Year of Madness

Last night was a repeat of the night before. Return to prison cell (read: little shoebox) from town. Prison food (read: beans and bread) for dinner. Cleaning ritual with humble dustpan and brush. Go stir crazy. Ride prison transport (read: bus) to Ala Moana Center. Barnes & Noble®. Sample a few music CDs. Peruse "Social Sciences" section. Ride prison transport to Waikiki Beach at 11pm. Lou's Kabuki Theater. Walk back to Central Waikiki. Stop in ABC Store to purchase rip-off $3.19 gallon of milk (price increase of 10 cents in last week), a Granny's Gourmet Muffin, and a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza. Lockdown in prison cell. Drop back whole can of cerveza. Lapse into coma.

Once again, I was very groggy when I woke up at 8:40am this morning. Prison food for brunch (read: tuna and bread). I was privy to a brief slammin' soirée, only to discover that the same "gooks" from yesterday were back in the prison cell next to me. I departed at 10:10am for town on the prison transport. Naturally, I grabbed a copy of the Sunday paper from the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before I left. Once in town, I made my way to the Beretania Street Apartments, whereupon I sat in the covered lanai. I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's® and sat on the benches at the Diploma Mill shuttle stop. Upon completing the beverage, I walked across the street and waited for the student computer lab to open at noon. I was able to peruse a few free hurdy-gurdy site on the Net on my beloved Palm® TX courtesy the Diploma Mill wireless network.

Gym time was at 1:15pm. The highlight of my time at the gym was when I was able to catch a brief glance of the hottie gym trainer. I was back in the student computer lab at 2:30pm. I will depart for Waikiki at 5pm. Frankly, I am beginning to dread going back to Quagmire prison (read: hotel). The shitty prison itself is not entirely to blame. The moronic satanic gargoyles posing as tourists are another story.

Whenever I walk around and observe the zombies with inflated "self-esteem" on the street, I ask myself how these satanic gargoyles can live with themselves. I cannot find an answer. What I see is ugly. Very ugly. Many of them are well dressed, some of them fat, some even obese. Quite a few are cigarette smokers. All of them are arrogant, caustic, and blatantly narcissistic. They display no common courtesy, no doubt because they only care about themselves. What comes out of their mouths is vulgar, vile crap, coincident with a severely limited mental capacity. Aside from themselves, their concerns are banal and superficial. Dialog is always trivial, usually sports scores, celebrity gossip, how important they are, always banal topics. They live comfortably, although I have yet to confirm any of their "debt-equity ratios." They all tend to act like Big Money Grip, so they are either livin' large or delusional. I choose the latter. Like idiotic sheep, they follow every fad. Postmodernism is their credo. Yet, they believe firmly that they are non-conformists. They follow the "Don't worry, be happy" school of thought. Thus, they have the grotesque Kabuki-mask smirk plastered permanently on their Botox®-injected faces. They are "special." No one else seem to exist in their world, unless that person has something substantial to bring to the table. They have no knowledge about the world outside their small universe (read: themselves), nor do they care. Everything else is insignificant compared to themselves. No matter how grotesque or moronic they look or act, they don't care. They are the stars of their own "reality" show. Everyone else (read: the "extras") loves them. This is modern society in a nutshell, the one that I have grown to despise more and more each day.

Incidentally, here is a short list of the books that I have been perusing at Barnes & Noble® recently:

• Generation Me - Jean Twenge
• Hello, I'm Special - Hal Niedzviecki
• Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser
• Don't Eat This Book - Morgan Spurlock
• Fat Land - Greg Critser

Reading these books will provide a very good understanding of our current degenerate "postmodern" culture. Realize that things will get worse, not better. We live in a worthless and meaningless culture, which only serves as a catalyst to seek escapist obsessions to fill the void. Yes, we are talking about Viktor Frankl's "existential vacuum." The major activities (i.e., taking the most time) aside from wage slavery are sleeping, watching the tube, shopping, attending entertainment events, and eating. Snacking, drinking cheap booze, and smoking cigarettes are other benign activities which fill the day. Note that all of the aforementioned activities feed into each other. Each considered separately or combined together add up to nothing. They are all meaningless. Add in the epidemic of the "seven sins," and here we are today.

On the last day of the year, I am summarizing the emptiness that I face every single day of the year. I am searching for meaning or purpose, but I cannot find either. I am forced to live in a prison cell, but I find no solace in filling it with technological "toys" (read: distractions). I can go nowhere because all destinations have an entrance fee. The only "free" destinations are related to shopping. We live in a world obsessed with the concept of "ownership." Thus, everything has been purchased and is only available to us for a fee. Purchasing, renting, or leasing is a total part of our existence. Each method has changed out world view. It has made us believe that we have many more rights than such "contracts" imply. Yet, another reason why we observe so much more callous and self-serving behavior. I want no part of it anymore.

During my cardio workout at the gym, I kept ruminating upon the idea of homeless "camping." Frankly, I have had many intrusive thoughts about the matter, often provoked by the slammin' soirée. Putting the "condotel" unit back in the hotel pool will come close to paying for the mortgage. In addition, I can deduct the maintenance fees for tax purposes. I can then list the unit for sale, while not being pressured to sell it immediately and incur a loss. The main concern is whether I am ready to accept the hardships of homeless "camping." The other alternative is to find a cheap rental. Anything under $1,000 per month will be a dump. The environmental conditions will most likely be worst than at the hotel (i.e., low-life scum for tenants, high crime, drugs, etc.). I will need to find the answer soon. I am at the end of my rope, so to speak.

Meltdown Hawai'i. Could the end of Hawai'i be near? An article in the Advertiser business section detailed all of the cost increases slated for next year. The inflation for 2007 was estimated to be 4.6 percent, allegedly the same as this year. What a crock of shit! A quick look at the chart in the article makes it clear that there will be a series of cascading and spiraling costs. There is no one-time effect. Everything is inter-related. Thus, cost increases in particular sector increases costs in all the others. Tax increases, of course, will affect all sectors. We will see a marked increase in homelessness next year and beyond.

Past & Future Things

Yesterday afternoon at about 5pm, Pseudo-professor Mike returned to the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. He had brought some food earlier, of which he served up to those of us who were present. A nice small feast. At 6pm, he gave me a ride back to Waikiki. I was able to give him a brief tour of the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and my prison cell (read: little shoebox). After Pseudo-professor Mike departed, I started my laundry. It seems that the dinner hour is the best time to do laundry. I was done with the dreadful task before 8pm.

I happened to see the "breaking" news about the execution of Saddam after being found "guilty" by the Iraq "kangaroo" court. The coverage apparently went on non-stop (except for advertisements) about the alleged brutal crimes of the "Butcher of Baghdad." A brief, albeit blurry, video clip showed alleged Iraqis dancing about in celebration. Upon closer scrutiny, I noticed that the crowd had less than 30 people. However, the viewing area of the camera made it seem as though the crowd numbered in the hundreds (the same trick used in the video of the toppling of Saddam's statue). There were no dancing fools in the outer fringes of the viewing area. The news coverage itself was out of control. All of the same unfounded allegations were being repeated again and again. In fact, the same old "WMD" nonsense was resurrected as "fact" yet again. At that point in time, I realized how manipulated are the masses in the rank-and-file. Then, the sheer irony of seeing the idiotic news coverage interspersed with advertisements for Internet telephony made me ill.

I departed on the prison transport (read: bus) at 9pm for Ala Moana Center. Oh yes, I saw the bitter irony and hypocrisy in my own movements. I went to a shopping mall, of all things! I spent my time at Barnes & Noble®. I perused a few books in the "Social Sciences" section, my new favorite area. I rode the prison transport back to Waikiki at 11pm. Rather than get off at my usual stop, I rode the prison transport to Waikiki Beach. I found myself at Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One. All was quiet. There were about five of the homeless fast asleep on the benches or on the grassy knoll. I sat on one of the benches for a few minutes. Then, I walked back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). I noticed that there were several homeless per pavilion structure. No telling how many were sleeping on the beach itself. Back in my prison cell, I was privy to sporadic episodes of the slammin' soirée until 1am. When all was quiet, I called it a night. The slammin' soirée resumed at 4:15am. It turned out that the morons were leaving on an early flight. Cheap fucks. Can't they afford a flight a decent hour?

I was very groggy when I woke up at 8:40am this morning. I am not even sure if I even slept at all. I departed at 9:10am for town on the prison transport. I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's®. I sat in the lobby of one of the buildings that is leased by the Diploma Mill. I drank my coffee and perused a few free hurdy-gurdy sites on my Palm® TX, courtesy of the Diploma Mill Wi-Fi® network.

I received e-mail from Pseudo-professor Mike. He invited me over to lunch. I ignored the invitation. Later, he sent a copy of an e-mail that was supposedly framed to be sent one party but was instead sent to Pat, his brother. Pat replied with comments, which is the version I received. There were many interesting revelations about the private life of Pseudo-professor Mike, but the most disturbing aspect was the fact that he has admitted that he is a "switch hitter." He has mentioned this before, but I had discounted the disclosure. Emotionally, I believe that pseudo-professor Mike has lost control. For some strange reason, he has convinced himself that he needs a strong babe (or guy) to "take care" of him for the rest of his life. I have seen the same kind of debilitating behavior in Robert. Coincidentally, both of them are attorneys. They both want the good life, but have chosen chronic dependency as the only vehicle to attain such a life-style. Sad to say, modern life has reduced most of us to helpless weasels who must grovel for even the most paltry existence. Some of us may even stoop to debauchery to attain what we believe we need.

