The Coffee Guy's blog

BelleVegas or Vacillation Not on Vacation

We have breached the berm and brought the Big Box to the Belle’.  Wanton and libidinous libations not being imbibed on this junket.  The pace set near the pacers of yore.  American Motors not included.  Over 49,000 strong and an agglomeration almost leading the century mark, this `Ville of the great unwashed centered and sheltered behind the county of our late great Edward the Prince.

This could easily be considered the Royal city in the seat of loyalists.  Susanna Moodie, QE, P of Wales, Queen Vic’, Sir John A. Charles the Prince are just a few of the names touted in this town rubbed up against the ubiquitous Lady Fatima, (coal for another fire at a later date I am sure).

Between the head stones of a former Prime Minister, the great Canadiana writer Moodie, there resides or resolves innumerable famed  hockey players some with this writer’s family name.  Home of the inventor of the infamous churlish Cheezies.   Home of my favourite Rocker babe of the 80’s Ms. Aaron, former home of a Miss Universe Mori, home of ice master Orser, and home of the Wilkinsons.

We have the B and B doing the Digitosis Dance leading our troupe to top numbers.  With Solanum tuberosum being pumped and punched to levels unheard of in these environs in some time. Even Eryc enters eventually to even the field.  The only 2 H on a two up day.

The Moira meanders and moseys it’s way through town encumbering the populous to ford the river in Fords.  Don’t Kellogg that Joint my friend, pass it over to me.  You can Gamble that proxy on Proctor to ensure earnings in modern times.  John Walden, no pond intended, began this burb and the rest is history as they say.

Departure is such sweet sorrow, and I can’t wait to weep like a leaf. 

No food, no beer no pets, can’t get no motorbikes.  I’m a man of dreams by no means, gotta get home.  Every engineer and every train, all of their kids and all of their names.  King of the Belle.

Pour steady Raoul, don’t waste a drop.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

 

 

 

Captain Obvious Just Entered the Room

“When was the first time you realized you were the only one on earth that…”

Complete that sentence.  Today. 

The word “sale” is actually an acronym which is genetically bred into women making it unable for them to refuse purchase.

S A L E

Some  Eventualities Lose Everything

Seemingly All things Leave me E”y”earning

Soft Approaches Lose Energy

Soothing Advances Less Energy

Some items Attract Loose money Likely

Stop! Advance! Lift! Everything

Spend Ambrosial Liquidity Everyday

Sacrosanct Abundance of Livery Endlessly

The feminine supposition of space is only surpassed by excessive rampant consumerism.  Hence, the explosion of storage places available, hence the show “Storage Wars” and that Auction show.  Stultifying these moronic viddys purvey plinth of the lowest kind.  Not only are these post-consumer guerillas fighting over this detritus, they are turning around and reselling the crapolla to be set up in another Case De Cornucopia. 

No “One man’s garbage is another man’s cash”, this is out and out communist tree hugging, Volvo driving, Birkenstock wearing, trash trading.  So some “stuff” goes on sale.  I buy it.  No place to put more “stuff”, so I store some “stuff”.  I keep buying more “stuff”.  I rent a place to put some “stuff”,  then keep buying more “stuff” until I can’t afford the place I keep my extra “stuff”.  I lose that “stuff” until I am in a second hand store and see some “stuff” that looks like my “stuff” and I buy it again, “On Sale!” for the second time.

The penumbra of these purchases only bettered by the original travesty.  What is the need to see something for just less than what it was?  What it would be when?  Consumerism is also the father of its own mothers.  With buying more for less, and with Ole’ Sammy W. lowering the quality and service components, is it no wonder we need to buy more.  We need to replace that which did not last long enough or sustain itself well enough to be a lasting pediment to our existence?

Buy more, sell more, buy more lesser stuff, sell more lesser stuff, down sell crap to lower buyers, build China to a super state not the stupor state it once was.  Mao would be rolling in his rickshaw if he saw the putrid poppycock purveyed at these penile emporiums.

Driven to divide the monotheisms of the world to the lowest common penny.  Sliver that up till it speaks to the least of all penury farmers of the largest populace on the planet.  If you can’t buy it with the producers wage, it’s crap.  Hence all but chopsticks made in China is crap!

