Monkey Business

Last night, I did not go anywhere once I returned to Waikiki. For the most part, I sat in the hotel lobby with my beloved Palm® TX. I also prepared another set of hurdy-gurdy DVDs for shipment to Used DVD Empire. My vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library has dwindled down to just six titles which are not currently on the buyback list.

This morning, I rode the bus to the Waikiki Banyan Hotel to pay for my monthly parking pass. An easy $80 disappeared just like that. The fee for parking will increase to $100 next month. That a 25 percent increase, or another $240 per year. This is how things work in Hawai'i, which is why the homeless population increases each day. We don't have the "nickel and dime" problem here. It's worse. When something goes up in price, it's fairly significant. I have not been able to personally keep up with the Hawai'i inflation index, which is also why I still have no health insurance. Incidentally, I also discovered that the bread that I usually purchase at Safeway® is now $3 per loaf on sale, up 50 cents from last week! You don't even want to know what the regular price is. Sheesh!

The key to survival in Hawai'i for the rank-and-file is to maintain two or more jobs concurrently. The implications are obvious. We are talking about complete indentured servitude to wage slavery just to make ends meet. For me, I have been reducing my needs and my inventory of useless possessions. To no avail. I am still falling behind rapidly. I can only guess what the cost of living here will be like in the next five years. How about $2,000 per month for a shitty studio apartment? Say it ain't so. The City owns a number of affordable apartment complexes. It is planning to sell all of them to Carmel Partners, the same firm that is purchasing Kukui Gardens, a non-profit affordable senior apartment complex. This is also the same firm which was the developer for the Aloha Surf Hotel, where the ol' lavahead resides. The deal will allegedly keep the various complexes affordable. The question is, how long? There must some kind of loophole in which the developer can essentially turn around and redevelop the property in the form of luxury condos. All I know is that there will be hella more homeless people in the near future.

I managed to chat with Professor Lisa. This was the first time that we chatted at length since she arrived in Hawai'i. She still seems to be in a bad way. She has put in a bid for a condo in Kailua. I looked up the listing on the Honolulu Board of Realtors site. It's a nice place, but the asking price of $400,000 is a bit much. In the meantime, Professor Lisa will be moving into a shared rental situation within a day or two. The rental is also in Kailua. Professor Lisa will be my connection to facilitate classes on the military satellite campuses just in case I get the "heave ho" from the main campus of the Diploma Mill. In this life, nothing is certain.

Because of my pathetic life-style, I am oftentimes privy to observe, if not participate, in the various troglodytical contexts in which the lower primates flourish. These observations give me insight into the anticipated behavior of the latter during the coming secular Apocalypse and the resultant resource shortages. One such context is the mass transit system. When a bus arrives at any of the major transfer points, the large crowd devolves into anarchy. Imagine throwing a banana into a tribe of hungry chimps. These lower primates push, shove, and cut in front of the other lower primates. Sound familiar? Even in more "civilized" environments with primates higher up the food chain, we see very similar behavior. It is important to observe this phenomenon and study it. In order to survive the secular Apocalypse, it will be necessary to terminate many of these chimps with "extreme prejudice."

In an article by Mike Whitney titled, "Pop goes the bubble! The Great Housing Crash of '07," on the Smirking Chimp site, he discusses the real possibility of the housing bubble crisis as well as the overall economic dire straits of the nation. Most of his prognostications fall in line with what Anonder had predicted. Although Anonder had warned me to not dabble in real estate again, I chose to do so anyway. My investment is somewhat risky because of the kind of unit (i.e., "condotel") it is. My calculations, however, indicate that I can sustain a 50 percent loss in assessed value and still be okay given that I stay put for five years. The housing market in Hawai'i is quite strange, though. A while back, I believed that the global monetary system was going to collapse. Hence, I was fretting about whether I should invest in "hard money" (read: gold). That's where the "smart" money was investing, we were told. An interesting observation about New Orleans as a "test" case is that the banks and casinos were the first to do extensive rebuilding after Hurricane Katrina hit. My interpretation is that the money system will remain intact up until the Big One, which is also another reason that we (read: the military) must protect the dollar as a reserve currency for the oil trade by any means. The money system will indeed serve to separate us into the classifications required for the secular Apocalypse. What we are witnessing now is the same chimp-like behavior in the biggest money grab in the history of humankind.

Pattern Recognition

Last night, I decided to ride the bus and get off near Queen's Beach. I walked the short distance back to Waikiki Beach. Surprisingly, there were hardly any people roaming about. I wondered if the end of the tourist season has arrived. I sat on one of the benches under the small pavilion structure. I could see Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) in the distance. After 30 minutes of relaxation, a couple of fat tourists sat on an adjacent bench and lit up cigarettes. I had to move to another bench. After another 30 minutes, the homeless began trickling in. One of the pathetic losers, obviously drunk, staggered around the pavilion. The fat tourists got up and left immediately. The homeless guy kept walking in front of me and a couple of Japanese tourists sitting on the next bench. Since he wasn't a fudgepacker, I deduced that he was trying to hurry us off using his pungent odor so that he could stake his claim on these prized benches. "Fucking losers," I said aloud, as I got up and left.

I returned to Chez Loser II at 9:30pm. I had absolutely nothing to do. I decided to gather up more stuff to donate to Goodwill. All I found were a brand new pair of Dockers® dress slacks and a new Perry Ellis® belt. I put them both in a shopping bag. Both of these clothing items are icons of wage slavery, which is why it is very important for me to divest them. Yes, I am essentially throwing out at least $50 of stuff. However, I never want to wear that kind of clothing again. Obviously, one should never say "never" because nothing is forever. I may be enslaved in an environment that forces me to conform to the wage slave uniform requirement sometime in the future.

I met moms at Kahala Mall. This time, we ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. We were completely stuffed from lunch. I was able to chat with moms as usual. Joining moms for lunch is very important to me, more than just the lunch and the conversation. Sometimes moms passes on tidbits of wisdom. At other times, moms tells me of things from the past. For me, it's the ritual of passing the explicit and implicit knowledge from one generation to the next, something that did not happen with pops because of his untimely passing.

Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, and I met for Indigo Happy Hour. He is still waiting for Internet Jon to set up the logistics for the project. Supposedly, a prototype of the future Web site will be up shortly. Rob also said that a couple of chicks, both physical therapists, are moving in two doors down from him. He also mentioned that Samhain has sold his interest in the Asylum. Samhain is a crafty fellow. He allegedly involved either friends or family members as partners in the ownership of the Asylum. The place is on its last leg. So, Samhain conned the other clowns out of their money.

The oversized cranium has become so overloaded that it is ready to explode. Aside from the issue of mortality, I am dealing with a most uncertain future. From all indications, society is "going to hell in a handbasket." Only a small percentage of the population recognize what's really going on. The rest are wrapped up in ignorance or are waiting for the shepherd. As per my own exhaustive analysis and prognostications, I believe that a series of terrible catastrophes (read: secular Apocalypse) are going to occur, all of which will be machinations of the moneychangers and the powers-that-be. Whether we chose to believe it or not, both entities are disciples and tools of the sinister kahuna. In the end, the sinister kahuna will turn on them as well. There's going to be a lot of mayhem and hella suffering. The time to prepare is now. My first round of preparations is almost complete. I have nothing to tie me down. What's left of my possessions can be abandoned at any time. I can put the "condotel" unit back into the hotel pool and essentially disappear. All that's left to divest is my truck. If anything, I could abandon it as well. I have no destination to flee to, but I am ready nonetheless.

The current "test" case is New Orleans. Amidst all of the media hoopla concerning the alleged rebuilding efforts, the sad truth is readily available. One has to wonder if this will be standard response to any future domestic emergency. Obviously, the answer is a resounding, "Yes." The reason we can call this a test case is because of the obvious negligence and malfeasance involved. Hurricane Katrina itself did not cause the disaster. In fact, the brunt of the hurricane missed Louisiana. The problem was the poorly constructed levee system designed by the Army Corps of Engineers. The disaster and the outcome could have been either prevented or minimized. Fools who bury their heads in the sand will believe the stories of multiple incompetence and accept the few heads that rolled as token retribution. There is no doubt that the disaster was allowed to happen.

Which brings us back to the "September 11th" event. Again, multiple cascading levels of incompetence was to blame. The planners of these events have succeeded in proving that something so blatant can be pulled off without a hitch. No public outcry. No outrage. Which brings us back to the invasion of Iraq and the subsequent "rebuilding" efforts. Same modus operandi. Same incompetence. Same corruption. Same people getting rich. Heck, you be the judge. However, when a pattern develops, it should be quite easy to predict what's next.

Glutton for Punishment

Yesterday, I detailed the ludicrous incident at Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) to Pseudo-professor Mike and Sandra, who works for the office that oversees the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. That sleazy old fudgepacker has provided endless laughter for all. Later, I joined Pseudo-professor Mike and Bea for dinner at Bea's place. As always, they cooked a sumptuous meal. I arrived back in Waikiki at 8:15pm. I sat in the lobby for the rest of the evening with my beloved Palm® TX. The hottie who works at the front desk of the hotel was there. Why can't a babe like that accost the ol' lavahead? That would be too much to ask.

In the last day or so, I have been pondering whether I look or dress like an old fudgepacker. What else could explain the incident at Fudgepacker Park? I even asked Pseudo-professor Mike what he thought. The fact that I am both old and conspicuously single could be a real tell-tale sign. My outdated clothes don't help either. I was sickened by thought that I could even remotely resemble an old gay blade. Lord, have mercy!

I am finally unpacking and wearing a few items of clothing. Most of my clothes are new and have been stored for years. I have donated all of the out-of-date stuff in order to avoid being mistaken for an old fudgepacker. I decided to start wearing the clothes so that I can reduce the amount of clutter in my little shoebox. I am also keeping tabs on my spending. For example, I had entertained the idea of purchasing a small handheld vacuum cleaner. However, I realized that I could clean the carpet and bathroom floor with my dustpan and brush. Seems to work fine. As the days pass, I am finding even more crap that is slated to be donated to charity.