Gym time was at 1:30pm. once again, I did my usual Monday workout today because the gym will be closed on New Year's Day. After the gym, I was back in the student computer lab for the rest of the afternoon. I departed for Waikiki at 5pm on the prison transport. Pseudo-professor Mike invited me over for dinner. I have my reservations now since he is a confirmed "switch hitter," and because of a few suspicious (read: fudgepacker-type) comments in the e-mail he had forwarded. Naturally, those comments seemed to substantiate the real reason for the invitations to his place. Most likely, I will make another jaunt to Ala Moana Center and spend my time alone at Barnes & Noble®. It seems that I am the only person I can stand to keep company with. Sheesh!

As the old year winds down and a new year is ushered in, we can look forward to an increase in the status quo. That sounds like an oxymoron, but it's not. An increase in the status quo actually means an overall decrease or degeneration of our "quality of life." There are serious issues confronting our planet and the vast number of satanic gargoyle converts who populate it. Everything is related. Global warming, Peak Oil, pollution, resource depletion, shortages, the epidemic of the "seven sins." The plunger has been pulled, and the turds are beginning to swirl around the bowl. Eventually, the vortex will reach maximum velocity, and the turds will be sucked down the drain. The world, that is, the activity of an overpopulated planet, has now climaxed to a fever pitch. We are well beyond the "point of no return," because there is not a significant force to stop the destructive momentum that has built up. Who can keep up with what is happening, no less analyze and digest the ramifications? Who can even find the truth without being obfuscated by lies? Who really even cares? The "point of no return" has already been breached because we have a large population of ignorant fools who could care less about anything except amassing more crap to put into public storage facilities. Every action by each one of us is replicated millions of times over every second of the day, which means that the collective damage is synergistically worse than the sum of individual actions. Those people who have converted to satanic gargoyles and worship at the church of El Diablo impact world conditions many times over the non-converts.

"There's nothing we can do about it," both humans and satanic gargoyles lament, although the latter do so only figuratively. It's entirely true, though. There is nothing that one single human can do anymore. It won't make a difference. It's too late. I don't need to hear anyone label me a "pessimist." I am being realistic. Being an "optimist" is so over-rated. An "optimist" today is simply a drunken, gluttonous satanic gargoyle who is living in denial of the truth. Reciting idiotic mantras such as, "Things will get better," are the product of the "Don't worry, be happy" school of thought. Forcing ourselves to put on a happy face does not change anything. In fact, the latter is the real reason why our lives are now totally out of control. Individually, we lost our locus of control a long time ago. Collectively, we believe that we are far better off than we really are. We put off any kind of responsibility until tomorrow, whenever tomorrow comes. We want someone to "take care" of us. We look for villains to demonize and expunge in the hope that those sacrificed villains will bring us redemption for our own sins. We do not want to hear the truth, especially if it does not make us "happy." We only care about ourselves, although we often put on a good act of feigned compassion. On and on it goes.

We no longer can turn a failed society around. Only something horrific, a worldwide holocaust of some kind, will effect change. And, then, I wonder if that would even work. Only two possible scenarios can occur within the fatalistic world we have created for ourselves: the secular Apocalypse or Armageddon. The secular Apocalypse is of human design, and it will ultimately fail. Why? Crafty humans are prone to error and corruption. The goal of the secular Apocalypse is to depopulate the planet to more manageable levels while enslaving the remaining population to serve the elite who designed the holocaust. In time, the pyramidal hierarchy of control will disintegrate because of the same problems that currently plague society, namely the epidemic of the "seven sins." Whether we choose to believe it or not, there is only one solution, Divine intervention. Only a fool would deny this fact. You may also realize why I have chosen to use the prison analogy as of late.

In order to really see the truth, we must separate ourselves from the secular churches, the prophesied "Babylon the Great," which is now serving to bamboozle the masses. Modern religion only serves the needs of its secular rulers and its real god, the sinister kahuna. This in no way precludes the existence of a true religion. Forget those false prophets. Once we discount modern religion, we can discard our notions of who the Almighty truly is. Thus, we can understand the rationale that Armageddon can be the only answer. We are at the crossroads of morality and mortality. Humanity was given enough time to work for betterment, but it failed miserably. We have passed the "point of no return."

As a side note, in a recent AP-AOL® poll asking respondents to list the "Biggest Villains of 2006," Shrub received 25 percent of votes, Saddam received a mere eight percent, and Satan came in with only one percent of votes. Who would have thought?

Sorry, Wrong Number

Last night, I rode the prison transport (read: bus) at 9pm to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure to drop off my Jeep® gym/duffel bag in my truck. I retrieved the new gym bag (made in China). Back in my prison cell, I stuffed all of my worldly possessions in the new gym bag. As I perused the new gym bag, I noticed that it was cheaply made. The Jeep® gym/duffel bag was much more rugged. I almost had second thoughts about divesting the Jeep® gym/duffel bag, but I remembered that my goal is to "downsize" my life-style.

I was feeling restless, so I rode the prison transport to Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One at Waikiki Beach. There a bunch of lunatics loitering at one of the tables in the pavilion structure. The semi-lucid homeless guy was sitting at another table. He looked completely bored. He now has two backpacks. I suspect that the homeless go through the same kind of painful divestiture process that I have been experiencing. The psychotic part is that one always ends up acquiring more crap no matter what. I sat on one of the benches facing the beach and hotels. The new homeless guy was there, or his presence was felt. I noticed his shopping cart full of crap parked next to one of the support columns of the pavilion structure. The semi-lucid homeless guy moved his stuff to one of the benches facing the ocean. He then called it a night. I left shortly afterward. I walked back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). I stopped off at the Food Pantry for a change to see what I could find. I ended up purchasing a couple of navel oranges and a big-ass can of Coors® Light. I dropped back the whole can once I was in lockdown in my prison cell. The slammin' soirée commenced. I joined in with my even louder version fo the slammin' soirée. Oh, what fun I had!

This morning, I departed for town at 8:10am on the prison transport. I ran into Pseudo-professor Glenn near the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). We chatted for a few minutes. Once in town, I made my way to the Diploma Mill, specifically the faculty computer room. I made a pot of coffee immediately. I walked to Safeway® at 11pm. The traffic was horrendous, most likely because of the on-going rain. I purchased a loaf of bread, two Tina's® burritos, and two energy bars. Pseudo-professor Mike stopped by the faculty computer room at 1:15pm. He returned yesterday from a brief trip to Kaua'i. He said that he needs to come up with $225,000 within 90 days as a good faith purchase of Bea's condo.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. I was back in the faculty computer room at 3:45pm. I spent the rest of the afternoon there. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. I must do my laundry tonight. Frankly, I am not in the mood to do anything, although I do not want to vegetate in my prison cell either.

Well, I eagerly await our demise in the new year. An article posted on the Yahoo! News site reported that a "66-square-kilometer (25.5-square-mile) ice island tore away from Ellesmere, a huge strip of land in the Canadian Arctic close to Greenland." That ice island is about larger than Honolulu. Global warming, you think? The big news is that Saddam will be strung up for his war crimes. Even the idiotic "progressives" are heralding the event because it allegedly sends a clear message to all dictators. What message is that, pray tell? Saddam was a puppet. He has always been a puppet, that is, until he decided to switch Iraq's reserve currency to the Euro. Oh, what about when he "gassed" the Kurds? Bad ol' puddy tat! Has anyone ever read the history of Iraq? And, who will be strung up for the war crimes currently happening in Iraq? I am even more concerned that history will repeat itself. I am one of a small minority of people who believe that the US will launch an incursion into Iran. An article by Joseph Nobles titled, "George W. Bush Is Going To Bomb Iran," appeared on the Smirking Chimp site. Once again, even the so-called "progressives" are in disbelief. Remember Iraq? Allegations of non-existent "WMD" arsenals to establish a pretext. UN sanctions to weaken and demoralize the population. Then, booyah! As I have been saying, the map says it all. Doesn't anyone own an atlas? There has not been a word about the results of the trade delegation to China. However, my understanding is that China made no concessions. The delegation included Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson and Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke, an obvious sign of how important the meeting was supposed to be. The whole purpose of the "loaded" delegation was to put pressure on China to float the yuan, which it refuses to do. The whole trade deficit issue revolves around the undervalued yuan. How can the US pressure China to do anything since the latter carries over $1 trillion in dollar reserves and US debt instruments? The decline of the value of the dollar will apparently be the impetus for the Fed to drop short-term interest rates next year, which will be the beginning of my demise. Here in Hawai'i, the decline of the dollar will be welcomed by the tourist trade moguls. More tourists will visit from abroad when the dollar is low. Of course, only the large corporations that own tourist-oriented businesses will benefit.

The epidemic of the "seven sins" is in full-swing. The epidemic is spreading and festering around the planet. It is engulfing everything and everyone in sight. How much longer can it go on before it collapses? When will the moneychangers and the powers-that-be invoke the secular Apocalypse? When will the Almighty bring Armageddon down upon us? These are my questions for the new year.

Mind Snap (Yet Again)

Last night, I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to Ala Moana Center at 8:15pm. I perused Sears®, Long®, T&C® Surf, and the Apple® Store before ending up at Barnes & Noble®. I returned to Waikiki at 11pm. Back in my little prison cell (read: little shoebox), I was able to enjoy at least an hour of the slammin' soirée courtesy the idiotic satanic gargoyles in the next prison cell.

I was awakened at 7:15am by the crew that is doing the concrete spalling work on Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). They were making all kinds of noise right outside my window. The scaffolding is also right outside my window. They will be there for about another month before moving to the next section of the building. Rain was also coming down steadily. I almost had second thoughts about visiting moms, but I quickly remembered that I don't have that luxury. My time with moms is limited, and I already know that I will not be able to visit moms much during Spring. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to the Waikiki Banyan. I paid $100 for the monthly parking fee. After retrieving my truck, I drove to Kahala Mall. I ended up at Barnes & Noble®. I bought a large cup of coffee in the café. Then, I spent some time perusing a few surfing magazines and a couple of books. At 10:45am, I drove to Hawai'i Kai and stopped off at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. I purchased a smaller gym/duffel bag at Ross® for $13 and some change. I met up with moms at noon. We drove down to Koko Marina to purchase a couple of steak barbeque plate lunches at Foodland. After lunch, I was able to chat with moms for a little while before driving back to Waikiki.

