This ain’t the first time I’ve made such observations, but it is a regular source of amusement, and I like to write about amusements.
I’m sitting in the midst of what is likely a crowd of SNP and Labour voters, sipping artisan coffee in the back corner of an artisan café. Hipster logo and fonted window? Check. Price surpassing size like a Croatian World Cup? Check. Black and white photos of an urban landscape, specialty coffee machinery, employees in black tights that could be worn for a ballet at Redeemer? Check.
This coffee is well-sourced, well-brewed, and well-drank, sipped by many a dainty socialist hand.
And the irony, as always, tastes better than the brew. This coffee shop does not reside in the shadows of an elegant city center because of socialism. There aren’t funds to purchase over-priced lattes and dainty hands to hold them in a socialist paradise unless those funds and hands belong to the Parasite Princes leeching fortunes from the duped masses.
This artisan decadence exists because of capitalism. It is a pleasure to be sipped by laborers and academics alike in a world of capitalism.
And that’s because, while socialism uses, capitalism produces.