review

I jot notes, physically, on paper, by hand, often, though I produce work predominantly through the abstraction of a computer screen. I’m notably less productive when I don’t scribble—even just a few words or fragmented incoherencies—over the course of a day. I tend to make sense of whatever faster when I scratch into matter, which isn’t quite replicated by way of the ephemeral processes of electronic journaling or noting. The act is akin to catapulting globs of stagnant, fetid goo out of the skull and onto stiff bedrock. “Here we are, thoughts: face to face. I see you, now, and you are demonstrably mine.”

We are cavemen at heart, after all, and it’s impertinent to constrain a spatial being. The keyboard is a straitjacket of sorts; it limits movement. Try to dismount. Try pirouetting away. It’s not easy. The right brain yearns to express at least slightly more than which it can computationally. (Kersplat!) So jot!

Tools of Trade

I choose to jot with pens, gel- and click-style, in particular, because they are effective and low maintenance. But there are many pens one could choose from. Too many, in fact: It’s perilously easy to lose oneself in the multitudinous aisles of online pen retailers (see: “timesuck”). I demoed about twenty pens the past couple of years because firsthand was the only way I could translate the practical scope of these objects in working contexts—and I advise readers to do the same. JetPens’ popular section (under $10) is a logical place to start. (ProTip: Use their filters.)

My formerly gross collection has been pared down to two pedestrian pens, in two categories, selected scrupulously for specific ends:

For Writing Quickly

The Pilot G2 (0.7mm) is my go-to in most circumstances. I write fastest legibly with this pen. Rapidity is mainly all I care about—fast, fast, fast; go and a minute ago. The pen doesn’t yield the most consistent lines, but I find the ink clear to read and the point satisfying to push/pull/yank across a page.

I write quickly with this pen because of how it’s balanced. I’m able to hold the pen in a way, with fulcrum (i.e., grip) distanced from the gel point, that allows minimal effort to write legible characters. The technique is similar to that of “choking down” on a baseball bat to swing with more force but less control. In this case, the ballpoint moves further with each gesture of the hand at the expense of precision.

I also use the 0.5mm G2, but in less instances, like when I’m scribbling notes while reading. Results from this pen tend to be sloppy; thinner points expose deficiencies in handwriting. I don’t particularly enjoy using the 0.5, but it’s the appropriate pen at times.

For Writing Neatly, in Small Spaces

I use a goofy, hybrid setup in these scenarios: I’m partial to the ink from the Uni-ball Signo 307 (Micro Point)—it’s grand!—but I abhor the Signo body. It’s thick and unwieldy, not unlike the jumbo crayons I scrawled with as a kid. And the clicker is a bore, no fun. But the ink!—it makes me want to attempt art. It flows smoothly and is consistently neat. I’m sure I could reproduce The Sleep of Reason… if I tried.

So: I attempted to transplant the Signo ink refill (while donning a surgical mask and scrubs) (“SCALPEL!”) into other pen bodies that I prefer, and found it’s compatible with the Zebra Sarasa Push Clip (any size). I really like the Zebra Clip. Its clip mechanism is novel and I think flat-out better than that of the average pen, whose mechanism is more susceptible to breaking and doesn’t engage with a pocket nearly as well. (I confess: I delight in clipping the Clip; I swoon when a marginally fussy, unthought task suddenly becomes a conscious cinch.)

Furthermore, the Clip is conducive to neat handwriting because there is little distance between the gel tip and where the pen is comfortable to grip in hand. It encourages the user to “choke up.” This gives way to higher precision than the G2, at the expense of speed. (Which makes sense: The faster one writes, the sloppier the handwriting. The Clip, by way of form, slows the hand down.)

Clip ink is okay—0.5mm I find to be best—but Signo ink is more reliable.

The most common use-case for me, for this Franken-pen, is addressing envelopes, which I don’t do all that often, truthfully. It sees sporadic use, now, though I wrote with it more in the past.

Uni-ball Signo 307 (Medium Point) ink is also compatible with the Clip body, but I almost always prefer to write quickly than neatly at 0.7mm size, so I seldom operate this combo.

