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#!/usr/bin/perl
##############################################################################
# Cliff's Banner Rotator Version 3.01 #
# Copyright 1998 Shaven Ferret Productions #
# Created 7/8/98 Last Modified 09/10/01 #
# Available at http://www.shavenferret.com/scripts #
##############################################################################
# COPYRIGHT NOTICE #
# Copyright 1998 Shaven Ferret Productions All Rights Reserved. #
# #
# This script can be used free of charge so long as you don't change any #
# part of it. By using this script you agree to indemnify me from any #
# liability that might arise from its use. In simple English, if this #
# script somehow makes your computer run amuck and kill the pope, it's not #
# my fault. #
# #
# Redistributing\selling the code for this program without prior written #
# consent is expressly forbidden. #
##############################################################################
require "ad-lib.cgi";
&setup;
open(FILE,"$datadir/main.txt");
@banners = ;
close(FILE);
print "Content-type: text/html\n\n";
srand;
$i = int(rand(250));
if ($i != 64) {
for ($i = $#banners; $i >= 0; $i--) {
($filenum,$weight,$inactive,$hideit,$hidetext,$hideact) = split(/\|/, $banners[$i]);
if ($inactive == 0 && ($hideit == 0 || ($hideit && ($ENV{'DOCUMENT_URI'} =~ /$hidetext/ && $hideact == -1) || ($ENV{'DOCUMENT_URI'} !~ /$hidetext/ && $hideact == 0)))) {
for ($j = 1; $j <= $weight; $j++) { splice(@okbanners,0,0,"$filenum|$i"); }
}
}
$bannernum = int(rand($#okbanners+1));
($filenum,$linenum) = split(/\|/,$okbanners[$bannernum]);
open(FILE,"$datadir/h$filenum.txt");
@lines = ;
close(FILE);
print "$lines[1]";
($trackctr,$java,$dimp,$imp,$dctr,$ctr,$ddate,$lmonth,$lday,$lyear,$conditions,$autoact,$email) = split(/\|/, $lines[0]);
open(FILE,"$datadir/c$filenum.txt");
$temp = ;
close(FILE);
($aimp,$actr) = split(/\|/,$temp);
$aimp++;
open(FILE,">$datadir/c$filenum.txt");
print FILE "$aimp|$actr";
close(FILE);
if ($dimp || $dctr || $ddate) { &checkdel; }
}
# Changing or deleting the following line of this script is illegal.
else { print "![](\"http://www.shavenferret.com/scripts/givelink/banner4.gif\")
Banner Rotator from Cliff's Perl Scripts
\n"; }
sub checkdel {
if ($dimp && $aimp >= $imp) { $true = -1; }
elsif ($dimp) { $false = -1; }
if ($dctr && $actr >= $ctr - 1) { $true = -1; }
elsif ($dctr) { $false = -1; }
if ($ddate) {
&getdate;
$lmonth++;
if (($year > $lyear) || ($year == $lyear && $mon > $lmonth) || ($year == $lyear && $mon == $lmonth && $mday >= $lday)) { $true = -1; }
else { $false = -1; }
}
if ($true && ($conditions == 0 || $false == 0)) { &deleteone; }
}
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Feb. 23, 2001
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Can You Write?
Oh we know you can read, at least we lean very heavily in that direction. We figure if you can't
read then you'll never see this anyways.
We at Coffee Club Online love bringing you fab-O issue after issue of a swell ezine. We also love
that you enjoy reading it. It do warm the cockles. Sometimes im sure you too wish that you could
be having this much fun with your cloths on and now's your chance.
We'd like to extend an invitation to anyone for coffee inspired writings. It don't have to be lots of
words, just take a look at how much we write. If you are interested, and would like to contribute
some of your rantings and ravings, please send it in.
Send to jack@coffeeclubonline.com
Jill's Magazine Reviews
We've all been intellectually horrified and secretly thrilled at the
proliferation of magazine stands in our coffee houses.
Free (usually) for the perusing, glossy
and shallow, teetering stacks of trash can be found littering the couches and armchairs of even
the hoitiest café.
This is why Jill has bravely volunteered to wade through the sea of rags to
select for you, her sweetest monkeys, those magazines worth wasting an eye flicker upon.
It's Been Submitted
Low and behold, if you ask for it, it will come.
This week, we have a special addition to our humble e-zine, via a reader submission. Perhaps this will
be the start of a growing trend to submit your writting. We wants it, we needs it and we welcomes it.
This one is rated PG14 (Porny Jill's influence for sure!). Hope you enjoy it!
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Random Musings Of Mild Misanthropy
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Does anybody know what time it is?
Time to get some real coffee, that's what. Hello again, esteemed
reader. As promised last issue - and because I'm a slack-assed
bastard about writing this drivel - I brewed up a pot of that
infamous "8 O'Clock Coffee" and thought I'd share the experience
with all y'all.
I dunno about you, but this coffee has been a staple in my parents'
pantry [I first typed the word "panty" accidently,
I'd like to believe. What does that mean?].
And when I say this coffee, I mean THIS coffee:
that's the same goddamn bag that's been there forever.
It sits
rolled up on a top shelf, right beside the 5kg bag of Sifto
salt and the fifteen year old box of Sunmaid raisins, still
halfway emptied. My parents treat their coffee like their beer:
buy cheap, use it sparingly, waste nothing. (On a side note:
my Pop will put back the unused portion of the sale-priced
Meisterbrau Scheissenläger "for later" because it
would be wasting money. Please baby, please don't let me turn
into him...)
