Simple Day

Another night at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" has definitely gone on vacation. Boohoo. I purchased the book, "Running on Empty: How the Democratic and Republican Parties Are Bankrupting Our Future and What Americans Can Do About It," by Pete Peterson. The book was bargain priced at five dollars. How could I go wrong? I purchased a big-ass can of cheap brewski on the way back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). I spent the remainder of the evening in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) reading Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." I am almost sad that I am nearing the completion of the book.

This morning, I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to the Waikiki Banyan to pay for my monthly parking pass. I had to wait almost an hour with several other people because no one was in the office. Finally, I retrieved my truck and drove to Kahala Mall. I purchased a large cup of coffee in the Barnes & Noble® Café. Then, I perused the bookstore. I ran into Professor Marimi in one of the aisles. We chatted for about 20 minutes. I provided a synopsis of the pathetic series of events that led to my emancipation from wage slavery at the Diploma Mill. She then revealed that she was planning to resign at the last minute in August. Apparently, Professor Marimi had gone through a series of meetings with Les, the fat slob Vice President of Academic Affairs, and Kathy, the Femi-Nazi chairbitch. Yes, the same two clowns that I had to deal with. They essentially harassed her about poor student evaluations. Her contract was reduced to one year. She then told me that the only way to survive at the Diploma Mill is to pass every student regardless of skill level. In other words, the Diploma Mill is a joke. She mentioned a variety of names, the usual cast of characters who put on the pathetic charade about maintaining quality in education. They were the worst offenders of grade inflation, she said. In addition, there are at least three other professors who are covertly planning their resignations. I had to cut the conversation a little shorter than I wanted to because I was running late.

I drove out to Hawai'i Kai. I arrived there just a few minutes before moms returned. I drove moms down to Koko Marina. Moms did a little shopping at Foodland. For lunch, we procured the barbeque steak plate lunches, also from Foodland. After lunch, moms served up some coffee ice cream for desert. As always, I enjoyed my time with moms. Once I arrived in town, I headed straight to the gym. I mechanically went through my workout. Everything essentially was a blur until I felt the warm water of the shower streaming on the face of stone. I felt refreshed. As I was ascending the stairway on the way out, the hottie gym trainer was coming from the opposite direction. Baby was looking hot.

I tried to keep my mind off of the "heavy" stuff. I only concentrated only on the fact that I was fortunate to spend time with moms, a small luxury. I am more keenly aware of such a luxury after reading Fisk's book in which he chronicled the heartbreak of families torn apart by idiotic wars. Why has life become so cheap? I vowed to keep the rest of the day as simple as possible.

Pressure Cooker

I was compelled to spend a portion of the evening at Barnes & Noble® rather than rot in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Later, I read a few more pages of Robert Fisk's book, The Great War for Civilization," in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). I have about 100 pages left. Needless to say, I have come to a greater understanding of the crises in the Middle East, and I am certain that what Fisk chronicled could be extrapolated to include every other trouble spot in the world. The imperial motivations of empire are always the same.

Reading has been extremely important to me as of late. I have carefully chosen books which provide the maximum amount of unbiased information about the state of affairs of the nation and the world. We live in increasingly troubled times, although one would be hard-pressed to notice the latter in the land of plenty. What has really come to grip me emotionally is the endless accounts of pain and suffering brought on by the myriad military excursions into foreign lands. How can I even understand just one of the infinite meaningless casualties that have resulted from the violence? In just taking the perspective of my own life, I just was not able to develop a suitable correlation. Fisk witnessed life and death first hand. In the pages of his book, he describes the atrocities that he saw, victims blown to pieces, victims in hospitals with missing limbs or various internal organs exposed because there is little flesh left to contain them. What do we make of such atrocities? Do we dismiss them and just go out shopping? Do we say, "I had nothing to do with it, so there's nothing that I can do?" Do we really believe we are not complicit?

In my own struggles dealing with my trivial life, I have had to question whether I had any gratitude at all for not having the unfortunate fate of being born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gratitude is necessary unless, of course, there is no one to express gratitude toward. In the material world, the world of endless consumption, there is no one above the individual consumer. The consumer is king. The consumer pays for the merchandise and the transaction is completed. This is the world of the satanic gargoyles, the world infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins." Other satanic gargoyles are simply merchandise as well. They must serve a purpose or provide some gain or they are quickly discarded. There is no room for ethical or moral dilemma. Each and every aspect of our lives is a financial transaction. Every waking moment is spent on money matters. Everything has a cost in terms of money. Every decision we make is based on finances. This is the world of the consumer. Those pathetic lives being lost to "collateral damage" have met their fate, they had no economic value. They were "useless eaters" who stood in the way of empire building. That is what the moneychangers and the powers-that-be want us to believe. Even though we are wage slave peons, we are duped by a false "empowerment" that provides us with with an even more false sense of superiority.

The stock market surged again. Can anyone explain why? I cannot figure it out except for some shenanigans in the Chinese stock market. A few of the elite satanic gargoyles are making a lot of dough as the latest so-called "bubble" continues to inflate. I have watched my pathetic little IRA stock mutual fund. It's NAV¹ is still $2 short of what it was at the height of the last "bubble." As with all previous stock market "bubbles," the "get-rich-quick" peons will come in at the last minute in hordes and lose their shirts when the fatal market "correction" occurs. That's how I lost $1,800 in the last "bubble." That's also the way it works for bond funds now as well since bond fund portfolios carry a lot of exotic "packaged" debt. My IRA bond fund NAV¹ has never recovered ever since the so-called "real estate bubble" popped. Since the exotic "packaged" debt contained what I suspect are a lot of subprime "paper," the fund (read: investors) absorbed the losses.

So, who is buying up all of the stocks in this latest "bubble"? It's not the small-time, cash-starved investors like the ol' lavahead. It certainly cannot be the debt-ridden, savings-challenged satanic gargoyles. I am inclined to believe that the origins of the massive liquidity are from nations that currently enjoy a huge dollar currency reserve through trade deficits. Foreigners are incrementally buying up the stock (read: ownership) of US corporations, not that it matters. Most of the US corporations have sold out anyway.

With the Iraq war fully funded again, the national debt will continue to increase. What boggles my mind is that the mountains of debt have had no ill effect on the economy, at least on the surface. The victims of "globalization," marginal wage slaves, the impoverished, and the homeless have simply disappeared. They are "collateral damage." In the meantime, the doctored-up economic figures are presented to us to make us believe that the economy is growing rapidly and everyone is becoming wealthy. Yet, we know that the national debt is at a record high and the trade deficit is at a record high. Yet nothing happens. The so-called "real estate bubble" apparently popped, but nothing happened. Consumer spending is still at an all-time high. Credit card debt has increased. The national savings rate is in the negative range. Real inflation has skyrocketed. Yet, interest rates are low, and the Fed is itching to lower it to zero percent again. China, Japan, and Germany keep buying up US debt with excess dollar reserves. Nothing makes sense. Wrong is right.

Another day, another dollar ... short. I found myself back in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, once again wasting my life away in front of a computer. Oh well. I did not sleep well at all last night. I could hear assorted thuds from various prison cells. What are those dickheads doing? Do they bring their farm implements from Idaho with them from home? Must they throw those implements around all night long? My salvation was DI.FM Deep House on Net radio. There is increasing pressure for me to make adjustments in order to survive, knowing full well that the "system" is due to collapse. I am being robbed blind, just like everyone else.

We are living in a pressure cooker. The heat is being turned up gradually, and we are being left to stew in our own juices. Just another form of the infamous Chinese water torture². How appropriate, eh? We are attempting to step on each other's heads to raise ourselves above the boiling water. The problem is that the lid is sealed tight, and the trapped steam is even more scalding than the water itself. Meanwhile, the moneychangers and powers-that-be are watching the little pressure gauge affixed to the lid and laughing their asses off. In a short while, the tender morsels of the pressure-cooked satanic gargoyle delicacy will be served up for their culinary pleasure.

¹NAV, net asset value.
²Chinese water torture, popular name for a method of water torture in which water is slowly dripped onto a person's forehead, driving the victim insane.

Mountains of Debt

I was back to the old routine again this morning. Same ol' shit in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. The "magic" of yesterday faded into obscurity. All I can see is money flowing out rapidly from my pockets as I sit helplessly, all the while wondering what to do next. By noon, I still had not decided the fate of the detestable "condotel" unit. All I could do to placate myself was to listen to DI.FM Deep House on Net radio.