Once I parked my truck in the Waikiki Banyan parking structure, I rode the prison transport to town. Gym time was right when I arrived at 2:45pm. I was only able to catch a glimpse of the hottie gym trainer. Baby was looking hot. After the gym, I walked to the Diploma Mill. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. As usual, I will depart again for Waikiki at 6pm. No telling what I will do this evening.

I have become more and more restless with no remedy in sight. I doubt that I will actually go "janitorial" (read: "postal"). However, I am not certain whether I will be able to tolerate this benign and meaningless life-style. There is absolutely no purpose for our existence in a consumerist society. When my mind does indeed snap, I do not want any kind of long-term obligations (i.e., mortgage, etc.). I already know that the day is coming, but I do not know exactly when.

Mummify That!

Back to the old routine. I left for town this morning at 8:10am on the prison transport (read: bus). I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I made a pot of coffee. Nothing like fresh coffee in the morning, eh? I was able to finally update the "blog" as well. At 10:30am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, two energy bars, and one Tina's® burrito. I spent most of the day completing various tasks that had been put off since last week. Holidays only seem to cause me grief.

Incidentally, I was able to construct a small retirement worksheet to calculate a possible retirement scenario in ten years. The worksheet is based upon the Ameriprise® worksheet. As I said, it is a simple worksheet as opposed to more complex ones found at the Retire Early site. The Ameriprise® worksheet is easy to use. I have included the factor values for retirement in 15 to 30 years as well in case you wish to replicate the worksheet. Some of the assumptions are a bit optimistic (e.g., 8 percent return on investment, etc.). I will most likely update the retirement worksheet and the net worth balance sheet periodically.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. I did not feel like going, but I forced myself. After perusing numerous articles about the epidemic of Type II Diabetes, I cannot afford to miss an exercise session. And, I was able to get a glimpse of the hottie gym trainer on the way out. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki at 6pm. The evening? Same ol' shit.

Incidentally, I had asked the front desk person last night at Aloha Surf Hotel for a small bar of the shitty soap that is put into the rooms. I was given the bar of soap after being told, "These are for the hotel guests only." There is a real problem in that dump, and I believe there is some animosity between the owner's association and the shitty Aqua management team. Heck, why not read about the dump on the Orbitz® site. If you want a real laugh, read the reviews. By the way, the reviews that give the dump the lowest ratings are the most truthful.

The Day After Last

This morning at 8:20am, I first rode the prison transport (read: bus) to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure to retrieve my truck. I then drove to Kahala Mall. I dropped off a small donation into the Goodwill dropbox. I bought eight cans of Campbell's® baked beans and two tubes of Crest® toothpaste from Longs®. I bought a large cup of coffee at the Barnes & Noble® Café. I spent about 40 minutes perusing a few interesting books. At 10:15am, I waited by the entrance to the mall. Moms met me about 20 minutes later. Moms and I ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. Yum! I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. I was able to chat with moms until 1pm. Moms also gave me a few goodies to take with me.

I drove back to Waikiki and parked the truck. I boarded a prison transport heading to town. Four obnoxious tourists were sitting near me. Two more of their idiotic friends boarded at the next stop. I could not tolerate the idiocy, so I got off at my usual prison stop (read: bus stop). Fortunately, another prison transport came by within seconds.

Once in town, I stopped by the Diploma Mill. One of the buildings was open, so I was able to sit inside the small lobby. With my beloved Palm® TX, I connected to the Wi-Fi® access point. I perused a few free hurdy-gurdy sites. Then, I was off to the gym at 2:20pm. I only caught a brief glimpse of the hottie gym trainer. Baby was looking hot. After my workout, I ended up back at the Diploma Mill. I sat in the lobby and composed the "blog." At 5pm, I departed for Waikiki on the prison transport.

My only thought for the day was how grateful I am that I could spend time with moms. As humans, we need people who are special to us in our lives. I certainly have wished that I had more special people to care about. However, since almost everyone is possessed by demons, there is no one to trust. Displaying any kind of vulnerability to the satanic gargoyles will only insure my demise. I am quite saddened by all of that.

I decided to step out for a breath of fresh air at 9:30pm. I rode the prison transport to Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One in Waikiki Beach. The place was deserted. I sat on one of the benches and ruminated about my situation and life in general. At 10:20pm, I walked to the Waikiki Banyon parking structure to retrieve the shopping bag full of stuff that I purchased and that moms had given me earlier in the day. I continued to reflect on my situation. I have deep regrets about purchasing the "condotel" unit. The problem is not entirely about rotting away in a shitty prison (read: hotel). I have never been pleased with any of the places that I have resided in. They are all tombs (read: mausoleums). I need to feel alive instead of feeling like a decomposing cadaver.

Living in a shitty prison is not my idea of fun. The satanic gargoyle tourists are all assholes. The propaganda machine (i.e., media) are constantly building up tourism as the economic "savior" of Hawai'i. Who benefits? The vast majority of jobs created by tourism are of the low-paying peon variety, comprised of almost the entire Filipino population of O'ahu. We, the residents, still pay high prices and high taxes. In the meantime, we watch as the tourists pillage and trash everything in site. Few tourist really care about the damage they cause. After all, money talks. The business and political leaders are nothing but whores. Cheap fucks, all of them.

Hawai'i is the model and trendsetter for the rest of the nation. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. We have already achieved the "perfect" equilibrium of the "haves" and the "broke locals." The middle class is long gone. Look at the out of control homeless situation. Look at all of the multi-generational households, all just one generation away from instant poverty.

And, just as we have expected, there's no dissension from the rank-and-file. They are too busy. They have sold their souls to El Diablo. The rabid fools are running amuck and foaming at the mouth. The epidemic of the "seven sins." They think that they have "made it."

My time is running out. I am already at the point of no return. I am ready to go "janitorial" (read: "postal"). Foremost, I must be prepared for the time when moms is no longer here. There is no way that I am going to live out my sentence in this dung hole prison (read: hotel). I am already counting the days. As you may recall, I have the option of putting the "condotel" unit back into the hotel pool. I will be free to take up homeless "camping," if I so desire. What's keeping me from becoming homeless right now? That's a good question. I need to find an answer very soon.

Saturnalia 2006

I was on the verge of losing my mind last night. I ate prison food for dinner. I performed my cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Nothing abated the symptoms. To save my sanity, I decided to attend the evening performance of Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One. I arrived at 8:30pm to find none of the cast members there. The tables were clean, and I saw no sign of the new homeless guy. Did he really leave because no one appreciated his cooking? Within a few minutes, the amputee with the wheelchair rolled in. At 9:15pm, the semi-lucid homeless guy arrived. The amputee with the wheelchair and the semi-lucid homeless guy chatted with each other, something they haven't done in months. Will miracles never cease?

There was a chill in the air. I felt extremely thankful that I was not truly homeless. Since there was no evening performance, I left at 9:35pm. I felt like walking, so I headed toward Central Waikiki. I stopped in the Billabong® store And a few other places along the way. My pedestrian journey was marred by idiots bumping into me. I became extremely agitated. I visited the ABC Store to purchase a couple of bananas, one Granny's Gourmet Muffin, and a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza. I dropped back the whole can once I was in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Very unexciting.

This morning, I slept in until 9:30am. I ate a nice prison brunch consisting of Coral® tuna and Safeway® bread. I left for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 11am. I noticed that all of the stores and eateries in Waikiki were open. Once in town, I walked to the Diploma Mill. I stood outside one of the buildings and connected to the wireless network with my Palm® TX. I was able to connect to a few free hurdy-gurdy sites. Alas, as fun as that was, it did not take up much time. As I stood and waited for the prison transport to Ala Moana Center, I observed a large gathering at the Chinatown Gateway Park. Hundreds of derelicts, the homeless, and senior citizens were feasting on a free meal. I was tempted to partake of the feast since I, too, am essentially homeless. However, I deferred my meal to the more needy. Nothing was open at Ala Moana Center. The whole place was desolate. I walked across the street to Ala Moana Beach Park to use the restroom. I observed the waves were perfect for surfing. I did not want to return to Waikiki so early. What was I going to do?

I narrowed my options down to a trip around the island on the Route 55 prison transport. As you may recall, that route goes through Kane'ohe. I was able to see my old stomping grounds as well as the beautiful Koolau mountain range. What a sight! All of the the beaches along the Windward coast were crowded with people. Surf conditions were extremely good at Sunset Beach and Waimea Bay. Two hours elapsed before the prison transport pulled into the Turtle Bay Resort for a rest stop. Turtle Bay is where the big money crowd hang out.

The North Shore was a lot more developed than I last remembered. However, it is much more quaint than Honolulu. Going through Central O'ahu was eye-opening. Almost all of the pineapple and sugar cane fields were overgrown with weeds. There were acres of barren farm land, the result of globalization. The rest of the journey was a mundane stretch of travel on the freeway.

I finally found myself back in my prison cell at 5pm. Lori had called and left a message. She had invited me to dinner. I was not able to get in touch with her, so I assumed that the plans changed. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown.

Saturnalia is finally upon us. For me, it is just another day, with the exception that I have absolutely nothing to do. Even the gym is closed. For the rest of the planet, a day of shopping withdrawal produces peace and quiet for once. The satanic gargoyles are triple-dosing their anti-depressants in order to stave off the mania of the Saturnalia shopping spree just hours prior. Millions of pine trees have been sacrificed for no particular purpose. There are no pine trees in Jerusalem as far as I know. Tons of paper will have been wasted after serving about 20 minutes of purpose as gift wrapping. Trash cans, closets, garages, and expensive rental storage lockers will be filled with crap never to see the light of day again.