This morning, I sent off a whole mess of hurdy-gurdy DVDs to Used DVD Empire. I have more to send off once I find another shipping box. My vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library must be divested as per my previous discussion on this matter. Da wild thing and anything associated with da wild thing is superfluous. The Vienna Sausage is trivial.

There have been no messages on my cell phone voicemail, which means that there have not been any calls. I am keeping a close watch. I really want to divest my cell phone. Yet, there's the nagging voice in background saying that I need to have a "legitimate" phone number. Obviously, this is what we are trained to believe by those who wish to keep us enslaved. This also holds true for the curious requirement that we must have a "permanent" street address. Once again, this is just another means to keep the rank and file in its place. Control over the masses, as it were.

The same could be said about "gainful" employment. I have been experiencing a lot of difficulty with that concept. We are made to feel guilty and useless unless we are employed in wage slavery. Only through wage slavery do we find acceptance amongst family, friends, and peers. The stigma of unemployment is so bad that hardly anyone willfully wants to be in that situation. I am cutting all of my expenses and reducing all of my possessions primarily to retire, or that's what I keep telling myself. Yet, I find that I soldier on in wage slavery. Boredom is another issue. Without wage slavery, there is a tremendous amount of free time. And, there's not much to do unless one has big bank. Activities that cost nothing come with the risk of disgusting encounters with despicable types like the old fudgepacker in the park.

Most people would rather be engaged in wage slavery than sitting around in boredom. I can't blame them. However, what exactly is wrong with boredom? After all, boredom is only a perception. Consumerism and the media have both contributed to the impression that boredom must be avoided at all costs. Hence, leisure time must be exciting and fulfilling. It's has to be "extreme" this or "extreme" that. Frankly, I could sit all day at the beach and listen to the ocean.

I discovered that my new wage slave schedule will not allow me to join moms for lunch on Monday anymore. What was I thinking? As the "low man on the totem pole," I must always scrounge around for work like a beggar. I must take whatever crumbs that I can get my hands on. The stupid part is that I don't really have to live this way. Mind you, I don't have big bank. However, I have enough of a reserve and my spending has been suitably curtailed to allow me more freedom from wage slavery. Obviously, I am a loyal slave and a fool. I keep going back for more, even though I am being routinely exploited. What I am is a glutton for punishment.

I was in a bad way by mid-afternoon. My miscalculation involving my wage slave schedule has become a thorn in my side. Frankly, I am wasting too much time in wage slavery. I don't have much time left on the planet. I can't be putzing around like a damned idiotic slave forever. There is a reason that I have been feeling an urgency to tidy up my affairs. I have to be ready to drop everything and flee at a moment's notice. I cannot be bogged down by my useless possessions or any foolish commitments. Say, if something happened to moms, then I am not coming back to resume this putrid life-style. It will be a done deal.

As it is, the "blog" is my salvation during these times. As long as the "blog" entries are daily, it can be assumed that I have not reached my goal. As I really begin my exodus from society, the "blog" entries should become more sporadic. I will not need to detail much because my engagement with society will be minimized. For me, this level of "self-actualization" (i.e., Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs) will occur on a localized level when I have really established a routine. A mundane routine that precludes wage slavery. I am talking about freedom on a localized level. Naturally, I will still be exposed to negative aspects of society (i.e., people). This logical first step will be necessary before graduating to the final exodus, whatever that may be.

The Prisoner

Last night, I rode the bus to Queen's Beach which is at the East end of Waikiki Beach, just before Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park). The place was packed with people. Apparently, there was a Sunset on the Beach event in full swing. I watched part of the surf movie. Then, I walked back toward Waikiki Beach. No, I won't be going to Fudgepacker Park for a while. I immediately experienced sensory overload. There were people everywhere. The homeless were occupying many of the benches. A few of the homeless had just washed their clothes in the public showers. The clothes were spread out on the bushes to dry. I sat on the one of the benches. The stench of stale body odor was barely tolerable. Then, a group of fat tourists sat on the next bench and lit up cigarettes. As to be expected, the wind blew the smoke in my direction. I got up in disgust and left. I walked around Waikiki a little while longer. I felt lost and confused. A few minutes later, the Sunset on the Beach event ended. A huge crowd of people migrated off of the beach. At that point, I sat on one of the benches outside the Honolulu Zoo. I waited until the crowd dispersed. Then, I walked to the nearest bus stop.

I stopped off at the ABC Store to purchase two big-ass cans of Tecate® cerveza. When I returned to Chez Loser II, I had to drop back both cans. I did not leave my little shoebox after that. I became quite demoralized. What I had hoped to be my interim salvation has now proven to be nothing more than yet another prison. The herds of brain donor cattle. The homeless. The insane. The deviant fudgepackers. They are all in Waikiki. My only option is to stay in my little shoebox and watch the tube. So pathetic.

I met moms at Kahala Mall this morning. We at lunch at the Panda Express® as usual. Moms asked if I was still going to the park every night. I gave a convoluted answer. I did not tell moms about all of the fudgepackers who roam the park at night. No sense worrying moms over such trivia. If anything, I'll take matters into my own hands.

These are scary times, but most people could give a shit. They are sitting in their comfortable "McMansions" with all of their high tech entertainment gear. They go from their homes to their huge SUVs by simply stepping into the garage. Thus, they never have to set foot on the street. They drive to either a shopping, entertainment, or eating complex and park in a secured parking structure. From there, they spend time in a controlled environment. Returning to their fortress in the gated community is the converse. As long as they keep a full tank of petrol, they never have to expose themselves to the seedier elements of life. Yet outside this dream world of the affluent, there exists the sad reality of poverty, crime, decadence, and filth. Do you want to see reality? Ride the public transit. Sit in the park or go to the beach at night. Walk around the seedier parts of da 'hood. Look in the alleys especially near commercial dumpsters. Yep, dereliction is a malignant tumor and its spreading fast. Every day, more and more cattle are being added to the ranks of dereliction. Soon, they will invade your pretty little world. What are you going to do?

Sodom & Gomorrah

Well, choke my chicken. Perhaps I should delineate upon my position concerning these perverted old gay blades and faggots running amuck in Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park). They are likened to "straight" guys cruising the bars and clubs with the sole intention to get laid. Same kind of assholes. Gay blades give the gay community a bad name. As you know, I know of a few gay people, and I respect their life-style because they do not force it upon anyone else. To tell you the truth, as time goes on, I am becoming more sickened about my run-in with that sleazy old fudgepacker in the park. I can now understand how babes become nauseous when losers try to put the make on them. It's an unclean feeling. It's as if the resulting scum can never be washed off.

Intrusive thoughts now fill the oversized cranium. I see flashes of Charles Bronson as Paul Kersey in the "Death Wish" movie series. Remember when he shot his first "victim"? He had deliberately cruised a shitty neighborhood with his gun. When he was accosted by a scumbag, he shot the clown. Then, he ran home and "delivered street pizza." After that, he couldn't get enough. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! I envision myself returning to Fudgepacker Park and sitting on one of the benches at night along with my beloved Nova® Spirit Taser®-like device. When one of the perverted fudgepackers attempts to make contact, I will jolt his cranium. Booyah! While he is fibrillating on the ground, I will pummel him while continuously jolting his cranium.

Last night, I decided to make the trek to Ala Moana Center. I departed at 8:15pm. I had time to look around the Sears® store before it closed. I looked for another pair of board shorts. It seems that one of the board shorts that I had purchased at Ross® was too small. This kind of crap happens all the time. I hate to go shopping, so I always rush through any purchase. I even tried on the board shorts. What went wrong? I will donate the undersized board shorts to Goodwill. Well, I was not able to find anything decent. I stopped off at Foodland to buy a loaf of bread. I also discovered that the Nature Valley® granola was on sale. I purchased a couple of boxes. I ended up at Barnes & Noble® for the rest of the evening. When I returned to Waikiki, I stayed up until 1:30am and played Solitaire on my beloved Palm® TX. Am I livin' large, or what?

For the most part, this was an uneventful day. However, while riding the bus, I noticed a few old guys looking around. Their manner of dress was odd. I'm not talking about a "flaming faggot" type of odd. Instead, they wear tight sleeveless shirts, or dumpy T-shirts with strange wording emblazoned on the front or back. Pimped-out rayon shirts accessorized with too much jewelry. Polyester. Shorts that are out of style, usually shorter and tighter than they should be. Odd sunglasses. Weird shoes or sandals. I once assumed that these old clowns were just "fashion challenged." Then, I realized that only old fudgepackers dress in this peculiar manner. It's a more toned-down, out-of-date version of the "flaming faggot" style. Then, there's the matter of the conspicuous glances, the same shit that happens in the showers at the gym. I felt like delivering street pizza. Here in Waikiki, there are thousands of hot babes running amuck, and these old fudgepackers are checking out guys. Sheesh!

What is really sad is that the shopping mall is the only safe place to hang out, especially at night. Consumerism wins out again with another added feature - personal safety. It is no longer wise to seek out solitude even in broad daylight. Derelicts, perverts, the insane, criminal types, and old fudgepackers will usually be loitering in such areas. At night, it's even worse. Frankly, the only real deterrent is a "nine." As society "goes to hell in a handbasket," we will all be forced to arm ourselves.

The real problem is that everything has been "pornified." The media is saturated with constant reminders which trigger primal thoughts about da wild thing. That's what sells. In the meantime, the mind becomes saturated with erotic and enticing imagery that sooner or later perverts the senses. Naturally, this perversion is insatiable. That's another reason why my vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library must go. It's not doing the ol' lavahead any good, especially since he is never going to hook up with a babe again. It is difficult to fight biology, but it's not impossible. At this point in time, I am looking at da wild thing as being somewhat detestable. Mind you, I am not saying that it is sinful. It's detestable. It is a primitive and animalistic drive, often labeled a "need." Doing da wild thing with a babe is detestable. It's sloppy. It also means succumbing to primitive cravings for pleasurable sensations, much like alcoholism and drug addiction. Chokin' da chicken is detestable. It's degrading and humiliating to see one move his hand up and down the Vienna Sausage. Gay blade fudgepacking is the most detestable of all. Thus, I must separate myself from these primitive urgings. It wastes too much valuable time and energy. For what? The Vienna Sausage? An obscure appendage at best. Many ancient civilizations had worshipped the Vienna Sausage, oftentimes constructing large phallic idols. The current preoccupation with da wild thing is really the same thing sans the dungy phallic idols.