Hastily, On Paper

When structure seems apposite, I write on cheap, yellow legal pads. Otherwise, I jot on plain, unlined computer paper (lightweight stock, high brightness, e.g., 20lb / 96 bright) to afford my thoughts abandon.

And Where to Buy

I’ve included product links above that point to Amazon. I get a small kickback if you purchase from them, which allows me to continue producing this type of content. But: The Pilot and Uni-ball can be found for the lowest price at Walmart. That’s where I buy them. The Zebra Clip is only available online (and at specialty stores, I assume); JetPens had the best price on the Clip, last I checked.

“Hhhmmmmmmhmmmm” —Five-times-enlightened Buddhist monk

Hunched over nearly bent in two in only a way a triathletic trainer would deem proper, traversing à vélo the altitudinally anfractuous back roads of the western Main Line on a sticky Saturday July evening, I was reminded by a steadily-growing-from-dull-to-sharp full-body ache that worked its way into my promenade du soir how negligent I’ve been in providing an update to my in-surely-some-small-circle-celebrated no-holds-barred reviews of the Herman Miller Embody chair and Jarvis bamboo standing desk. (Ardent readers of this weblog will know said exposés can be found here.)

I will first say a few words about the chair, then the desk.

A comprehensive link list is located below.

Death of a Chair, Man (by H. Miller)

The Embody is no more. It’s gone. Relinquished its ghost. Requiescat in pace. Arrivederci. Or, well, it is now under the ownership of a nice, punctual, honest twenty-something I connected with through Craigslist named Liard. (“Liard, Liard, pants on Fiard?”) Emanating from the swamps of North Jersey, my counterparty, with the help of gravity, sped down the turnpike to meet me in indigenous habitat, southeastern Pennsylvania, and pick up my, for me, overly-exorbitant ergonomic death trap.

I mentioned before how the source of my discomfort with the chair was my sciatic nerve (specifically, down my left buttock and leg) being pinched from the rope-hammock-like soft-plastic-web framework that makes up the Embody seat, and I now realize that the likely root of this discomfort has been inflammation (namely digestive but years of playing scrappy ball-retrieving- I-will-run-down-everything-to-beat-you-style tennis certainly have not been conducive to the wellbeing of my lower lumbar either) and I’ve taken action to try and reduce that. For those that are curious, I’ve been very much focused on defecation rate. (There’s an untaken name for any nascent grindcore ensembles.) I’ve suffered from intermittent acute constipation and likely chronically retarded fecal elimination all my life. Some days I feel better than others. It can be a struggle. I’m working on it.

Expendable exposed itself as another “E” word to describe the Embody after computing from a totally average four-legged wooden stool for a couple of days and feeling no worse; in fact, I was able to tolerate sitting for longer periods of time. My sense was that the lack of back support was forcing my spine into a more natural yin–yang alignment where synchronistically whatever pelvic and back muscles muscles were also being strengthened. Retrospectively, I think that is still the case now somewhat. My sciatic neuritis continues to flare up but my back feels pretty solid. I seem to remember the latter afflicting me more previously.

Though the wooden stool was an improvement over the Embody — temporarily, at least — it was not an ideal solution. Wood is a dense material and it wears quickly on my not-even-old seat bones. I’m unable to sit on wood for any significant period of time. (?.) I need cushioning. Also, most wooden stools stand at a fixed height; the one I used perched me slightly higher than would meet the Goldilocks standard. Adjustability is a must.

To summarize, here’s what I was now looking for:

1. Backless
2. Padded
3. Height-adjustable

With that came this: the On-Stage KT7800.

Alright — so this appliance is marketed toward musical keyboardists. Truthfully, is pecking away at a computer keyboard all that different? Think about it. (Think.) No! They are similar tasks.

The towel underneath is to help reduce squeaking sounds from the plastic end-fittings making boisterous acquaintance with the hardwood floor as I shift my weight. It’s a simple but effective fix. If I were to be using the bench on carpet, the towel would be unnecessary. I live in a mostly-empty too-many-cubic-feet-but-I-like-the-location apartment that has a tendency to echo any non-zero measure of decibels and the sound dampener became demanding of itself.

As keen readers will notice in the first photo above, the bench is positioned longways (hot-dog style for our American-barbecue-inspired elementary school paper-folder readers). I straddle the bench with my legs opened up like a “V” (like I’m riding horse — “yeehaw”) and I can thus disperse pressure onto my inner thighs if I lean forward slightly. Sometimes I’ll sit on my knees for a short period of time. Or on one knee and stand on one leg. Or not sit but lay supine and stretch. The bench allows a surprising amount of variation with creativity in mind.

For ~$50, I think the KT7800 is an option worth exploring for anyone with lower back or sciatic nerve issues. The initiated reader will be well aware of how thought-narrowing and pickpocketing putting one’s back into the field of chiropracty can be. At minimum, this can be used in rotation between a more traditional chair to vary seating positions throughout the workday. There are likely better benches out there and those reading are absolutely invited to contribute to the investigative efforts.

I would still like to pick up a Steelcase Leap (and I say “pick up” with nonchalance to at least feel as if I’ve got that kind of paper money to toss into a fervent wind) but for now once sitting on the bench becomes unbearable I will tote my laptop over to my bed which I treat as a pseudo-work couch — please, psychoanalyze this paradox of furniturial utility — or I will trek on over to a local coffee shop and buzz for a few hours.

I Can Stand It

Eighteen months later, here she still is. I’ve stuck with the Jarvis bamboo standing desk. I don’t love it though its flaws have receded from my perception somewhat. I seem to raise and lower it less and less often. I sit most of the time. I’ve found that I am ineffectual standing in place attempting critical thought and do better by disengaging for a walk, be it an aimless wander around my apartment or outside.

The lip of the table is the only aspect that actively bothers me at this point. It’s just not pleasant to touch, and I brush against it often.

To conclude — for posterity and for fans of I Spy and/or Where’s Waldo?, which, by the way, I just learned is called Where’s Wally? in the United Kingdom, and yeah, that hit me with the similar gut-stirring disconcertion I’m sure those living in parallel universe hyperCONDOR™ v2.1 alpha felt as it merged with core existence in the year 2015 A.D. and the Berenstain with an “A” Bears corrective artifact was exposed — here is a list of specific objects and doodads caught in the amber of the photographs and that I either very much like or tolerate so much that they are employed for quotidian usage and can be found online.

Links

Chair & Chair Items

• Chair: On-Stage KT7800 Stand with Padded Keyboard Bench
• Soundproofing Towel: Lasting Color Bath Towel in Tomato

Desk & Desk Items

• Desk: Jarvis Bamboo Adjustable Standing Desk (48 × 30″, Black Frame, Extended Range, Programmable Memory Handset)
• Laptop: MacBook Pro (Refurbished — Retina, 13-inch, Mid 2014 — 2.6 GHz Intel Core i5)
• Laptop Stand: Pyle Pro PLPTS25
• Keyboard: Apple Magic Keyboard
• Trackpad: Apple Magic Trackpad 2
• Pen Body: Pilot G2
• Pen Ink: uni-ball 207 0.7mm
• Book: The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
• EMF Meter: Trifield 100XE
• Hot Pad: Ritz Royale Pocket Mitt in Graphite

Also Pictured

• Light Fixture: Woods 0167
• Light Bulb: Bulbrite 250BR40H
• Power Strip: Belkin SurgeMaster
• Router: Netgear Nighthawk R7000
• Moving Blanket: US Cargo Control in Camouflage
• Plant: Ikea Dracaena Massangeana

A follow-up to these reviews can be found here.

Around the turn of the new year I upgraded both my office chair and desk. I did a ton of research, contemplated the principles of feng shui, prayed to Milton, and sprung for the Herman Miller Embody + Jarvis Bamboo combo. My goal was to create a working environment that was more conducive for good posture. I make my living off the internet, so I’m constantly on a computer, and for years I worked from a stiff wooden chair hunched over my 13-inch MacBook Pro that sat directly upon an old dinner table. I hauled ass with this setup (i.e., much work was completed) but one day I caught a side view of myself in a mirror and realized what in my mind felt like me standing straight was actually me slouched over. (Talk about body language …)

I wanted to correct that. I believe good posture can go a long way toward well being. The tools needed? An adjustable desk and ergonomic chair. And because these are both fairly big-ticket items and few truly critical reviews exist, I thought I’d share my impressions of said purchases as a singular entity (and not some possibly-maybe-definitely bribed or incompetent review website).

