The Coffee Guy's blog

Jogging has Jagged and it is not Joyful

1970 and it all began, sweaty multi coloured head bands that had no ulterior meanings, Sweaty wristbands that matched, leggings, matchy matchy outfits, white running shoes, spry high kneed jogging, and then the Walkman.

What we have now, are shabbily dressed, down trodden looking, sour faced, LED illuminated, phone chatting, feet dragging sloths which purport to be jogging.  Let me explain the Olympic definition which defines walking form running; running which takes in all forms of ambulation faster than a walk.  To Run; BOTH feet must be off the ground at the same time between strides.  If both feet are not off the ground at the same time between trods, you are walking.

This is what our day and age as become.  Sloth like.  And as we know, sloth is one of the seven deadly ones.   The noun.  As in indolence and being in a state of sloth.  Glum trodders rapidly scurrying along, giving off the idea that they might be jogging, as they converse on their device, either in hand or strapped like a blood pressure band to their arm.  One draggy foot plopping in front of the next still on the ground.

This is not jogging, running, expediting oneself quickly, scurrying, or any other form of humanoid quick propulsion.  This is Dragging Your Ass around the neighbourhood trying to look healthy while your demeanor gives you away.   If you like it, smile while you are doing it.  If you like it, put some pizzaz in your step.  If you are enjoying yourself, put some pop in your plodding.

Oh for the days when Jogging inspired the 20 Minute Work Out on TV.

Make a Macchiato Maria, I need some cream.

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. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C.

I Cringe the Binge

Repetition has it places, I only need to be told once, or once a day.  More than that and I cringe.  The binge thing seems to be the norm in todays A.C. world.  A.C. 384 by the way.  The second coming of the rabbit under wraps.  How does this Lepus linger and lounge while Homo Smallicus searches for mythical ova?

It is probably one of the most unexplained activities of modern man.  Of course, ancient man either didn’t have the free time enough to go on imaginary hunts, (he barely stayed alive with real hunts), or he was smart enough to know a ruse when he saw one.

Do people who operate fertilization clinics fall for this?  Do trappers who trap rabbits fall for this?  Do egg farmers fall for this?  Why doesn’t Maca Daca’s make coloured eggs this day?  Why are some made of chocolate?  What is with the Scelerisque Lepus?  Why not rock candy?  Or a Gummie Rabbit? 

Peeps, you have fallen for one of the modern world’s big ruses.  Rabbits are a mammal; hence their young are born alive and outside the body!  They are not Fish or Fowl, the other beasts that lay eggs to propagate.  Is science that foreign to you’se all?  Need I have to relegate my language to Neanderthal to communicate the facts?

Rabbits are best appreciated with a nice pepper sauce.  Eggs are best either coddled or smothered under hollandaise over a sliver of lox and a small muffin half.

Whew, got some free time to sip today Sally, make it black.

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. Not am Main nor ab der Elba, but down the Donau, and with Turkish Chai. #garagelurker2019, also A.C.