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.

 

 

 

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.

 

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.

 

 

 

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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Tis The Reason for this Folly

Fa la la la laaa  la la la la.

Con we now our wave a ‘tidal.  As the season truly finds it’s delft message in the corecto de politico movement, the erosion of the past is only surpassed by the line-ups at Wally World ( Sam Walton’ store).  Thou shalt not tread wherest thine brethren hast passed. 

This is for the most auspicious of us who can avoid the Blue in a staunch march against the lowest common denominator.  If I was a cussin’ man I would have had my guzzinta’s done by now.   Let me run you the numbers for ole Saint Nick’s sake.

Our continent:

One job, 40,000 Per year.  50 of these in one small manufacturing plant.  1,000,000 widgets at wholesale of $25 each.  Shipping, 20 loads on 53’ trailer. Average 1500 Kms , plus fuel, $3000 deliver costs.  Retailing Costs prior to sale$1.00 per unit,  Sale price $52.99 per unit.  Profit to manufacturer $2,000,000 before taxes.

Samuel’s way from off shore:

Reverse engineer, skip around copyrights, create widget plant in China $100,000.  Employ 200 people working 14 hours for 6 days and five hours on the seventh, wages, $2000 per year.  1,000,000 widgets at wholesale at 3.49 each.   Shipping via container $0.02 per unit.  Landed.  Shipping, 20 loads on 53’ trailer. Average 1500 Kms , plus fuel, $3000 deliver costs.  Retail pricing $34.99.

Now all seems well for the consumer right?  Until we do the numbers.

2,000,0000 wages in the locally grown version of the widget.  400,000 in wages off shore.   Income tax for the country, 560,000 dollars for the local manufacturing.  0 dollars income tax for the foreign stuff.

Total global economic activity for the continental composite. 80,050,000 dollars.  For the subcontinent built thingy, 39,006,000 total global economic activity.

State and retail taxes locally 6,358,800 for the home based product, 4,198,800 dollars for the offshore one.

And the pre-tax gross profit for the locally grown widget of 25,930,00 local dollars.  The import with wild Sammy Walnut, 30,974,000.

So not only does the blue behemoth make more profit, he pays less taxes, has less global economic activity, pays lower wages offshore, stimulates less economic activity locally with fewer local or states taxes paid, but he also has a net loss of continental wealth.

Let’s not have the blind leading the blithe down to the blue store any more than we have to!

Fa la la la laaa,  La la la la.

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.

 

Dracheotmy Dangers Draft Dailies

In the extreme extent of examinations exhibiting exultant extortions one naturally defaults to the antepenultimate position.  Six exes and not sex ibexes are not the easiest to string together in a sentence of intentionality.  We fostered together words and forms, reports and by-laws, letters and memoranda, and we came off Scott free.

The man backed down on principles of sanity restored.  My partner in crime and I sat before the courts watching the dispensing of penalties both foolish and undefended.   A good civic lesson not distilled by Honda.  Of issues of fines one would ponder, that merely remitting the set fines would be cheaper by half that the added fees and penalties of lateness and judicial financial compensation to the city.

By neither do I digest nor do I press the forward buttons.  The season is nigh upon us.  When was the last time you sighed about the use of “nigh”?  LED’s day-lighted the street as of the first as is specified in the neighbourhood beatification and sanity act.  The strip of strings strung gaily about, Santa’s sleigh slightly slanted ajaunt.

This end of the week we trudge through knee deep snow In search of the perfect branch bearing balsam.  Probably leaving with numerous examples for friends and family alike.  The beauty and stature of conifers conferred on.  Decisions made slashed and dropped like a twig in the forest.

Lest I foist undesirables on one or ‘tother of yee plebes in the aether, let me assure you we will get use from said baums.  Lighted and delighted for the visiting masses.  This street viewing from near and afar.  Propitious as we wish it in the Christmas Season.   We await the 12 days to count down to have our pine become a pear.  Our bees knees stuck in the tree to become a partridge once the turtle doves had departed.  The annual yule tide greets and meets.  Smiles will abound on faces.

