The Coffee Guy's blog

Who We Look Like When

This is a contest.  You must respond to win. Read instructions at the bottom of this post.

Errol Flynn looked like me when I was breaching out of the inveterate Quarter Century Club.  Time passes, and off goes his good looks.  I, on the other hand have matured like a fine wine.   Better aroma, sweeter disposition, and no after taste.

In dispute today is that which a new member of the caffeinated clutch of this coterie purports.  I, on one hand can relate all things past and present to the aforementioned cinematic exercise known as Ferris Beuler’s Day Off.  Mr. Jones, not Mrs. Jones’, of that famous song’s husband, but that of the principal fame in said movie is a ringer.

The other can only be described as a distant rebirth of neanderthalic heraldry with only mere and minuscule making of a likeness.  Your pick can sway me.  But not sway me unless I am on the swing of mental gymnastics and ready for your gentle but not genteel push to the other side.  I caution you my reasoning on this is concise, contrite, and conscious.  While the poll below will tally, you must rally.  Your troops or troupes.  All is possible in a wisp if the willows.

The all knowing amongst us have fewer and fewer rantings to succumb to.  This forum is the one which has the pulse of the interweb thingy as well as that of the masses.  My wrist bound time piece acutely sensing each beat of the heart of the matter.  What could possibly be the matter without the General Theory of Relativity governing your motion.  With wire and ethereal transmissions now being legally monitored by the hosts of your Ip.

Ip?  The new Canadian/Latvian dictionary defines this as that body or bodies which provide a portal to the New World.  Brave or Cowering.  How is it that I can parse Alvin Toffler into two nearly back to back posts without losing stride?  It’s akin to being able to define a system from within.  Mathematically impossible, but with fuzzy logic dancing ions through the copper, microwave, and glass tubed media allows my interregnum in logic to be realized.

After all, the theists have been engaging in the “Leap of Faith for millennia.

So briefly below.  You will see three new pictures in my ENORMOUS library of photos.  One the SUSPECT ONE .  Two is SUSPECT TWO .   Three is PERSON OF INTEREST .  Simply vote for which SUSPECT resembles the PERSON OF INTERST the most. As always there are fabulous prizes.  Check frequently and tell your friends.

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.  

Did Mrs Hubbard Bare her Cupboard, for Dover Soled her Down the River

Did Mrs Hubbard Bare her Cupboard, for Dover Soled her Down the River

Old Mother Hubbard

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor doggie a bone,
When she got there
The cupboard was bare
So Port Rover Dover and that's where we all went yesterday.

 

Not to worry.  We have mostly thawed by publication date.  So my sense of Rhyme Thyme is not what it might be had I been a poet.  But I hasten to remind you of the abysmal response to my requests for the all-encompassing Haiku.

One!

Not two.

Or more.

Just one.

So the two lines thing works well, good visibility, control, and flexibility.  To see some very casual riding makes the difference.

Cold in the morning but with temperatures revving up in the afternoon.  Larger than expected crowds as the gales of November blow early. The good ship and crew (and apparently thousands of others) were a bone chilled crew and saw fit to close hatches and travel.

The legend lives on from Brantford on down to the big lake they call Canushumi.  a’Cause in Dover you know the tales of November come early. You can tell the nearness of the lake simply by the drop in temperature at this time of year.  25,000 expected yesterday, not the largest but a sizable crowd.

When we arrived you could stroll handily, by departure, it was all we could do to bust through the crowds.  Even on the indomitable KZ had to rev the bangers to scare off some street transgressors.  Notwithstanding most of them should be more street aware with bikers riding amongst.

The food came fast and the cheer and chat wafted through the steadily serving restaurants.  If you have the chance, you should take it.

Talk to Tim for pics.

 

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.  

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Alvin Toffler’s Third Wave, Transcended by the Next Generation

Futurists are often incorrect.  If I called them wrong I would have to support my argument, but as many of you know, a counter argument need not be factual.  Whereas calling another statement wrong requires a proof.  And we know how much trouble that can get a leading Canadian politician into. 

And I quote.

"You want proof?  It`s been proven, a proof is a proof is a proof, you know da proof, it`s been proven. Proved. What more could be proof 'den da proof?"     Care of the Casual Chris guy, http://www.freewebs.com/casualchris/index.htm

Well, not quite that proven.  Even the best reciprocal proofs are self impaling.  Last week I unabashedly proved that Pigs could fly.  Correct?  Now they are stating that the darn sty dwellers are coming in for another over-shoot.  Toffler described the wave as an all encompassing Epiphany the worlds people will have.  The pandemic wave is described as an all encompassing cosmic illness the worlds people will have.