Hot Amber. Not her, my java!

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

 

Garden Coffee gets Garish Goading Ousted

And I Quote about garden coffee clubs, "Interesting … women can't even accept hand-to-thong tips, apparently). “

Now that I have your rapt attention, the ongoing disputes regarding grounds in your coffee grinds groaning in the compost is what we have here on el quinto de mayo!   Still a fortnight away from safety regarding the frost zone in our zone.  However, we planted and dusted with the blood of cows and not the crumbs of coffee.

The earth, warm from the radiance of long wave radiation, coddling my implanted seeds.  Birds and vermin excluded from the club with the generous gilings of blood meal having finally fallen to the plot.  Now the world awaits.

But hail all have you seen and heard the news in these burbs?  http://www.therecord.com/news/local/article/716813--parking-tickets-keep-coming-for-hespeler-homeowner

That was the front page here on Thursday.  Not bad for a kid from the country.   Now’s I gots’ the ear of the local bugle, it’s off to the races.  With a somewhat amicable mustering with this writer and the “Big Kahuna” for the City, a one on one, mano a mano, we discussed and presented with the twain of us keeping our cards so close it was hard to see them at times.  The outcome like a visit to Pleasantville.  Me just getting more people obviously in the know a’sos when the defecations engages the rotary oscillator, there will be nobody in de Nile.  Him just doing his due diligence for the face he keeps for staffers.

Your form, my designation, you provide the copy.  Not understood on the third floor; I lower myself a level and ask at the Big Guy’s office, and they provide under understood understated protest.  The slaught continues as the pestering purveyors of petulance purport to do less with more.  Quoted questioned in the news indicate a complaint of a type, yet citations don’t back this up?  Is this disjuncture the last leaf in the Iliad?  Time will tell.

My grinds and groans enter the stream destined for the heap.  Will our melons from last year meet the thong of the Coffee Garden?   “on top and thong-style bottoms. What's the problem? We like our coffee this hot.”  Don’t we all.  So why all the Hull’abaloo. Oh sorry I couldn’t resist. The nomenclatic reference.  Some like it black, some like it white, some like it sweeter than others, some like it skinny, some like it with a little cream.  So they scantily supply coffee this way.  Why is the prudence of some poking at the pleasure of others?

They wish they had me.  Let that nectar slide Raoul, don’t disturb my cuppa’.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

Lackluster Not a Limit in Lloyd

Asking is not the same as doing not that which isn’t wanted.  Non–attendance at the triskaidekadance notwithstanding my absences started this odyssey.  With the Barr set high for immigrants George led the way and created said Centre Ville of the Lloyd state.

Now kiddies it’s time to ask for parental guidance.  The gritty knotty of this yarn is a’verge of the paragraph.  Nearly three of the diurnal courses from Ye Ole Sttrath’ we find our vehicular transport in the town that Lloyd built.  The only straddling not swaddling town co-occupying both the S’kech’Wan ‘N Lberta borders.  Greatly grid-like goading the driver to Givver.

So strong stand those staying they chick and poose from provincial regulations so oblique is the status they have hefted.  Truly considered the best of the best under charter terms. 

Ulmaceae Ulmus Rubra lines the streets and Avenues arching tip to tip covering the stride you make to the neighbours.  Each adit welcoming and open.  Now the fate of oohhh so many Gallus Domesticus is fixed.  With so many passing the threshold in parchment, we call in the troops from the Found Land on the East Coast.  No rail but trail there.

Favours are called, and staff is trained.  Dave’s Not Not Here, unlike the bistro from the Big Smoke was not here.  And this was no South-East Asian Thai working here.  Ambry was an issue.  We wager on slowing not on rising. A co-negative disjuncture of compliance noting the nature of the business. 

With the townsfolk lined to the aperture from open to close, we strive and struggle a gallant enterprise. Belief from the Barrie Brent has amazement redefined.  We could possibly find more space but it would have to be celestial in nature.  Every cranny, nook and den filled to the limit including mobile devices not transmitting.

Alas departure for the few and strength for the many is in the picture.  Big sky, big ideas, and big dreams.

