Dear Starbucks – Re: Trenta

Trenta: (Italian definition) – The number thirty (30).

Trenta: (Starbucks definition) – Thirty-one (31) ounces of legal crack

Dear Genius Boy of Starbucks:

After many hang-ups, call-backs and veiled threats of a restraining order, I was able to ascertain your identity from Pam in the mailroom.  I bribed her with free McDonald’s coffee for one year.  No skin off my nose.  I’ve got connections all over the place, sir.  McDonald’s being in my top five.  Free coffee is my weapon of choice and I’m not afraid to use it.  I’ve got Burger King on my payroll too…making me a DOUBLE threat.  You hear me?  DOUBLE.  That means two.

That being said, I’d like to now point out your ignorance.  It’s right over there.  Peeking out of that new gallon ‘o glutton ya’ll are calling “Trenta”.  I’m also impressed with your choice of beverage names, by the way. You got some Spanish words…some Italian words.  A few American words.  Mighty inclusive of you!

I know in this day and age, it’s all about one-up-man-ship.  But ya’ll have taken it to a whole new level with your homicidal Trenta.  I smell cardiac arrhythmia all over the place.  I’m talkin’ people tipping over on the sidewalk, clutching their chests and soiling themselves all at the same time, screaming, “Starbucks! Why?  Whyyyyy???”

I’ve spoken with several medical professionals and they all concur that the executives of Starbucks (this would include you, Genius Boy) had mothers who smoked crack, dropped acid and drank Mountain Dew during their entire pregnancies.  They’re all probably huddled up in some crack house right now, proudly swapping stories of their highly successful children who stop by every Tuesday at 6 a.m. with 12 cups ‘o joe.  They have no idea that this is hush-slush.  An executive’s worse nightmare is a crack-head with loose lips.

I’m afraid Trenta is ‘New Jack City 2″.  Smashed Trenta cups layin up in the gutters, fallin outta baby strollers.  Of course, you were probably too scared to go see the first New Jack City, weren’t you?  Afraid your mama mighta been there?  I don’t even care if I’m ghetto.  Ghetto is fabulous.  Ghetto speaks the truth.  Ghetto ain’t scared to come up in your store with their 85 year old Auntie Martha who can’t walk no more because her kidneys bleed like stuck pigs.  Her doctor say there ain’t a damn thing he can do ‘cept keep her comfortable.  Seems all this kidney business is a direct result of all ya’ll stupid people selling my Auntie your witch brew for 15 years.  Done went and rotted her from the inside out.  Maybe I’ll bring her up there to YOUR office and let her sit with you all day so you can see, smell, hear and taste what you’re doing to this country and it’s peoples.

Now you got my blood pressure boilin’. I ain’t even got nothin’ else to say to you.  Okay-kay?  Not a thing.  ‘Cept you can’t count.  31 ain’t 30, you female dawg.


You Better Sleep With One Eye Busted Wide Open

Cc: Pam in the mailroom.  Hey, girl!  Good lookin’ out, yo!

Cccc:  All your crackhead mamas. Oh yes I did!


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