A Visit to Keurig Kulture Kamp

As I write this, it is 2 a.m. I am in cell number 2433 in Keurig Kulture Kamp number 7, which I believe is located somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Tomorrow will be my 30th and final day here: Judgment Day. I either will be released and returned home to resume my life — now properly educated — or I will, at least if the rumors are correct, become part of a massive compost heap that is used to power this facility. The guards remind us of this possibility when they sing, “If you don’t SEE the light / You will BE the light.”

It all began 29 days ago. I had just brewed a second cup of coffee with my new Keurig machine. I snapped the plastic lid onto my travel mug and headed off to work. As I walked out the side door toward my car in the driveway, I noticed a black van idling in the street, blocking the end of my driveway. Suddenly two burly men dressed all in black leaped from the bushes and seized me. They had ski masks covering their faces and sub-machine guns slung over their shoulders. I was so surprised I did not struggle, except when my coffee mug fell to the ground, spilling all my coffee. That got me upset. Do you know how much those K-cups cost?

A third man, dressed similarly, stepped forward and snapped a sack over my head. Then the three of them hustled me down the driveway and pushed my into the side door of the van, which squealed away even before the door was completely shut.

When I demanded to know what was going on, they told me I was being taken to a Keurig Kulture Kamp. That brightened my mood (the sub-machine guns notwithstanding) because ever since I had purchased my new Keurig coffee machine I had embraced the convenience of coffee on demand. I hadn’t realized there was an entire culture built around these fancy coffee makers, but I looked forward to joining in. Also, after spilling my mug, they owed me a fresh cup.

Well, I could not have been more wrong. The only culture relating to Keurig at the camp was the idea that Keurig machines are the worst things ever: evil devices that surely will destroy the earth’s entire ecosystem. During our daily indoctrination, er, I mean, educational sessions, we were given the grim statistics about Keurig machines: all the wasteful plastic and foil and packaging. We were told that if each of the 9.8 billion non-recyclable K-cups used in 2014 were placed side by side, they would circle the earth 12 times. To reinforce the classroom lessons, we ended each day by sticking our thumb in a Keurig machine where the K-cup normally goes, and then a guard would slam the lever down. I must say, my desire to brew coffee in a Keurig machine has been noticeably reduced, while my desire to suck my thumb has been noticeably increased.

We were blessed last week to be visited by Professor Al Gore himself. The all-knowing Goracle flew in on his private jet, and then lectured us for almost 15 minutes about the importance of having a small carbon footprint. He then flew to Switzerland to have dinner with a friend.

I am scribbling this letter to my wife just in case I am not allowed to leave here tomorrow. If I do come home tomorrow, honey, please hide the Keurig machine in the closet, at least until the black van drives away. But if I don’t come home, feel free to brew a K-cup and drink a coffee toast to me.