Illustration by Bob AulThis morning, I went to my favorite little caf to get a bagel and coffee. As I was paying, you, the guy behind me, ordered in a loud, shrill voice, “A large FREEDOM Roast, please.” You stared at me disapprovingly, though I had no idea why. I naively looked up at the menu expecting to find Freedom Roast and a little “Support the Troops” logo or something. I couldn't find anything. I remained slightly confused until I finally looked at the flavors of coffee behind the counter and realized that I had ordered French Roast, as I always do. As my small reserve of faith in the basic intellectual capacity of bipeds quickly dissipated, I looked back to see if you were serious. You were. I received your somewhat Paleolithic stare, and then, as if it weren't perfect enough already, you took your coffee, left—and climbed into your monster 4×4 truck.
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