The Coffee Affair Autopsy

Another Shit Sandwich From the Fly on the Wall

Can you imagine having to substitute a cup of coffee with 200 reps suggested by Fitness Guru Mike Chang? Well, I’ve done it. Some days. And that’s where the Fly on the Wall begins its latest briefing — hovering above a man who once drank coffee like it was a constitutional right, now sitting there bloated and resentful while some smug machine composes prose with the detachment of a war correspondent who never had to dodge a single bullet. The Fly circles, unimpressed, watching the abdominal inflation rise like a poorly timed soufflé.

“Alright, listen up…”

This isn’t a geopolitical analysis.
This isn’t a civilizational audit.
This is a stimulant autopsy, and the Fly is here to deliver the shit sandwich with its usual lack of ceremony.

The Early Years: Passion and Poor Judgment

In the beginning, coffee strutted into the man’s life like a dangerous lover — all heat, swagger, and chemical promises. It whispered about productivity, clarity, ambition. It never mentioned the bloating, the gut mutiny, or the nervous system behaving like a raccoon trapped in a recycling bin.

The Fly watched the whole thing unfold from the rim of the mug, wings twitching with contempt. Coffee barked orders; the man obeyed. It was torrid, yes — but torrid in the way forest fires are torrid. Beautiful from a distance. Catastrophic up close.

The Green Tea Rebellion

Then came 2008, the year the man quietly defected. Green tea entered the scene like a calm, competent partner who didn’t need to shout to be heard. No bloating. No gastric sabotage. No jittery aftermath that felt like being interrogated by your own adrenal glands.

The Fly approved.
Rare event.

Green tea didn’t intrude.
It didn’t posture.
It didn’t demand tribute from the gut.
It simply existed — and the man’s physiology, exhausted from years of coffee’s emotional terrorism, embraced the peace.

The Late‑Marriage Relapse

But then came 2020 to 2024 — a period the Fly refers to as “The Siege.” Stress rose. Sleep fell. Coffee re‑entered the theatre like an ex who shows up at your door claiming they’ve changed.

They hadn’t.

The man drank more of it.
The gut revolted.
The nerves tightened.
The Fly hovered overhead, watching the collapse with the same expression it reserves for humans who walk into screen doors.

It wasn’t love.
It was survival.
And survival makes people do stupid things.

The Aging‑Out Moment

Now, in the present day, the Fly delivers its verdict:

The man has aged out of coffee.

Not dramatically.
Not with a grand gesture.
Just with the quiet realization that the old thrill is gone and the consequences aren’t worth the nostalgia.

Coffee still has a spark — a faint echo of the days when it made mornings feel sharper, faster, more possible. But the body isn’t fooled anymore. The gut files complaints. The nerves mutter threats. The reward shrinks to a whisper.

Meanwhile, green tea stands off to the side, unbothered, unintrusive, and entirely victorious.

The Fly’s Final Report

This isn’t a tragedy.
It’s a natural transition — like outgrowing leather jackets, loud bars, or the belief that your body won’t invoice you later for your choices.

Coffee was a torrid love affair.
Green tea is the stable partner who moved in afterward and quietly fixed the place.

The Fly, having witnessed the entire saga, offers its final assessment:

“You didn’t quit coffee. You just stopped pretending it was good for you.”

And with that, the Fly lifts off, leaving behind the faint smell of roasted beans and the unmistakable truth:

Some stimulants age with you.
Some stimulants age against you.
And some — like coffee — simply age out of the job.

Closing Sting
If the man insists on one last cup, the Fly won’t stop him.
It will simply hover nearby, waiting for the inevitable bloat, ready to file yet another report on yet another human who can’t accept that time, gut chemistry, and biology have all voted him out of the coffee‑drinking demographic.

The Fly doesn’t judge.
The Fly just watches.
And the Fly is never wrong. In its own mind.

