I like my men the way I like my tea: weak and green

A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore

Now no one who has ever spent any corporeal time with me (as opposed to electronic time) could imagine that this quote personifies me. However, they would also understand that having strong, nay, convincing, perhaps even UNALTERABLE opinions on how one's tea should be consumed appeals to me.

Obviously, the character who makes this statement is incorrect. Obviously, all tea should be served black and strong the way G-d intended to put a little hair on your chest and fire in your belly. Preferably iced. G-d intended all tea to be served sweet. And no you do NOT make sweet tea by adding sugar packets to it. G-d gives me special dispensation since I can't handle too much liquid sugar and no one on this coast can sell decent sweet tea. Green tea? It's not ripe yet!!! Herb tea? It ain't tea. It's got it's place, it ain't always bad. But it AIN'T tea. White tea? Seriously? Sounds like something the Aryan nation came up with when they found out they were drinking something BLACK at tea time.

As wrong as this particular sentiment is, it amuses me greatly. I like to think she was making a point since she had our poor protagonist (who was feeling not-so-ripe himself) tied to a chair and I think she was about to interrogate him with her army of stuffed rats.

Bert? That's your cue to go have a big glass of the house wine of the South with your dinner. Or your supper if you're reading this later. I'm craving some hush puppies, too if you could grab some of those.