I read the babbling nonsense of "progressive" and conservative pundits. Some were upset about creation being taught in schools. Some were upset about the "Happy Holidays" replacing traditional Saturnalia greetings. They worry about the mixing of church and state. On and on it went. Yet, in the end, they are all waxing nostalgic about what Saturnalia means to them. They all sing Saturnalia carols. They all exchange gifts to honor Saturnalia. They all speak of "good will to men." I am simply puzzled by the hypocrisy and the stupidity. Yes, maybe there was a small inkling of "good will." Is that something to be proud of? One day, possibly only an hour, of "good will" to others for a whole year? It's better than nothing, right?

I am the lone wanderer. A non-celebrant of Saturnalia. A monk. Some may even call me "Scrooge." I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see on this day. I received no Saturnalia presents. No Saturnalia cards. No phone calls. No manic moments. And, I was happy for that. On the positive side, I was not popping medication to sedate my shopping withdrawal. And, I did not become bored with the crappy gifts that I thought I really wanted. I will not have to face a huge credit card debt next year. Merry Saturnalia! And, "good will" to all!

Insignificant Others

Last night was unexciting. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to Ala Moana Center at 8:45pm. While I waited at the usual prison stop (read: bus stop), I was privy to observe numerous derelict locals sitting or laying around under the bus stop shelter. Most of them are obese. They were drinking cheap booze and smoking cigarettes. What a pathetic sight. Sadly, they are there every night making spectacles of themselves.

Once at Ala Moana Center, I perused Sears®. I noted that I can purchase Hawai'ian-themed tank tops for $7 and T-shirts for $10 anytime. I also stopped by Long®, T&C® Surf, HIC® Surf, and the Apple® Store before ending up at Barnes & Noble®. Yet, I purchased nothing. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Overall, I did not have a pleasant experience. Because of the last-minute Saturnalia shopping craze, every store and every walkway was packed. I had my fill of the Saturnalia nonsense. I waited about 30 minutes for a prison transport to arrive. By that time, there was a large crowd amassed. I had to stand up for the duration of the ride back to Waikiki. I decided to get off near Beachwalk on the West side. From there, I walked back to Quagmire Prison. I was able to see all of the new construction projects along the way. Frankly, Waikiki is a big mess, and it's getting worse. There are a lot of renovations being done on older hotels and shopping plazas as well. I was ready to "deliver street pizza."

I stopped off at the ABC Store to purchase a rip-off $2.99 salad and two Granny's Gourmet Muffins. I was back in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) at midnight. I had completed my cleaning ritual right after my prison food dinner, so I mummified the situation for the night.

After chowing down on a Granny's Gourmet Muffin for breakfast, I departed for town at 9:50am this morning on the prison transport. I was able to procure the Sunday paper in prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before I left. Once in town, I headed straight for the Beretania Street Apartments. I sat in the covered lanai and read the paper. At 11:30am, I walked to the Diploma Mill. I stood outside within the coverage area of the Wi-Fi® access point. I was able to peruse a few free hurdy-gurdy sites with my beloved Palm® TX. A number of ants were crawling on me. One ant found its way to my Palm® TX. I tried to brush off the little varmint with my hand and dropped the device's stylus. The stylus was damaged. I almost lost my mind. I was ready to go on a homicidal rampage. A number of other clumsy and idiotic incidents occurred during the day. The root cause was caffeine withdrawal. I could barely function without several cups of coffee. I had walked to Micky Dee's® earlier to purchase a cup of coffee, but the dump was packed with morons.

I was in a bad way when the student computer lab opened at noon. I made continuous typographical errors as I composed the "blog" because I was groggy. A whole tribe of ants had apparently infested all of my clothes, so they were crawling all over me as well. Clearly, the sinister kahuna was exacting its revenge upon me because I was not celebrating Saturnalia. I did not prostrate myself to El Diablo, nor have I accepted the invitation to become a satanic gargoyle. Therefore, I must be punished.

Gym time was at 1:35pm. I was glad that I went there early. The gym was scheduled to close at 3pm. I was able to complete my cardio workout and take a nice warm shower by 2:30pm. I was still in a bad way. My hands were shaking, no doubt because I craved a cup of coffee. I tolerated the rude slobs and idiotic minimum wage slaves at Mickey Dee's® long enough to get a cup of coffee. I stood outside and sipped my coffee while thousands of flies were attracted to all parts of my body. No doubt, the sinister kahuna was at it again.

I was back in the student computer lab at 3pm. More computer fun. At 5pm, I will ride the prison transport back to Waikiki. Prison food for dinner. Cleaning ritual with my beloved dustpan and brush. Why, I may even peruse the pink rubber piggy bank replica. The rest of the evening? Who knows?

As the new year ushers in, I sit and wait patiently for some kind of end to this massive charade, this collective of fools masquerading as a society. The hammer must fall in one of two ways: the secular Apocalypse or Armageddon. If not, I pray that, at the least, the domestic economy will implode and produce tremendous suffering across the board. Why? Yes, I have misanthropic inclinations. However, the purpose of my wish is not to satisfy a sadistic motive. I, myself, will share in the suffering. The decline of society is so bad that there is no way to salvage anything decent from it. It must be "rebooted," to use nerdish terms.

Viktor Frankl asserted that we can find meaning in life by the attitude we take towards unavoidable suffering. When such suffering can cause us to return to core human values, then we can collectively discover a real purpose for our existence. For most of us, suffering is vain and trivial. For example, I am suffering because I damaged the stylus of my Palm® TX. Boohoo. How can I derive meaning or value from that kind of stupidity? How much suffering am I going through? How does it cause my redemption? Obviously, nothing happens. I fret over something stupid, and I purchase a replacement begrudgingly.

When a whole society collapses, when the satanic gargoyles lose everything, when we all become homeless, when we begin to starve, that is when we will discover how cheap our paltry existence was in reality. We will experience real pain. We will shed real tears. We will learn how truly small and helpless we are. Then, we will learn humility. Andrew Bard Schmookler penned an article titled, "Why 'Good Will Toward Men' Has Become More of a Challenge for Me," appearing on the Smirking Chimp site. An excerpt:

Earlier this month, sitting in an airport looking at the throngs of hundreds of people I don't know, I found my subtly implicit feelings toward those strangers to have a different flavor from what I've been accustomed to having all the previous decades of my life. My accustomed feeling has always been fairly open-hearted, appreciative, embracing (albeit in a shy way). But now I found myself feeling more detached, untrusting, vaguely recoiling.

Can I ever relate to that! Let us hope that the new year finally brings us to our knees. Perhaps we can turn it all around before we reach the point of no return.

Dementia 23

After my dinner consisting of the usual prison food (read: beans and bread), I vegetated in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) for a few minutes. I became quite bored. I decided to take a brief furlough at 9pm. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure in order to put more stuff slated for divestiture in my truck. Foolishly, I made the decision to venture to Ala Moana Center. I arrived at 10:15pm. All of the stores were still open, although the crowds were minimal. I spent my time at Barnes & Noble®, which was quite crowded. I observed that the satanic gargoyles were grabbing everything in sight to purchase. The crazed look in their eyes suggested a zombie-like state, a moronic stupor invoked by shopping gluttony.

As for me, I was able to enjoy my time by casually perusing a few new books and a couple of surfing magazines. The ride back to Waikiki on the prison transport at 11pm was relaxing as well. Usually, the prison transport is stuffed beyond capacity. I surmised that the satanic gargoyles were riding around in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) because they would need to transport all of their purchases back to their mausoleums (read: tombs).

I stopped off at the ABC Store to purchase a couple of bananas, an apple, and two Granny's Gourmet Muffins. No cheap booze. I spent the rest of the evening in my prison cell performing my various rituals. I must confess that I watched the latest episode of "Monk," mainly to see "Natalie Teeger." What a hottie!

This morning, I slept until 8:40am. I departed for town at 9:05am on the prison transport. I was able to obtain free coffee at the faculty support center at the Diploma Mill. I sat on one of the benches near a window and ate a banana and a Granny's Gourmet Muffin for breakfast. After two more cups of coffee, I ended up in the student computer lab. No surprise, eh?

Mr. Ray sent e-mail the other day. He is waging a similar battle for survival in Washington state. Those of us who live in abject poverty are doomed to remain in wage slavery forever. We will never get ahead. Most likely, many of us will end up homeless. My only strategy for survival is to continue to cut all costs including necessities. However, all of my expenses continue to rise well beyond what I save. In other words, its a no-win scenario.

Mr. Ray also commented about the ol' lavahead's on-going struggle with the babe situation. He stated, "As you may have realized, trying to ignore the Vienna Sausage won't make it go away. Even when it does atrophy, the internal desire will still be there as you age and for the rest of your days." He's right. The babe situation just keeps coming back like a bad sitcom. Most likely, the ol' lavahead's biology seems to go haywire because he must see so many hotties on a daily basis. That, and the Vienna Sausage refuses to atrophy. The frustrating part is that I know better. Having a babe around will most likely bring me to financial ruin, along with tolerating continual bouts of episodic babe psychosis. Once the babes have trapped a guy with da wild thing, the tables turn very quickly. The hurdy-gurdy DVD library is a pathetic substitute for babes. Actually, I wonder if only exacerbates the problem.

Speaking of the Vienna Sausage, I have noticed one annoying trend that is occurring as a result of old age. The aim of the latter during its normal liquid waste disposal function has degenerated. Apparently, it wants to squirt piss (read: urine) everywhere (i.e., floor, boardshorts, legs, etc.) except the desired location. Then again, the problem may be a major sign of atrophy. Perhaps it should be amputated.