We are living in the modern day version of Sodom and Gomorrah. By the way, the fudgepackers were out of control at that time, too. Lot was commanded by the Almighty to leave the debaucherous cities and never turn back. This is what I must do spiritually in this time. There is almost no way to physically escape this cesspool. Sodom and Gomorrah has been exported pretty much around the globe. Thus, the exodus must be spiritual, first and foremost. However, protection from external forces will be difficult while still physically existing amidst the debauchery. Eventually, I will have to flee to another locale just as Lot did. The destruction is coming, whether it be the secular Apocalypse or the prophetic Armageddon. Will you flee as well?

Shock Treatment

Last night, I rode the bus to Kapi'olani Park for what I thought would be a relaxing evening. For the last couple of nights, I have been sitting under a tree on one of the old benches about a stone's throw in from the beach promenade. I expected to have more peace and quiet. I was wrong. After 30 minutes of blissful quiet, an old guy appeared out of nowhere. I assumed that he was in his late fifties or early sixties. He made conversation, which seemed harmless at first. Then, he came closer. He remarked that I was in good shape as evidenced by my arms. He then sat down on the bench. I began to suspect that he was a gay blade. At that point, Milton attempted to give the ol' lavahead a neck massage. I quickly mummified the situation. I should have been sickened to the point of "delivering street pizza," but I have been so numbed by all the decadence around me lately that I had no overt reaction. However, I was prepared to "take him out," if necessary. Well, hey! I am in survival mode!

I decided to depart from the park before a homicidal episode erupted. After I got off the bus, I stopped by the ABC Store and purchased a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza. I quickly dropped back the whole can once I returned to Chez Loser II. I became quite perturbed in knowing that my only refuge from the madness of Waikiki and Honolulu was tainted by the fact that it is the hook-up zone for old gay blades. I had observed a number of lone middle-aged guys cruising the promenade prior to Milton's appearance. From my vantage point, I could see by their suspicious behavior that they were gay blades on the make. What is with these old clowns? Are they so horny that they just need to put their shriveled up Vienna Sausages in anything they can find? Get a damned Fleshlight® already! Sheesh!

In retrospect, the young hottie whom I had met the other night in the park does not have to worry. She is completely safe. The only single, non-gay guy out there is the ol' lavahead, and he's an eunuch. What I find puzzling is why Milton and the other old gay blades just don't walk over to Hula's, the gay Waikiki night spot. It's just a block away, and the place is packed. Oh, don't tell me, they don't like the pretentiousness of the bar scene. What Milton and his ilk need to do is learn how to perform a "nine" on themselves. That's a "69" with one person. That should keep these clowns off the street.

There exists some kind of extreme psychopathology to explain the gay syndrome (read: homosexuality). I don't condone the gay life-style, nor do I accept it as a "natural" occurrence. It is simply deviant behavior resulting from an equally deviant antecedent. There is no medical explanation. There is no defective DNA involved. There is no "predisposition." That's all a crock of shit perpetuated by apologists who want to remain politically "correct." Gay syndrome is a sickness derived from unfulfilled sexual desires, most likely resulting from cruel rejections from babes or perverted victimization by other guys. The problem with being a guy is that testosterone keeps him in a perpetual horny state. This is why hurdy-gurdy materials and autoeroticism (read: chokin' da chicken) are so prevalent with guys. That's also why there are hella gay blades as opposed to lesbians, and it's not an issue of "coming out of the closet." Obviously, procreation cannot occur unless guys remain in a "potent" state. The need to insert the Vienna Sausage into a real live person is rooted in the original design of the Vienna Sausage. Sticking the Vienna Sausage in the Fleshlight® or in a vacuum cleaner will be less satisfying.

When any mind, even a sick one, constantly dwells on the need to do da wild thing, then a vicious cycle develops. The cycle reaches a fever pitch. Obviously, the latter is not a phenomenon exclusive to gay blades. Non-gay guys have a similar problem, and it result in deviant behavior as well. When the mind becomes weak and the libido remains high, there can be deviations from the intended purpose of the Vienna Sausage. Thus, when some adverse series of events leads the weak mind away from the natural physical attraction to babes, then there is only one choice left. As an example, we see such behavior frequently occurring in prisons. Make no mistake, no guy in his right mind should be attracted to another guy. Sometimes I wonder how chicks are even attracted to guys. Think about it. Most guys are stinking slobs. After their twenties, most guys really let themselves go. Knowing this fact, it is easy to see that my contention about gay syndrome being a form of mental illness and deviant behavior becomes totally conclusive.

My final point on this topic is simple. I don't really care whether a guy is a gay blade or not, as long his he keeps his hands to himself and keeps the one-eyed snake in its cage. I'll only react homophobically when these clowns overstep their boundaries. Do not mistake the ol' lavahead with the false prophets of Christendom and the "born again" politicians who have "politicized" the gay issue. These fools hide their own perversions with their grandiose self-righteousness.

Naturally, this brings to mind my own deviance along with my vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library, both of which expose the hypocrisy of my being. The need to keep the Vienna Sausage operational has obvious superfluous implications which are diametrically opposed to my ambition to invoke mind over matter. Doing da wild thing is a primal need, one that should be kept in check. When left unchecked, the need to satisfy primal needs becomes insatiable. The Vienna Sausage does not have a mind of its own as is claimed by many guys. The Vienna Sausage simply has very sensitive nerve endings. The euphoric sensations originate in the pleasure center of the brain. The mind must exercise restraint, because restraint is crucial to the development of discipline. By the way, I read an interesting article by Jason Miller titled, "Pornification Is A Disease And We Have An Advanced Case," on the Counter Currents site. It might be worthy of reading since Miller makes excellent points about how far and how embedded the problem of hurdy-gurdy proliferation really is. I am currently readying my hurdy-gurdy DVD library for divestiture. I'll be sending it off to Used DVD Empire to be sold. Any preoccupation with the Vienna Sausage is useless without a babe. Using one's hand or the Fleshlight® is pathetic. Using another guy's mouth or ass is sick and deviant.

I may have to consider carrying my Nova® Spirit Taser-like device (illegal in Hawai'i) with me when I venture into Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park). The likelihood that I will have another encounter with a brazen gay blade is extremely high. I may have to jolt his cranium with it. I may actually cure him of his disease. Shock treatment (read: electroconvulsive therapy) is often used to treat chronic depression. I may be able to jolt a few other short-circuited neurons to set some of these gay blades straight. Straight? Get it? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

Sphinx

This morning, I discovered that my USB flash drive was gone. From what I can tell, I left it lying around in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. No doubt, some loser faculty member took it. Well, I hope that person likes the two short Amy Reid hurdy-gurdy videos on the device. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! I was perturbed at first, but I was relieved later. I decided that I will not replace the USB flash drive. Yes, that's one more step toward freedom from my useless possessions.

I did not get much work done today. I ran into Pseudo-professor Glenn at the bus stop in Waikiki this morning. We ended up chatting on and on, even after we arrived at the Diploma Mill. Later, Pseudo-professor Mike stopped by the faculty computer room. We ended up chatting. At one point in the discussion, I presented my thesis on the upcoming mass genocide of the general populace by the various evildoers. As I expected, he has bought into the "system" just like everyone else. Not a soul is concerned about anything except their small little world. Oh, how am I going to pay the mortgage? Oh, should I buy the 42-inch or the 50-inch plasma tube? Same ol' shit. Heads buried in the sand. Worse yet, they are adding to the problem rather than trying to find a solution.

I don't expect the cattle to view my thesis as anything more than insanity. However, there should at least be some kind of response to indicate at least a minor level of critical thinking. Nada. I became even more firmly convinced that the time of the end is near. Very near. What is even more ludicrous is how people at the Diploma Mill are preoccupied with their piddly positions. From the arrogance of the "elite" faculty to the backstabbing games of the regular staff, there is just no end to the trouble these fools cause each other. In fact, the situation is rapidly degenerating even for lowly peons like myself. Several changes will be implemented which will directly affect the quality of my work. It will also cause an increase in the level of stress. Well, isn't that what wage slavery is all about? I have made a vow that I will no longer concern myself with this mundane crap. Once again, it simply reduces to same old problem. In other words, morons with nothing else better to do always cause trouble for others. I will continue to work as best as I can. I can only prepare for the eventuality of unemployment. Therefore, I must continue in extreme survival mode.

When I read Mike Ruppert's latest essay, I understood what he meant when he stated, "Now it seems the American people won't even risk their credit ratings, student loans, the next piece of ass, or a sideways glance from people who look at them like AIDS patients for daring to deviate from the corporate, media-instilled norm. We have come a long way backward."

The population of the world can be modeled by a large cube with a small three-sided pyramid affixed on top of it. The majority of the people comprise the solid block cube. Within the cube are various layers or strata. These are the layers that people aspire to ascend. Many of these fools believe that they are part of the pyramid, but they are fooling themselves. Nonetheless, the competition to get to the top of the cube is fierce. Hence, all of the backstabbing and bullshit. The cube-pyramid barrier is only semi-permeable. In essence, it more or less resembles the proverbial "glass ceiling." The pyramid is composed of the moneychangers and the powers-that-be. The structure of the pyramid is truly hierarchical and orderly. It is a three-sided pyramid, with each side representing a component to establish relative position within the pyramid. The cube is four-sided and the sides also represent components to establish relative position. What is interesting about the pyramid is that, by geometry, it becomes smaller as the pinnacle is approached.

In all aspects of every society, the structure or chain of command is pyramidal. There are very few people at the top. In the course of the history of humans, there may have been many different independent pyramids, each localized by a variety of factors, usually geographical. However, with the exploitation of technology and time, there is almost no possible way that localized pyramids of any influence can exist independently. We can draw imaginary lines within a pyramid to expose infinite numbers of minor pyramids, but they are all absorbed into the one. It is impossible to refute that the world is not being controlled by a very select few at the top. By "few," we are not talking about thousands of entities. Even if there were that many to begin with, the natural order would have regressed to a pyramid. Effective leadership must be reduced to a manageable level. It is for the latter reason that I believe a grand plan (read: secular Apocalypse) is in effect and will take place shortly.

