Wordless Wednesday XI

Cuppa Joe

 

"I'm honored.  No joke."

    Wrong Joe.

    Like last week’s post, I thought I’d once again visit my personal wayback machine.  However, unlike last week’s Ode To Cabbage, I decided to pen a little original material before I launch into the aforementioned visit to the past.

    Since I was a senior in high school, I’ve drunk coffee.  What started out as a means to imitate “grownups” (trust me, alcohol came later), grew into, quite frankly, a sort of addiction once I enlisted in the Navy.

    We’ll get back to the Navy, trust me.

    What are the origins of this dark brew, you might ask?  Okay, maybe you’re not asking, but you’re here so you may as well listen to what I have to say write.

    Wild coffee plants were first discovered in Ethiopia, but since the Ethiopians had more important things to worry than coffee

Like lions

 the plants were actually first  developed as a drink in Yemen until the 15^th century.

    Yemen probably had lions, too, but this isn’t a history of the animal kingdom, so shut up.    

"Lions once were in Yemen, but they became extinct due to overhunting and desire to eat Ethiopians.  Now if one of you could tell me where the Mens Room is, I'd appreciate it. 
I think I pooped myself."  

"The struggle is real."

    Anyway, since Diet Coke hadn’t been invented yet, Sufi Muslims used the drink to keep awake during nighttime prayers.

    Imagine how boring those prayers must have been.

    By the 16^th century, the popularity of coffee had spread throughout the Middle East and into Europe, fueling the rise of coffeehouses.

When the pubs were closed, I suppose.

    From there it was only natural for it to make its way to the New World, where the indigenous population greeted it with, “What?  No Fresca?  I guess we’ll drink it, as long as you keep those smallpox blankets to yourselves.”

    Since then, coffee has been one of the world’s most popular beverages.

Beating the snot out of Moxie.

    So, from where did the name “coffee” come?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  Okay, I know you didn’t.  Just play along.  “Coffee” derives from the Ottoman Turk “kahve,” which means “Nasty Drink Which Gives You Bad Breath But Helps You Stay Awake In Church.”

    The nation of Brazil is the world’s leading producer of coffee.  Other nations which export coffee include Colombia, Indonesia, Ivory Coast, 

Got kind of a soapy aftertaste, though.

Ethiopia (probably not surprising), and Vietnam, which supplanted Colombia for the second largest producer of coffee in 1999.

Don't worry.  Colombia will be fine.

    And now you know.

    Okay, personal story:

    Since my earliest days in the Navy, I only drink my coffee black, even though I used to take it with sugar and milk.  But, why black?

    Well, as the most junior member of my aviation electronics workcenter on USS America, it was my job to get our weekly ration of coffee, sugar, and creamer.

"That's bullshit, man!  Get the new guy to do i...oh.  Wait."

  One day, after I brought our ration to the shop, I noticed there were ants crawling in the sugar and the powder creamer came out in green chucks when I opened the packets.

    From that day nearly fifty years ago, the thought of anything but black coffee makes me sick.

    And now you know that, too.

 Bonus Fun Fact:  While there are a few origins to the phrase “Cuppa Joe,” the most reliable is that cuppa “joe” refers to a combination of “Java” and “Mocha” into “Jamoke.”  Shortened to “jo” or “joe.”

Second Bonus Fun Fact:  Why “Java” and “Mocha”?  Java is in Indonesia and Mocha is a port in Yemen.

    And now you...

You get the picture

   

Wordless Wednesday X

 

Be Careful What You Ask For

 

It's what's for lunch

    For today’s post, I thought I’d tell a story from my personal wayback machine.  You know, because I couldn’t think of anything else to write thought you all would enjoy a yarn of a simpler time.  When my hair was brown and everything worked.

    Back in the early 80s, I was a fresh-faced young Navy petty officer who accepted orders as an instructor at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.  I was tasked with training young skulls full of mush in the inner workings of the A-6E Intruder’s electronics suite.

A-6E
Like me, long since gone.

    But, hell, that isn’t germane to the point of this story.

Or to any of the Jackson brothers.
Yes, I know it's "Jermaine."

    Anyway, my co-instructor was a senior petty officer who asked me to have lunch with him at his house one day.  Since I had neglected to pack my own lunch and it was between paydays (meaning I couldn’t buy anything to eat on base), I said sure.

    When we got there, he directed me to a pretty comfy recliner and switched on his television to something like The Price is Right.

    Once again, could have been The Joker's Wild.  Still not important.

    As he went into the kitchen, he asked if I liked cabbage.  I answered, “Sure,” figuring he meant something like coleslaw.  Or maybe he was going to make Reuben sandwiches.

    Well, uh, no.

    He returned seconds later.  With a head of cabbage.  Which he cut in half, one half for him, one half for me.

    So, for lunch, I had a dry half of a head of cabbage.

    The next day, he invited me back.  I figured no way would there be a repeat.

    Way.

    Without even asking, he brought back another half of a head of cabbage.  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I accepted it.  Yum.

Even Bob Barker couldn't make it taste any better.

