The Coffee Guy's blog

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.

 

 

 

Coffee on the Carpet Baggers Case

Coffee alerts are on the radar so frequently these days I am a feared of rekindling the NORAD station in North Bay.  Everybody needs a mountain grown species of Java, even if the Robusta doesn’t like my attitude.  Burry your own roots deep into the mountainside to avoid slippage.

The thousands if not twos and threes of them must be strewn like sawdust in a butcher shoppe’ around the countryside’s of our fair and non-litigious land.  What has become of all the bunkers: Archie and Edith excluded?   Have they fallen and can’t get up?  Are they down at the corner bar waiting for one of Archie’s cronies to proffer up some plonk?

The culture of the Coffee Nazi aside, and no I am not going Kona on you, there are other things in the world of less import.  Pipelines running through wasteland, elections being fought on found smut from disingenuous co-respondents, sizable ships lost not at sea, Mediterranean countries bearish and not bullish, dirty bombs under sand hills in Iran, nookyoular fallout in Japan from a Tsunami at sea, satellites falling from military radiotronic interference, specious spies in Canada, and a Knock List revealing the revealer.

Nay I say, there are lesser causes than those thrust to the fore.  We need a cogent discussion on the egregious prices copped for coffee these days.   Not so much on the store front, but more on the sore front.  14 Smackeroos in the Loonie Tunes of this nation for the good stuff snuffs the wind from my sniffer every time I revisit the dispensary.  Ye olde 100 ounce can seemsa’ musta’ been a lotta’ less in the not to recent past.

Cough, cough.  Where have all the prices gone?  Long time passing?  Gone to good thieves every one.  Oh when will they ever earn?  When will they ever earn?

I have the makin’s of my roaster coved inside my brain at this juncture.  Summer fare for the functionary to foster up a nice gasser.   Green beans roasting on an open fire. 

I say I sees it now; home roasted coffee aroma wafting through the hood, drawing bike owning poop and scoopers alike around my garage, the original man cave.  Another cuppa slipping through the grinds.

Can I roast and pour for you?

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.

 

 

 

Pestering Petulance in a priori Premise’s

My premise is not to surmise that your purpose was to disseminate formation or information for the masses.  Hence, I don’t want to hear it.  I was browsing sans browser, on foot, and in situ in a fav toy store of the guys. 

Dis’ guy let’s call him Mr. Impo’tent, was orating in the loudest of voices off and into the aether on his azure canine.

I followed him, knew his position on the bargaining his company was in, knew what he was about on the week-end, and knew where he was dining that evening.  Shortly in the timeline of the orb, I was in the adult beverage dispensary when I ofted upon Ms. Decibel.  I knew by the end, where she and hubby were flying, how much they paid, the departure and arrival dates, and sundry other laundry items.

The guy, I could execute industrial blackmail upon, the WHOAman, I could easily set up a second story man to perform a leisurely heist upon their abode while they are on their 10 day junket to SplitLip Saskatchewan.  Good God Magnum! 

Get a cuppa and leave the chattn’ to the face-time constituent.

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.

 

Stigmatic Coffee Stigma

Have you ever been to See billy?  Not the goat kind, the tin kind.  Great for all those camp coffees.  Thems’ a made with filler of chaff, barley, beans, wheat, corn meal, an sundry other fibrous non-flavoured fillerants.  Your average pound of coffee not weighing out with the correct amount of coffee?  Weighed it lately?  Does 11 and 13 ring a bell?

Anita Ward did in ’79; you can too!  More to the stigma of the matter; we assume that when it is stated on a package, that in fact what wherein we might find said stuffs.  Ingredients are those things which go into making the “buy”-product in your cart. They needn’t be IN that item at that point.  It might have changed.  They might have changed.  They might have been a catalyst.  They might have been and extractor, a solidifier, an emulsifier, a colourant, a cormorant, (yes the Avi referent) .

Remember the cat poo coffee? … and I quote, “Too oxymoronic for words or is it moronic forewords to think so?  How much would a civetization with too many Civet cats know about coffee to begin with?  And what with all the cats roaming that area, and Civet ones at that, was the gathering of the honey like fluid near the anus of these cats not enough for the perfumeries in the world?  Now they actually have to get more from the anus of these cats?  The excrement?   After eating but not masticating the coffee cherries?”

