Wednesday, June 29, 2005
He not busy being born
is a-busy dying ... for some
Colombia Nariño Supremo!
The Grande, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.
Is anyone else as torn as I am over Bob Dylan's decision to release his latest album of 40-year-old recordings exclusively through Starbucks for 18 months? I mean, I'd like to get it so I too can sigh wistfully about the days before he sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk's drunken uncle, but on the other hand, I usually only go into Starbucks if I'm, say, bleeding from my carotid artery and need someone to call an ambulance, and even then only if I can't find a Dunkin' Donuts.
The main reason I avoid Starbucks is the cost of the coffee, which tends to defy my weekly beverage budget of whatever change I can separate from the sticky film at the bottom of my car's cupholder. But I know I don't have to also mention the weird sizes ("Venti," "Vidi" and "Vicci"), the inexorable process of making the coffee that seems to mirror scientists' efforts at cold fusion, and the fact that its employees have been dubbed with the improbably highbrow moniker "barristas," when in actually they're just people who can't work in Wal-Mart for fear of getting wedgies from the guys in the garden department.
I guess I'll have to just suck it up and go in, for Bob's sake. But I'm just buying the CD. If I try to walk out of there with a Grande Arabian Mocha Sanani, please, somebody stop me.