With this foreknowledge in mind, I should have an idea of what must be done. Incidentally, such foreknowledge is readily available in the Good Book, if you so desire to find it. Chapter Three of the Second Book of Timothy provides an overview of the conditions prior to the time of the end. Do we not see that now? It is not just from a religious perspective that we can foresee the coming fall of modern civilization. From a secular viewpoint, we have far surpassed the threshold of morality, falling into a steamy cauldron of lust and decadence. Greed and lust are insatiable. There is no limit. Left unchecked, we will destroy ourselves from within. We will also destroy most of the planet. As I said before, there will be two choices for intervention, a secular Apocalypse or Armageddon invoked by the hand of the Almighty.

Hands Across the Table

Well, I'm back on unpaid vacation for the next two weeks. Frankly, I am not sure if I even want to go back to wage slavery. This is one of the issues that I ruminate upon while I am at the beach in the evenings. There's nothing wrong with my work ethic. I have been a loyal wage slave for the last eight years or so. In fact, I was busting my ass just to play catch-up to what I thought was a "normal" life-style.

In the end, there is no such a thing as a "normal" life-style, unless we are talking about endless consumerism and insatiable hedonism. The cost of living is outpacing earned income anyway. In other words, it's a losing battle. Then, there's the matter of retirement. From what I can gather, the prospect of ever retiring diminishes by the day. No one really even knows how much it will cost to retire. And, those who claim to know are quoting an outrageous amount of savings in order to do.

In the old days, I would have concluded that the "system" was damaged beyond repair. Greed was the main ingredient. All the while, I precluded the notion of a "grand" design to what appears to be anarchy and entropy at work. Greed, of course, is one of the major problems. The source of the greed is what alluded me. Greed and money are currently serving as the means to distinguish the "chosen" from the damned. It made no sense why a small handful of clowns were accumulating most of the world's money and wealth. What could they do with it?

In the meantime, a good portion of the world's population is getting by on literally pennies per day. Why the overkill? In this country, the national debt is out of control, yet the affluent are still amassing wealth amidst the prognostication of economic collapse. Why? It's part of the plan. After the secular Apocalypse, the accounting will square itself away.

The US Marines are calling up its reservists for active duty back in Iraq as part of Shrub's promise to increase the military presence there until the "war on terror" is won. At the same time, there seems to be increasing evidence that an incursion in Iran is imminent. Obviously, the US military will be spread thin, since it is also still actively waging war in Afghanistan.

The only logical conclusion is that military conscription (read: draft) will be reinstated. I remember the fear that the draft created in the hearts and minds of young eighteen-year-old males in the old days. I was in the same boat when I was in high school. The Vietnam War was raging on. Only perhaps because of the untimely events of the Watergate scandal was I and many others saved. Tricky Dick "de-escalated" the war just before my time was up. A long and protracted war in the Middle East may find many young males holding the short end of the stick as it were. As we saw in Iraq and more recently in Lebanon, ground troops will have to be deployed no matter what.

The draft will initially conscript most males between the ages of 18 and 35 years. They will serve as "cannon fodder." No doubt, we can see the impact on the population of the next generation if a significant portion of the latter group is eradicated. Of course, all of the rich "dirty old men" will have their chance to hook up with young hotties. That's probably what most of those crusty and sleazy old politicians have in mind. And, expect the rich and powerful elite to insure that they and their families are exempt from military service. Incidentally, removing that many people from the workforce will also wreak havoc on Social Security and Medicare because there will be significantly less people paying into both programs. Do you see where this is all heading?

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, there will be a multi-pronged assault on the rank-and-file of world citizenry by the moneychangers and the powers-that-be. In the last few days, I have speculated about some of the nefarious methods that will be used to eradicate most of the world's poor, the powerless, and the riff-raff. There have been reports of several unused prison camps that were constructed in obscure locations. While the idea that such camps exists seems plausible, it should be noted that maintaining large groups of essentially non-productive cattle would be costly in terms of resources, especially food. It is my guess that the real purpose of these camps will be extermination. While some people may laugh at the concept, they should review Guantanamo, the current ubiquitous model.

It is hard to paint a rosy picture of what is going on. In fact, it's impossible. We are fortunate to be able to bury our heads in the sand using the various high-tech diversions available to us. That's the beauty of freedom, isn't it? We are free to be ignorant, if we want to be. The focal point starts with Peak Oil because every single one of us depends on petroleum for our existence. In perusing the issues, it will become quite evident that there are no contingency plans in place for the ultimate conundrum whether it happens now or 40 years from now. It's going to happen. One would think that a forced rationing of scarce resources is the most plausible solution.

However, upon closer scrutiny, it is obvious that such a solution is not workable. The real problem is overpopulation, of which there is only one drastic solution. Now, if anyone is going to go through the trouble of eradication, then "pest control" should also be a part of the deal. Herein lies the problem of megalomania, the psychopathology that afflicts the moneychangers and the powers-that-be. Humans should not play God, but they love to try, don't they? The various heads of state and the politicians have commanded thousands upon thousands of people to their slaughter. We see this happening right now. And, these megalomaniacs are not losing any sleep over it. Can we assume that they will lose sleep over the slaughter of millions of people? I think not.

Well, thank goodness for my beloved Palm® TX. I was a little dismayed to discover that the new Palm® OS codenamed "Cobalt" is not available on any of its products yet. The current version is Palm® OS 5 Garnet. It is a full multi-tasking, multi-threaded operating system. However, the application launcher can only run one task at a time as a subroutine. The launcher tends to freeze a lot. Alas, I am not too concerned. After all, I am in survival mode. I need only the simplest of devices.

Meditation

Last night, I made the inevitable trek to Kapi'olani Park. I sat on one of the benches at the beach. I closed my eyes to listen to the surf crashing against the sandy beach.

"Are you meditating?" a sexy voice out of nowhere asked. I opened my eyes to see a young hottie standing before me.

"No," I replied. "I'm just ruminating." What a stupid response.

"I like to come out here to meditate, but I am scared to sit alone. Do you mind if I sit here?" She pointed to the bench next to the one I was sitting on.

That was fine with me. Naturally, my mind started playing tricks on me. We both sat on the benches silently for over an hour. At about 10pm, I decided that it was getting late. By this time, baby had let her hair down. She was sitting cross-legged on the bench. As I got up, I said goodnight. She turned and smiled and said goodnight as well. What a hottie! Too bad that baby doesn't need a meditation buddy. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Fortunately, I won't see baby ever again.

I woke up early this morning. I drank a few cups of free coffee for the hotel guests before riding the bus to the Waikiki Banyan Hotel parking structure. The drive to Hawai'i Kai was nice. I followed the same route as the No. 58 bus, which snakes through Kahala. When I arrived in Hawai'i Kai, I gave moms a few things. I also unloaded my widescreen LCD tube. I was able to wash my truck, too. After that, I loaded up the recycling in the back of the truck. Moms rode with me to drop the recycling off before our final destination, Koko Marina. We ate lunch at Yummy's. Moms and I were able to chat for a while until I left at 12:15pm. Moms' friend was supposed to come by to purchase the widescreen LCD tube at 2pm. Moms called later in the afternoon and left a message. The widescreen LCD tube has a new owner. One more useless possession divested!

As I drove home and during the bus trip to town, I ruminated on my time with moms. It struck me that the amount of time in question is very finite. Then, I tried to understand why spending that time is so important to me. Moms also wanted to make sure that I would attend the 50th anniversary party for Uncle Take and Aunty Jane. I agreed, even though it will be quite an effort for me to make it in time after wage slavery. I don't get to see much in the way of my relatives these days. So, I should attend the function. It also seems to be important to moms that I attend. Heck, this is the only family that I have.

I read an interesting article by Bill Quigley titled, "Trying to make it home: New Orleans a year after Katrina," on the Smirking Chimp site. If we read the first half of the article carefully, we could easily extrapolate some sobering information. Does it not sound like a dress rehearsal for future disaster scenarios? It seems as though everything was deliberately screwed up to "test" the sample population to see how much the latter can tolerate. From what I could glean, the population simply reacted like cattle. They were herded to relocation centers. They were given barely anything to survive. Some are still displaced and are residing in the FEMA trailer park villages (e.g., Renaissance Village) under concentration camp conditions. Yet, not a peep or a "Moooooo" out of the cattle.

The second half of the article dealt with the strange disappearance of the billions of dollars in funding for the rebuilding work. Fraud was attributed to the same old contractors that we see popping up everywhere including Iraq and Afghanistan. Yet, one has to wonder. Perhaps these contractors were paid to initiate these "tests." Maybe the contracts were not to provide any rebuilding. Maybe the contracts were to invoke multi-faceted sanctions on an unwitting population, just as was done to Iraq before the war.

Ace of Aces

The conclusion of the "system" as we know it as implemented by the moneychangers and the powers-that-be is a formidable scenario at best. However, we should welcome the event with open arms, although few of us in the peonage will survive. The only difference between this purely secular plan and Armageddon is the matter of whom will comprise the "chosen." Only the rich and powerful will survive the secular plan (along with the new Proletariat class). Only the righteous and sincere will survive Armageddon. Which is better?

The secular plan has been packaged in many different ways. There is a quasi-religious version produced by apostate false prophets which is currently being used to mislead the "sheep." That is why the numbers in the charismatic and fundamental churches is rising. They don't want to be "left behind." What these "sheep" don't realize is that they are following evil "shepherds." They, too, are being corralled for the slaughter. In fact, they are looking forward to their own extinction because it will be the fulfillment of the "Rapture." How convenient. For the time being, these "sheep" have some utility. They are being used to sway the vote toward the NeoCon-men's agenda. They are also being used to incite racial tension, which is developing into a race-class war. Look at the emotionally charged immigration "problem." Then, take a good look at the "terrorist" issue. It starts to look all the same, doesn't it?