Ahh the summer of ’09 I remember it well.  The Civitation Coffee no so well.  I prefer the Plantation coffees myself. 

There are the somnambulists of you out there in the aether with disbelief on your CRT at this point.  After the most comprehensive history of the coffee story, my fav’o’spot was the description of the three fellas who started Starschmuck’s telling of how they came up with the lingo used with such panache today by the Rodeo Drive types across the continent.

THEY MADE THE NAMES UP! 

I am not the slightest bit compunctious about broadcasting sad ditty today.

Cogitate on this:  “Vente” made up! “Tall” (actually small) made up!  “Macchiato” made up!  “Frappuccino” made up!  “Misto: made up!

And you thought the language in A Clockwork Orange was weird, (uh…errr what happened to “i before e, except after c or when sounding like A, as in neighbor and weigh”?) Weird eh?  No not odd weird, word weird. Weirder yet, I have you wondering about the word weird. Wonder why?

The faster you foster feathered friends, the farther you can follow these fulminations. 

Another Cuppa Joe please maestro, let the refrain begin.

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.

 

Hippity Dippity Doo Dah New Year to YouToo Dot Calm!

The chorus of contacts making representation to me regarding responsible journalism has dropped to an all year low.  The fewer complaints leads me to believe my hard tack has turned to gruel.  No more fodder fueling the feastivals.

We have entered the year Y2K’s Dirty Dozen Year.  Picture yourself in the Lee of the Marvin Tree, sheltering yourself from the howling Cassavetes wind blowing in from the Savalas Telly valley.  Real men, fighting real dirt, on real streets, as mean as a Jim Brown junkyard dog.  Jim Croce could not chalk out a more prosaic yeare.  (“e” left on rightly).

With Bronson and Borgnine figuratively rounding out the crew, more grit was neer’ exposed on celluloid.  They drove Sutherland toward the fight  with full intention of George “Washington” Kennedying his at the Sten a ready for anything.

But instead on New Year’s day we get a “Stealth” flick.  With two no name Foxx and Lucas, and not of the Red or George kind.  All this salted with the Biel babe in a too tight flight suit.  No plot unforeseeable after the first fifteen, and no scriptology after the first audible nod.

Time for some real start of the year small-screen offerings.  And yes, no, I am not going to the big screen on smelly person day.

I am sayin’, still not sangin’.

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.

 

Blithe Man’s Bluff Behooves us.

 Merry Christmas to all and to all a good diurnal course. Santa and his Rangifer tarandus group have landed, taxied, de-sleighed, descended the shaft, left the goods, re-boarded, and departed. The bounty was massed under the Pseudotsuga menziesii and all fibrous covering removed to display the wonders of giving.

Waiting for the turkeyus humungousness to be extracted and masticated.

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.

Anybody Want a Cat?

Larger than normal specimen.  Not fat large.  Orange exterior pigmentation.  Bengal model, (webbed feet and loves water).  12 years of aging practices with all the upgrades.  New schooling techniques used in sanitation matters.  Anterior feet missing all talons.  Good home not necessary.  Willing to pay for removal.

Got Junk?  We do too, over and above the live sample above.  Really, you too can be the proud owner of this model.  My spousal compliment has issues.  This biomass has typical felinous like habitué.  Excessive sleeping most days, up to 23 hours per day, ready and wanting scratching when you are tired, will not endure scratching when you are ready.  Will stand on you when busy.  Will not sit on you when relaxing.

Now if you are inclined toward making and offer, the bidding has started with us paying a mere €20. Euro to the purchaser.  So you can see we are already in an international bidding war.  Get your stilos ready.  Sharpen you graphite based writing instruments, microwave your markers, just bid and bid frequently.

No shotgun bidding allowed.  All auto-bidders will be rejected. Only homo-sapius like responses accepted.  The winner of said auction will present themselves at our abode post-haste.  Our funding remuneration will be made in the hard currency of the nation.  No take backs, not touch backs.  Entrance to our domicile will be restricted on further postdated visits until thorough body and clothing searches are completed.  (it’s not that we are worried you will try to return your purchase unwantingly, but we are a paranoid crew).

Get your sorry butts over here and save us from our mystery.  This cat must go! Clearing out to the hardwood floors!  No unreasonable offer refused!  MSRP accepted on an OAC basis with VISA, MC, or AMEX.  We DO NOT accept Diners Club on felines.  This is not China!

Gotta get a 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.

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