I took several breaks to get more free coffee from the faculty support center. Gym time was at 1:30pm. Since Monday is a holiday, a pagan celebration of Saturnalia, the gym will be closed. So, I must do my usual Monday workout today. Alas, the hottie gym trainer was not there again. Boohoo. After my workout, I was back in the student computer lab. I will piddle around on the computer until 5pm. Reluctantly, I must return to Waikiki on the prison transport. What will I do tonight? I don't know.

Perhaps, it just better to follow Shrub's advice, given at his latest press conference. "A recent report on retail sales shows a strong beginning to the holiday shopping season across the country," Shrub told the reporters, "and I encourage you all to go shopping more." Well, maybe that's what I should do tonight, eh?

Made in China

Lockdown last night in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Need I say more? I found myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill at 8:45am this morning. More of the same. I made a pot of coffee. I always need coffee to wake up and jolt myself into consciousness. Every day is a fight to retain some kind of sentient state in an environment saturated with coma-producing inducements.

For this particular week, Saturnalia madness is the prevalent coma-producing inducement. One step backward clearly conjures images of cattle being prodded and herded to the slaughterhouse. The satanic gargoyles are shopping maniacally with no apparent purpose aside from faulty tradition and societal pressure. The collective glee derived from the premeditated consumption can be likened to a drunken stupor. The intoxicated masses dance in unison at the shopping malls, raising their hands and wallets to the heavens (or to China). They beckon their god, El Diablo, to be granted all of their material desires. They are the incarnation of the worshippers of Baal.

For a break, I walked to Safeway® to purchase six more cans of Hormel® Chili, a loaf of bread, and three energy bars. Pseudo-professor Mike stopped by the faculty computer room with a package of potatoes. He prepared baked potatoes in the microwave oven for us to feast upon for lunch.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. My workout was uneventful. Alas, the hottie gym trainer was not there. I was back in the faculty computer room at 4pm. I was able to complete a number of wage slave tasks mainly for the "directed study" course. I also met with the two students who have registered for the course. So, I am no longer on unpaid vacation. Mind you, I will be making a whopping $600 total before taxes. Wheeee! I should be back in Waikiki before 7pm. No doubt, I will be in lockdown in my prison cell all night.

I was able to survey most of my remaining possessions to determine the point of manufacture. I discovered that only my Nalu Board, my Local Motion® surfboard, my Nissan® Frontier NISMO truck, my Cross® pen, and a few of my clothes are made in this country. Even the hotel-issue furniture, appliances, and amenities are made elsewhere (mostly China). Yet another reason why I absolutely refuse to purchase more crap. Yes, there is no way that I will not be complicit to the trade deficit problem. However, I will insure that I minimize my complicity to negligible levels.

What about the cheap portable DVD player that I will need to view my resurrected hurdy-gurdy DVD library? Sadly, it will probably be made in China. What can I do? The Vienna Sausage must be satiated, and no babe is coming around, if you know what I mean. Why didn't I just keep the old Koss® DVD player? Oh, the hypocrisy!

Resurrection

Another uneventful evening in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Prison food (read: beans and bread). Humble dustpan and brush cleaning ritual. I rode my beloved Nalu Board for a little while. I was also able to complete my reading of Viktor Frankl's book, "Man's Search for Meaning," possibly the eighth reading so far. By the way, there was no celebration over the mummification of the Countdown to the Meltdown. Continued wage slavery is not a cause for celebration.

I watched an interesting special news report on "Anderson Cooper 360^o" via CNN® about modern Christianity. I almost "delivered street pizza." Truly, we are rapidly moving toward Armageddon. The number of false prophets have increased, and they are leading the masses into destruction. That Hagee clown of "Left Behind" fame has embraced Zionist Israel in an attempt to bring his own interpretation of Armageddon to life. In other words, he is attempting to force the hand of the Almighty to bring about his obviously crack-inspired vision of the "Rapture." Then, there were the ministries of profit, so-called preachers who claim that the Good Book insure financial success. Where are these asswipes coming from? It is clear that they do not take the warnings of the Almighty very seriously. The level of debauchery and disinformation is certainly the work of El Diablo.

I am amused and frightened by the myriad false prophets and sham religious organizations. How do they reconcile themselves to the Almighty? That's a good question, isn't it? There are only two possibilities. The myriad charlatans do not really believe in the existence of the Creator and, therefore, are only out to fleece their flock, so to speak. Or, they could be totally possessed by demons. There are no other possibilities. The Good Book is quite explicit about the ramifications of serving El Diablo.

I departed for town at 8:10am this morning on the prison transport (read: bus). As usual, I stationed myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I checked my voicemail when I arrived. Moms had called and wanted to meet at Kahala Mall. I rode the prison transport to Kahala Mall at 10:30am. I arrived at 11:15am. Moms met me shortly afterward. Moms was under the impression that I would drive to Kahala Mall today, which I didn't. Moms wanted to have lunch at Koko Marina. That was not to happen. So, I waited with moms until the bus arrived. After that, I returned to town.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. I espied the hottie gym trainer when I first walked in. She was not in uniform. Baby was looking hot. After I finished my weight workout, I commenced my cardio routine. During that time, the hottie gym trainer appeared on the gym floor. She was busy with a senior citizen gym member. I was privy to see baby directly in front of me while the senior citizen gym member was on the treadmill. Later, she was assisting him with the lats machine. For some reason, she stood right in between the machines such that I had a clear view of her. On my way out, I walked through the front lobby. The hottie gym trainer was sitting on floor of a small workout room next to the entrance. She was chatting with the senior citizen gym member. I could not help but notice that she is a real babe. My mind was ready to snap.

Immediately upon returning to the faculty computer room, I had to log in to my account at Adult DVD Empire® and update my "Favorites" section with all of my favorite hurdy-gurdy stars. What else could I do? After seeing the hottie gym trainer during most of my workout, I was losin' it. Baby is hot! Obviously, I am not going to be hookin' up with baby anytime soon. So, I need to prepare to resurrect the hurdy-gurdy DVD library. I will return to Waikiki at 6pm on the prison transport. Tonight? Lockdown! I may have to flog myself silly for my debaucherous thoughts about the hottie gym trainer. Woe is me!

Eleventh-Hour Salvation

Last night, Pseudo-professor Mike stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill again at 5:15pm. He invited me to an "Open House" at Bea's condo on Saturday. The party is supposed to be in honor of Bea. He has also invited Bea's relatives. I am not so sure that the party is a good idea. I will not be attending. He has also mentioned an increasing interest in another elderly female, someone he's known for a while. "I will wait for the customary mourning period to pass," he added. Did he "get" what I was telling him the other night?

I spent the evening in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Prison food for dinner. Cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Continued reading of "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. In reviewing Frankl's criteria to determine meaning in life, I found that nothing falls under the three categories (i.e., creative, experiential, and attitudinal values). My only "creation" is the journal and "blog." That doesn't amount to much. My experiences are limited, and I have no "significant other." I have forced myself to subsist in poverty, but I am not truly suffering enough to trigger any quest for meaning. I am living too comfortably even at a low standard-of-living, because I am still privy to all of the distractions available to the average satanic gargoyle. Thus, I still have the option to sedate and satiate myself with the mundane and defer any internal dialog about my purpose for existing. Meaning is what gives us the will to live and to take pride in who we are. When I say "pride," I do not mean the conceited and arrogant haughtiness that is prevalent amongst the satanic gargoyles.

Meaning or purpose cannot be derived from trivial creations, mundane experiences, convoluted values, or vanity martyrdom. Obviously, most of our lives are filled with such useless rubbish. As an example, most of the satanic gargoyles were more concerned about the fate of the sleazy party ho' serving as "Miss America" than any other issue in the past few days. The bottom line: baby is a hottie and will get her way. My own search for meaning will continue.

I departed for town at 8:15am this morning on the prison transport (read: bus). I ended up in the faculty computer room. I made a pot of coffee and ate a cup of yogurt (leftover from the workshop). Gym time was at 2:15pm. While I was finishing up the cardio portion of my workout, I was privy to see the hottie gym trainer starting a session with a gym member. Baby was looking hot. I will, no doubt, have to resurrect my hurdy-gurdy DVD library to appease the Vienna Sausage. After the gym, I returned to the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. Lockdown tonight!

Late News. The Countdown to the Meltdown has been mummified! I've been saved again in the eleventh hour, if you can believe it. I received a contract for the Spring term today, and there is another one on the way. My negotiations have paid off. Ralph, now a Dean at HCC called and left a message to advise me of two possible classes for me to facilitate. And, one of my former Diploma Mill students has petitioned for a "directed study" course after requesting that I facilitate the latter. When it rains, it pours, eh? I also have two Summer term contracts in the works.

Return to Dust

At about 5:30pm, Pseudo-professor Mike returned to the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. He invited me to dinner again, but I declined. He also wanted a favor. He wanted me to drive Bea's car to to his house. Bea's condo has only one assigned parking spot. I agreed to help him.

After dropping off the car, I rode with Pseudo-professor Mike to Waikiki so that I could drop off my gym bag at Quagmire Prison. I decided to ride with him to Ala Moana Center. I engaged him in a discussion about his motives or apparent motives in the big money grab. We ended up at the huge Neiman-Marcus® store anchored in the center of the mall. He disclosed to me that he has retained an attorney to handle all matters with both his divorce proceedings and the disposition of Bea's condo. He is extremely short on cash. He had to use a creative method to pay the "retainer" for the attorney. That's why we were standing at the checkout counter of Neiman-Marcus®. He purchased twenty-five $100 Neiman-Marcus® gift cards using his credit card. As a matter of fact, he has acquired several new credit cards as of recently. I surmised that he will be using the credit cards to survive. I stated my opinion that he should not be so vocal about the big money grab, lest he be misconstrued as a "golddigger" guy. Clearly, I came away from the discussion being less certain about where he really stands on the issue. After the big purchase, Pseudo-professor Mike dropped me off at Quagmire Prison. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown and performed my various mundane rituals.