Some Ergonomic Education

An adjustable desk is great because it not only allows you to stand while working from a computer, but while sitting it can be adjusted to the perfect height. Consensus is that your keyboard should be right around belly-button level, creating a 90° bend at your elbows — a natural resting position. I don’t necessarily know if or think that’s “correct” (I prefer the keyboard slightly closer to lap height) but it does feel much better than having to raise your hands like a velociraptor to touch type.

Your computer screen should then be high enough so that you don’t have to tilt your head downward or upward to view the glowing real estate; all that should be necessary is to glance straight ahead.

If I were under a tight budget and could afford only one or the other, I’d say the desk is the more important of the two commodities. Even if your chair isn’t great, with the adjustable desk you’ll be able to alternate between sitting and standing. As one J.B. might say, you can “get up offa that thing.” (But I’ll be open and say these thoughts on partiality may be influenced by my mild disdain toward my purchased seating apparatus. More on that later!)

The Desk

The Jarvis Bamboo desk looks nice and it’s fairly stable. I’m working from a carpeted room so there is of course some wobble when I type, but from hardwood floors I believe the sway would markedly be less so.

The control panel should be a mandatory inclusion. I would not purchase this desk without it. At the press of a button the height recalibrates automatically. It’s great! I programmed only two of the presets — there are four — but the extras would be good if you had another person using the desk. Each user would want to configure a sitting height and a standing height, and that should be it. (If you switch between high heels and bare feet or jump between different chairs of fixed height, that’s perhaps maybe when you’d personally want more than two presets.)

The price is about as affordable as you’ll find for an adjustable desk that looks and functions this well. I paid $634 total configured with the 48″ x 30″ rectangle top, black frame, and digital display with memory preset. I perhaps should have opted for a contoured frame, as the lip of the table isn’t super pleasant. I’ll elaborate upon this and the other negatives I’ve found now which allude to how the desk is priced so competitively.

The Lip

The way I type, I rest the fatty bottom part of my palm along the edge of the table. This feels most natural to me. I suppose I could push my keyboard forward and — you know — simply not do this. Maybe I should. But I like putting my hands in this position!

Anyway, the lip of the tabletop is a bit scratchy, abrupt and unpleasant to the touch. It’s bothersome enough that I actually requested a replacement from Jarvis, thinking mine was anomalous and damaged. Turns out that’s how all these tops are. The edges lack love. Six months later I’m still mildly irked by it.

For this reason, I’m curious whether their contoured top is any better in this regard. From the photos I’ve seen, the lip is more graduated. Perhaps it’s more comfortable. I simply can’t recommend the rectangle top with my current knowledge and typing habits.

The Noise

I persist in face of waning tolerance for the gear-crunching that emanates from my desk as it churns its way up and down. The right leg in particular sounds nasty at times, and I am suspecting it might have a slight defect. My left power box arrived defective — the connecting pins were malformed and the unit had to be replaced — so it would not surprise me if something’s off with the right leg as well. It doesn’t seem to move in perfect unison with the left.

Now, I may be dramatizing to an extent, but I do switch between sitting and standing quite often, and I’ll just say my life would be slightly more cheery if the motors were more muted.

Here is a recording from my MacBook’s microphone so you can hear what my fuss is all about:

Sun Damage

This again speaks to the economical nature of this desk: it’s subjectable to sun fade:

Where I situate my keyboard, trackpad, and monitor stand are noticeably darker than the rest of the table. If I cared that much I’d move my peripherals around to try and let the color even out. Still, it was disconcerting when I first noticed this.

Wire Management

Jarvis ships the desk with adhesive self-locking cable ties, which I think are a perfectly fine solution to managing the muddle underneath, but the adhesive is not so adhesive. I resorted to cinching everything up with clear packaging tape. It’s held together so far!