I like it strong, dark, and in a big cup.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

Management by Mere Mouthing Monthly Digibonics

With the onslaught of media monitoring movements of moth eaten issues, I find it mind-bending that we have the appetite for such prattle.  What you knew yesterday, you will probably forget tomorrow, and what you learned today will be next week’s foggy bottom.  It’s no wonder that we have such awe when we hear about what the one minded ones come up with to study.

I say we study the studious.  Take “The Center for Intercultural New media Research”.  Please!

These schemlongs of the information age are promulgating educationism and perspicacity as it relates to the hunger we have for more of what we can forget before we get home because we had to stop for milk after we got gas while stopping for the daily newspaper which we heard had an article on the company you work for that produces widgets for the automotive market which is in serious trouble because of the world-wide technology revolution posited by a professor from Eastern Europe in a country recovering from a civil war with their ex- nasty tyrant on trial in the Hague which truly has no powers any more than your daughter who is dating that schlep from the other side of town who drives that Environmental Wacko Volvo and hugs so many trees his face is all chewed up from the bark. 

What did I stop here to pick up?

You don’t believe me?  And I quote from the esteemed aforementioned Center’s interweb thingy URL, “Study two explores text messaging within the US among African Americans and European Americans. It examines the social functions of text messaging within and across US co-cultures to illuminate the following questions: (1) Do African-Americans and Euro-Americans engage in interracial texting? (2) What is the content and language used (digibonics) of interracial text messages? (3) Do African Americans and Euro-Americans vary their content and language (digibonics) when text messaging within their co-culture rather than across co-cultures?”

Digibonics?  Did you read that? Ebonics?  Nitronics?  Nope, Digibonics.  Such a case of self-adulation should be banned!  No library would stoop so low as to admit this plonk into the stacks.

Here are more:

What coaching and quality assistance strategies related to quality rating improvement systems (QRIS) are being used to improve quality in early care and education programs and home-based settings?

The Gartner Predicts 2012 special report addresses the continuing trend toward the reduction of control IT has over the forces that affect it. As users take more control of the devices they will use, business managers are taking more control of the budgets IT organizations have watched shift over the past few years. Moving forward, IT departments will find that they must coordinate activities in a much wider scope than they once controlled.

Understanding the Web browser threat: Examination of vulnerable online Web browser populations and the "insecurity iceberg"

I could go on, but I feel too insecure.  Make it steam Charlie.  I need another coffee.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

 

Re:posting under Pseudonym: Cases Course their way through Court

At the second attempt at a conviction, the Burg sent a barrow full of books and bodies.  Stymied by the case load, and put off again until summer.

We parry and poke at he the Gov’s of the day, but nary a featherless biped rises before the prosecutor and says, “NO THAT’S WRONG!”.  So now the public and prostrated populous postulate and ponder the next ploy.

To the bench I say!  Out with you all; to the dogs.  The bureaucrats have been attempting to solve a problem created by themselves now for four months.  No amount of navel gazing has produced a satisfactory solution.  One by-law strewn around like a rag doll while others are proposed and confused.

These are paper rats.  Desk jockeys who live in a flat world with no humanity or green space, sparing the odd posty note stuck to their cathode ray tube.  Even our Burgomaster seems to have a nubilous understanding of his own Burg.  His parochial vision is hazed by the fog of planners and yes-men who have never set foot outside their cubicle.  Nay shall I suggest cubicide for these as they merely forward the thoughts and desires of ignominious ignoramuses.

Go ahead; you have a sentence with two following words starting with “igno”.

Yes, I say we all traipse our tired bodies down to the local house of ill repute, City Hall, and state our cases.  Every white squib of parchment redelivered to the house from whence it came.  Be wary though, those who purport to have power are less than full of it.  Unless the want you have in mind is half of what is charged, then you are simply strewn back to the bureaucratic dogs.

No help on the third floor.  Perhaps all that glass disables one’s ability to see clearly.  It’s’a cuzin’ all the neighbors have one vision yet these denizens of the cube are blind to the geometry.  So daily and hourly we keep our wits and eyes open for the lil white car with the Commish inside.  They skulk about in innocuous vehicles so as not to raise the eyebrows of an ever watchful neighborhood. 

Soon your number will be up, will you tally or parry that number for a cuppa Jo?

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land.