Fear of being "left behind" is still simply fear. And, fear is an important component in corralling the cattle prior to extermination. Yesterday, I neglected to mention that "terrorism" will also be used as a viable means of extermination in the First and Second World, the best test case being the contrived "September 11th" tragedy. The recent overblown airline "terrorist" plot in the UK was noteworthy, mostly because it afforded yet another dry run opportunity for the fearmongers. What I found to be astonishing was the intensity of the scare tactics that were utilized to facilitate mass hysteria and fear, even though the actual circumstances were ludicrous (refer to the UK Register article). When looking at the overall big picture, it's easy to see how the evil plan is unfolding.

So, why am I urging all to embrace the evil plan? Well, someone has to clean up this mess. The world is a shambles, even though First World citizens beg to differ. Over-population is the problem, and it's not going to be solved by handing out condoms. Even the evildoers know how difficult it is to mandate population growth policies. How do stop people from doin' da wild thing?

Speaking of da wild thing, I've noticed that there are lot of young hotties living in the Walina Apartments. Chez Loser II faces the back portion of those apartments. Remember that I was looking at renting a place there? Good thing I didn't. Imagine being a total loser and living in a place full of hotties. Aside from increased alcoholic beverage consumption, what good could come out of it? I remember when Robert had lamented that babes were not interested in him. By "babes," he meant young twenty-something hotties. By the way, he's a middle-aged guy just on the verge of becoming a senior citizen. I was also reminded of my own foolish foray into this gray area when I was going through my "mid-life crisis." Needless to say, the only cure has been the implementation of the infamous "eunuch-like behavior" and the "Data-like personality," as detailed in the Monk's Guide to Dating. Sheesh!

There have been no messages on my voicemail since I powered down my cell phone last week. I am now convinced that I will not need it much longer. I have 130 minutes to use before November 15th. I noticed that I now qualify for "Gold Rewards." Therefore, in November, I can use a $10 refill card and the expiry date will be a year later. I could maintain my cell phone number this way by leaving the phone off and checking voicemail with a landline. There's just no end to the fun and games with the moneychangers, which makes me more inclined to mummify the service.

I chatted with moms briefly this morning by phone. I used the landline in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Moms may have found a buyer for my widescreen LCD tube. I may be parting with it for $300 at most, sad to say. Moms also received a bill for $80 from the State tax collector. For some strange reason, moms' tax return was adjusted and the "over age 65" tax exemption was not honored. Say what? This is typical of how the State of Hawai’i government works. I will be visiting moms tomorrow morning.

I skipped my cardio workout again. The elliptical machines are always in use when I go to the gym late. I am now quite worried about the soreness in both my thumb joints. Lateral pressure applied to either thumb produces a lot of pain. This is the beginning of the geriatric downhill slide.

I've been going to Kapi'olani Park religiously every night. No matter how fatigued I am, that does not stop me. Once I am at the beach, I become instantly relaxed. I do not really get a chance to clear my mind. I've been locked in various ruminations, although the ambiance seems to keep even the most turbulent thoughts at a quiescent level.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

With the passage of time, the degree of corporate oppression, the outrageousness of the cruelty, and the absurdity of the lies can only increase as dwindling resources diminish and desperation erupts. Ironically, the disappearing American middle class will still cheer at each new millionaire success story, even if they quietly understand that a hundred or a thousand of their kind had to disappear to create it. They chase illusions of hope rather than the real possibility of justice and change like lottery players with a one-in-a-billion chance of winning. They prefer that to hard work and sacrifice with much better odds where almost everybody can win something. — Mike Ruppert

Only two main priorities are important for basic survival, food and shelter. Anything else is secondary and possibly superfluous. I have to make these distinctions because it is too easy to get wrapped up in the notion that everything is "necessary" for survival. Freedom is still an issue, mind you. However, total freedom is impossible in Western society. I am still debating the need for health insurance, especially with the increase in quackery that I have witnessed firsthand. My truck is becoming a sore point but, since it is paid for, the money is already gone. The truck continues to accrue expenses even though it is parked. The only sane decision is to eventually divest the truck. As I said, food and shelter are the top priority.

I met moms at Kahala Mall. We ate lunch at the Panda Express® as usual. I dropped off a package in the Goodwill drop box. Sadly, my donation only amounted to three Aloha shirts. Yes, I am foolishly clinging to stuff that I don't need. None of moms' friends want to purchase the widescreen LCD tube for cheap. In fact, one of the morons told moms, "I can get it at Costco® for cheaper." Yeah, right. Costco®-mania is at a fever pitch in Hawai'i, especially with the dumb ol' locals. I can't believe the amount of money these fools spend at that dump. They are buying commercial quantities of food and other crap. Who needs 500 cans of bulk Spam®? And, believe it or not, these same fools are renting storage units to store their bulk purchases. Well, enough about those idiots. I enjoyed my time with moms.

The more I think about it, I may just throw the widescreen LCD tube in the dumpster. I was not going to make any money on it. In fact, it's already a sunk cost. If I knew of someone deserving, then I would have given it away. Yet, no one would appreciate such a gift. Heck, they can get it cheaper at Costco®! I just love the sheer arrogance in the peonage. The disposition of the truck may also be similar. No, I won't put it in the dumpster. I may just donate it to a worthy cause in a year or so. Yes, I lose a lot of money with my foolish consumerism. However, my possessions did serve a useful purpose before being decommissioned to a useless status.

After my workout at the gym, I stopped off at Longs® to purchase more cans of Campbell's® baked beans. At two cans for 79 cents, how can I beat that? I consider each can a meal. I do not pamper myself with fancy meals. The mind and body become accustomed to such meals and, in time, the meals will seem increasingly bland and rote. This is the exact point that the mind and body loses discipline. The mind becomes pliable. The body begins to atrophy. Complacence takes over. After that, buying into the "system" is a snap.

The highlight of my day was when I received an e-mail from The Seminary asking me why I did not show up in class today. Apparently, someone signed me up to facilitate a class there and forgot to tell me. I called immediately to state my case. I am not sure what will result. Perhaps I will be blacklisted. Frankly, I am not too concerned. I must reduce my exposure to wage slavery by any means. I need to "deprogram" myself from the controlling mechanisms of the moneychangers.

The farcical "cease fire" in Lebanon is laughable, at best. It is simply buying more time as Zionist Israel regroups and replenishes its weapons arsenal courtesy Shrub and his NeoCon-men handlers. Why would they and the false prophets in Christendom want to see another world war develop in, of all places, the Middle East? A major conflagration (read: world war) erupting in the region would serve several purposes. It would allow the dominant power to increase hegemony in the region and to control the only regional resource, namely oil. It would also begin the extermination process for an expendable group of people. At this time, Arab nations do not serve to provide cheap labor such as China and India. Thus, the "brown people" are not a labor resource available for exploitation. They are disposable because they will only end up draining soon-to-be scarce resources such as food. The eruption of a major regional war would result in the genocide of most of the population of non-viable "brown people." These "brown people" are also non-viable because they do not worship the same god as viable people. In war, the high casualties will be deemed "collateral damage" in order to preclude any possibility of emotional attachment. As the conflagration develops into a global war (i.e., participation of many nations), then additional human carnage will result. Losses on all sides will mostly include "cannon fodder," the lowest in the food chain of each respective nation who are serving in the armed forces. It becomes quite obvious that the planners of this event are also forcing their version of "natural selection" upon the unwitting populace. Minor regional nuclear confrontations will also be welcomed as long as there is no contamination of the oil fields or the destruction of capital (read: key cities). Everything else can be destroyed or exterminated.

Countries with no specific reason to exist, no wealth, and no resources will vanish by "natural" attrition. Disease and famine will most likely decimate the population. These specific maladies will be assisted through the inaction of the IMF and the World Bank. Economic boycotts sanctioned by the UN, a proxy of the US, will also cause major devastation. I would surmise that countries in Africa, Central Asia, Central America, and South America would be likely targets. Epidemics of fatal diseases and "natural" disasters will be the best choices for genocide in First and Second World countries.

For the NeoCon-men and the apostate prophets of God, the elimination of the lower pyramid of the food chain is the only humane thing to do. They will relieve these people of long-term suffering. They will also solve population-specific problems such as pollution, global warming, accelerated resource depletion, food shortages, waste disposal, traffic, crime, disease, overcrowding, and so forth. It is still common thought that the moneychangers and the powers-that-be are converting their assets and are building armed luxury hideaways on remote self-sustaining islands. Does that even make sense? The end will still come because all of the problems have to do with overpopulation in the first place.

What is happening now to First World and Second World citizens is what happens to cattle before they enter the slaughterhouse. They are being pampered and fattened. Their time will come because they are still not high up enough in the food chain pyramid to be exempt. The number of people who will remain on this planet and allowed to procreate within reason has already been determined. These people will make up the new Proletariat class, the worker bees. The degree and physical demand of such labor will depend on the state of the remaining natural resources. Nonetheless, The Proletariat class will be slaves, not much different than what wage slavery is today. The saving grace is that the latter will be guaranteed life employment with most likely all the fringe benefits guaranteed. And, why not? The controlled population will be at a minimum. The riff-raff, the undesirables, and the useless will have been purged. There will be a "glass ceiling," though, and it will be really low. Naturally, a few people will expect me to break out the aluminum foil and fabricate a hat out of it. However, think about it. Do you believe that any of the moneychangers or the powers-that-be would tolerate being in the same room with us or breathe the same air? I think not.

S for Stupidity

Last night, I spent about three hours at the beach near Kapi'olani Park. I felt as though I was at "home," although I am hard-pressed to believe that I could live on the beach for any sustained period of time as do the countless homeless. I am certain that I will need to take up camping as a hobby.

I was privy to observe two pudgy, middle-aged guys hook up. The first guy to arrive was acting suspiciously. He looked like he was lost. He glanced over at the ol' lavahead several times. He stood on the beach looking out at the water for a few minutes. Then, he sat on one of the benches further up the promenade. At first, I just thought that he was another lonely loser. The second pudgy, middle-aged guy walked down the promenade. He seemed to make eye contact with the first guy. He walked past me and glanced over a couple of times. Then, he walked onto the beach and stood by the lifeguard tower. Within a couple of minutes, the other guy joined him. They talked for about 10 minutes. Then, they walked off together in the direction of Waikiki. I had suspected that Kuhio Beach was the hook-up for the gay crowd. Just down the street at the Waikiki Grand Hotel is the gay hotspot, Hula's Bar.

