Most republicans love coffee, or at least the idea of it. Coffee fits into that 1940’s image of the hard working American sitting down to breakfast with the family and, of course, a hot cup of joe. That’s why we call it joe. It stands for Joe six-pack, the average joe, and of course Joe the Plumber.
A great conversation starter with any republican is to talk about how you’re sick of this gosh dern fancy schmancy coffee that every place seems to be selling. Why can’t you just get a plain ol’ cup of coffee that doesn’t cost $4.50 and have a bunch of sissy whip cream on top? Talk about how you could make the same thing at your place with cool whip and Folgers.
Places like Starbucks are known hang-abouts for liberals who are probably writing their atheist manifestos on their stupid laptops. As a side point talk about how you’ve never cared for tea, especially the Asian ones like oolong and green tea (popular beverages in Red China).
Coffee has always come from foreign countries, but for god’s sake don’t advertise it. Coffee comes from awful places like Columbia, the Middle East, and the most genocide-ridden parts of Africa. Why would you want to let your customers know that your product comes from a place like South America (try referring to it as the other America)?
Be careful though, you may eventually here that tricky question, “have you tried it?” However, if you’re prepared this can be a very fruitful opportunity. The best way to explain your venture to these borderline homosexual bathhouses is that your received a gift card. This can be from your liberal child, confused coworker, or you found it in the pew at your Protestant church.
Practice filling your voice with righteous right-wing contempt and begin your tale. Describe the Orwellian chrome and streamlined bar and display case full of scones. Scones just sound so French. You went up to the counter and talked to the hippy “barista” and asked for a plain ol’ cup of joe, but then she asked you, “what blend would you like?” What blend? The coffee blend. The regular stuff. She finally got you to get some “Rwandan” coffee. You can share a chuckle with your friend about where Rwanda even is and whether they have welfare and too many taxes there too.
You finally had to choose your size and you ask for a large. “Grande or venti?” she asked. Spanish? Italian? I thought this was America. Your righteous indignation should swell dramatically here.
Your new republican friend should almost want to hug you now (in a non-gay way) because of how much he agrees with you. He’ll finally ask you, “well, how was it?” This can be answered with a simple shrug or for the more dramatic, “it tasted like shit.”