Your mug is bad and you should feel bad
There are few things in life more irritating than a glass coffee mug. Well, maybe people who wear Caucasian-flesh colored ice skates who think they’re somehow fooling everyone into believing that instead of a foot, they have some sort of Ken doll nub with a razor-sharp blade popping out. Or maybe even those rare, emotionally clued-in men who—right before taking a small, sensible sip of fair-trade Argentinian maté out of an environmentally sensible on-the-go thermos—whisper to a friend in the utmost confidence, “We’re pregnant.” Or maybe even fully grown adult human beings who wear snuggly-wuggly head-to-toe sweat suits and bring actual, real-sized pillows onto two-hour coach flights from New York to Charlotte because the slightest prospect of not being comfy-wumfy will trigger an existential spiral from which they will never recover.
Yes, maybe the glass mug isn’t the worst of the worst things, but still, its very nature proves the existence of dark, calamitous forces hell-bent on tamping down truth and beauty and common sense in this world.
Because, let’s be real, glass coffee mug lovers, who are you kidding? Are you so curious about your coffee that you absolutely must have a clear line of sight on it? Do you really need the drinkware version of a 24/7 motion and noise-sensitive baby monitor? Are the guessing games too much for you? Does seeing the exact level of coffee ease the pain of having to choose between tangible, empirical knowledge and the wildly unknowable idea of faith that exists deep down in the muddy ooze of your baboon DNA?
And if it isn’t that, then what? What is behind such an insufferable choice? While studying abroad did you once have a delightful little cappuccino served out of a tall glass mug at a cute little café by the Trevi Fountain while the bells tolled and night fell over the eternal city? Did you giggle as you wiped a little foamy cream off your nose as the Vespsas whirred by and the Roman teenagers played grab-ass and sucked face while you wrote in your Moleskine hope journal about how you were never going back, that you were a citizen of the world now? And then after three months, did you return to your suburban Maryland childhood home wearing a summer scarf and culottes and scream at your mother for not knowing how empowering it is to pay $200 to learn how to hand-roll gnocchi under the Tuscan starlight?
Is that it? Is your glass coffee mug the lifeline to the idea of what could have been? Do you sometimes sit in your kitchen, in the early morning staring at it and think, “I’m classy. Just like that mug.” and then chug back a can of Monster Energy drink, get in your Impreza and head out for a hard day’s work at the regional specialty dog food company?
Or are you a small batcher? A solubility-conscious Chemex-4-lyfe baller who gets into shouting matches at specialty coffee conventions over the ideal pH balance inside a cold brew beaker? Are you a big dog in the aeropress world? A shot caller? A big-dick chain swanga who top rocks to the sound of Sunday morning of Peruvian ocarina tracks as you work the ones and the twos of a proper Moka pot?
Despite it all, the fact remains that glass mugs will retain heat through convection at a slightly higher pace than ceramic mugs. That’s a fact. Glass is also more easily locally sourced and recycled than ceramic. Fact. And one last fact:
You are a monster.