At one point, I walked back to the main beach at Waikiki along the main strip on Kalakau'a Avenue. It was completely noisy and crowded. I felt nauseous. So, I immediately walked back to Kuhio Beach, even though it is the gay hook-up. As I look back, I now realize why there are quite a few guys walking by themselves along the promenade. Sheesh! It's either gay guys on the make, couples, the homeless, or the ol' lavahead.

I stopped by the ABC Store and bought a bottle of Vendage® Chardonnay. Back at Chez Loser II, I polished off half the bottle before calling it a night. For some reason, I woke up in the wee hours of the morning. I was groggy and somehow slipped and fell backward. I hit the back of the oversized cranium on the rail of my surfboard that never gets used. A huge lump developed. This particular incident did not happen by accident. It was orchestrated to humble me and make me realize how stupid I've been lately. Think about it. There's no way that I could have slipped or tripped on anything on the carpet in my small shoebox. And, how could I have fallen in the right location to have the oversized cranium dinged by my surfboard?

This morning, I had a headache, most likely because of the wine and the lump on the oversized cranium. After drinking numerous cups of free coffee for the hotel guests, I rode the bus to the Waikiki Banyan Hotel parking structure to check on my truck. I also gathered the rest of the stuff that I will donate tomorrow at the Goodwill drop-off box when I meet moms at Kahala Mall. I am still vacillating about whether I should donate some clothes that I never use. Some are brand new. Why do I keep going through this nonsense?

After my cardio workout at the gym, I was so hungry that my hands were shaking. All I ate this morning was one Granny's Gourmet Muffin. I stopped by Long® first to buy a few cans of Campbell's® baked beans and some bread, both on sale. Usually, there are packaged sandwiches available, but those were sold out. So, I ended up at Taco Bell®. Two bean burritos with the green sauce. No red sauce. Yum! That was my treat for the week.

I noticed in the "Real Estate" section of the Sunday paper that the same units in Haiku Point, former home of Chez Loser, are still listed. There have been no price reductions. I cannot stress how fortunate I was to be able to sell Chez Loser and extract a little profit in return. There are also several units still for sale in the Aloha Surf Hotel. The "condotel" unit on the same floor as mine is still listed and it is still $30,000 higher than what I purchased mine for. There are four "condotel" units on the higher floors for sale. They are slightly larger and have lanais. The prices are between $219,000 and $315,000 for the units.

Well, I've been living in the hotel for two weeks now, although it seems like a year has gone by. I'm not anywhere near being settled. My daily routine has remained the same, just as it did during my time of homelessness and when I lived in Kane'ohe. I have no idea why I spend so much time in front of a computer. I don't even have a tan anymore. I speak of going surfing and now camping, but I have made no effort to do so. I have yet to go to the park during the day and enjoy a one-man picnic. At least I have made sure that I go to the beach daily in the evenings in order to rejuvenate.

Mike Ruppert apparently called it quits and moved to Venezuela. He has an interesting history. He's been in law enforcement. He also found himself inadvertently involved in an illegal drug conspiracy headed by several government agencies. Ruppert has connected the dots for years between seemingly unrelated events all the way through the contrived "September 11th" tragedy. And, lately, he's been very outspoken on the Peak Oil issue. Are the issues and events all related? You bet! Joe Bageant is also planning to move on. Belize is his destination. Bageant's site has a more "down home" feel. In his writings, he focuses on the frustrations of being in the working class. Yet, he (like Ruppert) is totally perplexed at how almost an entire nation is ambivalent about what is happening both on the domestic and international frontlines. Fortunately, Al Martin is sticking around. Remember my favorite article, "The Homeland Insecurity Field Trip for Seniors," on the Al Martin Raw site? Then again, who is Al Martin? Did you say "Iran-Contra"?

Vigil in the Night

What matters - all that matters, really - is the will to happiness, a kind of enormous, ever-present consciousness. The rest - women, art, success - is nothing but excuses. — Albert Camus

Last night, I had debated with myself whether I should ride the bus to Kahala Mall or to Ala Moana Center to piddle around at the usual places. I decided to go to Kapi'olani Park instead. What purpose does it serve me to hang out at a shopping mall?

As I mentioned before, all of Waikiki is basically a shopping mall. There are only three possible activities in Waikiki. Spend time at the beach or park. Walk around and shop. Make the rounds at the various bars and clubs. Obviously, the options anywhere else on the island will be much more restrictive (i.e., sit in the mausoleum and watch the tube). Waikiki is a fantasy, a get-away from real life for people who already lead a pampered life-style. Thus, the non-stop infantile antics goes on as self-restraint (what little these entitlement fools had) is cast aside to fully exploit the "resort" experience.

I sat in the park for over an hour. Not carrying my cell phone, I could not keep track of time. By the way, I felt tremendous relief that I did not choose the shopping mall option. In the past few days, I have observed a small group of people who situate themselves in the same location at the same time every night in the park. People take turns to speak in the center of the circle. At the end of the presentation, there is a round of applause from the audience. On my way out of the park, I stopped to listen in on the group. The person speaking made reference to eleven steps that he had fulfilled, the last few being difficult for him. My suspicions were confirmed at that point. It was an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I vaguely remembered that Caroll had attended a few of these meetings when she had visited Hawai'i several years ago. I was prompted to purchase a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza from the ABC Store. I also purchased a half-gallon of milk for a rip-off $3 plus tax. When I returned to Chez Loser II, I dropped back the whole can within minutes.

At midnight, I walked down to the beach. The landscape was quite different. There were only groups of drunken revelers staggering around. The benches along the beach all the way to Kapi'olani Park were populated with the homeless. Some had shopping carts. A few had their laundry drying on the stone wall bordering the beach. A well dressed older black couple sat on one of the benches with all their luggage beside them. I suspected that they were homeless as well.

What one notices right away is that the homeless are not a happy group. Most of them sat lifeless on the benches. They stared blankly in whatever direction they were facing. One was dangling a round keychain fob in front of his face as if he was trying to hypnotize himself. Some of the homeless were busy talking to themselves in an insane fashion. With this kind of life-style, who would not go insane? In Kapi'olani Park, most of the picnic tables were also populated with the homeless. Because the park is dark, they were all already asleep. Why am I always bringing up the homeless? Perhaps because I do not see them as "free." They are still prisoners. Slaves, if you will. It is the fear that we could end up like them which serves as an impetus to seek shelter. Here is Hawai'i, a "shelter" can absorb between 50 to 100 percent of one's income.

This morning, one of the hotel housekeepers asked if I had requested service for my little shoebox. Apparently, my shoebox appeared on her work roster. "Who cleans your room?" she asked. "I do," I said. She looked surprised. The primarily Filipino housecleaning crew is very polite and gregarious. For as little as they get paid, they really have a great attitude. How do they maintain such an attitude? I would be ready to line up and punch out the whole swarm of smarmy tourists in a week. The truth, of course, is that I have not cleaned my little shoebox. I have not had the desire to purchase the necessary cleaning chemicals. In fact, I've become keenly aware of the sheer number of chemicals that we must stock for cleaning and personal hygiene. It's sickening. I have decided that I must determine one general purpose cleaner that can clean everything (possibly even myself).

Almost every spare moment in my day is now devoted to time for reflection. I have become quite anxious as of late. The anxiety stems from my stalled progress concerning my ultimate exodus from society. I've been disappointed with my inability to expedite the divestiture of my worldly possessions as well as the lack of a general plan. I am still not certain about where I will end up once the exodus is to occur.

My little shoebox is not really that important to me, even though I spent a lot of dough on it. It is still a mausoleum (read: tomb). Cities have been designed to incorporate the mausoleum concept. The city citizen ventures out of the modular mausoleum complex only to shop or to pay for entertainment. The core infrastructure of the city is designed around shopping and entertainment modules, be it kiosks, strips malls, regional shopping malls, or entertainment clusters. The transportation conduits all directly tie the shopping and entertainment clusters together with the mausoleum clusters. Have you observed that there is nothing worthy to see along the transportation conduits? Mostly, only vast numbers of mausoleum monoliths are visible. Hence, the latter deters any need to walk anywhere. Walking around in undesignated areas will only lead to either being accosted or incarcerated. It also destroys the concept of "community." We can now only experience a sense of "community" in paid venues such as restaurants, theaters, concert halls, gyms, bars, clubs, and shopping modules. Is this really a sense of "community"? The "compartmentalization" of the population is what has led to the alienation of a whole society with a particular detriment to the economically disenfranchised (read: poor).

The mausoleum unit must be made habitable. It must be able to sustain the occupant for a decent period of time, at least a day to two days. Boredom is the mausoleum occupant's worst enemy. Hence, the mausoleum unit must be equipped with self-contained entertainment technology (i.e., tube, gaming console, computer, Net access, cable access), which is really the embalming fluid of home life. Needless to say, the moneychangers have infiltrated all home entertainment technology. The inundation of commercial advertising across all media provides the impetus to force the embalmed occupant to venture out of the mausoleum complex. The embalmed occupant must then use the preset transportation conduits which lead to a cluster of money-parting choices. Planned adventures outside the mausoleum complex within a social context includes friends and family. Why, a family that spends money together stays together. My point is the existence of rigid controls in every aspect of our lives including so-called "leisure time." For us, "leisure time," is a set of paid and metered events. The amount of fun and pleasure is directly proportional to the ability to pay. I'd venture to guess that the people who are most throwing their weight around in Waikiki are the ones who spent well beyond their budget to not look cheap.

What has happened to all of us? Why have we made the world a dismal place to live? Some may say that their world is fine, and I'm the one with a problem. You see, that's the point. It's their world. Their small little world, where they live "high on the hog." Immune from the suffering of others. Why should they give a shit? These are not people they know or care about. And, I'm not talking about people in the Middle East. Heck, nobody cares about them because they are all "terrorists." What I'm talking about is that we don't even care about the people in our own country! How sad is that?

