THE GURGLING COD

Back on the grind

Where is Alexander Pope when you need him? 

I’ve gotten over being mad, now I’m just sort of sad. Found some stuff this morning and I’m having trouble not taking it personally. This is the worst I’ve felt since taking on the adventure of building Clover. Not sure what to do about it.

I discovered this morning that a bunch of our employees including some of my most trusted managers are setting the coffee grinder to a very very fine setting when making coffee for themselves. I was assured “we always do it right for customers,” and before that sentence was finished I just felt worse. This isn’t a case of poor training on technique, it’s a case of employees not buying into what we’re doing.

It's like Kevin Barnes all over again. And the only thing that can fix it is satiric couplets! 

We interrupt these messages

Super Bowl mishegas of all sorts here and there. Sarah Sprague has it locked up tight. Longtime associates of the Cod might enjoy a rundown of personal super bowl memories that Ms. Sprague was kind enough to share with you. Looking back over that list makes me feel better about getting on a plane this evening to travel to the belly of the beast to join a collection of like-minded folks for the game tomorrow. That said, there are things other than football, so I'll share this for HBF, MKPB, MHK, and a host of others: 

 

Son, you say you want a chicken sandwich? I got your chicken sandwich right here.

So, this seemed sort of in the wheelhouse: 

Cassanova McKinzy spurned Clemson because he missed the Chick-fil-A

Then both the current and former chairs of the Cod's corporeal host's day job's department emailed this link. Thing is, there is a Chick-fil-A on campus.  On one hand, an LB who can't find a Wendy's does seem like he would be vulnerable to ball fakes and such. On the other hand, the elaborate and protracted construction of a Wendy's adjacent to the Clemson athletic tutoring facility seems like a possible miscalculation. But most of all, you want a chicken sandwich? Don't need no fancy restaurant for that, son:

It's not made of tin...

The Cod's corporeal host marks a decade of state-sanctioned cohabitation with the cinetrix today. Much has changed in ten years, notably a latebreaking penchant for oysters on the part of the cinetrix. From our friends at Island Creek, just in the nick of time: