On Why The Goat Danced

I just want to touch briefly and pay my homage to that wonderful bean, without which very little would get done in this world.

At least not early in the morning.

Between the building both inside and outside the perimeter fence there are probably a minimum of fifty coffee pots here in Raccoon City. Very few places you can go into and not get a cup of coffee at almost any time of day or night.

If I could corner the coffee market here I'd be rich. There's a handful of people who don't drink it, but a snapload of them who do.

Notice I made up a new word there. Snapload. I'm hoping it will catch on.

Even the inmates, or should I say especially the inmates are crazy about their coffee. The stuff they get in the chow hall at breakfast is weak and tepid, usually. It's barely even brown water. And all they are allowed out on the hill is instant, which they heat up in the microwaves.

I have seen inmates do some amazing, startling and sometimes disgusting things for a "shot" of coffee, which is about enough to make two cups. Won't go into a lot of details there. I'll let you just imagine.

But like I said the other day, we caught some little wobblehead spitting out his psych meds to sell for coffee. I've seen that happen more than once.

Of course why you would want even good drugs if they had already been in someone else's mouth is beyond my comprehension.

Yuck.

But I digress. I always bring in enough grounds to make two pots of coffee every day. I don't always drink that much but it's been known to happen. Especially if I have help. Tonight I sat in my office and drank the better part of a pot by myself, just because no one else showed up who wanted any.

That was fine with me.

In my younger years I could drink the stuff right up until I went to bed. It was nothing to brew up a pot after dinner, empty it out and set it up again for the morning. Nowadays I have to moderate myself and stop drinking it around 8:00pm if I want to get any sleep at all.

Getting old sucks, just in case you were wondering.

But it does beat the alternative.

Anyway, I just wanted to say a belated thank you to Kaldi the goat herder back in the ninth century who supposedly discovered the stuff. The story is probably a bunch of snapwash, but I like the idea of it.

Another new word there. Whoo hoo!

Three cheers for coffee!

While I'm here, I might as well give you the celebrations for tomorrow, eh?
Monday is going to be Make Up Your Own Holiday Day and Spinach Festival Day over in Chester, Illinois.

And when you get to make up your own holiday, what else do you need?

Go crazy with it!