Written by Mack McColl and Co-Pilot and art rendered by Grok

Here's a previous shit sandwich

McColl Magazine Public Safety: A Shit Sandwich From A Fly on the Wall

Now For Something Completely Insane

Originally Published April 6, 2011  Updated

Things are a little strange in Canada when it comes to killers, and it gets stranger when you turn to psychopathic killers who are practically bestial in their carnage only to walk away with barely a wink of an eye in the way of retribution. Pickton confessed on the sly to killing 50 but gets convicted of six, gets lots of encouragement to appeal, and why not? He's got nothing but time (you might wish).

THE NEW RISING HEAT

 CANADA’S RISE IN HATE CRIME 

WHAT IT SIGNALS ABOUT A SOCIETY UNDER STRAIN 

You can tell a society is in trouble when the old, familiar forms of disorder stop being the problem. Petty theft, nuisance behaviour, the usual civic entropy — these are the background hum of any civilization. What should keep public safety officials awake at night is not the noise, but the tone of the noise. And in Canada, the tone has changed. It has sharpened. It has grown teeth.

The Beast at the Urban Wall (You all know. . .)

 A civic meditation on second-hand smoke and first-hand smokers

“Tobacco isn’t recognized as the cause of social disorder — but it is the gravitational center around which a remarkable amount of mayhem orbits.”

The Governor General Who Brought a Fire Extinguisher to a Candlelight Job

Canada hands the Crown’s quietest office to a veteran of the world’s loudest crises

— and suddenly the curtains are rustling 

Canada likes to pretend the Governor General is a harmless ornament — a constitutional throw pillow with a motorcade. Schoolchildren are taught the GG “represents the Crown.” 

Yet, every few decades, the office emits heat, a little smoke, and a political classman remembers the GG is more than a mascot. A dormant volcano with impeccable diction begins to rumble. 

Enter Louise Ardour, incoming Governor General

Alberta: A Comedy of Manners on the Prairies

The Long Road from Dissociation to Détente 

Alberta’s latest plot twist reads like a national comedy of manners: a province long cast as the brooding outsider suddenly finds the spotlight turning warm, the thermostat fixed, and the country behaving as though it remembers who keeps the lights on. All in the past few days.

Whispers About the Nuclear World Order

For the noise in 2026 — the shouting, the slogans, the moral theatrics — the real question humming beneath the floorboards of every major capital is disarmingly simple. . .

Is the internal environment stable enough to guarantee command‑and‑control integrity?

That’s it.  You better believe that’s the whole show.  Everything else is commentary, press releases, fake media, and the usual diplomatic yoga by a lot of phoney, chicken-leg politicians.

The nuclear age was built on the assumption that states were stable, institutions were coherent, and the chain of command was something more than a polite suggestion. That assumption held for a while. It holds less strong now.

So we arrive at the four pressure points shaping the quiet realpolitik of the moment — the ones no one campaigns on, but everyone in the back rooms understands.

Number One:  Nuclear Stewardship Assumes Domestic Coherence

The Story of Maya Gebala Cannot be Written

 Unless It Leads With Her Incredible Will To Live

Fundraiser for Cia Edmonds by Krysta Hunt : Support For Maya In Her Road To Recovery

Do you know who I am talking about when I mention "Maya Gebala?" She is the 12‑year‑old girl who survived the Tumbler Ridge, B.C. mass shooting on February 10, 2026.

Taxoholics Anonymous: For People Addicted to OPM (Other Peoples Money)

 A Revolutionary New 12‑Step Recovery Program 

Murder of Iryna Zarutska: Assailant won't stand trial

  Atrocity on a  train in North Carolina

A major development has emerged in the case of Iryna Zarutska, the Ukrainian refugee whose killing on a Charlotte light‑rail train in August 2025 shocked communities across North America. Court filings now state that the accused, DeCarlos Brown Jr., has been found “incapable to proceed” to trial under North Carolina law following a psychiatric evaluation. 

One Number That Runs the World 5,000 Years and Counting

A 5,000‑year‑old Sumerian system quietly underwrites every minute

The order, timing, and coordination of modern public safety depends on it

The Apparatchik’s Guide to Electoral Obfuscation

Confidential Memorandum – For Internal Use Only

Four Trained Seals Dance For Convention

And The Death of Parliament 

A Field Briefing from a Subtropical Professional

A Shit Sandwich From A Fly on the Wall

Doesn’t need to be liked — only to be heard, and possibly to be understood

“Alright, listen up…”

A formal introduction to a very informal expert.

