The Nation: making useless men uselesser since 2009.
The Summit: Where small men talk big and loud in order to compensate for their inadequacies.
The Supreme Bean Nation: Why settle for efficiency when you can upgrade to deficiency?
Coffee Nation: Where a disturbed nerd can be… well, a disturbed nerd.
Work is the curse; we are the cure– Coffee Nation.
Productivity– it’s not for everyone. Join the Nation.
When jobs are outlawed, only outlaws will have jobs. Why wait? Join the Nation of the Bean.
Our purpose is purposelessness. CSN.
Bold like the beans we roast. CSN.
W-O-R-K, the original four letter word. CSN.
These slogans are intentionally mediocre since we only have room for six guys at the Summit table, the rectangular Round Table of Perfidy. However, since Gene was kidnapped by his prospective bride in January and is presumably being held in suspended animation until the nuptials are benubious, and because Pastor Kyle is moving to Detroit (Detroit!!), there are two semi-permanent seats open at the coveted coffee table of peerlessness. Should you pass the stringent interview process, here is what to expect.
Growaset! this was Steve’s word for the day. He likes to throw his chest out and seek pain like a peacock in mating season. If you shy away from being tazed or hit by lightning (two lifelong desires of his that could also end his life), Steve barks, “Oh Growaset!” No one takes him all that seriously despite his position of sergeant at arms, legs and elbows of the Nation table.
“Do you need a pair?”
“A pair of Percoset?”
“Isn’t that a grass fertilizer? Controls crabgrass I think.”
“Grabass? Who said that? Don’t touch me.”
“Stop! In the name of Love, before I break a fart.”
“Doug, this is a No Hand Dancing Zone. Stop it now.”
“Rob, what’s new with you?”
“I started riding my bike.”
“The unicycle, tricycle, your Big Wheel…”
“Uh, bicycle, please. Trying to get into shape. You know bikini season is coming up.”
“Please, the image of you in a bikini on a ten speed is truly disturbing. My gag reflex is going off. Ahhgggh ahhhgggh.”
“Medic! Medic. I need a tankini and a martini at table one. Stat!”
“No, you need a mental image eraser like Men in Black, the thingy jigger mind cleaner.”
“Oh yeah. Without it I would have to gouge out my eyes.”
“Both of them?”
“Yeah, Rob. You can’t unsee that pale white bikini flasher biker dude skin.”
“Switch. Oh, look who’s here.”
“Well, DJ himself. Farfugnoodle to you.”
“Farfugnoodle to you too.” Handshakes all around except for the Supreme Imam who insists on hand sanitizer.
“So how many Republican candidates does it take to change a light bulb?”
“Apparently a dozen. One to hold the bulb and eleven to kill each other off in the primaries. Did you see Carly Fiorina jumped in?”
“Well H. my P!”
“No abbreviations are permitted at the Summit Nation, thou perfidious knight.”
“How about Trump? Did he toss his toupee into the ring yet?”
“Only to say he’s going to interview vice presidential candidates on the Apprentice, Wednesday nights at 8 eastern.”
“Oh my gosh, what about the other fight. Mayweather and Paquiao?”
“I heard it was a sleeper. Glad I didn’t spend $100 to watch it.”
“Scamacious if you ask me.”
“And deflategate may cost Brady a game suspension. Maybe the Steelers will win that opening day game.”
“Isn’t that ironic, the first game for Brady after the Super Bowl and he’s suspended? Talk about integrity.”
“Yeah, next time he should snort coke and leave the footballs alone. Protect the integrity of the game.”
“He needs to grow a set!”
“Sir Lancelate has been recognized at the rectangular round table.”
“Yes, thank you. As you already know, I am a template of fine haberdashery and…”
“Shut up and get to your point!”
“You ever notice how a lot of inventions are the result of warfare? Airplanes, canned food, radar, nuclear power. Leonardo Da Vinci had these elaborate drawings of submarines and flying machines.”
“Yeah. Did you know that the Leaning Tower of Pisa was originally a cannon barrel?”
“Oh yeah, only the turret had not been invented yet so it could only shell the same neighborhood in Lombardy.”
“That’s ridiculous blasphemy and very funny.” (Kyle)
“I know. Only later was it opened for tourists after a spiral staircase was inserted. You should think about that in Detroit, Kyle. You know, tow an old barge onto your church grounds and charge admission to the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. It’s a sure money maker.”
“That’s a bit tawdry.”
“Oh, now you’re gonna have standards.”
“Okay, change of topic– child actor burnouts for 50, Alex.”
“Macauley Culkin. Hall of Fame. Definitely.”
“The Olsen twins.”
“That’s not his real name. It’s Neil Patrick Harris.”
“He seems to have turned out well. He’s selling Heineken and not riding his ten speed in a Speedo.”
“Unfair!! That category was explored and discarded, Alex. Unless it’s the Daily Double we’re going to have to move on.”
“Good bye Jodi Foster, Opey, Leonardo De Caprio.”
“They aren’t burnouts.”
“Steve, three Growasets and you are out, okay? It’s a rule on Jeopardy.”
“What are you gonna do if I say it again? Taze me?”
“No, you’d like that. I’ll call Alexandra Steele and tell her you are married.”
Lance, “Gentlemen, please. A bit of poetry to soothe your torrid bestial minds.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.”
All, “Well done. Do you do funerals and grocery store openings?”
Steve, “I have one…
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.”
“That was just thoooper with all the thee’s and thou’s. Thoooper.”
Rob? “Okay, Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I’m a schizophrenic,
And so am I.”
“Nice modern twist to that, Rob. Super.”
“Ahem, One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight,
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other,
One was blind and the other couldn’t, see
So they chose a dummy for a referee.
A blind man went to see fair play,
A dumb man went to shout “hooray!”
A paralysed donkey passing by,
Kicked the blind man in the eye,
Knocked him through a nine inch wall,
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all,
A deaf policeman heard the noise,
And came to arrest the two dead boys,
If you don’t believe this story’s true,
Ask the blind man he saw it too! Amen.”
“And you, Coffee Sultan. Have you a rhyme for us?”
“Certainly: Here’s to you and here’s to me.
May we never disagree
If we do,
Here’s to me.”
“Lovely, lovely. We will serve no yogurt before it’s time.”
“Culture… my people, culture.”
“That’s bacteria, man.”
No, that’s coffee nation.