The moneychangers and the powers-that-be already know that the world is over-populated. They already know that resources are scarce. And, even if they were to horde the resources, they would have to live in fear of losing their horde or their lives or both. The only viable alternative is to control and exterminate the lower end of the food chain. Fear is being used to control the masses and to reduce precious freedoms. Incursions in Iraq and Afghanistan have served to decimate the "cannon fodder." It is no secret that the volunteer armed forces have attracted a large number of the lower social classes. Test scenarios such as the contrived "September 11th" event, the Hurricane Katrina post-débâcle, and assorted epidemics (e.g., AIDS, bird flu, influenza, etc.) will precede more grand-scale genocidal implementations. Those cattle who are currently living "high on the hog" and who care less about what's happening will soon find themselves on the chopping block as the extermination process works its way up the food chain. Those "fortunate" enough to survive the decimation will end up as slaves in a new Proletariat class under a New World Order. Unless we are in the top two percent of the population who control over 80 percent of the world's wealth, we can't count on being part of the new Bourgeoisie.

Island of Lost Souls

The Advertiser finally discussed in an article what I've been anecdotally describing in both the "blog" and the journal. The inflation rate here in Hawai'i is the highest it has been in 15 years. Expenses have been skyrocketing, which is why I oftentimes wonder how people are living "high on the hog." I just don't get it.

I did my laundry last night without incident. As I waited for my clothes to complete the drying process, I looked around the lower guest parking level of the Aloha Surf Hotel. I observed a few areas of severe concrete spalling. In some spots, chunks of concrete were missing and the rusted steel rebar was exposed. I could only wonder how bad the rest of the building is. This morning, I heard sounds inside the partition wall that separates the shower from the vanity area. The partition is a hollow wall, essentially wasted space. My guess is that there are rodents scurrying around inside the walls. From the number of industrial-sized mouse traps that I've seen in a lot of buildings, I assume that Hawai'i has a varmint infestation. I also wondered whether the maintenance staff may be indiscriminately applying some kind of rodent poison throughout the structure. Could this be why I have been feeling ill for over a week?

There was free pizza, salad, and beverages for student, staff, and faculty at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike, Mike and Sandra (from the office that oversees the faculty computer room), and I were the first in line. I was chowing down. Thank goodness, I won't have to stop by Safeway® later.

My cell phone has been off for a day. Last night was the first time that I ventured outside without it. I had also been using my cell phone as a clock. While I was at the beach, I had no idea what time it was. At first, I felt disconnected. Then, later, I came to realize that I was not really under any time schedule. I still continue to carry both my cell phone and my Palm® TX with me during the day. However, I am gradually coming around to realizing that I am suffering from some kind of technology anxiety. The need to constantly remain connected. The need to know the exact time. Both are false needs created by the moneychangers and the powers-that-be to keep us in lockstep with their nefarious goal of world domination. Domination over whom? Why, us, of course.

While all the cattle are focused on the resurrected JonBenet Ramsey case and obsessing over the results of the So You Think You Can Dance reality show, there is in all likelihood a chance that the economy may slide into a recession very soon. Things don't look so good for the Land of Plenty. The dark side of reality is also being obscured by little media coverage. Say, whatever happened to all of those people in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina ravaged the area? Does anyone know? Does anyone care? What about "Renaissance City"? The Rude Pundit is apparently there now, and he is posting a few pictures of interest.

To Have and Have Not

Although I wasn't feeling too well last night, I managed to make the trek out to Kapi'olani Park and, hence, Kuhio Beach. One hour at the beach is total rejuvenation. I can also ruminate in the relative quiet. My ruminations as of late primarily concern my ultimate exodus from society.

When I returned to Chez Loser II, I spent the rest of the evening with my beloved Palm® TX. For some reason, I decided to check my T-Mobile® prepaid account. I discovered that my cell phone account was expiring in an hour. I frantically called the customer service number. I was disconnected three times after going through several levels of automated voice menus. Finally, I called a different number and was able to speak with a customer service representative. I was able to keep my account, but I lost the 160 minutes that I had accumulated. I found that out after-the-fact as I was first coerced to renew the plan. When I was told that I lost the minutes and that I should have called three hours earlier using Cali time, I was furious. I was just about to smash the phone on the counter. After I calmed down, I decided that I will keep the phone until the next expiry date. In the meantime, I must phase out cell phone service from my life-style. In a way, this unfortunate event is a blessing in disguise. I will let any calls and messages on the phone accumulate over a period of a week. I will then check my messages once per week, arbitrarily Monday, on a land line. I will return only important calls that require attention. My guess is that I will wean myself from cell phone service almost immediately.

Sad to say, I have neither received any mail or any phone calls in days. I should be overjoyed, I suppose, since that must indicate how effective I have been in isolating myself. Along Kuhio Beach at night, I have observed quite a few couples strolling about. In my ignorant days, I would long to find myself with a babe. Now, I cannot imagine myself as anything other than completely single. Of course, my biology tries to argue that point. However, mind over matter wins out. I am not a romantic person, nor do I want to deal with romance. I am no one's "soul mate." I do not care to share my life with someone else. I do not want children. I also do not want to deal with the superficial drama that everyone seems to crave these days. I have revised my viewpoints about friendships as well. For the most part, I have downgraded all friendships to acquaintanceships. I am in no way obligated to anyone. To the untrained eye, I would seem to be on a downward spiral toward some very serious psychopathology. I beg to differ. My course is really downward along Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. My destination? The Basic or Survival level.

I spoke too soon, as I received a message from Caroll in Sacramento. Yes, I made the mistake of checking my cell phone voicemail. I will have to turn the phone off completely. Caroll is allegedly in dire financial straits. I should have known that her last phone call about buying the house that she's living in was really just a "feeler." She wants to borrow money because she is allegedly being evicted. In other words, she needs money to pay for someplace to live.

As to be expected, my stay in Waikiki has begun to lose its luster. The novelty is wearing off, and I find myself extremely agitated by the hordes of cattle-like tourists. No surprise there. However, there is really no other place on this island that I would prefer to live. My choices would be quite limited anyway, unless an hour-plus bus ride one-way is something that I suddenly find desirable. Real estate prices and rents are now pretty much uniform around the island, so there's no financial incentive for being anywhere else. Almost all of the other districts in Honolulu are less than desirable insofar as crime and filth is concerned. Either the neighborhoods are dismal, or the units (to rent or purchase) are dumps. Sometimes it's a case of double jeopardy. Sad to say, Waikiki is the lesser of the evils, so to speak.

Professor Lisa has her heart set on living in Kailua. The rent there is extremely high because property values have gone up. Kailua is extremely popular with the mainlanders. One of the main reasons that she wants to live there is the beach. I'm not sure if she knows that, as of recently, there has been an increase of homeless people along Kailua Beach. The ol' lavahead, like Professor Lisa, is choosy about where he wants to live. There has to be some redeeming value. For me, I need an area where I won't need to spend my time locked in my mausoleum (read: tomb). Many neighborhoods on O'ahu are so bad that there is no other choice but to stay indoors, especially at night. For me, being able to spend time at the beach in the evening is worth more than the inconvenience of dealing with stupid tourists. Later, when I spend more time in the peaceful parts of Waikiki during the day, I will be able to justify my choice of living there even more.

I chose not to do the cardio part of my workout at the gym. I've been losing weight because of malnutrition. The cardio workout is burning up too many calories. Since my daily caloric intake is so low, my body must be consuming itself in order to fuel any physical activity. I am in a quandary concerning the solution. I could eat more, but what? Increasing food consumption is also going to increase my expenses significantly. I am suffering from physical degradation. As of late, my joints have been hurting, mostly my knee joints and the joints in both thumbs. This is not a good sign.

I stopped by Longs® after the gym to see if anything was on sale. I was able to pick up three cans of Chicken of the Sea® tuna for 59 cents each and a couple of Granny's Gourmet Muffins. Yum! At 4:30pm, I decided to power down my cell phone indefinitely.

In the Cool of the Day

My nightly trips out to Kuhio Beach (just off Kapi'olani Park) have been relaxing, although I will say that it's starting to get boring. As it turns out, everything gets boring after the novelty wears off. Boredom is quite prevalent in this culture of rampant consumerism and materialism. Viktor Frankl warned of the effects of the "existential vacuum" a long time ago. We no longer can sit still long enough to enjoy the simple pleasures of life. If there is no excitement, no fast segues, then it's obviously boring. Cell phones, notebook computers, portable gaming consoles, and PDAs have exacerbated the situation. I will continue my trips out to the beach at night. This is about the only time that I really have peace of mind. I can relax as I listen to the waves crashing against the shore.

There has been increasing coverage in the alternative media about the inconsistencies of the "September 11th" tragedy. Even with more compelling evidence to indicate a cover-up, there will be no real push for the truth. The cattle are not concerned about the truth. The powers-that-be and the moneychangers already know that the cattle have been deprogrammed from thinking, especially critical thinking. If people were actually interested in the truth, then the evildoers would be exposed. Take a look at all of the fat slobs running around. How many of them believe that they are responsible for becoming fat slobs, if they are even aware of it? Some people may wonder why I keep bringing up fat slobs. Am a bigoted toward fat slobs? No, I'm not. However, fat slobs are probably the most obvious example that I can cite about "denial" and "transference." If the typical fat slob assume some personal responsibility, then there would not be those frivolous lawsuits filed against fast food conglomerates. I am certainly not defending those heinous corporations. However, how can a group of fat slobs file a class action suit blaming food outlets for their condition? Can you say, "Greed, covetousness, and entitlement"? It is no wonder that the latter kind of thinking has permeated most of this society and is now being exported throughout the world.

Thus, there is little surprise when the powers-that-be blame those on the outside for the tragic events and problems that occur domestically. We are a society that blames everyone else for our problems. Fat slobs either blame the fast food industry or some nebulous chromosome in their "defective" DNA. We are constantly casting the blame for every malady on someone else or on some unforeseen circumstance. Yet, we walk around like some kind of deity, expecting others to bow at our feet. We have to take responsibility for our actions, and we have to take our lives back from the moneychangers.