Final Thoughts

Having not demoed any other standing desks, and despite its shortcomings, I suppose I do recommend the Jarvis. Being able to stand while typing is awesome. The desk is stable enough to let you do that. However, if given a redo, I’d take a chance on the contour top or venture third party instead. (The Ikea Gerton is an option.) You aren’t going to find a much more affordable frame than the Jarvis, which is sold separately.

I’m not sure if something like the NextDesk Terra would be worth the extra $1,000 or so for a quieter ride. (And by the looks of it, slightly better all-around quality.) Maybe. I’m actually inclined to believe it’s the better buy.

---

The Chair

Oh man. So, my intuition was telling me to go with the Steelcase Leap. I’d made trips to both Herman Miller and Steelcase showrooms to give all their flagship offerings a sit. The salesperson at the Herman Miller showroom — Spectrum — was awesome. Mark was his name. He really knew his stuff and sold me on the Embody. I also demoed the Aeron and Mirra 2, but I liked the Embody way better. The Steelcase showroom I visited — Corporate Interiors — wasn’t really much of a showroom, but more of an office building that had the Leap and their newest iteration, the Gesture, sitting in a common area where I could test-drive them. The person who showed me the chairs wasn’t a sales guy, and so I walked out not feeling at all obligated to follow up with a purchase. But the Leap was quite comfortable — definitely comparable to the Embody in terms of thoughtfulness of design — and I could see myself purchasing it if the Embody didn’t exist.

Anyway … I signed the paperwork for an Embody with black base and splurged on Balance fabric (graphite color) since I disliked the Rhythm fabric. The texture irked me visually more than anything. It looks bad. Ironically I also ended up not really liking the graphite color I went with so much (straight black may be better) and this prompted me to drape an emphatic plaid shirt I don’t wear that often over the back to try and draw attention away from the imbalance of grey tones. It’s hard to tell how a color will look in a setting of your own compared to in a showroom or photos you might view online. This is a case where in practice the graphite didn’t look as great as I’d hopefully imagined. Black might not be any better though. I’m not sure.

Sticking with the discussion of visuals, the exoskeleton back of the chair grew alien in the context of my office. Plaid shirt doubly to the rescue.

For all the dirt I’m throwing on the Embody, I really did like it in the showroom! It was comfortable to sit in. I liked how the back conformed. The arms were most accommodating. Overall it looked cool. However, long term I’ve found that I cannot sit in it for much more than half an hour at a time. It becomes unbearable … for me. I should note that I have a sciatic nerve issue and this chair seems to aggravate it no matter how I sit. The cushioning is kind of a suspension system with plastic tendons and springs — not your typical foam padding — and this causes less even dispersion of pressure (it’s more pinpointed) and I believe that is what exacerbates my issue.

So take that for what you will. I’m an edge case in this regard.

Aside from my personal discomfort, there is one last major qualm I have with this chair: it’s noisy! I’ve only owned it six months and I swear it creaks when I look at it. I’d noticed murmurings over Twitter about excessive noisiness when I was doing preliminary research about the Embody, but I assumed A) my chair would be different and not creak or B) if my chair did creak, I wouldn’t mind. Welp, wrong on both counts. It creaks, and it annoys me. There’s something to be said for a quiet chair.

Here’s another audio recording so you can get a glimpse of my world:

Final Thoughts

I cannot recommend the Embody, solely because of the noise issue. A chair this high-end should have all aspects well accounted for — including its auditory nature. Six months is way too little for this to already be a part of the conversation. It’s inexcusable.

Because of my unique condition, I ended up finding myself not able to sit in the chair for long periods of time, which is unfortunate because for the most part it feels pretty good. I will be purchasing a Steelcase Leap sometime soon once I run out of ways to rationalize to myself why I need to stick it out with the Embody and live with the consequences of my expensive mistake — hopefully the Leap doesn’t make two.

art illustris

After a brief and bitter foray into the world of home coffee brewing, I realized I simply do not have the talent to finesse a palatable caffeinated beverage out of cheap beans and a plastic plunger. Even my background in chemistry could not bail me out of that frugal predicament.

This left me at a crossroads: either upgrade my gear and stock up on kopi luwak, or settle for instant.

