The Coffee Guy's blog

Hot, Humid, Hazy Days in the Pan

Peter never stood in a mob serried or otherwise.  The sun beating down like a hammer on the anvil in a heat wave.  Pools busy amid stridently languishing bodies pulped to the beat of a new age wave.  The pan piped with H2O steaming off gallons of hydration from the plant and animal matters.

We coffee and curry ourselves off to work where other hot countries have siestas in that time of day and when danger abounds.  Is it our British mad dog mentality which warrants our work in the stink in hot days?  Air conditioning?  Whose vernacular is that we use for the depletion of heat in a small environment?  It is as if the air were ill with coolness.  Not merely absent of heat.  Houses occupy space in which we remove the heat destined for that space and time to be shunted outside for the less than cool to become more than hot.

The skin of the earth heats and cools as the seasons wax and wane through our lives.  Why do we not cook on the heat disposed of, or store it till winter?  Energy should be savoured and saved.  There is no crisis in energy, merely mismanagement. 

We could all have sequipedalian walls and still blow off more fossil fuel than an old eastern bloc resident.  We are beings of consumption.  We need to occupy so much of our time because we are led to believe we need so much.  I prefer the penumbra of cover and the air of the exterior.   Grow bigger trees and more of them.  Oh yeah we can get back the curse of curbs in our parking lots and the futility of spinning tires, but my discussion today relates not to this idiocy, but to the loathsome dipsomania we have with AC.  Not the current type but the current topic.

The displacement of heat must be the most inefficient thingy we do.  Cold, like energy, cannot be created.  It is merely changed from one form to another.  Get me a prodigious Jacaranda tree and a wisp of wind and I am good for the imbibition of the nectar of the Gods or even a nice cool one.  The thin layer we live in on the surface of this orb has nary enough space for what we are.  Now we insist on taking that which is inside constructed parts on the surface, and pushing all that we don’t like outside.  Again we exist for the prurience of desire rather than the grind of reason.

Get me a Java Joey, and make it hot!

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 Birthday Bash Conundrum with Coffee

DO YOU GET IT? I don’t.  I get notices from FacePlant, LinkyDinky, emails from random people, all about some person or others pre and post delivery day.  This is an artificial measurement of your days able to drink coffee; read age.  What’s to celebrate?  That the treasured sentience sensors of your corpus delicti are still on standby?

No I say, we get to decide ourselves what day we celebrate each annum.  After all, this is truly just that we GET ONE DAY each year we call OURS. We want to permeate one ensorcelled diurnal course with our USness.  We, without guilt, can amass more stuff for which we will need stuff containers, and then we can put more of those stuff containers into our storage areas and units to promote the worst rampant race-to the-lowest common-denominator commercialism known in the whole history of the world.

I say ole Sammy knew a thingy or two about sangin’  Hippo Birdie Two Ewes.  I posit in this juvenescent aeon that we will banish from our vocab’ all celebrations relating to bauble and balustrade purchases in celebration of ones time on earth.  Get me a Java or Joe and I am good to go.   Go further with another cuppa’ maybe!

No more of this wrapping and strapping fat cat boxes and bags to the familial vehicular choice and traipsing miles upon untold miles on the odo to deliver your choice purveyed by Sammy himself in his lower than low quality race to filling our landfilling site. 

Now here is a site for you, http://www.shoffee.com/  first place on line I have found selling more than one type of coffee machine cartridge.  And Flavia ones at that!!!!!!!!! And the ever growing Keurig phenom thingys.  These Jersey boys really know how to sell it up. Not buy it forward, thank behind, faun for less, slide it off, send it ahead, pay into, cent ahead, or whatever your Guru at the Yoga love nest, or the seated lady on TeeWee tells you to do. 

They state simply “Donut Shop Coffee”.  Cheesh, what’s so staggering about that.  Call it as you see it.  WYSIWYAG! Pronounced, Whizzy Wag. What You See Is What You Get.  An old acronym I am sure you can use on a daily basis or a hard basis as I do.  Always remember, “do as you do, not as I do”.

So for Sammy and his cause I quote, “To be honest I think this place is way over rated it was ok... but not worth the price for what you get. It’s in a tiny little room and the employees are a bunch of young girls that don't know anything about costumer service” 

Where is this joint?   Well there are others but this was the Crème de la crème, “is a shack in the middle of downtown Provo wedged between the Marriott's parking terrace and some other building mid-block between 100 and 200 North, just a block off University. Off the beaten path in more than one way, this place is wallpapered in Polaroids of patrons. There is only counter seating inside capable of holding 20 and four recycled booths on the sidewalk that looked like they were salvaged from a McDonald's remodel in the 1990's. When I was there, the place was served by people half my age as was the clientele.”

Just the joint for

my journey.  Hippo Birdie!

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.