I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. My destination? The faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. There is a large swell along the South shore today, which means that surf conditions will be really good. Will I be out there surfing? Obviously not.

At 10:15am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of Safeway® bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. The sheer number of fat slobs careening around recklessly in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) was maddening. I was almost run over by a senile old fool in his 15-year-old (i.e., piece of shit) Buick® Skylark motorized chair.

The madness of the Saturnalia shopping has infected the masses. As the days tick down to the Winter solstice, the level of desperation to purchase gifts increases. Saturnalia is not a Holy day, nor is it the birth of the Son of the Almighty. It is a pagan holiday coincident with the solar solstice. Fools who choose to celebrate this pagan holiday are worshipping the sinister kahuna and its brethren. Oh, lighten up, I hear you saying. What's wrong with a little holiday cheer? What's wrong with being nice to others one day out of a whole year? What's wrong with buying useless gifts out of societal pressure? The deep level of hypocrisy is one problem. Succumbing to the epidemic of the "seven sins" is another problem. Believe me, Saturnalia is not harmless. It is generating more harm than good. It perpetuates a pagan celebration that empowers and feeds El Diablo.

Well, if it is not the real birthday of the Son of the Almighty, then why are the large religious organizations standing firmly behind the celebration? Large religious organizations, especially those proclaiming to be "Christian," have no basis in real Christianity. In the time of the Son of the Almighty, the moneychangers had infested the temple grounds. Even the Son of the Almighty had to evict the moneychangers out of the temple. The vast level of adultery committed between the so-called "church," the state, and the moneychangers was prophesied a long time ago. We are seeing the prophesy fulfilled in these times. In secular terms, Saturnalia is just another vehicle to enslave the masses through endless consumption.

Greed is the common denominator of the "seven sins," that is, greed in the sense of continuous and insatiable self-serving actions. Even the so-called "progressives" are guilty of hypocrisy because they cannot logically separate themselves from their self-serving actions. They are appalled by the trade deficit, yet they cannot even curb their own consumption of cheaply made Chinese products. They clamor over global warming, yet they refuse to stop driving their 4000-pound motorized chairs. They want our involvement in Iraq to end. They want less dependence on fossil fuels. They want this-and-that. Yet, they are complicit in the causes of the problems. Until we identify our own hypocrisy and deal with the latter, nothing will change.

Have I dealt with my own hypocrisy? I will be asked this question over and over again by fools who wish to deflect their own guilt. Yes, I have dealt with my hypocrisy. I have voluntarily moved to reduce my possessions and live a mendicant life-style. My consumption is at a bare minimum, survival level at best. The amount of waste that I generate is very minimal. In ten days, I produce about the equivalent of one small plastic shopping bag full of rubbish. I have discovered that my minimalist actions are the greatest contribution that I can make to the planet. A few dolts have suggested that I give all of my assets away to the homeless or whomever needs help. Otherwise, I am a true hypocrite. As I mentioned before, that suggestion is a thinly-veiled attempt to deflect their own guilt. As we can see, the donation of money has done little good for any cause. Most of it has been legally stolen through "administrative costs," and so forth. Thus, the only power that we have to instigate change is to mummify our participation in malignant activities (e.g., shopping, stuffing our faces, driving everywhere in a 4000-pound motorized chair, etc.).

At 1pm, Pseudo-professor Mike brought food to the faculty computer room for a lunchtime feast. He has apparently obtained good advice from his attorney. From what he told me, he will be expediting the provisions of his divorce proceedings. He can then reallocate his assets to cover the purchase of Bea's condo. Let's hope that it works out for him.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was walking around in her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby was looking hot. My mind has become distracted by babes again, which means that the Vienna Sausage is still far off from atrophying. I am now contemplating the purchase of a small, cheap portable DVD player in order to resurrect the defunct hurdy-gurdy DVD library. Obviously, the latter is a stupid idea on face value. However, it would be better to maintain the hurdy-gurdy DVD library than to have the mind distracted by babes like the hottie gym trainer.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I did nothing all day except compose the "blog." What else can I do? The Countdown to the Meltdown is at 12 days, although I am essentially unemployed now. I will depart for Waikiki at 6pm on the prison transport. The evening? Most likely, lockdown!

I have been giving much more thought to the issue of finding meaning in my life. Obviously, resurrecting the vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library seems counterproductive in comparison. Seriously, though, there is much work to do. I have to come to grips with the fact that I will not be spending much more time with moms than I am now. Moms is busy with her church duties. Moms is also much more concerned about the survival of my bro's family. And, I don't blame her. My bro and his family could not survive without moms, whereas I am fairly self-sufficient. With that, I will be happy to have the hour or so that I spend with moms. That has been a blessing and has allowed me to fulfill my familial obligation. I must now concentrate on the task of discovering the purpose for my existence.

I have continued to read, with interest, the increasing number of articles in the progressive media concerning the disappointment with the "new direction" of the Iraq incursion. Why did the fools have any hope that there would be any change in course with the election of more Democrats in government? Good cop, bad cop, it's all the same. Some of the more astute observers are pointing out that an attack on Iran is still possible, made even more plausible by Iran's reserve currency conversion to the Euro. Sending more ground troops into Iraq may very well be a precursor to an incursion into Iran. Lord, have mercy.

Big Money Grab

When I arrived back in Waikiki at 5:40pm, I observed that the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) was desolate. I decided to do my laundry right away. After consuming the usual bland fare for my prison dinner, I cleaned my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. At 7:45pm, I departed on the prison transport to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I dropped off more stuff in my truck that will be divested later. I then rode the prison transport to Waikiki Beach.

Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One was near vacant. The semi-lucid homeless guy sat silently at one of the tables under the pavilion. Another table had a large bouquet of flowers. Another table had a whole mess of food and other crap laying on top of it. I surmised that the new homeless guy was around somewhere. A few minutes later, the new homeless guy came back. He sat at the table with the semi-lucid homeless guy. He attempted to chat with the semi-lucid homeless guy. However, the semi-lucid homeless guy is quite closed off to social contact. Another guy, possibly homeless, popped in from out of nowhere. He was wearing boardshorts and no shirt. He carried his shoes with him. He sat on the bench two down from me and used the bench to clean sand of his shoes. At one point, he slipped. "That felt really good," he said aloud. Apparently, the shoe had hit his cajonés. After he completed the task, albeit in pain, he joined the semi-lucid homeless guy and the new homeless guy at the table. All attempts to socialize with the semi-lucid homeless guy failed. At one point, the new homeless guy said, "I should go on strike. I'm not cooking anymore." Then, he laughed. Apparently, the new homeless guy has been cooking and setting up a few of the tables in Pavilion One like a restaurant, hence the flowers.

I returned to Quagmire Prison on the prison transport at 9:30pm. I stopped by the ABC Store to purchase a carton of milk. I rarely stop by the ABC Store these days, now that I cut back on the cheap booze. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown. I washed my boardshorts by hand. Then, I watched the tube to sedate my mind.

I departed for town this morning at 8:15am, even though I am on unpaid, possibly permanent, vacation. The ride to town on the prison transport was almost relaxing. Usually, it is full of Diploma Mill students. Thank goodness for the Winter break. I ended up in the faculty computer room as usual. At 9:30am, I rode the prison transport to Kahala Mall. I met moms for lunch. We ate at Panda Express®. Lunch was delicious. I sat with moms at the bus stop until the bus arrived. After moms was on her way, I returned to town.

Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room. He now claims to have "power of attorney" over Bea's property. However, the latter precludes the possibility of "gifting" the Honolulu Tower condo to himself. I presumed that he was attempting to do so, but was thwarted. Instead, he has come up with a 20-year lease for himself, with the proceeds payable to himself. He is attempting to do anything to keep the property out of probate by obfuscating matters, he told me. At the end of the lease period, he will pay less than half of the current fair market value (i.e., original purchase price) to purchase the place. He wants me to sell the "condotel" unit and rent the vacant room from him for $500 per month, coincidentally the same amount as the lease he made with himself. We also discussed a few generic money issues dealing with retirement. That's when he disclosed that he has absolutely no money saved for retirement, not even an IRA.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a good workout, I returned to the faculty computer room. Within a few minutes, Pseudo-professor Mike showed up. In continuing the previous discussion, he added that he is no longer in a hurry to complete the divorce proceedings with his wife. He mentioned that his wife was willing to remain married to him to insure that he can remain under her health plan. The disposition of their house was not brought up. I suppose that the house has something to do with the current machinations as well. Does he not realize how transparent he is? He is acting like a desperate man, grasping at straws to be part of the big money grab. He went on to state that his intentions are honorable. Ultimately, he is really only thinking about the welfare of his son, he said. This from a guy who has been carrying on an affair for years? I became quite sickened by the discussion. He also invited me to dinner again, which he has been doing now for the past few days. I have ignored the invitation. As I said before, I do not feel right about being in Bea's place after her untimely demise. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. The evening? Lockdown!

Chokin' da Chicken

After arriving back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) at 5:45pm yesterday, I felt listless. Another night of lockdown would have been my demise. Rather than sit in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I decided that I would go on furlough. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to Kapi'olani Blvd. I waited for 30 minutes before the Route 3 prison transport came by.

Finally, I arrived at the apartment where Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, lives. The small party was being held in the back of the adjacent apartment building. Rob and Internet Jon were there as well as a few of the residents of the various apartment buildings. I mainly chatted with Rob and Internet Jon. The food was delicious. I also managed to drop back five bottles of Bud Light® brewskis. What was I thinking? According to Internet Jon, he and Rob will be millionaires in about six months after the project is in full swing.