Grinch has always had an invite to the street, yet never has he called in his note.  It has once been totally green, and the remainder at least skiff white.  To date we are teetering on another skifficuous 25^th.  Gaiety and frivolity, neighbours and friends abound on the ground.  Truly blessed with health and home, we assimilate the colours of the season.   Perhaps imbibe too much, eat too much, talk too much, walk too much, relax too much,  burn too much firewood, socialize and cavort too much, but it is truly these excesses which meld us together in a season of giving.

Let me be one of the first this year, Merry Christmas to all!   Nuff said.

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.

 

 

 

Flight Times and Flaunting from Falkenburg

Well spiccolis in my aether wary surrounds, I reminisce back to the days of floundering around in Falkenburg.  Just a stone’s throw from the Harper’s Corners School and a dung hill width from Bardsville off the Brackenrig road.

Days were good there.  The thick soft swish of summer breezes brushing my forehead as trodding toils were performed in the bush.  Hot sun warming the earth creating that plush musty odor of leaves beginning to rot.  Not a sound from steel or concrete here.  Crunching of twigs and leaves underfoot reveal my presence to the unseen critters.

The oft scurrying sounds of mice, moles and voles skittering under the leaves as I pass their hidden abodes.  The odd pernicious caw of an overhead crow waiting for another meal al á fortunado.  I wander aiming off the path, avoiding anything I remember about a tree or swale.  Finding a new way, seeing new trees, perspectives, and orientations.

The goal is not to DO anything, but to DO something I haven’t before.  Perhaps trod on a rock never before a humans boot had scoured the lichens on.  (again as before never end….).  Ponder the possibility of postulating a locus from where I could see clearly.  Is there further to go?  Can you get there from here?  Can I make that ridge?  Is that for me?

As always the confines of reality bring me to a recognizable.   I have been through this bush so often, in so varied a ways, with so many people, in so many seasons, by so many directions, it is inevitable that I eventually espy familiarities around me.  Turn once or twice in nether or any direction, a hundred paces and I am returned to the knowledge of from whence I came.

On machines to this day on which I operate in my garage, they bring familiarity with time and touch.   Do I stare at the complexity of composition for naught?  No.  It’s that repetitive analysis, disassembly and reassembly that raises my awareness of the machine's limits and possibilities.  I know of drips and scripts which vary by process and procedure.  I sup on the knowledge gleaned from inspection and reclamation.

I knew tree from tree, and stones from stones. The day awakened with a knowledge of my surrounds.  Has the interweb thingy really helped?

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.

MRI not MRE in a JIT Society.

The problem is not the solution to obfuscated operations on the floors of our Health Care system.  “What we have here is a failure to communicate”.  I am not a financial wizard by any means.  I am an “Operations” specialist.  On the table today is the health system we live with.  The problem is why it is dying.  What is causing it, and what can be done?

Not late last night I entered one of our esteemed domiciles of serendipitous kismet, (read Hospital).  At 6:30 PM the hollow hallowed halls were all but vacant but for a few languid laggards skulking about at hall corners and nursing stations.  No patients about, no doctors about, no cleaners about, no orderlies about, no nurses about; nothing about but opportunity.

The opportunity to maximize on the investment of space, equipment, training, and expertise lays waiting for 16 of the 24 hours available.  We use 1/3 of the capacity of most of these buildings.  Hospitals all but empty but for a few meagre patients they could not get out for day surgery. Empty but for a few tending nurses.  Empty but for the horror of tomorrow when the whole is to be stuffed into the third.  Empty but for the potential of billions of dollars of equipment and space invested.

What is the basic principle of optimization?  Use the same, for more.  Do you cognate for one simple instant that manufactures don't see the benefit of running three shifts?  You are John Galt and you invest 20 million dollars in a heavy metal stamping unit, you want that ram jamming 24/7.  In fact your business plan probably shows the best case scenario as such.

But nada!  Our highly paid, highly able, highly trained, highly educated, highly respected, highly revered, highly sought after administrators and politicians can’t see the obvious.  WORK MORE.  MORE LABOUR.  MORE TIME.  Our investment in equipment, technology, training, and buildings will pay off in spades.  I wanna see a Henry Ford type person bring in a second shift, or a third to our health care system. 

