If you really want to rub salt in the Pinkos' wounds, take some extra hot drinks for them.
(Kill them with kindness, and if they take kindness as a provocation, well - that won't reflect well on them.)
I'll leave that one for you to do. You handle the kindness, I'll handle the constant mocking ahd shaming. My voice usually recovers by Sunday morning, and it's well worth it to watch the swollen, anti-American, pus-filled scabs squirm uncomfortably as they desperately avoid eye contact with the humans across the street.
It's a righteous idea, but we may as well stick flowers into their muzzles, so to speak. We try to avoid a personal encounter with them, and are separated by six lanes of traffic. On the occasions where we do come face to face, I wouldn't trust any food offered by them. They're fully capable of provisioning their own lines. The battle isn't about the availability of supplies from Starbucks. They are psy-ops terrorists, preying on and using the very troops that protect their freedom, in order to hound their political points.