Internet Jon gave me a ride back to Waikiki in his new Toyota® Tacoma truck. Internet Jon is an unusual character. He is in his forties and lives at home with his parents. The family is quite affluent with investments in a number of ventures. Thus, they are able to finance Internet Jon's life-style. He touts himself as the "Boy Wonder" of computers, even though his genius is suspect. The project allegedly uses proprietary 3-D streaming video technology, of which only Internet Jon is privy to. Let's see what happens in six months. The rest of the evening was spent in lockdown in my prison cell. I performed my usual rituals before calling it a night.

Being out in a minor social context last night did little to influence my goal of remaining a social recluse. In fact, the event helped to solidify my preference. There just seems to be no point to social events except an excuse to drop back large quantities of cheap booze. Of course, it's nice to catch up on what's happening in other people's lives. Yet, it all seems so empty and devoid of meaning.

I departed for town on the prison transport at 10am this morning. I was able to procure the Sunday newspaper in the prison compound before I left. I ended up in the covered lanai of the Beretania Street Apartments. I read the paper and perused the homeless who were occupying all of the benches in the adjacent park.

I walked to the Diploma Mill at noon. For some reason, the student computer lab was not to open until 1pm. So, I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's® to pass the time. I was finally able to station myself in front of a computer at 1pm. By the way, my beloved Palm® TX still travels daily with me to town. How else would I be able to peruse all of the free hurdy-gurdy sites?

Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, back to the student computer lab. I will leave for Waikiki at 5pm. This evening? Aside from the usual rituals, I'm looking at laundry and lockdown. Sheesh!

My own search for meaning in my life has been stymied by a variety of factors. In reading, "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl, I believe I have found the root cause. During his time in the Nazi concentration camp, Frankl had nothing more than his tattered prison uniform. All material possessions were taken away from him along with his freedom. He and the other prisoners had to live under sub-human and degrading conditions. In a perverse sense, he was forced into an ascetic and mendicant life-style. Yet, it was under those conditions, in which he possessed nothing more than his own thoughts, that he realized the true determinants of finding meaning in life. These can be summarized as creative, experiential, and attitudinal values:

• By creating a work or doing a deed
• By experiencing something or encountering someone
• By the attitude we take towards unavoidable suffering.

I had attempted to reduce myself to a minimum of possessions and to live, rather subsist, on the bare minimum of food and supplies. My attempt was half-assed, as I actually continued to live rather comfortably. Although my creature comforts are modest, to say the least, they are still distractions which only lead to a convoluted form of meaning or purpose.

In modern society, wherein a large number of distractions and temptations exist, we are faced with an existential dilemma. Should we attempt define a meaning to our existence, or should we just succumb to the immediate pleasures of the flesh. Both are mutually exclusive events. With a constant barrage of consumerism, we may unwittingly choose hedonistic pleasures over the discovery of meaning. We may give in to the epidemic of the "seven sins." We return to child-like behavior and over-indulge in the absence of "parental" control. When the soul is starved of meaning, it will continue to satiate itself with boundless pleasures. Eternal chicken chokin'. And, essentially, that is what life will be reduced to. Chokin' da chicken, physically and metaphorically.

All Fall Down

Last night? As I predicted, lockdown. The weather, even in Waikiki, has been crappy. Lots of wind. The chill in the air has also continued. I spent part of the evening reading, "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl yet again. That's the only book that I own aside from the Good Book. Each time I read the book, I come away with a better grasp of my own situation as a prisoner of a society gone berserk. While my existence does not even come close to the horrors of a true prison camp, there are some interesting parallels. Sad to say, for the poor and destitute, the parallels are much more striking.

Although I have read Frankl's book a number of time, I was able to ascertain that the "existential vacuum" is the main focus of the book. Lacking any meaning or purpose in life creates an "existential vacuum." The construct of modern society exacerbates the prevalence of meaninglessness. Shopping and all of the other symptomatology of the epidemic of the "seven sins" do not define meaning or purpose, by the way. Even back in 1984 (last revision of the book), Frankl observed a pronounced increasing trend of meaninglessness amongst the populace. How bad is it today?

As the Countdown to the Meltdown ticks down to my demise and the satanic gargoyles are prancing around in evil bliss, I helplessly watch my small world collapse around me. Surely, I will be snapping into action sometime soon, right? Well, if eating prison food for dinner and cleaning my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush is considered to be "snapping into action," then I'm up shit creek without a paddle. Sheesh!

I departed for town at 8:30am on the prison transport. I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike called right as I walked in. He wants me to meet with him later. Apparently, Bea's niece. the alleged "trustee" of Bea's estate, is attempting to block the transfer of the Honolulu Tower condo to him, that is, if such a transfer of title does exist. I half-expected some kind of response from Bea's family. He is still planning to fly to NY at the end of the month. He wants me to "house-sit" Bea's place, but I am concerned that his motive is to block any type of lockout coup that may staged by the family.

I am on unpaid, if not permanent, vacation as of today. I have a few more residual wage slave tasks to complete. Then, I am done. Fini. Fortunately, a small workshop was scheduled and, thus, there was a lot of food in the faculty computer room. Naturally, I had to chow down. Each day, I wonder whether I will be saved in the eleventh-hour as I have been in the past. Have I humbled myself enough to deserve such a reward? That's the big question, isn't it? Then, again, is continued wage slavery any kind of reward at all?

Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, I ended up back in the faculty computer room. A few of the fats slobs from the workshop came by to continue stuffing their faces with the leftover chips and dessert items. I am afraid that I cannot help but become sickened when I am privy to witness such a gluttonous spectacle. As I said, the satanic gargoyles are wearing on my one remaining thin nerve. I will leave for Waikiki on the prison transport at 5pm. The evening? Who knows?

End Zone

Lockdown last night was the same as the night before and the night before that. Sitting in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) is draining the life out of me. I have a better understanding now about why the satanic gargoyles spend incredible amounts of money to equip their mausoleums with myriad entertainment amenities. Without that, what is their to do in a tomb?

After 12.5 hours in lockdown, I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) for a full day of wage slavery at the Diploma Mill. This is my last official day of employment. Thus, the real Countdown to the Meltdown will begin. I have been continuing negotiations to obtain contracts, even against my own desire for "freedom." What will I do if I do not have wage slavery? I would lose my mind if I had to vegetate in my prison cell all day. What would my alternative be? Camping (i.e., homeless)?

Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room just before I left to fulfill my wage slave duties. He wants to rent out the extra room in his condo. He is hinting that I should sell the "condotel" unit and rent the room from him. He will need money to cover the extremely high monthly maintenance fee for the Honolulu Tower complex. In addition, he will have to pay the exorbitant property tax based upon the ridiculous assessed value of the place. I am not certain whether he realizes that he will most likely incur either estate or gift tax for the condo. That will be his problem, not mine. In the meantime, he can run around around like Big Money Grip.

I had a short break at 11:30am, just enough time to walk to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a nice workout, I returned to the faculty computer room where I will spend the rest of the afternoon. Tonight? Lockdown!

Robert, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail yesterday. He invited me to a party being held at his apartment complex on Saturday evening. I am not certain if I will attend. I am just not in the mood to involve myself in any social context. The satanic gargoyles really wear on my one remaining thin nerve.

Equity Extraction

Last night? Lockdown for 12.5 hours again. Same ol' ritual. Eating prison food for dinner. Cleaning whole prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. Foraging for more useless possessions to divest. Perusing pink rubber piggy bank replica. Incidentally, Pseudo-professor Mike had invited me over for dinner again. I decided not to do so. When he stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill yesterday afternoon, he was in a manic state. His current behavior can be likened to someone who won the lottery.

I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:20am this morning. As usual, I found myself in the faculty computer room. Waking up in the morning is not a difficult task. However, I am finding that, with each passing day, I am dreading the mundane tasks ahead of me. Even shopping for food, which is a necessity, has become a major chore. Introspection has made me realize that I am reacting to my paltry existence in the concrete jungle. The hideous edifices which we, the wage slaves, must reside (term used loosely) in are essentially large mausoleums for zombies. The only true meaning that I have been able to ascertain for myself is the time spent composing the "blog" on the computer. That is truly ludicrous, but not unrealistic. I am almost certain that the satanic gargoyles around me have yet to even define a meaning for their existence. Platitudes such as family, kids, and so forth do not provide any real meaning unless the fruits of one's labor produces a better "fruit." For the most part, whatever anyone claims to provide meaning in their lives is simply a function of consumerist behavior. How do I know? Well, fat gluttonous slobs producing fat arrogant little dickheads does little to contribute much good to society, does it?

As much as I have done to reduce the materialistic impulse within myself, I have yet to transform myself to accomplish tasks which yield purpose. I have lived up to my word to spend time with moms, but I also realized the limitations of the latter act. Moms is quite busy, for obvious reasons. If anything, I may be able to spend a couple of hours more per week to visit with moms, but that's it. I have built up a costly infrastructure just for those handful of hours and have subjected myself to increasingly intolerable conditions as a result.

As I have mentioned before, I am driven to reduce my worldly possessions to a lump sum that is easy transportable at a moment's notice. I have not determined what exactly is the impetus for that task, aside from the upcoming secular Apocalypse or that I may impulsively decide to flee. Whatever the motivation, it is coming from deep within the subconscious. And, I find that I cannot rest until my tasks are completed. Insanity, you say? Hardly. Human instinct does still exist, even though it has been suppressed by consumerism, cheap booze, cheap thrills, and medication. If we free our minds of the clutter and the vanity that subsumes our true values, then we will be able to feel our instincts.

In chatting with a few acquaintances, I have come to discover that most of them do not have a plan. They live day-to-day, paycheck-to-paycheck. I am dumbfounded when I try to imagine how they will survive during retirement since they will essentially have no savings. They are all in their forties. Even if they were to save $20,000 per year (which is unlikely), they may end up with $600,000 in 20 years, if their investments panned out. That is my predicament as well. What can I save in the next ten years if I were fully engaged in wage slavery? I would still be far short of the projected $1.5 million in savings required to retire comfortably.

