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 4x4 truck.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OCWeekly, P.O. Box 10788, Costa Mesa, CA 92627-0247, or e-mail us at email@example.com.