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.

 

 

 

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.

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.

 

 

 

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.

 

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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