Then, there is the matter of mortality. We could kick the bucket at any time. Uncertainty is the greatest incentive for consumerism, if not the only one. Knowing that we have a limited time on the planet, we fear that the end could come at any time. Thus, we must try to do everything, own everything, be everything we possibly can right now. No one wants to worry about an uncertain future. Such a debased form of thinking causes our immunity to the epidemic of the "seven sins" to deteriorate.

At 10:30am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase three energy bars and six more cans of Hormel® Chili. I am storing the cans in my storage locker, taking a couple of cans home at a time. I mustered up some energy to walk to the Institute of Hair Design to restore my monk haircut. While I waited, an older babe chatted with me. An Asian hottie cut my hair. She did a nice job in a short period of time. So, I managed to accomplish my mundane chores with very little grief.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor with her "yellow shirt" uniform during that time. On my way out, I saw baby chatting with one her previous clients. Baby was looking mighty fine. I returned to the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. He finally disclosed to me that Bea had left the Honolulu Tower condo to him. So, he is now the owner of a $500,000-plus Honolulu Tower condo (mortgage-free). I guess he did win the lottery. What can I say? I will piddle around on the computer until 7pm, when the prison transport will take me back to Waikiki. Lockdown? How did you know?

I am concerned that the Fed will begin slashing short-term interest rates starting next month. That seems to be the "buzz" in business circles. With the dollar at an all-time low and the trade deficit running extremely high, there would seem to be no reason for the Fed to lower interest rates again. There seems to be some concern that "equity extraction" may be drying up. In fact, it is quite easy to determine that the Fed had deliberately created the housing "bubble" in order to increase "equity extraction" just to fuel consumption. That is the key, after all. Consumer spending through increased personal debt is what is keeping the economy afloat, especially in view of the fact that "globalization" has exported many of the jobs overseas. Will the satanic gargoyles take the bait again if interest rates are lowered? You be the judge.

A decline in short term interest rates by the Fed will affect all of my investments which, in turn, will signal the beginning of my demise. I have already delineated my contingency plans in the "blog." I am not certain which route I will take, but I will need to be prepared and vigilant in the meantime. That is the primary reason why I am divesting my useless crap. I anticipate a time when I will need to travel light.

Cattle Drive (Reprise)

I spent 12.5 hours in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) last night. I neglected to mention that Pseudo-professor Mike had invited me to a dinner party after the wine tasting event. I did not attend. I am not comfortable with the idea that Pseudo-professor Mike is livin' large in a $500,000-plus condo in the Honolulu Tower that is owned by Bea (now deceased). What puzzles me even more is how animated and blissful he has been when he should be in mourning. "He's coping really well," a few people have told me. I have been suspicious of his motivations for a long time. I find his behavior puzzling. I am not certain what he is up to now. Frankly, it's none of my business. However, I need to distance myself from him.

During lockdown, I ate prison food for dinner and did my cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Off and on, I perused the pink rubber piggy bank replica. What could be a more appropriate icon for this day and age? The prevalent fixation upon money, wealth, vanity, and celebrity status are symbolized by the pink rubber piggy bank replica. There is no way to put any money in the pink rubber piggy bank replica, by the way. The vain color of pink and the rubberized composite metaphorically represent the satanic gargoyles who are deeply infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins."

The US is sending a trade delegation to China this week to attempt to force the Chinese government to make certain trade concessions to help reduce the trade deficit. The real story is that the bigwig puppets of the moneychangers will will also be visiting China in an attempt to persuade the Chinese to let the yuan float and to not sell off any of its dollar reserves. These events are coincident with the falling value of the dollar. Are we at the edge of the economic precipice?

I spent even more time scrounging around for useless crap to divest. I discovered the nice Cross® Classic Century pen that the former friend had given to me three years ago. It was still in its box. I decided to keep it. I also found an old copy of Mrs. Miller's "Greatest Hits" vinyl record. Mrs. Miller was here in Hawai'i promoting the album many decades ago. I was there. Unfortunately, the record is worth nothing. Aside from that, I exhausted my repertoire of useless crap. At that point, it became painfully obvious that the Jeep® gym/duffel bag is too large for my needs. I will need to replace it with something smaller, similar to my regular gym bag.

Friends, I am almost home free. I have finally realized my goal of whittling down my possession to barely nothing. Living in the "condotel" unit has, of course, been instrumental in meeting that goal. The fact that my prison cell is self-contained and is equipped with a variety of so-called "amenities" has helped to cut my expenses and reduce the number of useless possessions.

I departed for town this morning at 8:15am on the prison transport (read: bus). I stationed myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, where I spent most of the day. I made a half-pot of coffee and consumed all of it myself. At 10am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a few energy bars for lunch. I also purchased six cans of Hormel® Chili, which were on sale for $1 per can. I will need to stock up on the canned goods. At 1pm, I walked to Ross® to see if I could find a small gym bag. I was swept up in the riptide of crazed Saturnalia shoppers. The place was a madhouse. No surprise that the crazed satanic gargoyles with credit cards in hand looked like drugged-out cattle being herded into the slaughterhouse. I became nauseous and left immediately. The worst is yet to come.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor wearing her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby looked hot. After the gym, I ended up in the faculty computer room again. I will piddle around until 7pm when I must return to Waikiki on the prison transport. The evening? Did you say, "Lockdown!"?

As the Countdown to the Meltdown continues to tick down, I am making as many preparations as possible for a "soft landing." I will be able to maintain what little "perks" that I have at the Diploma Mill. I will be able to keep my storage locker. I will also be able continue to use the offices and facilities there. And, I will be able to pay into the group health plan, if I choose to pay the $300 monthly premium. All of this will be the status quo, unless I am officially terminated. Not having any current contracts precludes termination, thank goodness. A small safety net, but one worth having. Which reminds me, I will soon store my wage slave duds (read: clothes) in my small storage locker at the Diploma Mill.

I still do not sleep well at night. I am up almost every hour. I no longer am able to determine my capability to tolerate much more of the insanity that is playing out around me. The sad part is that, to the insane, I am insane. The satanic gargoyles believe they have the freedom to do whatever they want, even if their actions impinge upon the freedom of others. That is not freedom they are talking about. It is anarchy. As I have discussed prior, most of the world's population lives in poverty. Because we believe that we have wealth, we tend to believe that we are superior and blessed by a higher source. Thus, we deserve to conspicuously consume and waste as we please. That, my friends, is real insanity.

Bridge to Nowhere

I spent 12 hours in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) last night. Prison food for dinner. Cleaning my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush. Perusal of the pink rubber piggy bank replica. I have completed the latest round of queueing the next divestiture of my useless possessions. There's practically nothing left. I had nothing else to do but sedate my mind with the tube. I watched the classic movie, "Stripes." I have deduced that my time spent with the tube is directly proportional to my affinity to remain in lockdown during the evening. The tube has a subliminal effect of turning the mind to mush and hypnotizing the viewer into a comatose form of submission.

I left for town at on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. I drank free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I piddled around for an hour before leaving for Kahala Mall at 9:45am. I dropped off some stuff in the Goodwill dropbox including my T&C® Surf backpack. I met moms at the entrance to the mall. We ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. Lunch was delicious. I waited with moms until the bus arrived. After seeing moms off, I boarded the prison transport destined for town.

I ran into Pseudo-professor Mike in the faculty computer room when I arrived. He seemed extremely upbeat, given the circumstances. He said that he had to return to his apartment right away because a pastor was coming by. I found it odd that he referred to Bea's apartment in that manner. A few minutes later, the hottie pseudo-professor arrived. She was using crutches to get around. She has not been around for three weeks because of an odd accident. Apparently, she had a run-in with a wheelchair lift on a bus. Baby looked hot nonetheless. What is interesting is that I am certain that I saw her around the campus last week, and she was walking fine. Baby also looked like she was wearing a diamond-studded ring on the middle finger of her left hand. She has not worn any rings before. It actually looked more like a wedding ring. Since it was on the wrong finger, I would guess that baby is a divorcée.

Pseudo-professor Mike called the faculty computer room at 2pm. He asked me to pick up some items that he had ordered from a vendor along Fort Street Mall. He wanted me to pay for it since he did not have any cash. "A homeless guy accosted me for money, so I gave him everything I had," he told me. I only had 48 cents in cash on me, since I use a credit card for almost all transactions. He said that he would call someone else. He also invited me to join his group at the HASR Wine Company this afternoon. There is a wine tasting event going on. He is planning to hold a small memorial for Bea during the event. I found the latter particularly odd.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. During the cardio portion of my workout, I noticed that the hottie gym trainer was working with a gym member on the machine directly in front of me. Baby was looking hot. After seeing both the hottie pseudo-professor and the hottie gym trainer, my mind was ready to snap. I ascertained that the Vienna Sausage has yet to atrophy. That's the whole problem, isn't it?

When I returned to the faculty computer room at 3:45pm, the hottie pseudo-professor was gone. In actuality, I discovered her name a few weeks ago. She has left items with her name on it haphazardly laying around several times. A quick search on the Net produced interesting results. Baby is actively involved in quite a few things. Not that it really matters.

At 5pm, I walked to HASR Wine Company. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. One other person showed up at the same time. We walked around the store. I was the only one not sampling any wine. Pseudo-professor Mike than asked me to hold his sampling glass. He walked outside to call the other people whom he had invited. After 15 minutes of standing around, I decided to return to the faculty computer. I sat and chatted with Pseudo-professor Francis while we drank hot chocolate. Then, I composed the "blog." As usual, I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 7pm. What's in store for the evening? Can you guess?