A wise philosopher once said that the unexamined life is not worth living.
I have my doubts.
But what about coffee? Would life without coffee be worth living?
To that question I bellow a loud and resounding "No, Nein, and Nyet!"
Sure, I understand that the stuff is addictive over time and contains caffeine.
Why do you think I drink it?
Friends and associates have told me that when they stopped consuming coffee they got booming migraines for a few days afterwards.
I could only shake my head in pity and give them a consoling pat on the back, while I thought to myself:
"What a bunch of quitters."
My first coffee of the day starts at my humble casa, where I amble out of bed with the rising sun, a little "me" time before the regimen of the day begins.
The fix comes as espresso, so I pack the metal filter tightly with ground beans and fire it up with some water until moments later it steams out a shade blacker than abyss, darker than the bubbling crude Jed discovers at the beginning of the Beverly Hillbillies.
(Oil that is, black gold, Texas tea).
A few sips of the fresh elixir and I am transformed from zombie-movie extra to Errol Flynn, the dashing, handsome, man-about-town, ready to conquer conquistadors (alliteration bonus).
I try to keep it down to two cups a day, and sometimes, I have to ask myself:
Why limit coffee intake?
Why not end up like The Beaver in that one episode when Whitey dared him to climb the billboard to find out if the giant steaming cup of coffee had real coffee in it?
(Turns out it didn't - It was just a contraption that made steam pour out of it to look like a giant cup of joe and Beaver had to be rescued by firemen and his father was very disappointed in him).
But, hey - everyday could be that giant cup of bliss.