At 12:30pm, I finally decided to continue the search for a decent shared rental. I wanted to move out of the "condotel" unit before June 1st. The only shared rental that I had lined up was in Kaimuki. It was a nice rental situation with covered parking included for a fairly steep $700 per month. However, there would be four other bodies in the house, five total including the head of the household. In my initial calculation, I found that I could probably save about $3,000 in expenses annually by putting the "condotel" unit in the hotel rental pool and finding a shared rental with parking for $700 per month. However, I have not calculated the effect of taxes on my income without the mortgage interest deduction. Once the "condotel" unit becomes rental property, the mortgage interest and property tax can only be used to offset rental income. So, I will be stuck in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) for a while longer. I am back to Square Zero. Needless to say, the rest of the day was the same ol' shit.

I read with heightened interest that Cindy Sheehan, famed anti-war activist, had resigned yesterday from both the Democratic Party and also from the anti-war movement itself out of sheer frustration. Her public resignation has far more ramifications that what appears on the surface. Clearly, Sheehan has demonstrated just how far the nation has degenerated into totalitarianism. We now have a government that is totally removed from the purview of the constituency it purports to represent as well as being totally out of control. Naturally, it does not help that there has been little public outrage as the governmental metamorphosis happened right before our very eyes. Too busy shopping, you think?

If it hasn't become painfully clear that the moneychangers and powers-that-be are pulling the strings from above, then I'm not sure if anything else could drive the point home. Clearly, there is an agenda at play which supersedes the needs of the masses. The latter fact becomes even more clear when we attempt to understand the intricate web of international economics, the glue of which is massive debt. Debt, reinforced by military might, is the sole driving force of the "globalized" economy. The problems become rather apparent when we observe the precarious fragility of the whole monetary infrastructure. The debt-driven engine is being used to fuel so-called "economic growth." All the while, the elite class extracts the wealth out of the "system" and leaves the peons with paper scripts claiming to be promissory notes to use to purchase useless trinkets. These are the resource wars that we have dreaded, plain and clear. Resource hegemony is going to be the only key to absolute political and economic power once the charade of the debt-driven engine is either exposed or runs out of steam.

Memorial Day 2007

Another evening at Barnes & Noble® has come and gone. No hottie "bookseller." Baby must be away on vacation. Boohoo. I perused a few books, but my mind was elsewhere. I pondered my situation and my perpetual enslavement. I searched for books that may provide some guidance for me in my quest for freedom. Nada. By the way, I make it a point to avoid the useless "self-help" genre of books.

This morning, I departed for Ala Moana Center at 9am after retrieving my truck from the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I purchased a large cup of coffee at Starbucks®. Then, I stood outside Longs® until moms arrived at 10am. Moms did a little shopping at Longs® and at Sears®. Then, we ate bento lunch at Shirokiya. I was able to chat with moms for a while. After lunch, I drove moms back to Hawai'i Kai.

With absolutely nothing to do, I stopped off at Kahala Mall on the way back to Waikiki. I sat outside the entrance for a few minutes. I also walked through Barnes & Noble® for no apparent reason. I felt lost. I had nowhere to go. I drove back to Waikiki and parked my truck. I was able to board a prison transport (read: bus) almost immediately. I was on my way to town, but I really did not want to end up in that dismal environment. So, I alighted at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) near Quagmire Prison. I returned to my prison cell (read: little shoebox) briefly.

I made the decision to go the gym in Waikiki. In fact, that particular branch of 24 Hour Fitness® was where Lori and I first joined. I rode the prison transport for two block, then I walked the rest of the way. I did my usual workout. As you may recall, the gym is on the second floor and its large windows face the beach. What a beautiful view. I could actually see the hundreds of surfers waiting for the next swell. After my weight workout, I did my cardio segment on the Stairmaster®, which I have not done in ages. Incidentally, this was the first time that I have gone to the gym in Waikiki in the ten months that I have been incarcerated.

When I returned to my prison cell, I did the dreaded laundry chore. I was done by 4:30pm. I had nothing to do. So, I walked across Ala Wai Boulevard and sat on one of the benches facing across the Ala Wai Canal, something else that I have not done in the ten months since I have been in Waikiki. What a relaxing experience. I could see the mountains, albeit scarred by all the houses built up along the slopes. The Ala Wai Canal is essentially a putrid cesspool. However, I actually observed a duck cruising along the surface. There were also a number of paddlers piloting large outrigger canoes along the canal. I spent about an hour or so there, most of the time in deep contemplation.

After my prison dinner (read: beans and bread), I fretted about whether I should engage in my nightly ritual to Ala Moana Center. I really did not feel like going anywhere. So, I cleaned my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush. I did a more extensive cleaning job than usual. I piddled around until 10pm. Then, I walked to the Food Pantry to purchase a big-ass can of cheap brewski, three bananas, and an apple. I spent the rest of the evening in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) droppin' back the big-ass can of cheap brewski and reading Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." At midnight, I called it a night.

I have continued to put off my decision about whether to put the "condotel" unit back into the hotel rental pool. I have only one possible room rental option for myself. However, that opportunity may be long gone by the time I make a decision. I also contacted Debbie, my realtor, to see if she had any good contacts who can put together a no-fee refinance mortgage.

In my spare time (which I seem to have plenty), I find that I am still confronted by my lack of purpose. I have been tempted to again review Anonder's abridged journal. Sad to say, he removed quite a bit of content. Anonder detailed his regimen, which consisted of spending close to sixteen hours in bed daily, either sleeping or performing his "sacred rituals." Needless to say, I can see why, after six months of such a routine, he escaped to Europe on a long backpacking and camping trip. I preserved the message boards because the last written words by Anonder appear there. Although he has stated his personal philosophy in one section of his journal titled, "Philosophical Fragments," there is still little evidence of his attainment of meaning in his life. Perhaps no meaning is meaning.

I believe that Anonder delineated that people who are completely single and have no immediate family, no extended family, few if any close friends, are more likely to be hermits or monks. We are a different breed with ample alone time and few diversions. Naturally, such a condition allows for reflection and introspection, or pursuit of philosophical or spiritual connections. Perhaps that is why we become more fixated with the idea of finding meaning or purpose.

Incidentally, I neglected to mention that the socipathic buddy has returned from obscurity. I have attempted to follow the advice of Mike, the director of the office that oversees the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. He urged all of us to avoid the sociopathic buddy like the plague. "Cut off all contact with this individual," Mike asserted. "Do not encourage him in any way." Sadly, there are now several new pseudo-professors with the same type of sociopathological personality. Does higher education attract deviants? I believe so.

Oddly, the sociopathic buddy reads the "blog," although he has yet to admit that fact. I've been able to identify his computer's IP address. The sociopathic buddy has his own "blog" but, to no surprise, there is little information about himself. His "blog" is merely a pontification of his alleged beliefs. Frankly, there are enough pseudo-pundits out there already.

Disturbia

Another evening at Barnes & Noble®. Another evening sans the hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. However, I happened to peruse a very interesting book Screwed: The Undeclared War Against the Middle Class -- And What We Can Do About It by Thom Hartmann. The book is a plethora of information. Once again, I recommend an ample supply of cheap booze before reading the book. As an aside, Hartmann made an interesting observation about the increasing trend of "privatized" prisons. Such prisons are run as businesses, and the main goal of the private prison business is to keep the bed count high. Kind of reminiscent of a hotel, eh? Thus, the prison system is no longer interested in the rehabilitation of prisoners. That only reduces the profits. Hartmann stated that lobbyists for the private prison industry have pushed for increased laws requiring incarceration and for the extension of prison sentences for existing laws.

When the latter information is combined with the fact that about 32 percent of the US population is either currently incarcerated (including residence confinement) or on parole, the sinister nature of the business becomes obvious. Ever wonder why a significant number of prisoners are serving time for very petty drug offenses? Prisoners are also the only source of extremely cheap labor in the US, even cheaper than illegal immigrants.

Here is more food for thought. From the percentages, there are about 100 million people in prisons or on parole. Since the majority of "criminals" will never be rehabilitated, we can expect that number to remain stable or increase. Remember, the stigmatization of "criminals" will preclude their return to "mainstream" society. It's a one-way street. Real unemployment runs at about 11 percent. That would be 22 million out of the remaining 200 million who are not "criminals." Out of the 178 million population remaining, we can roughly assume that 30 percent are either too young or too old to be wage slaves. Thus, there are are only 124.6 million legitimate wage slaves in the entire nation. We'll use that number time and again from this point forward.

Speaking of prisons, what I should have realized is that I am living in a prison of my own making. Emancipation from wage slavery did little to bring me any closer to the freedom that I desire, a freedom that I have no idea how to define. The "blog" makes clear that I am enslaved to it, since I must religiously update it daily with useless diatribe.