Needless to say, I settled. Getting serious about coffee brewing can be pricey and time intensive, plus I’M LAZY. If I want to have exceptional coffee, I’ll pay someone else to make it for me.

However, my standards still remain high, and if I’m going to be drinking instant coffee, it’s got to be the best damn instant coffee little money can buy. This entry will document my ongoing taste testing and dogged quest to become the ultimate instant coffee snob.

All brews were made with 1 tablespoon of instant coffee, 4 tablespoons of granulated white sugar, 1 teaspoon of refined coconut oil, and 12 ounces of hot spring water.

These are the unadulterated thoughts that ran through my mind as I consumed each cup…

The Reviews

Café Bustelo: $1.51/oz @ Wegmans, $1.86/oz @ Amazon

“Woah. There is definitely caffeine in here. I think I went overboard with that heaping tablespoon I dumped in my mug. It has flavor. It’s slightly sludgy… BUT THERE’S CAFFEINE. Goes down pretty smooth. Would be great if you needed to stay awake for a week straight and couldn’t afford cocaine.”

Jacobs Krönung: $1.71/oz @ Wegmans, $1.38/oz @ Amazon

“The jar looks cool. Green is a neat color. Oh right, coffee. Not much flavor going on here. Airy. Reminds me of… baking soda? Yeah. Wish I was more buzzed. Wish I didn’t know what baking soda tastes like. Maybe two tablespoons would have been better. Inoffensive is probably the best word to describe it. People who watch the Hallmark Channel would definitely drink this stuff.”

Jacobs Cronat Gold: $1.71/oz @ Wegmans, $1.20/oz @ Amazon

“I taste burning wood chips. It’s like I’m in Cub Scouts all over again. Similar airiness to its brother Krönung. The flavor festers and I don’t particularly enjoy it. I wish my mom would come pick me up from camp. There’s nothing to do here!!! I have a feeling this jar will slowly make its way to the back of the cupboard where it will remain for the rest of eternity alongside my half-eaten bag of banana crisps.”

Medaglia d’Oro: $1.65/oz @ Wegmans, $1.62/oz @ Amazon

“I think medaglia d’oro means gold medal. Good thing I took three semesters of Italian during college. Taste is somewhere between Jacobs Gold and Bustelo. It’s smoky with only an inkling of odorous wood. Wood. Huhuhuh. Definitely drinkable. Concentrated but that’s partially because of its fine grind. I bet I could snort it. Good flavor to caffeine ratio. Doesn’t upset my stomach. I give it a silver medal.”

Ferrara: $1.85/oz @ Wegmans, $3.13/oz @ Amazon

“It tastes like I’m drinking the wrong end of a smoldering cigarette. Evokes the coffee equivalent of bitter beer face. If I was ever Secret Santa for someone I didn’t like, this would be one of their gifts.”

Nescafé Clásico: $0.78/oz @ Walmart, $0.78/oz @ Amazon

“Wow, this has not one, but two accented letters in its name. I’m not sure I am worthy to partake of this fancy brew. First sip… pretty sure this is the same coffee they serve at Denny’s. At least I don’t have to deal with muffled Garth Brooks yodeling in the background too. I’m actually kind of enjoying the taste, but it’s starting to stagnate and my mouth feels dry. I really don’t want to finish this cup but I feel obligated.”

[1 hour later]

“I’ve become progressively more and more dehydrated since drinking this ‘coffee’… I’m not sure what’s happening… oh god… IT’S SUCKING MY WILL TO LIVE. Would be funny to give this to a friend shortly before they have to deliver a big speech.”

Great Value: $0.56/oz @ Walmart

“The jar says both ‘Great Value’ and ‘Premium’ on it; I think that’s an oxymoron. The taste is making me cringe… it’s got this sour, medicinal bite to it. Reminds me of repressed terrors at the dentist’s office. The flavor is now dulling and I think I might actually drink the whole cup. There is a very real possibility it is laced with Novocain or some other local anesthetic. (Well played, Walmart.) I will regret drinking this.”

