Skip to main content

Callus Coffee, a pre-review

Don't tell the bros of Callus Coffee, Seattle's newest coffee pop-up shop, that 2017 may be a little too late to get in on the trend of infilling America's urban cores with third-wave coffee bars bearing unfortunate, esoteric names. 2017 is a year of political upheaval, a year when the wheels of #resistance are turning, resolutely focused on forestalling #Trumpocalypse by galvanizing the American left in a united front the likes of which we haven't seen in generations.

It's time to retrench, for us all to focus on our essential values and ensure that our democratic institutions have the fortitude to provide for a viable future. This requires constructive anger. Apathy is not acceptable -- if you aren't angry, you aren't alive. It's difficult to maintain one's righteous fury when sampling the single-origin pour over offerings and mulling the purchase of artisanal coffee mugs at a new coffee bar in a former industrial district, all the while dicking around on your nearly $1,000 smartphone.

Moreover, places like this give Coastlandia a bad name, depicting coastal elites as overeducated, over-moneyed dickheads who care less about reducing socio-economic inequality and more about finding the most expressive light roasts money can buy.

"Oh no, Salinger is stuck in the reclaimed glass cabinet again!" Photo credit to the Callus Facebook feed.

Perhaps its the maximalism of Callus' embrace of the tired tropes of gentrification that rankle. Why does the wood on the main coffee bar appear to be synthetically distressed like a pair of shitty, Russ Hanneman jeans? Why is so much expensive real estate taken up by ancient, non-functional coffee machines? And what's the deal with the American flags hung both inside and out? Is patriotism an ironic commodity in 2017?

No, just no. Seattle has enough coffee shops, coffee roasters, and mobile coffee platforms. We don't need this place. But I'll probably still check it out.

Popular posts from this blog

What did the new #iOS and/or #iTunes do to my album art work?

I love iOS7. I love its flat UI and attendant absence of gradients, especially noticeable in the much-improved appearance of the core app icons (haters gonna hate) and those of third-party apps that were updated by developers keen on keeping with the new aesthetic. I love the fastidious little gesture now required to close an app, the indulgent thumb flick that makes me feel like an Ottoman sultan dismissing some minor nobel to deal with his own affairs. I love the little navigation back button, the bold title bars now featured in most apps, and the endlessly useful Command Center. Above all, I love that iOS7 persuasively evinces the commitment of Apple to creating and curating a mobile operating system experience that is as elegant as it is functional.

But there is one thing I hate: I *hate* what is has done to album art in the Music App. What has it done, you ask, that it is deserving of my ire? Here, here is what it has done:

That man is the one, the only Peter Gabriel (you can tell …

A break in the grove, a disused water fountain

On the irreparable relationship between cyclists and railroad tracks.