Surrounding the regimen of the "blog" are a variety of activities scheduled to fill the day in a precise time-allocated manner (see the "blog" of April 29th titled, "Who Knew?"). The schedule was devised to optimize my use of time given the major constraint of avoiding crowds of morons. I also had to integrate my wage slave schedule. Thus, the time chosen for the gym or commuting via the prison transport (read: bus) had been established to insure less crowded moments. Yet, my schedule was still diametrically opposed to the concept of freedom.

There are some serious interconnectivity issues with my schedule. My gym time has been set to circa-2pm daily, which then tethers me to my cumbersome gym bag for most of the day. The fact that I take my daily shower at the gym increased the payload of the gym bag. however, going to the gym in town allows me to use the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill as a stop off and temporary storage for my gym bag. The faculty computer room also provides the computing facilities for me to waste a good portion of the day as well as offers ample quantities of free generic coffee for me to consume. I am able to read a variety of news sources on the net. And, I am able to compose the "blog." The faculty computer room is also a place for me to eat my lunch, which is purchased daily at Safeway®. I also purchase my incremental food supplies for dinner and transport the latter with me in my gym bag when I finally depart from town.

I have made no deviation in my regimen. In review, I find that my morning coffee time, my gym workout, and the composition of the "blog" are the most critical aspects of my daily schedule and continued enslavement. Transporting myself on the prison transport, preferably uncrowded, further enslaves me. Even then, the commute time is extremely long and contributes further to enslavement. As I have mentioned before, I essentially pack for a day trip. My gym bag is essentially luggage for the day trip. So, I carry everything. Gym clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, and so forth. Yet, most of my day is spent in the faculty computer room or in the student computer lab. Do you see the reason why I have not purchased another computer?

I cannot spend any extended period of time in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) because its size invokes a claustrophobic reaction. I was able to spend all evening in Chez Loser (read: the townhouse in Kane'ohe) because it was much larger. I also spent all night sitting in my beloved Pier 1® papasan chair in front of my Samsung® LCD widescreen tube. In addition, there was no place to go in Kane'ohe in the evenings.

So, what's the point? It is the regimentation and tight scheduling that are driving me berserk. The routine (read: same ol' shit) is what is enslaving me and causing undue stress. There are some keys questions to be asked which may provide an answer:

• Why must I always go to the gym in town and always circa-2pm?
• Why must I update the "blog" daily?
• Why must I sit around in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill every day?
• What am I going to do now that I am no longer a wage slave?

Two weeks have gone by since my emancipation from wage slavery. I still follow the same regimen. Moving out of the "condotel" unit and finding rental housing is not going to change anything from what I can tell. Although a change of scenery is nice, it does little to solve the initial problem.

The main addictions that I need to address are:

• coffee
• computers
• the "blog."

The gym is perfectly fine addiction. I could, however, be more flexible about the times that I go there. While living in Waikiki, I could actually go to the gym in the late afternoon or evening because there is a 24 Hour Fitness® location just a few blocks from Quagmire Prison. As a result, I would not be tethered to my gym bag all day long. There are many more aspects of my life-style that I have allowed to careen out of control. I could easily have spent more time at the beach or the park in Waikiki early in the morning before the crowds gather. My evening time at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® is fine. No need to change that. Certainly a better alternative to the tube.

The computer is the worst addiction that I can think of. I can spend hours in front of the computer, essentially piddling around. The "blog," as anyone can readily see, consumes a tremendous amount of time. Yet when all is said and done, I am left completely dissatisfied. I feel as though I have wasted hours of precious time (of what little time that I have left) in front of the computer. And, for what? Yet, here I am again. Just as a fat slob who continuously laments about the need to lose weight, the ol' lavahead follows a ridiculous regimen and laments about how little time he has left on the planet.

Another benign day dragged on. I continued to procrastinate about my decision on the fate of the "condotel" unit. I was frozen by the fear that I would make the wrong decision again, costing me yet more in time, money and grief.

Sinister Concepts

Another benign evening was spent at Barnes & Noble® sans the hottie "bookseller." I was preoccupied by my inability to decide the fate of the "condotel" unit. Earlier in the evening, I had spoken to Kea Lii, the general manager of the Aloha Surf Hotel. He provided me with a lot of information which was unbeknownst to me. The condo association is investigating the possibility of changing its bylaws to allow "fractional ownership" of individual "condotel" units. The idea was fielded by several owners. "Fractional ownership" would involve five or less co-owners. Six or more co-owners defines a "time-share." I fully support the idea if it expedites the sale of my "condotel" unit.

The hotel management is also investigating different ideas to increase the hotel's on-line ratings, which would justify a rate increase for the rooms. Obviously, I do not receive any of the condo association's mailings. It seems that the "condotel" units on my floor do fairly well income-wise. Including the residual check at the end of the year, the monthly income should average $1,000 or so. Still not enough to break even. Thus, my monthly contribution will amount to $250 and some change. That's still a lot of dough.

The real problem is whether I can live in a communal situation. And, what of Kaimuki? Fortunately, Kahala Mall is only a short distance away. Sadly, rather than make my life simpler, I am looking at increasing its complexity. The result? Increased slavery. Increased stress. Not exactly what I had in mind. However, there is no way that I could see myself living in the "condotel" unit for several more years. In a rental situation, I will be able change my environment at will. I could even elect to become a homeless "camper."

I did not sleep well, thanks to the aforementioned impending decision. In fact, I was still undecided about the issue when I boarded the prison transport (read: bus) heading for town. Fortunately, the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill was open because of a workshop session. I was able to spend some time there and partake of the free food as well. And, I was able to get my Net radio fix for the day.

By noon, I was still undecided about the fate of the "condotel" unit. I kept procrastinating. I also noticed that one of my lower rear molars is going bad. The filling was replaced a few years ago. The tooth has been sensitive to cold temperatures ever since. Lately, I experience extreme pain when biting down on food, particularly the small rock-like substance in the Safeway® air-filled energy bars. Without a dental plan, I will have to pay a dentist in cash. That will be yet another outflow of money.

After my workout at the gym, I found myself in the student computer lab, once again wasting more time. I engaged in the mindless "Rate My Life" quiz, courtesy Devin's "blog." Here are the results:

My Life, Ol' Lavahead Style
Life:	6
Mind:	7.1
Body:	7.9
Spirit:	7.5
Friends/Family:	2.8
Love:	1.5
Finance:	6.5
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Man, that was fun! If only the hottie gym trainer would come around, I could increase my "Love" score. Oh well. As you can guess, I piddled around all afternoon. Did I finally decide whether I will move out of the "condotel" unit? Of course not! The rest of the day? Same ol' shit.

On a side note, as I've stated before, the secular Apocalypse may be our only salvation. Millions will suffer, be displaced, or end up as "collateral damage." The artificially propped-up economy will most likely collapse from the debt burden with a little help from China (which now holds the largest dollar currency reserves and dollar-based debt instruments). A massive and long overdue economic "correction" will sweep the affluent nations and engulf the myriad overspending fat slob satanic gargoyles. The moronic religious dispensationalists will be left to suffer in a purgatory of their own making, disowned by the True God. Yet, in due time, the disarray that results will eventually bring Armageddon upon us. Oh, the Day of Reckoning cannot come soon enough!

Prolonging the Agony

Another exciting evening at Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. Another big-ass can of cheap brewski. Another night of the same ol' shit. Then, another day of the same ol' shit.

I pondered my housing plight, but I failed to find a resolution. Too many uncertainties. I would have to transfer $3,000 immediately in order to cover the cost of incurring the rental at the house in Kaimuki ($700 first month rent plus $700 security deposit). I would also need to cover the mortgage and maintenance fee ($1,219 total) for the month of June. I will have to do the same for July because the income from the hotel rental pool will not be distributed until the 25th of the second month upon commencement of the rental program. In addition, a $250 "initiation" fee will be deducted. On the positive side, I would save $100 per month that I am spending on a parking space rental. As anyone can plainly see, the process will be extremely costly. I will reduce my net worth by $5,000 or more. Will I be able to recover the cost over the year? I seriously doubt it.