Anyway, I saw that big-ass
bag of this stuff on sale at my local grocer's last month, in
a very nice pyramid display on the floor. It looked almost inviting
in its plasticky red bag and distinct art-deco-ish block fontery.
Add to this my ever-willingness to put something new into my mouth,
I bought a bag to give it a try. How can a boy resist?
I bought the whole bean variety instead of the pre-ground because
it's the Coffee Club way. It's also the way I buy almost all
my coffee and it'll let me compare more easily & get a better
grip on what's happening on my taste buds.
I work night-shift
for the man, and on these chilly nites I always brew
up a short pot of coffee while I'm enjoying a little
"me time" in the shower, sudsing myself up and slapping my
furry, wet bum-bum (try it: it's a really wicked sound. I mean
try it on me). Anyway, it's all I can do to get my lazy
ass out the door and off to my soul-sucking job: a nice cup of
hot, black Joe lets me bear the arduous trek down the thronged
Don Valley Parkway. This is the most important coffee of my
workday. This is where I do all my coffee reviewing. This is
where eager new coffees come with the hopes of being a superstar.
My car is the casting couch of Coffee Hollywood. Spread 'em wide,
my little beans, and let's have a little taste.
OK. So this is where I thought I'd wax bitterly about how crappy
this coffee is. Like Tom Cruise, I really wanted to hate
this little bitch, but it got the job done. I mean, it's definitely
not le merde, but I've tasted worse.
It's a rung or two up
the coffee ladder from vending machine coffee, and even from
Coffee Time. Everything about it - flavour, aroma,
appearance, drinkability - is, well... pedestrian. Certainly
better than instant coffees, Folgers et al, but I'd say not
really belonging in our Coffee Club fridge. I really have nothing
to say about it. I'm at a loss for words. I gots nuthin'!
Eight O'Clock Coffee stole my brain!!!
Oh well. If you're
an ironfisted pinchpenny (and I know you are) and are looking for
a yummy, quality coffee on the cheap, then go buy or steal a pack of
Tchibo Exclusive for about the same money (see your
humble narrator's review in the Aug. 18, 2000 issue).
Save this stuff for Easter Lunch with the parents and have a least
a little class, OK?
Eight fascinating things about "Eight O'Clock Coffee".
Or not.
1. Tastes like chicken
2. Like hitting yourself in the face: feels good when you stop
3. Enjoy that airport vending machine coffee in your own home at last
4. Leaves you opinionless, empty, with writer's block and strangely
complacent
5. Gives you a hard-on the size of Florida
6. Makes you say things like: "Dime fa a cuwa coffa?"
( apologies to Steve Martin )
7. There aren't eight fascinating things about it
Farewell until next time, gentle reader. Do come back again and feel
free to send me your comments, suggestions, stories, whatever. Gotta go, the
coffee's on.
" Run, run, as fast as you can - you can't catch me,
I'm the Gingerbread Man! "
Edward Pants, Esq.
In life's coffee bag, be the bitter bean.
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Frequent Voyeur
Jill spends a lot of time in coffee houses. Jill is naturally something of a
voyeur, but lately Jill has put this latent perversion to constructive purposes in observing the
types of people which frequent, say, a local Starbuck's.
Jill would of course like to preface
her observations with making clear, once again, that we here at the Coffee Club do not visit
Starbuck's, nor drink their brown water, nor do we recommend that any of our readers frequent
Starbuck's.
THE PHILOSOPHY MAJOR: Otherwise known as the Barista. Maintains quite vehemently that
Philosophy is not only a relevant area of study, it is also a field with the potential
to provide one with a lucrative career.
THE ENGLISH MAJOR: Otherwise known as the Barista. Hides a copy of ‘Fried Green
Tomatoes' beneath the counter. Denies it being their copy when confronted by the
Philosophy Major.
THE DRAMA MAJOR: Otherwise known as the Barista. Has a certain dramatic flair when
squirting the whipped cream onto the top of your café mocha. Destined for a lucrative
career in porn, much to the considerable envy of the impoverished Philosophy Major.
DIRTY OLD MAN: Otherwise known as the local author. Has published a small and forgettable
Canadiana work of fiction. Is boring, pretentious, asks for medium instead of tall in order
to annoy the English Major. Stares openly at her breasts. Cites her as inspiration for his
next equally forgettable novel. Desperately tries to contrive a method of getting her into his car.
HARRIED BUSINESS WOMAN: Otherwise known as the local housewares boutique owner. Sells brass
soap dishes and other equally useless items. Thinks teddy bears are not only adorable, but an
essential component of any decorating scheme. Orders non-fat everything, then scarfs down an
espresso brownie "for energy". Flirts with the Philosophy Major, desperately tries to contrive
a method of getting him into her car.
DIRTY YOUNG MAN: Otherwise known as the local musician. Frequently seen busking out front of the
Starbuck's. Is saving up to "Cut a record, man." This, of course, will never happen.
Scrounges change to buy black coffee, never tips, befouls the washroom, steals the sugar
packets, never fails to make loud remarks about muti-national conglomerates that move into a
neighborhood and drive all the local businesses into bankruptcy. Then tries to wheedle a free
slice of cake from the Drama Major. She, of course, thinks that he is swell, and desperately
tries to contrive a method of getting him into her car.
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