Andrew Brewtbart–the famously reclusive leading figure in the conservative coffee movement and an early regular contributor–returns with his annual Fourth of July supplement for Sprudge.com. The appearance of this content is contractually obligated, a per a poorly considered agreement we executed with Brewtbart in early 2010.
As per his contract, we are unfortunately required to run exclusive Brewtbart Advertising within this piece. We do not work with Brewtbart affiliates directly, nor do we recommend their products or services. The views of Mr. Brewtbart do not reflect those of Sprudge.com’s staff or its editors.
It’s I, El Brewtbarto, writing in to you again with another characteristically critical missive. From behind a messy desk and with a loaded, brilliant mind, I step away from my beloved daily activities—collecting generous royalty checks, carefully monitoring an ad placement in Soldier of Fortune, and curating my Certified Home Espresso lab–to write this contractually obligated annual advertorial for Sprudge.com. The publication’s founding editors, to the degree that they’re still involved in day-to-day decisions, have agreed to grant me carte blanche with this year’s treatise, and my Cayman Islands offshore account has already confirmed pre-payment for journalistic services. With the necessary prerequisites in place, I’m prepared to deliver you a critical overview of this publication the likes of which is now long since overdue. Bear with me as I reach down from on high, with talents on loan from God, in beseeching my readers to consider their independence this 4th of July when choosing to support this web log.
I have no statesmanly compassion for Sprudge this year, dear readers. Their weekly content schedule will do more harm to this publication than any kind words could redeem.
A daily pastiche of pro-coffee, pro-barista, pro-homosexual lacunae from an editorial team of known degenerates, queers, former leftists, and partial Canadians: could any publication be less American? In the yawning absence of curatorial heft, and with a blank refusal to engage on key issues (hipsters in coffee, top 10 lists, etc), Sprudge has established itself as simultaneously niche and out of touch. Gone are the days of Sprudge.com’s AmeriCentric purview, the likes of which they once so proudly purportedly peddled. In its place is a rangy blend of content from Europe (socialists), Australia (haughty socialists), and even Asia, to whom Sprudge has openly catered by publishing in other languages.
The gall this website displays with its liberal globalism is egregious. The burgeoning scene in my own beloved Boca Raton is given short shift in favor of cafes in Calgary (socialist), London (champagne socialist), and Istanbul, a city so unAmerican as to be both Asian and European at the same time. This may be your Sprudge, friends, but it is not mine.
We hold these truths to be self-evident this July 4th: Hot days and cold brew(s); red white and blue desserts; a generous potion of holiday brisket, or perhaps even a hot dog, if that’s to your liking; and the right to a frankly American coffee website, produced by Americans, for Americans, covering only the doings and comings of Americans. Sprudge used to be a playpen for the American coffee elite, but these days, it’s like some kind of mock United Nations drill, a Cold War theatre verite of Poles, Greeks, Germans, and even the French! They sometimes allow members of their foreign-born writing corps to spell “color” with a “u.” For shame.
But somehow it hasn’t been all bad. Some features have evidenced rare moments of humanity–and sobriety–from Your Sprudge Editors, including this feature on the great American Erna Knutsen, the pleasure of whose company I was twice denied at two non-consecutive Yale Homecoming events, and this feature on some honest to God American coffee acquisitional prowess, a blessed respite amidst 2014’s drowsy Agamemnon chorus of California small ball. Sadly, there are far more clips from Melbourne and Paris to flatly ignore (as I encourage all American Sprudge readers to do going forward) than there are features to venerate.
But it’s worth mentioning, grasping as I am to find a positive note, that this year’s edition of the Sprudgie Awards–traditionally an editorial side-show in search of a late night public access channel–was surprisingly light on self-promotion and undue influence. It’s likely the bar tab that night was allocated by some sort of outside financial controller; the true ownership and financial stead of this publication remains murky at best.
And so a question takes hold, dear readers, and I’ll pose it forthwith: Taken in situ, do these bumbling accomplishments amount to proof that the rowdy days are behind Coffee’s Web Log of Record? Are there tame nights ahead, the specter of a transcontinental flight ever-present, clouding the minds and dousing the ya-ya’s of these once-high-living hashtag journalists and their motley crew of apparatchiks? Could a grand American middle-aged laming be looming for Sprudge?
As its founders limp towards 30, I say, “Not soon enough.”
The Shot with Andrew Brewtbart is still available online, at the forefront of the conservative coffee movement. He writes to us from his headquarters in Boca Raton, Florida. Read more Andrew Brewtbart on Sprudge.