If Starbucks is the Devil and ZOT’Z is Christ resurrected, then Puccino’s “The Real Coffee of Italy” must be Judas. No you film aficionados, not the noble Judas played by Harvey Kietel in “The Last Temptation of Christ,” think more in terms of the deceiving and betraying Judas from “The Passion.” Have no doubt, Puccino’s is evil. The corporate chain opened up shop in the exact same store front that once housed the hipster purist hangout Rue de la Course. Now Rue has taken refuge across the street while Puccino’s doors swung open faster than it takes someone to purchase a cup of “to go” coffee from Puccino’s tacky ‘Honor System Speed Bar’ even though a hidden camera closely monitors a buyer’s honor. The adult playpen deceives with its slick veneer. The counterfeit Italian café acts more like a Kinko’s in Disneyland. With its fax machine, copy machine, six televisions, 11 ceiling fans and more than 50 cliché art Nuevo posters, it feels nothing like the café culture found in the crevices of Rome or Venice. Try finding a café in Italy that plays music ranging from cheesy soft rock to Sinatra. Even the juke box at T.J. Quills juts out better music.On the surface, a cigarette machine sulks in the corner, Nargilas (large tobacco water pipes) dangle from the walls and signs praising cigars sting customers with the urge for nicotine tinged lavender, encouraging everyone to light up and commit suicide by cigarette. Alas, smoking indoors is prohibited. The pastries, while tempting, sit like poison on the sensory overloading coffee bar. Hailing from a bakery in Metairie, they pollute the store as the store pollutes Magazine Street. The coffee proved difficult to enjoy amid the hyper-reality that the store produces. Worst of all, Puccino’s betrays New Orleans. Its courteous and friendly wait staff renewed my love affair with the overly rude and pretentious baristas found at every other coffee shop in New Orleans. Calling out orders over a loud speaker, I almost spilled my coffee five times due to the blaring intercom.Still, they ought to be pitied for having to wear ridiculous black uniforms, berets included, and working under harsh management – one of whom kicked this journalist out after seemingly reading my half-written review and asked that I “spend at least $10 bucks or to take” my “business elsewhere.” Thus I never had the chance to sample one of their sandwiches, although I can only assume their unworthiness. Trust me, only grace Puccino’s with your presence if you intend to use the free wireless internet when the Rue across the street unfortunately closes at midnight. In the end, beware because Puccino’s is neither the first nor the last imposter to desecrate the streets of New Orleans. In fact, Puccino’s clearly follows the trend our fair city has taken. From the sinister warehouse Wal-Mart to the soon-to-be-erected condos on Frenchman Street, the invasion will not cease unless we defend New Orleans from selling itself into a Los Angeles prototype, a city, at best, which resembles the world’s most beautiful parking lot. Sammy Loren can be reached at [email protected].

Third year law student Ashley Payne studies beneath the Italian art deco at Puccino´s on Magazine Street. (Matt Tillbury)