Weathermen Wax Poetic While We Worry

15 Centimeters, hitting us at rush hour, high winds, slick roads, top up your tank, work from home, more near the lake, snow tires, unless you absolutely have to, washer fluid, drive for the conditions, and any other amount of palaver we get from the Weather Wise.

Nope!  Spied on the Av Sat on Thursday night, the system stalled barely reaching is icy grips past London. Stalled over Ohio and nowhere to go.  Now where do we go for the accurate synopsis?  Nowhere, that’s where.  Were we knowledgeable enough to access and thusly assess the data would we fare better?  Far better, or just a tad?

Well this weather weenie would have posited the temp. and not the precip..  10 Pm evidence was there of the Great Stall.  Seemingly throughout the following day there was a mustering in the northeast.  Again the worrisome weather for Friday had stalled and dumped its cold front right over the great lakes.  I, for a few moments, studied its movement, but alas was not diligent to the task to finally determine the outcome.

We know not now what we didn’t know then.  The 10 to 15 dumped last night.  Actually not the same system at all but the same net result, (shy of the work-a-day hassles commuting brings).   It is February, and it is Canada, and we are used to this, and we are prepared, and we are aware of the possibilities, and we know how to drive, and we don’t always need snow tyres, and we do have shovels, and we like the colour, and we have mitts and parkas and toques.

Shovel mine to the brim, Java Jo for the job.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

1G, 2G, 3G, 4G, I Bid 1000 G!

Com’on folks I gotta bid over here gimmie 50 – 55, 55 I got 60.  This is a real good deal folks, one of a kind, do I hear 70, I got 75 from the man in the red hat.  Now lady you got the bid now at 85, do I hear 95 out there anywhere?  Okay young man just put your hand up when I say a number that you can afford.  105 I hear now get me 115, anyone?  110?  115?  Going once! Going twice. I have 1000 in the back row from the man with the bald head, big eyes, and long fingers.

Holy sacrilegious cow my friends.  Pick another number before this whole race jumps the shark.  Let me explain the G systems as we know them.

“The following standards are typically branded 3G:

    The UMTS system, first offered in 2001, standardized by 3GPP, Europe, Japan, China (however with a different radio interface) and other regions  GSM 2G infrastructure.  Cell phones are UMTS and GSM hybrids.

        The original and most widespread radio interface is called W-CDMA.

        The TD-SCDMA radio interface was commercialized in 2009.

        Latest UMTS release, HSPA+, with peak data rates up to 56 Mbit/s in the downlink (28 Mbit/s in existing services) and 22 Mbit/s in the uplink.

    The CDMA2000 system, offered in 2002, standardized by 3GPP2, sharing infrastructure with the IS-95 2G standard. The cell phones are typically CDMA2000 and IS-95 hybrids. The latest release EVDO Rev B offers peak rates of 14.7 Mbit/s downstream.

Systems and radio interfaces are based on kindred spread spectrum radio transmission technology. While the GSM EDGE standard ("2.9G"), DECT cordless phones and Mobile WiMAX standards formally also fulfill the IMT-2000 requirements and are approved as 3G standards by ITU, these are typically not branded 3G, and are based on completely different technologies.

 

A new generation appears approximately every ten years since 1G systems in 1981/1982. Each is characterized by new frequency bands, higher data rates and non backwards compatible transmission technology. The first release of 3GPP Long Term Evolution (LTE) standard does not completely fulfill the ITU 4G requirements called IMT-Advanced. First release LTE is not backwards compatible with 3G, but is a pre-4G or 3.9G technology, sometimes branded "4G" . Its evolution LTE Advanced is a 4G technology. WiMAX is another technology verging on or marketed as 4G.”

Clear?

How many of you skipped down to here after the first sentence or two?  For each one of you who did so, you have validated thecoffeeguy.ca over Wikiknowsnotwhat.com . Obviously my source.

I think as the G race proceeds, my own expertise is initially leaning toward the “H” Networks.  And as I approach the middle of this decade I will be receiving National Research Chair monies for development of the domestic “Zed Net”.  This leading edge networking will initially be “Ten Gig Zed”.  I will let the plebes work on the first 999,999,999 Zed Nets.

Pour it slowly my friends, I don’t like bubbles disturbing my brew.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.