You think for one second that a person waiting for serious surgery would not think of coming in at 1:00 Am for a procedure rather than wait and suffer in pain for 18 months to wait for the same procedure?   Dream, incubate, gestate, promulgate, hanker, pine, dream up.  But for our health, just work! 

Why are restaurants open late?  Why are there 24 hour grocery stores?  Why are there 24 hour anything?  Because, they are maximizing on their investments.  It’s not rocket science.  Use what you have more.

I am hungry for more of less.

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.

Kingston, King’s Town, Calif City

The area, now a new not new to the area producer of poultry proffered for prurient passions of mastication.  The taters are not homers yet home runs are called each time they are eaten.  The local purveyors of such fare are of the finest mettle.

Clean, fast, and interested in the welfare of the customers.  They and them do not heed to the principle of the lowest common denominator.  They strive is for higher and better.  No shortages here.  The carapace stands to the front as a beacon to traveller sustaining the petro-chemical industry.  The golden beckons between the sub-terrainian sandwicheer and the modern day Five and Dime Jimmy Dean Jimmy Dean.

With new help from northern store to those of the Smoke, we do well with what we want.  Knowledge can be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands.  No lefts for the right here.  We work as a team, for the team, and by the team.  Now with talented staff we back to the administrative of the trials vouchsafed in our trust.

With the Ig persona-non-gratta, we revel the day after.  No after now nooned the way to the next four years.  There is a challenge afoot for the Stever; he better put it together with Mechano or the world will come crashing down to the lowest common new democrat.  The Separtiste in our midst has vanished in the fog of infamy.  Taken 20 odd years to go from revolution to revulsion.

We dawn the new day with the rain washing the old away.  The dirt and scum runneth to the gutter of past and passé.

 A short stop close by as the coffee brews.

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.

 

The Watched Pot Never Grows, But Springs Ahead

In Greenwich they nominated for Spring coffee on February 25^th.  The earth shook, and the ground trembled.  But not in that sleepy town where whatnot turned to not what they did not do.  Nobody had a posting for the Spring Coffee Guy.  I toss my hat belatedly in that direction.

Now with more postings than I can be banned for, the last one only had a warning, Germany is still rated highest on my banned videos list, should I and perhaps not in jest this time, protesteth my abolishment for posting a family viddy?

Or perhaps find new ways of bolstering my position so couched in obscurity not to be found by the whole of Washington’s alphabet soup?  As I had doth and will further,  all the proclivities people have toward assuming that their non or real progeny or siblings or any other form or familia or genus might or might not be presently engrossed in Face Plant, I proffer my viddy materiel on every subscribed format  and media I am a member to.  (Never end a sentence prepositionally)

It’s a sad state of xenophobia when Demand Media drops my writing application like a Hot Banana.  However, I could conger a position in that less than esteemed habitué and sit back into a life of Reilly as I surf and write my way to the bottom of the lowest common denominator.  Pith and vinegar are obviously not on the menu at the Demanded writings of the “How To” crowds most desirous wants.

After all, I have been unacceptable, persona non grata, unwanted, superfluous to their needs, de trop, unseemly, invidious, unneeded, over the top, possibly not what we need, not a good fit, inessential, non-essential,  bombastic, unsought, supererogatory, unallowable, just plain unwanted, malapropos, and mostly palaverous and pleonastic at many a web site’s applications center.

Does that bother me?  Nopers.  It’s a cuz’in I can blather together my own straw man argument.  Do I need their 3 cents a word for contentious crap?  Nopers again on that account.  Thinkin’ I am un-connecting myself to the Guru as well.  Have offered a many proposal for scribbles and scribes, and with the odd negotiational e mail back and forth, nadda to come of it.

So I depart again from the unctuous trodding to the bottom of the lowest common denominator well of worthless content.  Past offers of guest columnists to this forum have also come up shy of a rational number.

Perhaps it’s back to Haiku on 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.