A Hot Cup of Culture

Starbucks is a cultural phenomenon, especially here in the South, the Mecca of culture. The southern man owes much to Starbucks. It is the power of a cup. Without ever attending an opera, or an art gallery, or actually reading a book the southern man can proudly raise his Starbucks cup, the one with the trendy temperature sleeve, and suddenly the good ole boy is cultured. That cup of coffee imported from Seattle, described only in Italian, is nothing but a hot cup of culture. The cup can make a man wearing a Dale Earnhardt jacket suddenly look executive. Early in the morning, on his way to the lake, the southern man no longer swings by Hardee’s for a 99 cent biscuit; he now goes to Starbucks for a three dollar cup of coffee. And there, on a secluded lake, he sits in his bass boat with a hot cup of culture. In thirty-four years I had never tasted coffee, and so until recently I was still an opera credit away from being cultured. As cool as Starbucks people appeared, I could not break