Wagers Wafting Through Windows of Wisdom

With wisps of coffee aroma sifting through the air, targeting my nasal cavity, firing dendrites in my cranium I become conscious of the morning.  Whence cometh the orange factor no matter where I roam.  The Ontario feline oratorical and the Columbian with his anterior talons pinning me and not with a fruit communication thingy.

Speaking of which, a body in normal situ would deduce that battery life would be a paramount concern.  Mine got ripped.  1.5 to 1.25 days max then relinking to the umbilical for re-energization.  WHAT?  36 hours?  I have more zap in my zinger than that.  

Are we on a harvest and heap program where sheaves of slashed gleanings are thrashed till the lowest common denominator drops through the screen of technology?  My fruit is so small, the screen so inadequate, the depressors so precise, are they not aware that with my aging eyes worsening, and my fingers always cyclopean that the operation of such is dicommoding?

I know the Verge Company has a higher calling for culling the herd.  Those with ham like appendages, and non 20-20 fissures need not employ the technology.  I just wanna know if we are going bigger or smaller?   Or is there a dichotomy?  If you carry it, then it must get smaller,  if you have it in your abode, then it must get larger.  WIDE screen TV, Chair and a half, Deep pile carpet, thick Texas Toast, Double wide trailers, Wide are telephone service, surround sound, 4 slice toaster, jumbo paper towels.

Now in the hand held thingy market, its microprocessors, and pin headed buttons and miniscule Blue Teeth, (is that two Blue Tooth Thingy’s?) pixels so small that ants have trouble deciphering the numerals.   Nay I say, there is a limit to the non-Asian hand.  Who is doing the trial testing on these?  They have a bunch of Lilliputians on staff? Have they started a cult of less than average stature people through the Personnel Department at Verge?

So am I happy and trusting in the fruit?  Not yet. At this juncture it is a inbound tool, when I figure how to make the obverse work, I may become more productive.  Until then, I will move at galactic speed on my full size keyboard and high band width connexion.

Java Jo never tasted to good.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, on The Dark Side.

Coffee Causes Catastrophe Clearing Constellations

We wallowed yesterday as the winds whipped willows of lagging leaves.  As I flew the light fandango in “Easy Pick-up”, aka C-FGRI, the skies were clear, the air cold, and the power on!  Thoughts of letting it all go and taking a break in Tillsonburg, barren runway cleared for my struts.

I veered again eastward and pulled 90 overtop Delhi.  Could see the ice on the bay created by Long Point and the suns reflection made it appear smooth and glassy.   Stillwater not running deep.  For such a great day, traffic was light in the rock solid air.

Today’s yoyo weather gives us rain and snow later from -4 to plus 10 in 12.  As not gazing to the stars a cuzzin’ the clouds, I pondered the constellation of Cafficus Araibicus in my cranial vision.  Dark to the bare eye, but deftly hidden in the Milk Way.  At this juncture it rises slowly from the southeast around 11Pm.  Distinctive with its apparent waft above the handle.  The star Suchrus dead center in the image.

Now that you are all in accordance with the alignment of the stars, what’s in them this fair season.   No pepper for your soul today, salt and vinegar for your thoughts.  We Tandoori with the red meat, and curry ourselves to the Big Q.  Without the constellation we consternate upon visible, guidance is shy toward the fall of Pm hours. ARE YOU LOOKING YET?

In the constellation of Columbus you will find the smaller cherry-like aforementioned constellation.  Now with your head tilted back, your eyes straining, your back aching, your arms up holding the binoculars, your elbows poking the person in front of you, your shirt pulled up, your tummy cold, you stifling a fart, your mind wandering from the star-chart in your cranium, your partner still asking which way is up, your toes now chilling in the night air, all of this while you wonder what has caused you to be outside staring up looking for the coffee club? 

Recently Cafficus Araibicus has entered the house of Esspressonatta with Suchrus stronger now in the mix.  The constellations appears about a quarter the size, but hotter to start, but shorter lived.  At the point you can start to see Americanius rising from the west coast blending into the constellation.  Now from the north, along a line drawn from the zenith to the nadir, you can just start to witness Hortitcus Timonica edging upwards strongly at this juncture.

Either way the stars have it.  Java jewels in the sky cup of nectar.

Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land.