As the Fed preens itself in preparation to begin what I believe will be a series of ridiculous interest cuts down to zero percent, there is even greater uncertainty for the ol' lavahead. Dropping short-term interest rates will be the only way to maintain consumer spending (i.e., 75 percent of the GDP) and stave off the collapse of the so-called "real estate bubble." We live in a serial "bubble" economy. "Bubbles" of liquidity and debt must be continuously created and cycled (i.e., from stocks to home prices to credit card debt and back to stocks) in order to keep the economy afloat. Ridiculously over-priced assets and inflated equity must also be generated in order to provide the catalyst for the serial "bubble" economy to persist and continue the cycle endlessly. Increasing amounts of money must be injected into the system to support the speculative pricing, which would increase inflation if it were not exported abroad (i.e., China) through labor "globalization." Why is this happening? The reason is simply greed, the need to increase wealth quickly. Increased wealth means more conspicuous consumer spending. The cycle will never end because the majority of satanic gargoyles are willing and active participants.

Low interest rates are an anathema to savers. In fact, saving money is an antiquated concept. Debt is the only way to survive, another reason for all the clamoring to lower interest rates. Debt only serves the wage slaves who have a steady income. However, few wage slaves are aware that they may be forcibly emancipated when their jobs are exported in order to curb inflation. However, the wage slaves who are in a relatively stable environment will use debt to multiply their asset base. On face value, they will appear to be affluent. However, only their balance sheets will reveal their true net worth, which may actually be in the negative range. As you may have already guessed, the majority rule. Thus, the majority of debt-ridden wage slaves are making it quite difficult for the remaining minority of prudent individuals. As a matter of fact, the small minority of prudent individuals will actually end up subsidizing the masses indirectly through assorted taxes and directly through investment dividends that fail to keep pace with inflation.

In the latest development, two more "condotel" units at the Aloha Surf Hotel were listed on the HiCentral site today, at $139,000 each. I cannot meet that price without incurring a $25,000 loss. With two almost identical "condotel" units priced that low, I could be stuck with my unit for many years. So, here I am subsisting on at a substandard standard-of-living and money is flowing out like there's no tomorrow. I've got nothing to show for it. I'm being sucked dry. Now that I am unemployed, I cannot make up the difference. I have no idea what I will do.

Chump Change

Sirens blasting. A domestic argument, most likely originating in one of the upper floors of Quagmire Prison. Yelling, screaming, cussing. Slammin' soirée. The beginning of a routine night in Waikiki. I could hardly wait to seek refuge in my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty which, as we all know, makes a safe haven even safer. Incidentally, I had to procure another big-ass can of cheap brewski to calm my nerves.

I retrieved my truck this morning and was on my way to Kaimuki by 8am. My mission? Check out a couple of shared rentals. First stop was a dumpy house situated in a cluster of homes in a forced cul de sac, "forced" because the construction of the H-1 freeway required that the street be bisected. The house was the last one at the back of the long driveway. I met "Red" at the entrance. He gave me a tour of the house, which was a complete mess. There were several other guys living there, all in their twenties. He made it clear that they liked to party and get stoned. "Red" was in charge, but he was one of the renters as well. I believe that it was fairly obvious to everyone that I would not fit in.

The next stop was another house just a few blocks. It was also and older home, but in better condition. I was greeted by Mary Beth, an older babe who has lived there for 16 years with her youngest son. The other rooms are rented out to three guys. Mary Beth said that she preferred guys. The available room was nice. Everything, and I mean everything is included in the rent of $700 per month. Linens, furniture, tube, cleaning supplies, and so forth. There is one available covered parking spot in the large carport. None of the other tenants have cars. The other tenants were gone for the day. From what Mary Beth said, the other tenants are hardly at home.

I drove to Kahala Mall afterward. Of the two places, I would be inclined to rent from Mary Beth. I purchased a large cup of coffee in the Barnes & Noble® Café and subsequently perused a few magazines. At 11am, I drove to Hawai'i Kai. Along the way, I reflected upon what I observed this morning in the two rental houses. All of the tenants appear to be at the fringe of survival mode. From what I could tell, they are living day-to-day and possibly just making ends meet. I often refer to myself as being in the poverty class but, in comparison to the renters, I am in an entirely different socio-economic class from them. I have not seen that level of subsistence since I was college student. Just imagine a college dormitory. That's how these tenants were living.

Moms returned at about noon. I drove moms down to Koko Marina so that moms could do some grocery shopping at Foodland. Later, we had lunch. By the time we finished eating, the time was already past 1pm. So, we did not get to chat much. I was in town by 2:30pm, just in time for my gym workout. On the way out of the gym, I saw the hottie gym trainer sitting in the office. Baby was looking hot. The rest of the afternoon was the same ol' shit.

Frankly, I am at a loss about whether I should put the "condotel" unit in the hotel rental pool. Am I jumping from the frying pan into the fire by moving out and finding a shared rental situation? Is living in a hotel all that bad? Can I live in a communal environment? I will have to make a decision by tomorrow. See what I mean when I say that money and freedom go hand-in-hand. I do not have the kind of money that can buy freedom. I am a Chump Change Chimp.

Money. I still don't seem to grasp its concept. I do not want to spend it on useless crap. I don't particularly care to see it flow out of my minuscule investments into the coffers of the moneychangers. I only feel secure when I am at least saving some portion of it. Avarice is a disease of sorts, perhaps the malady that afflicts me. Freedom, these days, can only be "purchased" with money, a sickening prophesy of the end of days.

Speaking of money, I read with amusement about the US trade delegation's pathetic deliberations with China. The delegation was tasked with pressuring China to float its currency and to deal constructively (i.e., to the benefit of the US) with the burgeoning trade deficit. All that came out of the talks was an agreement to increase commercial airline flights to and from China. Well, that's great. We'll be exporting more "inflation" (read: jobs), but we will benefit by an influx of Chinese tourists. That's about the only industry that will be left. Think of the whole nation as one big Waikiki. Yes, all of us will be working in minimum wage peon jobs. Service-oriented jobs. Think fast food. Well, at least we will be able sell all of the tourist crap (made in China) back to the Chinese. The trade deficit should balance out in a thousand years. Sheesh!

Destination Unknown

When I arrived back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I had about two minutes of quiet before the new occupants of the prison cell next door returned, two ape-like "frat boys" out of a large tribe of baboons. They apparently were throwing around all of their luggage, farm implements, and whatever else wasn't bolted down, which created a tremendous amount of noise. They were also yelling at the top of their lungs for no apparent reason except that they were in Hawai'i, a place where they must believe that "anything goes." I later learned that the ape-like simians were gabachos¹-in-training. I will have to tolerate the zoo-like conditions for a minimum of five days.

I departed for Ala Moana Center at 7:45pm, much earlier than usual. My thoughts could be summarized by one statement: I must move out of the "condotel" unit by the end of the month. Almost any other living arrangement would be better than what I am in now. However, once I put the "condotel" unit back in the hotel rental pool, I will not be able to reverse the process without paying a stiff fee ($2,000). I will have to be absolutely certain of the decision.

Home, of course, is an alien concept to me. In retrospect, the closest feeling that I have experienced insofar as being home was when I was living in what was then moms' house a few years ago. I did not fully appreciate that period of time, as noted in the testimony of the journal. Living with parents is difficult, but there is nothing that can replace the family unit. I had to learn that lesson the hard way. After all, my parents are the ones who provided for me up until the end.

I have made a lot of mistakes in the last few years, more than I care to admit. My biggest mistake was the purchase of the "condotel" unit. Well, "hindsight is 20/20," as the old adage goes. If anything, my advice to everyone is to not assume that stasis will be maintained in the long run. I, for one, have observed an unbelievable number of personal life-style transformations, albeit reactive, in a relatively short period of time. Mind you, I do not have my own family, which most likely exacerbated the uncertainties. Yet, there is really little to instill confidence in the "system." We would be foolish to place any faith in it. The "system" will turn against anyone at any time. For who else rules the "system" other than the sinister kahuna itself?

I spent an hour or so at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking extremely hot. When I later returned to my prison cell, all was quiet. I had procured a big-ass can of cheap cerveza on the way back to calm my nerves. I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby), read my book, and dropped back the big-ass can of cheap cerveza. When I went into lockdown for the night, all was quiet. What a surprise!

Another day of the same routine with DI.FM Deep House on Net radio being my salvation. Can you believe it? I spent most of the day pondering various banal issues. Money. Dinero. Cabbage. I primarily thought about money and freedom, how both go hand-in-hand. That's the bottom line, really. Freedom can only be obtained by securing a large amount of wealth, mostly liquid, if possible. Thus, sustainability can be maintained by choosing a modest life-style devoid of excess consumption. Simplicity is also the underlying theme of survival. Not only is simplicity crucial to freedom, it also reinforces a healthier balance.

