All that said, I can’t really get excited about anything Coca-Cola does these days as it tries to save itself from the sugar backlash. My skinniest years were lived on multiple cans a day (supplemented by the occasional undersized bag of potato or corn chips); I could be a very persuasive spokeswoman for avoiding everything but the HFCS elixir. But all the brewhaha (cq) has motivated me to finally recycle a certain plastic bottle I brought home from Estonia way back in I think 2004. Originally it contained Linnuse Kali, loosely translated as indigenous Coke. As the people who brought my consort and me there observed: The Atlanta invader let the poor beleaguered populace, those hardy souls who had survived Soviet oppression by learning to bribe doctors with chocolate bars, keep their sad little local beverage. But Coke would control the refrigerated cases. So they would never be able to buy it cold again. “Ruthless” would never make a good slogan, though.