disseminate this warning to the ends of the earth and share this article on Facebook and Twitter.

Are you confused about the context of this article? Please refer to this Opionion Editorial published by our peers at the Wheel. No copyright infringment intended.
Disclaimer: The Emory Spoke is not intended for readers under the age of 18. Sorry, we’re a little naughty.

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