Pseudo-professor Bette made an appearance in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. We chatted for a few minutes. I couldn't help but notice what a hottie she is. Baby was looking mighty fine. My mind started playing tricks on me. Fortunately, I was preoccupied with my housing plight. I spoke with the general manager of the Aloha Surf Hotel to make preliminary arrangements to put the "condotel" unit in the hotel rental pool. For the unit to be ready, I must vacate it by May 30th. I will also need to obtain a tax certificate which will cost $20 to file. Contrary to following my own advice, I will be complicating my situation and moving further away from freedom if I put the "condotel" unit into the hotel rental pool. A lot of money will be flowing out for the sake of capital preservation. Does that even make sense? Worst of all, I suspect that the Fed will lower interest rates in the near future. I am banking on interest rates going up, but I am a contrarian. What happens in reality is always completely opposite of my position.

Incidentally, a lot of the elite class made big money during the latest stock market rally. Small-time investors were also feeling rich, possibly because their 401(k) accounts swelled. Unless they draw out that money now, it's totally useless. I have only one stock mutual fund set up as an IRA. It dropped significantly after the stock market "bubble" popped. It has taken nearly five years for that one particular fund to almost recover to its pre-"bubble" NAV² during this latest "bubble." Naturally, if I had pumped more money into that fund over the last five years, I would have seen some gains. What a joke!

Have you been trying to make sense of what's been happening these days? Why is China going to invest in the various large "hedge" funds? Why are we "surging" in Iraq while the situation has completely spiraled out of control? Why is immigration "reform" working to diligently replace domestic workers with cheap labor? I suspect that most of the gabachos have been too busy shopping to care. They have refinanced their "piggy bank" homes and gotten a cash advance on speculative (read: non-existent) equity. Now, they are all here in Waikiki, buying tourist crap made in China. It's sad. It's pathetic. A sure sign that the end is coming.

As an aside, I ordered the free CD distribution of Ubuntu Linux, although I do not own a computer. In the future, I may need to purchase a computer. I had switched to Apple® computers a few years back. However, I can no longer justify the high premium (read: price) to be a part of the Apple® community. Thus, if the need arises, I will purchase a cheap notebook computer and replace the detestable bundled operating system with Ubuntu Linux. Though, I have yet to figure out why I would need another computer.

¹Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.

²NAV, net asset value.

New Frontier

Another exciting evening at Barnes & Noble® left me wondering whether I have exhausted the gamut of excitement that the world has to offer. Have I seen all and done all? Oh brother. The hottie "bookseller" was conspicuously absent. What is Barnes & Noble® without the hottie "bookseller"? Did you say, "Just another bookstore"? Well, that's not entirely true. After all, it is also my safe haven from idiocy.

I perused a couple of interesting books:

• “Perfectly Legal” - David Cay Johnston
• “I am a Strange Loop” - Douglas Hofstadter

Johnston's book, "Perfectly Legal," is a worthy read, although I would warn any reader that proper sedation may be necessary before reading the book.

Later, in the comfort of my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I read a few more pages from Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." Whew! I just finished the chapters about Syria and Lebanon. How timely as violence erupted this week when the Lebanese armed forces pummeled Nahr el-Bared, a Palestinian refugee camp. There is no way to understand what is happening in the Middle East now without knowing the history of the region. Without Fisk's book, I would be completely in the dark. And, I would have made faulty assumptions just as the majority of "Americans" are currently doing.

I departed for town at 9am this morning, finally at a leisurely pace. I ran into Ashley, a student at the Diploma Mill. She was on her way to register for Fall classes, so we rode the same prison transport (read: bus) to town. We had a nice chat, which was a good way to start the morning. Along the way, I also noted that petrol prices have remain unchanged since I last reported. Odd, isn't it? Hawai'i petrol prices are still trailing the mainland. Why? There have been no infrastructural changes. There is still only one refinery here. The evidence seems to point at price fixing rather than the usual "supply and demand" mumbo-jumbo that is force-fed to consumers. Petrol prices should be at least 40 cents per gallon higher than on the mainland. So, what's the answer? My guess is that there is some kind of collusion to keep the petrol prices artificially low. The economy of Hawai'i is at stake. "Someone" has cut a deal of the "You scratch my back, and I'll scratch your back" variety. As long as the petrol suppliers can still maintain a good profit, it would behoove them to keep prices low in order to float the economy.

I sent out a few more queries for the rental listings in craigslist. The demand in the housing rental market is fierce. It will take me some time to find a place worthy of consideration. The real estate market has stagnated, but home prices have only fallen slightly, if at all. Obviously, while home prices remain high, so will housing rentals.

The day was more of the same ol' shit as detailed in the literary subgenius in the "blog" of April 29th titled, "Who Knew?" I reviewed some of the content in the message boards. I have decided to leave it intact for now. I listened to DI.FM Deep House for most of the day. A week has passed since I was officially emancipated from wage slavery. I am not even certain about the direction that I am taking. It's an entirely new frontier. I just hope that I don't get lost.

Placebo

I wanted to catch the sunset at Ala Moana Beach Park, so I left Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) at 7:10pm. Sadly, I waited ten minutes for the prison transport (read: bus) to arrive. While moving along at a snail's pace, I watched the sky become darker and darker through the window. When I finally arrived at Ala Moana Center, the time was 7:45pm. The sky was pitch black. I walked to Ala Moana Beach undeterred, all the while noting the numerous homeless readying themselves to leave the park. The homeless have not been allowed to "camp" there ever since the "cleanup" campaign (read: "sweep") a few months ago.

I made the most of an already pathetic situation. I found a bench to sit on. I spent most of the time composing the "blog" on my beloved Palm® TX. The park was still quite busy with joggers and meanderers like myself. The salt air was refreshing as opposed to the stench of cigarette smoke that I am normally privy to inhale. I could hear, but not see, the waves breaking in the distance. All in all, I felt relaxed, more so than an evening at Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One in Waikiki Beach could have accomplished.

I pondered my situation. I am ready to move out of Waikiki, I said to myself. When I had arrived back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) earlier in the afternoon, I was privy to a slammin' soirée, courtesy of the satanic gargoyles in the prison cell next to mine. Sirens were going off every 15 minutes, no doubt ambulances responding to "9-1-1" calls for the idiotic fat slob satanic gargoyles choking over lard-filled meals in one of the myriad marginal Waikiki restaurants. Oh, the wages of gluttony! In any case, my mind was ready to snap. I had to get outta there. That's why I ended up at the beach.

A few minutes later, a couple of locals sat on the concrete wall a few feet away. The babe (term used loosely) was obviously pissed off about being called by a work supervisor after her shift. Every other word was prefaced with, "fuckin'." It was actually quite comical. At least I knew that I was not the only one close to the edge of sanity.

I enjoyed the rest of my short furlough at the beach. As always, I was alone, trying as hard as I could to revel in solitude. I really don't want to do much more than what I do now. All I want is peace and quiet. I want to live a very simple and mendicant life. No drama. No obligations. No grief. Few possessions. Few responsibilities. Even fewer needs. Freedom. I made a tragic error when I tied myself to another mortgage. At the time, I was making decent money, and there were no indications that I would be abruptly terminated. I learned my lesson the hard way about the transient nature of a debauched culture. Never again.

Eventually, I made my way back to Ala Moana Center for an evening at Barnes & Noble®. Incidentally, I neglected to mention that I ran into Professors Brian and Cathrin there on Saturday night. We chatted for a while. They left for Norway sometime Sunday. Professor Cathrin urged me to submit a request to facilitate classes in the Computer Science department at the Diploma Mill. Although I do not want to resume pseudo-professorship, I promised that I would submit an "interest" e-mail. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I spent my time perusing a few books, although I was merely going through the motions. When I returned to Waikiki, I procured a big-ass can of cheap brewski to accompany me while I read Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization," in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) later in the evening.

I did not sleep well at all last night. I was up by 7:15am. I hastily packed my gym bag, and I was off and running. So much for my attempts to slow down my pace, eh? I retrieved my truck from the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I drove to Kahala to view one of the listings for a room rental. I met Will, the owner of the home, at 8:30am. He was outside watering the lawn. The house, of course, is beautiful. Kahala is a posh area. He rents out two rooms, usually to foreign students. He, his wife, and two adolescent sons also live in the house. The room was nice. Hardwood floors. Lots of windows. The bathroom is shared with the other tenant. The family uses a different bathroom. One of the sons lives in the room next to the one being vacated. Will stressed that there was only limited kitchen usage. A few shelves and cupboards were available. He said that he planned to put a small fridge in the room, so I assumed that the family refrigerator was off-limits. Laundry facilities were also provided. The house has a pool, but he made no mention of its usage. I assumed that the pool was also off-limits. The rent was $725 with an additional half of that required as a security deposit. I deferred the decision until later. I thanked Will and drove to Kahala Mall.