Pilon: $1.67/oz @ Amazon

“My spoon can’t fit into the 1.75 ounce jar. -10 points. Has a yellow lid that is identical to Bustelo (albeit a tenth of the size). Grind looks incredibly similar as well. Says it is a ‘100% pure coffee made from a blend of beans from one or more of the following countries: Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Ecuador, Guatemala, Mexico, and Nicaragua.’ Does it come with frequent flyer miles too? Dark but murky flavor. Tastes a bit watered down. It’s close to Bustelo but not quite as strong. I wish it had a little more of a bite or caffeine kick to it. Musty aftertaste. Old people. I will probably finish this jar but won’t go out of my way to buy it again.”

Maxwell House: $0.69/oz @ Wegmans, $0.70/oz @ Amazon

“Comes in a ‘lightweight, EZ-open jar’ and is commended by the Arthritis Foundation for its ‘ease-of-use.’ I’m really glad that the friendliness of the jar such a point of emphasis of their marketing campaign. The aroma is pretty noxious and I am predicting I won’t make it to the ‘last drop.’ First sip made me cough violently. It gives a very authentic experience of walking into an old folk’s home and breathing in wafts of antiseptic fumes. My tongue feels weird. I think it’s being numbed. The flavor has changed and it’s not as pungent now, but for my safety and on the off chance I am consuming a neurotoxin this taste test is over.”

Folgers Classic Roast: $0.71/oz @ Wegmans, $0.65/oz @ Amazon

“My crazy uncle Glenn who once was attacked by a rabid squirrel drinks this crap religiously. Black. Grind looks and smells like cigar guts. Don’t ask me how I know about cigar guts. First hit sip made me cough. Can’t really put a finger on the taste. It’s not good but not awful. Somewhat bitter. Kind of like bad mids. (Oops. I didn’t say that.) I can see how my weathered uncle would enjoy this stuff. If I had no other option then I’d reluctantly tolerate Folgers but it would not be the best part of waking up.”

Whole Foods 365: $1.85/oz @ Whole Foods

“I actually really like Whole Foods aside from everything in the store being grossly overpriced and their cute cashiers always having boyfriends. (What gives?) For some reason I’m not all that optimistic about this coffee. Pretty clean taste. Not super strong or distinct but at least I didn’t gag. Flavor doesn’t stick; it dissipates kind of suddenly. A dash of cinnamon might put it over the top. HE LIKES IT!”

Mount Hagen: $3.40/oz @ Whole Foods, $2.45/oz @ Amazon

“This is pretty pricey because it’s organic. Far out, man. Jar is shaped neat. Octagon. Lid pops off when you twist it. I like that. It’s fun. It’s kind of like how I used to twist the heads off my sister’s Barbie dolls. I am worried the photo on the label is subliminally promoting Christianity though. Not super distinctive but there is almost no bitterness and the aftertaste fades gracefully. HALLELUJAH! I’m a believer. Praise be this cup of joe.”

Taster’s Choice House Blend: $1.21/oz @ Wegmans, $0.86/oz @ Amazon

“This is one of two recommended instants for the fabled ‘Bonus Cup.’ (That’s a recipe for another day when I have health care again.) The grounds smell like Eggo waffles. Upon adding hot water the aroma has now shifted to that of corn nuts. (I am definitely not at ‘all’ anxious to try this…) For being in the sub dollar-per-ounce group, it’s actually pretty Descend decent. Delivers a nice buzz but leaves behind a somewhat gnarly, burnt aftertaste. I can see how this would have fueled ‘Milo Goes to College.'”

Starbucks VIA Colombia: $8.05/oz @ Wegmans, $5.67/oz @ Amazon

“Ah, the snootiest of brews. I wish I had a beret or fedora to wear and iPhone to poke at while drinking this. Full bodied. Has chocolatey tones. Very smooth. Would give Wilt Chamberlain a run for his money.”

Starbucks VIA Italian Roast: $8.05/oz @ Wegmans, $5.67/oz @ Amazon

“Darkest roast yet. My breath is deadly. Close quarters conversations would be painful for the non-drinker. I can finally exert revenge on innocent victims for all those times my portly and pungent uncle Charlie would beckon my seven year old self and endlessly blab at me from 1-inch away during family gatherings while guzzling a Bud and smoking a cheap cigar.”