    Needless to say, I remembered to pack a lunch from that day forward.

    Moral of the Story:  Choose your words carefully.  Otherwise, you may get stuck with cabbage.   

Wordless Wednesday IX

 

The natural result of Speed Dating

What A Time To Be Alive

 

    I had out of town company this week, so I didn't have time to really post anything of worth.

"Of worth?"

    So, you'll just have to settle for this.

    Our ancestors would be so jealous.

Wordless Wednesday VIII

 

A Long Time Ago

 

In a galaxy...right here

    In addition to the crap you usually see here, I have on occasion submitted stories to Chicken Soup For the Soul.  Sometimes I get lucky and they lose their minds.  Four stories so far have made their books. So, when "Chicken Soup" sent out a call for stories to be included in their 50th (yeah, no shit) anniversary edition, I wrote the below and submitted it.

    Since I doubt it will "make the cut," I thought I'd post it here on Blogger, as well.  Hey, who knows?  Someone may be entertained.

********        

    I remember when “Star Wars” was released on May 25, 1977.  Having newly reported to the aircraft carrier, USS America, I didn’t have time to experience the hoopla which went with what would become a monster science fiction/fantasy franchise.  A franchise that would continue for decades and witness my transformation

from wet-behind-the-ears teenager

 

To gray-haired codger given to 
falling asleep in front of the TV before nine.

    By the time I finally found my way around the huge ship, to include the exits, we got underway for a training cruise to South America.  Then, shortly after returning to homeport, we embarked on a six-month deployment to the Mediterranean Sea.

    Needless to say, I didn’t get a chance to take in any movies, “Star Wars” or any of the classics of 1977.

Such as...

      However, unlike today, Navy ship deployments featured a port visit every week.  These were touted as a chance to show the flag and nurture cordial relationships with our Allies.  Personally, though, I think they were largely designed as a fuel-conservation measure (America was an oil-fired ship).  But, hey, I joined the Navy to see the world. 

And the world saw me.

    During one such visit to Palma de Mallorca, Spain in December, a friend and I were contemplating how to spend our time “on the beach” (an expression-no way we were going to an actual beach in December).  Believe it or not, we had grown tired of the cliché “Sailor entertainments” along the waterfront.  We reviewed the available cathedrals, monuments, museums....and a local theater which was playing “Star Wars.”

    I still remember the conversation as if it were yesterday:

    “Hey, one of the guys from Beach Guard told me they’re playing that new movie, “Star Wars” out in town.”

    “No kidding?  I got a letter from my girlfriend a couple days ago.  She wrote that movie is selling out theaters, left and right.  But, won’t it be in Spanish here?”

    I pooh-poohed him.  “Maybe.  But, I bet it’ll be in English with Spanish subtitles.”

    “I don’t know....”

    “PFFT!  The worst that can happen is that it’ll be dubbed in Spanish and have English subtitles.”

    “You think?”

    “Absolutely.”

    “Okay, then.  Let’s go.”

    In little under an hour, we were in a Palma cineplex, all jazzed to finally see “Star Wars.”

    Which was in Spanish with no subtitles.

    The only one I understood was that gorilla-looking creature.  Plus, I was fairly certain that the dude wearing a black helmet was a bad guy.

    Five months later, I went to see “Star Wars” with my girlfriend.  Where I learned I was right.

    Darth Vader was a bad guy. 

"I find your assumption most troubling."

 

Wordless Wednesday VII

 

Happy Independence Day

  I realize I've used this picture quite a few times.  Although I can't remember the exact caption, it's basically the same.  I keep using it, though, because it tickles me. 

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted.  Plus, who thought it was a great idea to wear wool coats when it's like the frikkin' sun outside?  Anyway, lunch.  General Washington, what ab...oh, wait.  He's not here.  Sucks to be him.  Still, he's probably not sweating his balls off, wherever he is.  Adams, I got you for a BLT with chips...seriously, do you need bacon, Chubs?  Why not have a salad?  Jefferson, chicken salad on a croissant with dijon mustard...that figures, Frenchy.  You like dark meat, right?  Madison, turkey sandwich with a pickle...sounds kinda phallic, don'tcha think?  Franklin, you want fish and chips.  Fish and chips???  Look, I know you're as old as Delegate Biden, but do you even KNOW what we're doing here, Ben??" 

    By the way, notice I wrote "Happy Independence Day" vice "Happy 4th of July."  Because, how many countries have the 4th of July?

    All of them.

Thaaaattttt's right.

NOTE:  Despite my snark, there is ZERO evidence that James Madison was gay.  Sure, he was a little fella, but so is Peter Dinklage and he's not gay.  As far as I know.

Wordless Wednesday VI

 

Throwback Friday-Coffee

 

    Okay, I admit that posting old videos of me blathering on about this or ranting about that may be a bit of cheat, but hey, I figure, why not go with something tried and true while I lay around on my spotty behind do something important around the house?

FULL DISCLOSURE:  I recorded this six years ago before my beard.  And wrinkles.

Wordless Wednesday IV