I spent an hour in Barnes & Noble®. I purchased a cup of coffee in the café and perused a few magazines. At 10:30am, I walked to Longs® and found moms in the checkout line. We ate lunch at Panda Express®. Then, I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. Moms served up coffee ice cream for dessert. We were able to chat until 1pm. The rest of the day followed the usual routine.

I pondered the room rental in Kahala. It was a beautiful place. The price was right. Quiet, too. The only drawback is that I would have to park the truck on the street in the hot sun. I pondered the idea of driving the truck to Kahala Mall every morning and leaving it there. I could then ride the prison transport from there. Then, I realized that Will, the owner, most likely assumed that I would lock myself in the small bedroom while I am there. I also suspected that he may not appreciate that I often return late at night from my evening furloughs. As nice as the place was, I decided to mummify the situation.

Later, I went through a series of disillusioned thoughts, which flooded my mind and overloaded my senses. I was not able to think clearly. I tried to understand why I have established a standard of living that is higher than what I actually need or want. I failed to understand why I could not allow my truck to sit out in the hot sun and let its plastic parts disintegrate. I have no idea why Will's implied rules bothered me. Then, I questioned the whole idea of renting a place while I am still paying a mortgage for the "condotel" unit. I also could not understand why I dislike the "condotel" unit, since it actually exceeds my life-style requirements. I cannot tolerate the endless noise, but I was dumbfounded to name a quieter location that was not in the high rent district. So, I must use the Brookstone® Tranquil Moments® "sound therapy placebo" to mask the noise. So what? No matter how hard I try to be contrarian, I just can't seem to follow through. It's the same with my inability to slow down my pace. The latter goal is completely impossible in a densely populated city like Honolulu. Yes, I know, there are worse places where satanic gargoyles move at an even faster pace.

Frankly, after my workout at the gym, I just literally gave up. I listened to DI.FM on Net radio and tried to make some sense of the day as I chronicled it in the "blog." By the way, the hottest track was "Do It For You" (Migs Petalpusher Vocal) by Miguel Migs featuring Li'sha. I was fairly perturbed that I was preoccupied with my housing situation even while I visited with moms. I continue to be enslaved and imprisoned to more and more nonsense. I will never find freedom, I muttered to myself. I am trapped.

High Anxiety (Again)

Another jaunt to Ala Moana Center did nothing to appease my now anxiety-in-high-stasis crisis. I perused various stores again, all the while observing the incredible consumerist binges perpetrated before my very eyes. I finally settled upon one of the benches outside of Barnes & Noble® for a tense overview of the myriad 4000-pound motorized chairs parading through the parking structure. I sat there mesmerized by the sight of endless sheer vanity. Finally, having had my fill of the excesses of the faux riche and the elite class, I performed the cornerstone of my nightly ritual in Barnes & Noble®. I was able to procure a chair to sit upon. I perused a few books, nothing noteworthy. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine as to be expected.

Once again, I had to wait for a later prison transport (read: bus) to return to Waikiki, thanks to the myriad satanic gargoyle purchasing all of their tourist supplies (made in China) at Wal-Mart®. I was able to chat with Airi, a former student at the Diploma Mill. I have seen her several times at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) late at night. She usually ends her shift at Jackie 's Kitchen (Jackie Chan's restaurant) at that time.

Another benign day of the same ol' shit was met with my growing indifference to it all. I was only thankful that I could procure a cup of coffee and three air-filled energy bars at Safeway® without a hitch. The weather, by the way, has been incredibly nice for the past few days. Even the nights have been warmer. Is Summer finally here? I did my usual cardio workout at the gym. I only mention the latter because I was able to catch a glimpse of the hottie gym trainer on my way out. She was at the computer. Baby is so hot. I also ran into Ronald, a former Asylum student, at the gym. He is working part time at the Louis Vitton® store in Waikiki. Well, I have yet to end my Sunday Taco Bell® adventures. I have to enjoy those Cheesy bean and Rice Burritos while I can.

The local papers are constantly running pieces about the homeless crisis here in Hawai'i. The estimate for the homeless population is 6,000 on any given day, according to the first article in the series. I believe that the number is much higher. I was particularly interested in the article concerning the various homeless shelters. In the last week, I entertained the idea of moving into a homeless shelter as opposed to finding a place to rent. However, the shelters are at capacity. So much for that idea.

Larry Chin wrote an interesting article titled, "Peak Oil and the Inflation Lie," which appeared on the Global Research site. He discussed the dubious low inflation figures cited ad nauseum without question by the Fed and financial pundits. The use of "core" inflation figures is misleading, as even the ol' lavahead himself has asserted. Quoting low "core" inflation figures only serves to fool the satanic gargoyle consumers into believing that they are better off than they really are. They will spend like crazy. Living in the dream world of low inflation also precludes the need to raise interest rates which, in turn, encourages the use of debt to obtain a higher standard of living. Saving money is discouraged as it will not yield much in return. Saving money would also slow down the economy (i.e., 75 percent of GDP is consumer spending). The moneychangers and powers-that-be desire the interest rates to remain low or to go lower. Cheap money (read: "liquidity") will allow the elite class to increase their wealth through the "serial bubble" economy. In the meantime, the rank-and-file peons, foolishly attempting to emulate their affluent counterparts, will only stand to lose most of their remaining paltry net worth. Chin also alluded that higher prices at the petrol pump are hiding the fact that Peak Oil has arrived. Oil prices are never going back down. Real (or "headline") inflation includes oil and energy prices, as opposed to "core" inflation. Oil determines the value of fiat currency, since obviously the latter is not backed by gold or hard currency. Thus, the value of the dollar, for example, will not change the price of oil. It's the other way around. So, at the consumer end, the price of petrol ultimately is a definitive component of inflation and an indicator of where we are on the petroleum supply versus demand curve.

Incidentally, I received e-mail from Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum. He mentioned that he's doing some piecemeal work to supplement his income. He also heard that the Asylum is under new ownership yet again. Samhain, the Persian guy who originally purchased the place, ran the dump into the ground. Failing to understand how to operate a business in Hawai'i, he began the usual triage cost-cutting measures (i.e., mass layoffs). It's all in the journal. When the ship was sinking, Samhain brought in other family members as "partners." Then, he bailed, leaving his family members to take the loss. No telling who the new chumps are who purchased the dump. As to be expected, they have invoked triage cost-cutting measures. Who is there left to lay off? I also heard from Clyde in Cali. He offered some moral support to the ol' lavahead.

Severance

Debbie, my realtor, called and left a message that she would be running late. Thus, she was not there when I arrived back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) last night. Debbie came by later at 8pm. She was on her way to Ala Moana Center, so she offered me a ride. I gave her the reprogrammed pass key. Debbie advised me to find a decent place to live before putting the "condotel" unit back in the hotel rental pool and to make sure that I would at least break even financially.

I walked through a variety of stores at Ala Moana Center for no particular reason. The place was packed with shoppers, all carrying several large shopping bags. Money is apparently quite plentiful for everyone except the ol' lavahead. I spent quite a bit of time at the Apple® Store. A stupid kid was flailing his arms about and hit me a couple times. I had to chastise him, all the while hoping that one of his ignorant parents would say something stupid. My fist was ready to launch into the kabuki-mask of any of the morons. Afterward, I sat on one of the benches outside Barnes & Noble® for the longest time. I felt very strange. My mind seemed to be warning me that it was on the verge of a breakdown. I could feel intense anxiety welling up inside. I tried to relax, but to no avail. The anxiety continued to ramp upward. Then, to further thwart my sanity, I began to ponder my situation. The same ol' shit came back like a bad sitcom.

I felt truly alone. If only I had a babe, I said to myself in a bout of true weakness. Yes, even though there are a lot of fat slobs around, there are also quite a number of hotties ever-present. Young hotties. The mind tends to play tricks on old fools in moments of weakness. Within a few minutes, the anxiety subsided. I was able to think straight again. I realized that the sinister kahuna was toying with the oversized cranium. And what better temptation than babes?

Well, there is also the temptation of the materialistic life-style, I suppose. I watched the endless parade of 4000-pound motorized chairs streaming through the parking structure. Where are all of those fools finding the money to literally burn? As I sat in stoic form on the hard wooden bench, I realized that I was actually watching society "going to hell in a handbasket" in real time.

