It used to invoke emotions that were not as savage as twerking, but had its place in every American home at one time.
I am talking about the coffee pot. A type that perks. With a little glass dome on the top that you can see the coffee erupt into and then drop and then cycle again.
I have no beef with Joe DiMaggio and Mr. Coffee and all its descendants, but one day about two months ago I pulled out a small campfire coffee pot that you have to put on the stove and fired the gas and let her perk.
It was music to my ears and smell porn to my nostrils. I was in bed and in love.
Then I tasted the love.
It was everything I remembered.
I am a perk addict.
Naturally, to feed my addiction I wanted ever more. My little perk coffee pot was good for one cup, so I set off on a mission to find a bigger pot.
This kind of pot is not easy to find.
Impossible, in fact.
I went to all the big box stores and Ace Warehouse and Dick’s Sporting Goods and could not find a perking coffee pot. I even went to Good Will and the Salvation Army, and no such machine.
So I turned to Amazon, and found it.
I am ordering it tonight.
I paused long enough to notice that there are 302 answered questions about it and over 3000 reviews. Of a coffee pot, a simple coffee pot. You put cold water in, put the grounds in a steel basket, cover, and put on a flame — and 302 people have questions.
We have come a long way.
Meanwhile, I will ponder the 302 questions and sip my coffee and maybe post a review.
Of a coffee pot.