> ## Content Index
> Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt
> Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further.

# Being a neighbor to Starbucks has some on edge
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/being-a-neighbor-to-starbucks-has-some-on-edge-2/
- Published: 2002-11-09T16:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-25T01:14:32.000Z
- Author: Dan Dunn
- Tags: Opinion, Santa Monica, #archive-import, Homeless

*AN OPEN LETTER TO HOWARD SCHULTZ, Chairman and Chief Global Strategist, Starbucks*

AN OPEN LETTER TO HOWARD SCHULTZ, Chairman and Chief Global Strategist, Starbucks

Dear Howard:

I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think we both know the answer to that already, don’t we? You’re happier than J-Lo in a Hall of Mirrors (and while we’re at it, is there such a thing as “too much J-Lo”... I think not!) Damn, dawg, 5,688 Starbucks stores worldwide, and counting. That’s a hell of a lot of caramel macchiatos, isn’t it? I mean, seriously, we’ve got, like, two or three hundred of the damn places here in Santa Monica alone. Oops, sorry... I cussed. You’ll have to forgive me, it’s just that... well, Howie, it’s just that I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with Starbucks. Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. Truth is, I FREAKING HATE STARBUCKS!!!

There, I said it. I FREAKING HATE STARBUCKS! Again, Howie, I apologize for the naughty language, because I realize you may very well be an upstanding guy with strong family values, ties to all the right charities, and the whole bag of worms. But it feels SO GOOD to finally share my feelings with you. No kidding, man, I hold Starbucks in the same esteem as pop-up Internet ads, telemarketers and aggressive meter maids. Given a choice between a lifetime supply of Starbucks coffee, and a wicked case of West Nile disease, I say “bring on the mosquitos.”

Now, you’re probably thinking that my lack of Pure Love for Starbucks comes down to some lefty-political leanings or heartfelt concerns about driving mom-and-pop coffeehouses the way of the dinosaur. But you’re wrong. I don’t give a flying frappucino if your beans come from shade-grown, fair-trade fields where they’re picked exclusively by virgins under a full moon. Nor do I give a damn if you drive every washed-up hippie out of the mild-but-legal stimulant game and back into University Studies where they belong. No my friend, I hate Starbucks because of your customers.

Especially those with unmonitored car alarms, who park under my window every morning. That’s right, I live next to one of your Starbucks (and, dear readers take note, at the current rate or expansion one of every three buildings in the Developed World will be a Starbucks in about 22.3 years, give or take a week). What the hell do these people need with a keyless entry that blows the horn when they lock the door? Is their Volvo-separation anxiety so great they need that reassurance? Is it because the car can’t actually wave goodbye as they head into the damn caffeine den?

And, judging by the lot below my window, it is YOUR CUSTOMERS who are responsible for the continued existence of the Swedish auto industry. How do you live with that on your record? Do you know the damage these people do? I know them in my bones... they are the ones getting those safe-driver discounts and going the speed limit on the freeway, forcing those of us with more dynamic lives onto the shoulder of the road where cops write us up for “reckless endangerment” and “speeding in excess of sane limits” and “vehicular assault” just because we nick one or two idiots bicycling in rush hour.

Yes, I know them well, those decaf-swilling early risers who apparently don’t understand that some morning “quiet time” needs to extend into the early afternoon. It’s been years since they have been out until 4:30 a.m. with adult beverages and then suffered through the intensity of superhuman hearing hangovers — those hangovers that amplify the sound of those damn alarms to a point where it's like being inside the amps at a Gwar concert.

And for what? I know my share of car-thieves, and you can bet they ain’t gonna be seen driving around in some Swedish tank with two car seats in the back. I don’t care if those suburb-buggies are bringing in big bank at the chop-shop, my guys aren’t gonna risk being seen driving the damn thing, even if they’re doing an O.J. with half the cop-shop popping caps on the evening news. When that crowd says they want to take twins for a ride, they mean something totally different.

So there you have it. Get rid of the customers and we’ve got no problem. Hell, some of my Best Friends are suppliers of stimulants! But my guess is you won’t budge on that one, Howie. So I’m gonna sit here and train pigeons to shit on the hoods of those shiny mommy-mobiles, and I’m gonna stick pins into a Voodoo doll crafted from those wrap-around heat shields that keep those tender fingers from touching the cup. My printer is cranking out “free Starbucks coffee” fliers that I’m gonna hand out to homeless people this afternoon, and then I’ll stop by a real diner for some non-designer java.

Thanks for your time, and for this column. Which I guess turned out to be good to the very last drop.

(Dan Dunn hates lots of things besides Starbucks.

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on November 9, 2002.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/110902.pdf?ref=smdp.com)