To really understand just how far gone this so-called "society" is now, we just need to review the various scandals that keep erupting during the term of the Shrub administration. The Alberto "Gonzo" Gonzales has rapidly degenerated into a "gonzo" scandal, now going well beyond the original scandalous terminations of numerous US Attorneys. The real economy is a shambles, but the fake economy is booming. Then, there is the World Bank fiasco courtesy Paul Wolfowitz. All the while, the occupation of Iraq is going terribly awry as is the situation in Afghanistan. It's worse than the Vietnam War and the Nixon Watergate scandals put together. The "American Empire" is on a collision course with its demise. As I look around me, I observe that the satanic gargoyles, primarily the gabachos¹, are totally oblivious. Everyone is having a good time, spending money like there's no tomorrow on useless crap. That's right. No one even cares. To say that I am dumbfounded would be an understatement.

I finally ended up in my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. I found a chair to sit on. I perused an interesting book titled, "In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed," authored by Carl Honore. Yes, the book is about slowing down the pace in a hurried culture. I was actually able to fully relax while I perused the book. Sadly, no hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I did not arrive back in Waikiki until close to midnight. The prison transport (read: bus) was completely full of gabachos, so I waited 30 minutes for the next one to arrive. While I sat on the concrete bench, I observed the numerous homeless readying their "beds" for the night. I tried to imagine what an average day would be like for any one of them. How do they keep going?

I left for town this morning at 9am. I attempted to move at a leisurely pace. Once in town, my first stop was at Safeway® where I purchased four air-filled energy bars, a banana, and a cup of Colombian coffee. I was in somewhat of a daze, so I neglected to put the small cardboard heat insulator around the hot cup of coffee. As I walked out of the store, I felt the heat of the coffee scorching my hand. I became quite agitated as I trudged to the Diploma Mill. I finally put the cup of coffee in the shopping bag, using the air-filled energy bars as a wedge to keep the cup upright. Mind you, I was also toting my gym bag with me. Along the way, I observed a large number of homeless congregating in the little park along Beretania Street. I was sat in the empty hallway of one of the Diploma Mill buildings. Thus, I was able to fully enjoy my breakfast.

As you can guess, my routine has not changed. I will spend most of the day in the student computer lab with the exception of the time at the gym. I happened to check on my miscellaneous non-consolidated loans with Sallie Mae®. I have noted over the past three years that my outstanding balance was increased by $4,000 and some change. I was never given notice. In addition, the structure of the loans have been changed. Some had a good portion of the principal paid off, so the loans should have been completely paid off by now. Instead, Sallie Mae® stretched the loans out to match the dates of the other loans. The whole higher education scheme is a big racket, by the way, including educational loans. The recent loan scandal is proof of my assertion. The bottom line? If higher education is not possible without loans, forget about it.

Well, I have started to send out queries by e-mail for some of the listings in craigslist. If something nice comes along, I will most likely jump at the opportunity to leave Waikiki and the detestable "condotel" unit. What more can I do? Sheesh!

¹Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.

Cubic Assimilation

My usual jaunt to Barnes & Noble® was executed flawlessly again last night. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty, looking hot as usual. I walked about aimlessly, pulling books randomly from shelves and perusing a paragraph or two from each. I gleaned nothing from the enterprise. I had no express purpose for being there. And, I will not purchase another book until I complete Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." Upon my return to Waikiki, I stopped in the ABC Store, something I have not done in a while. I purchased one Granny's® Gourmet Muffin and a big-ass can of cheap Tecate® cerveza.

When I arrived in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I grabbed Fisk's book and descended into the pit of the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). I sat and read Fisk's book, all the while droppin' back the contents of the big-ass can of cerveza. The last time I consumed cheap booze was over two weeks ago. I had intended to remain "dry" for the whole month of May, but I failed. Does it matter?

I have become much more disillusioned with reality in general as I continue to read Fisk's book. Over a period of time, I have read a lot of criticism of Fisk, most of which were claims that he covertly identifies with and represents the gabachos¹. One really must read, "The Great War," for a true understanding of Fisk's position. I was greatly moved by the last two chapters that I completed reading. If ever there was proof that evil rules the world, it is chronicled in the pages of Fisk's book. The reader would be hard-pressed to close its covers and not understand his or her complicity.

Complicity is an interesting concept, isn't it? For most of us, ignorance, geographical distance, feigned powerlessness, and numerous other rationalization are offered to reduce or deny our complicity with the evildoers. The real answer is that we don't care. We are only worried about our petty melodramatic life-style, the latter spurred by the inherent superficial nature of a consumer-based society.

My day in town commenced in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill with ample quantities of free generic coffee. I called Debbie, my realtor, immediately. She will meet me in the prison compound later this evening to pick up the reprogrammed pass keys. We also discussed the price of the "condotel" unit. I will lower the price by another $5,000 or so. Debbie mentioned that there have been a lot of inquiries, but the prospective buyers are discouraged by the fact that the unit does not have a kitchen or any parking. However, Debbie believes that the eventual buyer will be an investor.

I restored my monk haircut at the Institute for Hair Design around noon. Lori had sent e-mail earlier to see if we could get together, so I met her at the Jamba Juice® store on Alakea Street. We purchased a couple of smoothies and sat outside in the YWCA courtyard. We chatted for about an hour. Lori and I lead entirely different life-styles. We are actually at the opposite ends of the economic spectrum. Sometimes when I listen to her, I make a comparison of our lives. Then, I get caught up, at least in my mind, with idea that I am denying myself of all what life has to offer. In other words, I should be in a higher socio-economic class. Then, I realize the folly of my error. Would I be better of? Or, would I be further enslaved? Lori also wants us to start surfing again.

After Lori and I parted company, I walked to the gym. I experienced both confusion and melancholia. I did my workout on "automatic pilot" while I continued to ponder the foolishness of my existence. I am clearly not happy with my situation. I don't believe that I am alone. However, since I do not distract myself with materialism, I am left to bear the brunt of an "empty" life. What is the "existential" difference between the homeless and the ol' lavahead? Nada. By late afternoon, I felt empty, devoid of feeling or emotion. Not even DI.FM Deep House could break me free from melancholia.

Perhaps I am searching for a dream world that just does not exist. I am pining away for a society that is now as extinct as the dinosaurs. We live in a vast wasteland, a collective. We could easily populate a large cubic vessel and recite to each other, "Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated," just like the Borg².

¹Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.
²Borg, hideously cloned gargoyle-like entities in "Star Trek: TNG."

Club Med® (Reprise)

I ran into Professor Marv yesterday afternoon. He is back in Hawai'i for the Summer. He is facilitating one class at the Diploma Mill. He is also still teaching at the same college in Louisiana. Professor Marv is looking a lot better, although the numerous cancer surgeries have taken a toll on him. Debbie, my realtor, had sent e-mail to inform me that the new key cards that I had obtained for the "condotel" unit had expired. She was attempting to show the unit to a client but could not open the door, which obviously meant a lost opportunity. Is there no end to the stupidity at Aqua?

I had to perform the dreaded laundry chores when I returned to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) last night. I also obtained two new key cards from the watch commander (read: hotel front desk person). I then went into lockdown for the evening, with the exception of an hour spent in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) to do some more reading.

This morning, I was awakened at 7am by my Palm® TX. Who set the alarm? I am becoming senile, I suppose. While playing around with the device last night, I must have inadvertently set the alarm. Why? I drove to Kahala Mall at 9am. I purchased a large cup of coffee at the Barnes & Noble® Café. Then, I browsed around the bookstore. I drove to Hawai'i Kai at 10:30am. I was able to wash my truck before moms returned. Moms and I drove then to Koko Marina, stopping along the way to drop off some recyclables. Moms bought a few groceries at Foodland. For lunch, we ate barbeque steak plate lunches, also from Foodland. After lunch, moms served up coffee ice cream, a treat that I always look forward to. I was able to chat with moms until 1pm. That's usually the time that moms must take a nap.

Sad to say, I was not been able to move at a pace suitable for retirement. I drove back to Waikiki to park my truck at the Waikiki Banyan. Then, I was off to town on the prison transport (read: bus). I arrived in town just in time to go to the gym. After my gym workout, I ended up in the faculty computer room. Debbie, my realtor sent e-mail stating that the Aqua management would not give in, so I will only receive the pathetic $813 monthly guaranteed income if I put the dump back into the hotel rental pool. I replied to Debbie's e-mail, and also mentioned that I had obtained the new key cards. We are also discussing whether I should lower the selling price of the "condotel" unit. The rest of the afternoon was a blur, since I had to compose the "blog" and sort through various e-mail. Thank goodness for DI.FM Deep House!