Toffler recanted, readjusted, undehabituated, abnegated, apostatized, made bad on, tergiversated, and flew the coop, his first theory in a geological nano-second.  I suspect as the wave rolls over the upturned dunes of society, it will find both anguish and the glazed look of boredom.  People staring into the Shaman’s glass ball have become blinded by the light of changing time lines, altered expectations, Psycho-babble from the media, pundits and experts, and the constant claims of vaccine avail- or unavailability.

I suspect the out-of-touch WHO will foist wave after wave of this trifle on us until we have enmonied the Glaxo-Smyth-Cline’s of the world to untold richness paying back to the members of the WHO and themselves on solitary island retreats in sunnier climes with none of the social detritus toting around sniffles and fevers near them.

Yes I am prepared.   The Y2K scam was the only one bigger than this.  But with repeated scare after scare of herd culling diseases breaching our worldly shores, what are we to think?  I was prepared for Y2K.  Scrolled the date on my PC ahead. Waited a day. And there it was. Still ticking, still computing, still processing.

Man how easy was that?  Scammed and rammed we bought sold and traded futures based on a scam.  Today we plan, predate, post file and stick our arms out for the latest wave.  By Thursday we will find that this has all been trash.  The Avian Flu, no the Swine Flu, no the Ovine Flu, no only the Vine Flu will carry us through. 

Vino Tinto de la Casa.

I love hyperbole.

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.

 

 

The Swine Flu the Coop, Who Said Pigs can’t Fly?

All we are sayyy-ing, is please wash your hands.  Please repeat after me in the melody of the Beatles, (Give Peace a Chance).   Repeat two to three times rinsing after each washing.  If you got it, don't flaunt it.  If you want it, just please wash your hands.

Uhh, well if you already have it, chances are you ainna gonna go nowhere’s a’ thatcha gonna give it to udders.  After all its the swine flu not the bovine or ovine flu.  Influenza by any other name would be so sweet.  Why is it we get the Flu from other animals and not other people or bugs or places anymore?  Whatever happened to the Spanish Flu?  Or was that rice?   Never hear of the Cookaracha Flu, or the Cicada Flu!  Whatever happened to the Asian Flu and the Caucasian Flu?

Not only do I hope to be topical, but tropical at the same time without having to apply once every hour.  I wanna see our medical professionals call it what it is.  It’s the freakin’ Mexican Influenza, period   Now, you know I don't need a little dot after that word right?

Do you care if it was found in a pig, a duck, a rhinoceros, or a goat?  Why don’t those big fat African animals ever pass on rhinitis?  Nope!  You just care that it’s another Flu apparently from somewhere else.  Now on the other hand I can see president Calderón on the podium stating that we finally have our own Flu.   A step into the hearts minds and lowered immune systems of the US of A!

Or perhaps Mugabi sending notice to Gaddafi that he has now a way to strangle the infidels in the rest of the African tin-pot states with his home grown Zimbabwe Flu.  Not that this is enough already, but this hype has gone way beyond the pale and the suffering.

Lets all just exhale, then inhale, then exhale.  Okay, now that we are all calmed down, 1500, (One Thousand and Five Hundred) die in Canada alone because of the flu every year.   We have had 30 something people pass away from this round of foreign Flu.  Where is the big deal?  Just a cuz’in the World Health Organizations (WHO) does not monitor or consider the YEARLY Influenza outbreak to be of concern?  It covers as many countries, killing more people, than these Swine, Avian, or other Vian and Ine Flues do, but because it comes every year, the WHO gives it a pass as a pandemic.  They need to read the regulations more clearly.  Each year the influenza reaches pandemic proportions.  More so than this Pig thing this year.  Yeah, yeah, I know they claim that it “CAN” be more acute than the yearly Flu.  Tell that the 1500 people in Canada alone who succumb to the Flu each year!

Do you think they were not affected pretty acutely?

Keep breathing slowly.  Don't go suck face with every Tom, Dick, and Harriet you see.  Bathe daily.  Don't lick incoming door handles at doctors’ offices, hospitals and sick peoples houses.

Oh yeah and don't lick the Hinie of anyone!

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.