“Alright, listen up. We have a briefing today from the greatest expert we’ve ever had the privilege — or the misfortune — to hear from. And this is the report we are able to deliver from that expert.

Ladies and gentlemen, planners, analysts, strategists of every persuasion — I present our special guest. A creature uniquely qualified to speak on matters of Bharat, its history, its temperament, and its net zero tolerance for nonsense. (CO2 NoT SO MUCH).

He is descended from a line of flies who have watched three thousand years of unacquainted observers underestimate this place. Three thousand years of humanity's hubris, swagger, miscalculation, and overconfidence in the form of visitors learning the same lesson the same way.

And today, speaking for them — to you, lucky listeners — he offers a chance to know what they know. Hush falls over the Canadian Parliamentary Committee on Military Affairs, hosting his meeting, (and the Report begins):

The Pattern Outsiders Never Learn

Every outsider who ever tried to size up Bharat made the same three errors:

• They assumed the place was simple.
• They assumed the people were passive. 
• They assumed the civilization was fragile.

And every outsider left with the same three realizations: 

• This place is deeper than they thought. 
• These people are stubborn in ways they didn’t expect.
• This civilization bends, absorbs, adapts — and then outlasts

This fly’s lineage didn’t create that pattern, but watched it from the wall. For three thousand years.

The Frontier Wall

This is where the Mongols learned about limits. The sons of Genghis Khan were witnessed by that fly on the frontier wall watching the Mongols — arriving by reputation as "the undefeated" everywhere else — riding on reputation, entering with swagger, men who had never heard the word “no.” That fly learned how they arrived and expected another demolition job. They left with bruises and a century of frustration. That fly on the wall, was unimpressed. It had seen it done in Bharat before. Lost count, like losing count of family.

The Medieval and Early Modern Waves

Outsiders always had to learn India doesn’t break. Wave after wave of invaders arrived with confidence and left with confusion. Some stayed for a while. None ever fully understanding. The fly’s kin watched it all — absorption, adaptation, the quiet endurance outlasting every ideology trying to plant a flag, or rape, pillage, plunder and murder.

The 20th Century Walls

Where the Indian Army fought the world’s wars — and a fly watched. That fly on the Western Front in 1914 was acquainted with the trenches smelling like rust, rain, and stubbornness. Indian troops held lines nobody expected them to hold, in weather nobody expected them to survive. France, Belgium — the fly’s lineage perched on every sandbag, every dugout, every fractionation.

A fly acquaintance rode a mule column through East Africa. Said the sun there could peel paint off a tank. Said the Indian regiments kept marching anyway. That fly’s lineage watched the Great War reshape the subcontinent’s soldiers — not into Europeans, but into something harder: men who had seen the world’s worst and come home with their discipline sharpened, not broken.

Then came the second round.

That fly on the Burma front in 1944 wouldn’t shut up about the humidity. Said it was the only place on Earth where even a fly could drown in the air. But he also said the Indian divisions fought through jungle that swallowed whole armies. Fought the Japanese to a standstill. Fought with a precision that made the British rethink who was teaching whom.

Another fly perched on a Sherman tank rolling through North Africa. Said the desert was honest — it killed the unprepared and rewarded the stubborn. Indian armored brigades learned fast.

The fly’s lineage watched the Indian Army fight on every major front of the Second World War — Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Southeast Asia. Not as conscripts. As professionals. As the backbone of campaigns the Empire couldn’t have run without them.

This fly wasn’t there for those wars. But this fly knows what they forged. Because every time people ignored what flies knew, they paid for it — and in those wars, the flies ate well.