Maxim Mocha Gold: $0.53/oz @ Amazon

“This review is promising. It is a Korean-made three-in-one with coffee, sweetener, and creamer. What could go wrong? Initial whiff made me gag. The substance in my cup looks nothing the picture. NERVOUS. Tastes like murky pond water. I guess I diluted it too much. Better add a second packet. Not much change. Time to load up on sugar. Now it reminds me of a Frappuccino. I am also beginning to take an unexpected and irrational appreciation for Kim Jong-un. Thank you supreme leader for this glorious product! It is far superior to American snow coffee!”

The Winner

It’s currently a toss-up between Café Bustelo and Medaglia d’Oro. Both have a deceptively tolerable taste and are loaded with caffeine, plus they’re relatively inexpensive. You can’t really ask for much more than that.

I like the yellow jar better, and drinking it makes me feel like I am part of the Cuban drug cartel (“I’M TONY MONTANA!”), so Bustelo gets a slight edge.

Update: Medaglia has supplanted Bustelo for the top spot in my power rankings. Over the past ten months I’ve found the quality control of Bustelo to be suspect; a good jar is quite sensual, but far too often I’m left questioning my self-worth with each sip. Recommendation: rotate brands from cup to cup to maintain morale.

Update July 2015: Bustelo quality control has been on point as of late. Maybe word traveled that I’d knocked them a rank. You’re welcome, everyone. (Bustelo reclaims the top spot.)

Power Rankings

1. Café Bustelo
2. Medaglia d’Oro
3. Starbucks VIA Tribute Blend
4. Mount Hagen
5. Starbucks VIA Colombia
6. Starbucks VIA Italian Roast
7. Whole Foods 365
8. Pilon
9. Jacobs Krönung
10. Taster’s Choice House Blend
11. Maxim Mocha Gold
12. Jacobs Cronat Gold
13. Folgers Classic Roast
14. Great Value
15. Nescafé Clásico
16. Maxwell House
17. Ferrara

Taste is subjective, but any of the top seven should satisfy most palates. Avoid the bottom four at all costs.

Note: I tried Starbucks VIA Tribute Blend a few months after initially publishing this article and I unfortunately failed to properly review it, but it does crack the upper tier of the power rankings.

In my quest for minimalism and simplicity, one of the first areas of my life I looked to reduce was my wallet.

I’ve never kept a titanic trifold, but it was always big enough to bother me when I sat down… forcing me to wag myself into a position where it wasn’t as much of a pain in the butt (literally).

Keeping it in my front pockets hasn’t been an option the past couple years because that would compromise the nice fades I’ve got going on with my jeans… no way I would ever ruin them with some bogus wallet fade.

After some searching on mnmlist (the guide to all things minimal), I came across the solution:

The money-band.

I was sold. I didn’t think there was any way a “wallet” could get any more unobtrusive than that. I confidently clicked away $5 and eagerly awaited the day my money-band would arrive in the mail.

When it finally came, I felt like I used to on Christmas mornings when I’d rip open a present in hopes of a new video game, only to find socks…

… I thought the money-band was going to be made of some fancy stretchy material, devised by a team of chemists and physicists, fabricated for the sole purpose of being the single greatest money holding device known to man…

… but it’s just a dinky rubber-band. I paid $5 for a rubber-band.

Some son of a gun was able to reposition a rubber-band (a 2 cent product) as a cutting edge $3.99 product and I fell for it.

Well played.

In any case, it does its job. I now only carry 1 debit card, my license, and less than $20 in cash, all snuggly held together by my money-band.

This bundle is extremely light weight and I often have to double check to make sure it’s still in my pocket… that’s how discreet it is.

It is kind of awkward getting your money out the first few times you use it though… you have to get used to pulling the band off and not fumbling your cash and cards looking like the dufus I did the first time I used it.

It’s only supposed to last upwards of a year before it deteriorates, as it is just a rubber-band. I’ll probably end up getting another one after mine breaks… I don’t think it’s worth the time to scavenge for a similarly sized rubber band at Staples when this one fulfills my needs.

If you end up getting one or start using a rubber-band, let me know what you think.

… and don’t let Constanza influence you otherwise.

-Adam