No More Fika for Johan
The other day my life was rudely interrupted. You see, I keep in a nice plastic jar—very transparent—my Sumatra coffee that I prepare every morning. But an almost unspeakable act of invasion had occurred overnight, or at least past my bedtime. The dark, beautiful ground coffee that I like to look at had been transformed into a brownish mixture of ground beans. As I held up the see-through jar to confirm, I observed there were a few dark layers, as in a marble cake, but mostly my Sumatra had been mixed with a coffee I had not bought.
So what is a man of action to do? I thought about pouring out the coffee to salvage the bottom layer that I knew was all Sumatra. But even a morning person does not want to do this immediately after getting out of bed and before having put on one’s glasses. I tried to spoon down to the dark, rich coffee blend and circumvent the brown grounds, but they fell upon my spoon as I pulled up towards the surface of the jar so that I had no choice but to fill the coffee maker basket with the strange new coffee mixture.
And the taste of the brew! I nearly spit it out! I could see the sand move around in my big coffee mug, and drinking the coffee left an aftertaste in my mouth. The coffee also kept on giving me a gift during the morning that no amount of water could dilute.
It wasn’t until my wife and I had time to speak later that night that I found out what horrible substance had made its way into my coffee jar and mug. My wife had picked up Gevalia, buy one get one free, at Target.
Civil, having had my exercise for the day and no longer tasting what only prisoners should taste, I told my wife in a very calm and polite voice that I hated Gevalia. I told her how I hated the English name of the coffee, and how it sounded made up by a marketing team, much like Häagen-Dazs was. Of course I know the coffee was named after Gävle, a city in Sweden, but after drinking the coffee I can only assign the very-similar-sounding adjective “djävla” as an appropriate companion to describe the brew.
I also asked my wife if she didn’t remember the ads that offered coffee subscriptions and, as I found out from visiting a friend’s house, tiny “free” coffee makers if you became a member who would actually drink this stuff more than once. As I remember it, Gevalia coffee was something that pseudo-intellectuals drank in the United States. And, in Sweden, I hope, prisoners had to swallow it daily if they were sentenced to “life.”
My wife mentioned, you guessed it, that incredibly stupid, silly commercial with some guy named Johan who likes to fika. Had I seen it? Unfortunately, yes. Twice almost.
While I admit to being amused and to keeping my eyeballs to the TV set where more than one attractive woman wearing a bikini has eaten fast food and the sauce or other condiments drip onto parts selling sexual intercourse, I would never buy any of that fast food. The taste of the television offering just doesn’t translate to my taste buds. Similarly, I wonder why anyone would buy Gevalia coffee after seeing a silly-looking guy with long, blond hair, wearing some kind of “fashionable” suit, telling viewers in a fake Swedish-American accent that his name is Johan and he likes to “fika.” What a terrible caricature of a Swedish male, so terrible it is not even funny. And the lowest common denominator in the world of word play. If women find Johan sexy, I worry about the continuation of the human species.
No, no more fika for Johan. We need to start a campaign to replace Johan. He needs to be replaced with someone who is authentically Swedish; I just learned Johan is an American. I also need input to what man should be chosen to advertise Gevalia. Or maybe a woman?
It is sad that Gevalia is being advertised. But then, poisons to kill animals and weeds, and foods containing little or no nutritional value are pitched across all media.
In closing, may I ask all Gevalia lovers to take a look at what the coffee grounds of their favorite brand looks like after they have brewed a pot? Oops, I have to stop writing now, my favorite Dachshund, Ilsa, just took a huge dump on the carpet.
1 comments:
Sophia Churchill | March 11, 2016 I want to give kudos and great thanks to the AMEIR MILLER LOAN ORGANIZATION by saying Thanks to them for their kindness and generosity to many out there in
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MY STORY .
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SuperSwede
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