The Himalayan Wall

A fly acquaintance once perched on a Himalayan bunker in 1967 when a modern adversarial army misread the room. Poor bastard still can’t feel his wings. This fly acquaintance provided a credible account, of watching generals planning skirmishes turning into a test of will. Bharat’s troops held ground with the stubbornness that stopped the Mongols. A realization spread through the opposing ranks that Bharat’s restraint is not hesitation. A fly stayed on the wall long after the visitors split the scene, a repeating pattern, even with advanced modern foes.

The Submarine Hull

Where the sleeper superpower reveals its depth was with another fly sat upon the submarine hull last winter talking of the sleeper stretching. Nuclear‑powered submarines sliding into the Indian Ocean like shadows. A navy expanding its reach across one of the world’s most strategic waterways. Maritime patrols looking less like drills and more like preparation. That fly’s lineage has seen a pattern — a quiet before the wake up.

The Coastal Wall

Where a civilization patrols its own neighborhood that fly on the coastal wall talked about an ocean under new management. This fly said it's not just Tamils shitting on the beach. The Indian Ocean — once a highway for outsiders — now feels like a neighborhood under new supervision. This isn’t swagger. This is insurance.

The Nuclear Reality

Deterrence with a civilizational memory. The fly’s lineage perched on enough ruins to know what happens when civilizations misjudge fire. Bharat’s nuclear arsenal is not a trophy. It is a fire extinguisher: essential, unglamorous, and used when the building is on fire.

This fly knows the Indian civilization survived steppe invasions, maritime raids, colonial extraction, and Cold War brinkmanship without need of theatrics. It needs capability. And it has it.

The Present Power

What this fly sees.

From a perch today — not on ancient forts or colonial ledgers, but on steel, silicon, and composite armor — this fly can tell you plainly:

The era of underestimating Bharat is over. The memo hasn’t reached everyone yet. They may not even see it when they show up. They may be taken by the music, and dance like lunatics wearing inappropriate attire. Acting the idiot. This fly saw it.

What the fly’s lineage saw was fragments, but this fly watches integrated systems:

• A nuclear triad that doesn’t brag — it exists, to menace as necessary. • Ballistic‑missile submarines with second‑strike confidence. • A navy that owns its ocean. • An air force that reaches, strikes, and returns. • An army seasoned by every terrain on Earth. • Special forces who operate in silence. • A surveillance and space architecture that watches continuously.

This is not a regional force. This is a contiguous superpower — land, sea, air, space, cyber — fused into a single strategic organism with a civilizational memory older than most alphabets. And this fly has seen it all. Or heard from other flies.

The Hard Landing

This message is for anyone presuming to “visit” Bharat on a military mission.

Every outsider who ever misread Bharat did so because they looked at the past and assumed it predicted the future. But this fly sees the present. And the present is this:

Bharat is a superpower now. Integrated. Awake. And very, very patient. For anyone considering a military adventure:

• Pack light.
• Pack humility 
• Pack a return ticket

You won’t need the first two. You’ll pray for the third.

And remember: You don’t have to like this fly. You just have to listen. Every time humans ignore what flies know, they paid for it — by flies eating them, worst case scenario.

The Fly’s Exit

And that’s it. Briefing complete. This fly doesn’t linger. This fly doesn’t wait for applause. This fly doesn’t care whether anyone understood a word said.

This fly lifts off with that lazy, unimpressed wobble, licks a wing like he’s brushing crumbs off a jacket, and gives the room a casual flip‑off — not angry, but professionally done with all of you.

Then this fly angles toward the nearest warm draft, muttering about catching his flight back to Mumbai. He’s got a standing date at Mumbai's Taj Mahal Hotel — AKA Salvation Army Hotel — and he is rue to be late. These flies have a lot of walls to inhabit, a lot of corridors to monitor, and a lot of overconfident visitors to keep an eye on.

He’s gone before anyone can say thank you. He wouldn’t have listened anyway.

Mission accomplished.

Read Another Public Safety Shit Sandwich: The Coffee Affair Autopsy

A Committee With No Treasurer, Now Bankrupting Citizens

A Mirror Maze Mistakenly Acting as a Court

A provincial tribunal meant for mediation drifts into power to execute penury, raising the question no one wants to answer: who  empowered this committee with this mandate to break people?