I watched an episode of “House, MD” last night. I enjoy the program, but I really started to think about the ramifications of my passive participation. How harmless is it to watch such a program? First, I am inundated with crappy advertising every ten minutes or so. Second, I am sitting like a zombie in front of the tube (something that I despised when I felt that I had no other options while living in Kane'ohe). Actually, those are petty concerns. The real damage is the subliminal impact on my concept of reality. A viewer becomes somewhat involved, both mentally and physically, with "favorite" programs. That is, of course, why there exists the odd entity known as the "fan." Programming on the tube and movies have no basis in reality except that some portion of the storyline may be factual. The rest is an illusion, a form of entertainment. The people are actors. In the end, all of life becomes entertainment. Just watch the "hamming up" on those so-called "reality" shows. Eventually, the mind has no way to differentiate fantasy from reality. When being a "fan" becomes obsessive, which is more predominant than imaginable, then the result is the emulation of acted scenes transferred to real life. Even worse is when being a "fan" actually means morphing into the actor's persona. Heck, don't we all want to be rich and famous celebrities? I am certain that most people are unaware of the transformation. It's a gradual process that takes hold after long periods of watching the tube.

By the same token, gleaning information about current events from the tube is detrimental to the human thinking process. Information is fed interactively to us but is unidirectional in nature. The segues are short, and the information is so brief, that there is no time or enough data to make a qualified analysis. Not that people care to analyze anything that does not directly cater to their egos. News presented on the tube is also presented by someone who is implicitly assumed to be an "authority" or a "pundit," such that the talking heads are actually transacting in a parent-child fashion with the viewer being the child. The latter then further discourages the need to question the information or data presented. What we have left is a population of brain donors. Intelligence atrophies without exercising the mind. Brain donors are quite easily to manipulate, which is why rampant consumerism can never be controlled. Information is easily fed to brain donors. There are never questions asked. Brain donors also respond very immaturely, almost child-like. They are easily enamored by shiny objects, and they are quickly taken in by religious, political, and financial charlatans.

In other news, I have decided that I am just going to ignore most people from this point forward. I'm not saying any of the usual gratuities because no one every responds in kind. I won't go out of my way to be rude like they do, but I won't be polite either. That's going to be the same for the pompous asses in academia. I'm not going to be kissing anyone's ass, like all the other pseudo-professors. I have enough money in the bank to carry me for a while, so I don't need to patronize any of these mofos. I will respond kindly if I am treated kindly. Surely, this is the beginning of my exodus from society.

I did a little shopping at the downtown Ross®. I spent $25 on a couple of generic board shorts. I was actually looking for another pair of jeans shorts, but there weren't any. The only pair of jeans shorts that I own are wearing out. Well, the board shorts will do. That way, I can really get into the Waikiki life-style. And, I can wear them to the beach.

I have not been feeling too good in the last couple of days. And, I have not slept well since last week. I am wondering if the stuff that I brought back from the storage unit was contaminated with something. Or, maybe my little shoebox is contaminated. I am running the air conditioner in economy mode all night long. Unfortunately, that is the only way to allow the stale air to circulate. The room has glass louvers for windows, but there are no screens. The air conditioner is also in an awkward location. The air flow is blocked by the cheesy hotel furniture. The lack of proper ventilation itself could be the problem. Germs and bacteria are most likely proliferating. Another possibility is the air conditioning in the Diploma Mill buildings. The thermostats appears to set in the low sixties (degrees). The outside temperature is about 80 degrees. That's a temperature difference of about 25 degrees! Practically all of the air-conditioned buildings and the buses in Honolulu are freezing cold. It's nice when first entering the building but, after an hour, it's too cold.

Although I wasn't feeling well, I did manage to do my workout at the gym. Then, I felt woozy, but I walked to the Pali Safeway® to buy some food. I'll probably just eat some processed cheese sandwiches tonight. Sheesh!

Sponge Bath

I find that I am spending too much time detailing my rote daily activities in the "blog." Each day is a repeat of the last, which baffles me about my motives for chronicling the latter. I had specifically set up the subsection labeled, "The Routine," just to emphasize the repetitive nature of my days. The implication is that my mind has turned to mush and, hence, I have become one of the myriad cattle whom I dearly despise.

As I read the same ol' crap that I write, I am not surprised that no one reads the "blog." I will summarize my routine with simple phrases from this point forward. I have also noticed the proliferation of personal pronouns in my narrative. Well, that's hard to avoid since the "blog" is about the ol' lavahead and his pathetic life. Which brings me to an article on the In These Times site written by Silja Talvi titled, "Narcissists 'R' Us?" Talvi reviewed a book by Christopher Lasch on the subject of the increasing prevalence of what appears to be narcissism in our culture. As it turns out, the latter is one of the main axioms presented by author Jean Twenge in her book, "Generation Me." The "corporatocracy" has certainly embraced the emergence of narcissism. The focus on the "self" has indeed aided both the business and government sectors by creating mindless "shopaholic" cattle.

By focusing on ourselves and constantly looking "inward," we tend to deny the existence of an outside world. It gets so bad that we become totally unaware of our surroundings. Hence, the rude and arrogant conduct that has become so mainstream as of late. Materialism goes hand-in-hand with narcissism. These days, we refer to the melding of the former and the latter as "individualism." The "individualists" believe in an endless array of choices afforded them by the perception of their right to such choices. This is really just a thinly-veiled attempt to hide greed, covetousness, and entitlement. As the cattle devote almost all of their time exercising their "individualism," the evildoers and moneychangers are dancing in delight. The cattle are so preoccupied with their self-importance (read: local phenomena) that they could care less about the big picture (read: global phenomena). As a matter of fact, to the cattle, they are the big picture. Well, the fat slobs are not that far off.

In the past few years, actually since our ill-fated adventures into Iraq and Afghanistan, I've often wondered why no one has ever brought up any discussion concerning the latter. The same with the Supreme Court's intervention in the election. The list is endless. Peak Oil. Global warming. All the way up to current fiasco in Lebanon. I may hear an occasional remark parroting something moronic that Bill "Loofah" O'Reilly spouted off. Or, I'll hear some off-the-cuff remark that makes no sense. What seems to preoccupy the thoughts of most people are themselves. What they eat. What they wear. What they own. What they are going to buy or have bought is a big topic, usually to impress someone. Having fun, or general hedonistic activities, is also high on the list. In general, the cattle will do a thorough research on an anticipated purchase but rarely read beyond the headlines when it comes to anything else.

The argument that they are powerless to do anything is marginally valid. Since "individualists" could care less about the collective (although, ironically, they do form one), they defer any kind of power base to the evildoers and the moneychangers. As an example, there have been many articles on the unscrupulous activities of Wal-Mart®. Yet, the place is always packed with people. The need to have material possessions and create the illusion of being affluent (read: "individualism") supersedes any moral arguments. There's more to it, though. None of us make enough money as wage slaves. So, we must do everything possible to save money. We must buy stuff at the cheapest prices. This "need" will supersede any ethical basis. The preceding example can be extrapolated across almost all scenarios not necessary involving money or consumerism. Yes, the model applies to politics, religion, and so forth. The overall situation begins to look suspiciously like the classic "Chicken or Egg" conundrum. Who or what is to blame?

I don't shop at Wal-Mart. And, my goal is to stop shopping for useless shit entirely. However, I am also guilty of the infraction that I just described. I wanted a Palm® TX. So, I purchased one. Later, I discovered that it was made in China (like almost everything else). All Palm® products are made in China or some other third-world nation. What should I have done? Not purchase the Palm® TX? Thus, indirectly, I subsidized globalization and true slave labor.

Where is the outrage? That's the question many commentators on the alternative news sites often ask. I really don't know. I thought that we were past the point of a revolution a long time ago, but the cattle are quite complacent with the way things are. I am still shocked at the results of a poll which found that the majority of people feel they are very "well off." The sample also included people who were either at the poverty level or below. With this general mindset, it's quite obvious that we live in a society full of delusional clowns. No wonder the moneychangers and the powers-that-be know that they have carte blanche power over the general populace. The vortex of stupidity is likened to the swirl of water in a latrine after the plunger is pulled. We will all go down with the turds.

As to be expected, the moneychangers at my investment firm have lowered the interest rate on its money market funds steadily by the day after the Fed paused on short-term interest rate hikes. Naturally, the consequences are such that my aggregate income will drop. Perhaps the market is gearing up for another "terrorist" attack. The Fed may be forced to lower interest rates again to keep the economy afloat after another contrived tragedy. Beware, my friends, the moneychangers will soon have all your dough. It's inevitable.

Lately, I've had to revise my position on many subjects. Often, I had asked why the Fed just didn't print more money so that everyone would have enough dough? That was both a rhetorical and a stupid question. The money system dates as far back as the history of humans. It is a system that has been designed to insure an uneven allocation of resources. The allocation must remain uneven in order to insure that the rich (read: bourgoisie class) become richer and the poor (read: proletariat class) become more enslaved. What perpetuates the "system" is the fallacy that we are all on a level playing field, that each of us has the opportunity to become rich and famous. Throw in some narcissism and individualism and everyone ends up bamboozled. Everyone, except the moneychangers and the powers-that-be. So, why bother with the "slaves" anyway? In modern society, we must use modern psychological means to make the worker bees work. Torture and beatings don't quite cut it anymore. If given just a little bit of incentive, a little bit of the proverbial pie, so to speak, and the illusion of "empowerment," then the cattle will do anything. It's all a sponge bath for the mind.

Not that people really want equality or anything close. Mention "socialized medicine," and see what kind of responses result. No one wants to be equal with anyone else. The premise of "equality" is diametrically opposed to the concept of "individualism." Even when cognizant of the pyramidal hierarchy of the class system, most fools believe that they are either higher up the food chain or will be shortly. If everyone were equal, then each person would have equal access to all resources. Oh, we can't have that, eh? For example, imagine a gym where the membership was open to all and affordable by all. The riff-raff would be in the same place with the elite. Whoa! No way that's going to happen! All in all, human compassion disappeared with the Garden of Eden.

I'm not sure what to make of this anymore. There appears to be no escape whether I plan for an exodus or not. I find the latter to be highly discouraging. All we can is make the most of what we have, or that's what the sycophants of the "system" tell us. So, the journey continues. My objectives are still the same. However, where am I going?