All in all, I am glad that I have the ability to spend a little more time with moms. There really is not much else that gives my life any meaning at this point. I had a bit of time to think about my situation as well. All I want is some peace and quiet. I would like to sleep soundly all night long for at least 15 consecutive nights. I want to be far from large crowds. I need a Club Med® vacation without actually going on vacation or paying Club Med®. I want to relax. Is that too much to ask?

Stagnation

Always on the go ... to nowhere. That's me, General Noriega ... errr, General Lavahead. I found myself sitting on one of the benches in front of the Barnes & Noble® store again last night. I sat there for the longest time, literally frozen with indecisiveness. I was having an "existential crisis," the all-encompassing prognosis for any malady. The top of the crisis list was my housing situation. As I await word on the final terms of the hotel rental pool agreement for the "condotel" unit, I find myself in an odd predicament. Neither do I want to spend any extra dough to maintain the mortgage, nor do I want to spend time calling up for information about the available rental units. That profound discovery led me to realize how far I have descended into the depths of social isolation. I've always known that, once I leave the public profession of pseudo-professorship, I would become even more reclusive. My interpersonal skills would decline rapidly. Of course, the first prevalent symptom was there already when I divested my cell phone. Needless to say, I never found a solution to my dilemma. Is there one?

I ended up perusing a few books, only to appear less zombie-like. My mind, however, was in a far off place. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking hot. I left at the usual time. As I stood at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop), I once again observed the large number of homeless sitting on the benches that would be their beds for the night. Most of the homeless are probably in their fifties or older, an observation that I have made over and over again wherever I see them. I doubt that they were homeless ten years ago. And, I further doubt that they voluntarily became homeless. Nothing in their current lifestyle suggests the latter. They look extremely fatigued. I doubt that many of them have slept well since becoming homeless. In addition, the burden of carting their worldly possessions with them everywhere has got to take a toll on their psyche. I am often perturbed because I must tote my cumbersome gym bag with me all day long. Could I really survive homelessness?

I spent an hour in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) at the evening's end. I continued to read Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." The more I read, the less faith I have in humanity. Unless, of course, we are talking about faith in humanity's ability to destroy itself. Fisk has exposed material that has never appeared in the censored "mainstream" media. Without reporters like Fisk, Seymour Hersch, and Greg Pallast, we would literally be in the dark. The Dark Ages, that is.

I was on my way to town on the prison transport (read: bus) before 9am this morning. Along the way, I pondered my options just in case I would have to return to wage slavery. What could I do? I have no skills, no talent. I recalled what Devin had written in his "blog" yesterday: "Security Guard is the optimum job for lazy surly fucks like myself, 'work' consists of bitching people out and staring off into space for hours at a time. I'm good at both." Is that my call as well? My intentions to begin a housing search were good, but immediately thwarted when I set foot in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Once I commence drinking the free generic coffee and reading the alternative news sites, I let precious time slip away. Then, there's DI.FM Deep House on Net radio. Perhaps I should really consider becoming a homeless derelict, eh?

There was no expectation on my part that the rest of the day would rise above the accustomed benign state. I continue to procrastinate, putting off any important tasks until the very last minute. Perhaps I secretly invite my demise. My mind was preoccupied with the same crap, even while I was at the gym. Life consists of only one cycle with two components, earning money and spending it. Obviously, when one part of the cycle is broken, then there is no cycle. Enter the ol' lavahead. Sheesh! I finally perused some of the "rentals to share" listings on the detestable craigslist site. I became even more fatigued. When will it ever end?

General Noriega

As I sat outside Barnes & Noble® last night, fatigue rapidly overcoming me and a headache beginning its undulating throbbing, I reflected upon the day, how I failed miserably to grasp the meaning and essence of my emancipation from wage slavery. I was in a state of stress for most of yesterday, plagued by the uncertainty of my living arrangements. I only have myself to blame, I suppose. Remember when Q used that line in "Star Trek: TNG"? Oh, those were the carefree days. I am not certain when I became ... what's that term? avaricious? ... over-concerned about money, almost miserly.

I have monitored myself, noting my reactions to situations involving the dinero. I become apprehensive, tense. I visualize the various useless material possessions that I could have acquired for same amount of dough parted with for intangibles (e.g., mortgage, taxes, and so on). I feel ripped off, getting nothing for something. Then, in retrospect, I recall the times that I spent money as if there were no tomorrow, the most recent time being three years ago when I was cavorting around with young hotties.

There is almost no conceivable end to the confusion of my madness. Yet, I cannot understand my plight as of late. I am tortured by waste of a single dollar on useless crap. I can find no enjoyment in spending money. I cannot equate any utility beyond a mendicant subsistence, yet two large "ownership" prizes beckon me to recant. A fairly new Nissan® Frontier truck and my "condotel" unit betray my claim to living in poverty. I can provide my practical answers, perhaps just rationalization, but nothing will suffice in congruence to reality.

I doubt that prudence would dictate that I go "hog wild" in my post-emancipation era. However, I only have a limited time left. Look at what happened to Jerry Falwell, gabacho¹ hellfire preacher, although I suspect that his premature ending was most likely his karma for his apostate activities. He keeled over at 73 years of age. Sheesh! I noted the intrusion of one new long wrinkle on my previously smooth neck. Old age spots are now becoming more pronounced on the surface of the porous face of stone. Just call me "General Noriega." Gray hair is sprouting everywhere, even prompting moms to comment. I am a senior citizen. Prudence also eluded me when I failed to realize that I would, at one point, begin aging rapidly, the point of no return for which Lori perpetually pokes fun.

Incidentally, the hottie "bookseller" was on duty at Barnes & Noble®. Baby was looking mighty fine. Later, I spent an hour in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) reading Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." For now, all I can say is that the book has changed my understanding of world history and the plight of humankind.

I was on my way back to town this morning at 8:30am. The prison transport (read: bus) moved very slowly through traffic. I became tense before realizing that I was still in wage slave mode. Why? I am in no rush to be anywhere. I have nowhere to go. I had good intentions to begin my search for alternative housing, a project that I already look upon with great disdain. However, upon arriving in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I ended up piddling around on the computer, sipping ample quantities of free generic coffee, and listening to Net radio.

At 12:30pm, I met Shirley for lunch. We ate at the Gazebo cafeteria in Macy's®. I gave her a brief synopsis of my situation since she had so many questions. As for Shirley, she is apparently still living with Seth at Seth's parents' home. In fact, she obtained her new job through Seth's mother, who is employed by the same firm. She will also be enrolling in a paralegal certificate program, the tuition being paid for by her employer. Shirley and Seth did not move in with Shirley's sister as originally planned. Her sister purchased a townhouse in Ahuimanu last December, but she has not moved in yet because of a few repair issues. Shirley also mentioned that the former friend had sent off a blanket e-mail apologizing to everyone for not keeping in contact. The former friend cited health issues. As you may recall, I had to remove all references to the former friend in the journal. Time flew by fairly quickly. Shirley had to return to work. However, now that she works in town, we will probably meet for lunch more often.

Debbie, my realtor, has been working very hard to negotiate the better rental pool agreement with the management of Aqua on my behalf. I suppose that I should begin my search for alternative housing soon. Frankly, I need to divest the dump before the bottom of the economy falls out. In his most powerful warning to date, Chalmers Johnson stated:

I believe that there is only one solution to the crisis we face. The American people must make the decision to dismantle both the empire that has been created in their name and the huge (still growing) military establishment that undergirds it. It is a task at least comparable to that undertaken by the British government when, after World War II, it liquidated the British Empire. By doing so, Britain avoided the fate of the Roman Republic -- becoming a domestic tyranny and losing its democracy, as would have been required if it had continued to try to dominate much of the world by force.

For the U.S., the decision to mount such a campaign of imperial liquidation may already come too late, given the vast and deeply entrenched interests of the military-industrial complex. To succeed, such an endeavor might virtually require a revolutionary mobilization of the American citizenry, one at least comparable to the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

Scary shit, ain't it? In tandem with Fisk's book, I have come to understand the seriousness of problem and how far back it all started. Yet, "imperial liquidation" will never come about, or it will "too little, too late." As long as the general populace is held in collective mesmerizing of consumerism and the "fairy tale" belief that we will all come out of any predicament unscathed, the moneychangers and the powers-that-be, the real evildoers, will have carte blanche to do as they please. The shit will eventually hit the fan. General Noriega's advice? Get out of Babylon!

¹Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.