Homeless guy emulation was the order for the day, actually a repeat of every Sunday for the past few weeks. My itinerary is a horrific comic nightmare for anyone other than a monk or a homeless guy. However, I did not integrate with the homeless at the park adjacent to the Beretania Street Apartments, opting to sit in the lanai area instead. The park benches are all occupied by the homeless anyway. All day long, they sit there or sleep with all of their worldly possessions at their side.
My gym workout was uneventful. No hottie gym trainer. As I was walking out of the gym, I noticed a young local hottie flash a big smile in my direction as she sat in her car waiting for the traffic light to change. As she drove off, I looked behind me to see if a stud was there. Nada. I was also absolutely certain that baby was not laughing at the hideous oversized cranium.
I dropped my gym bag off in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) and rinsed off my only set of gym clothes. After hanging the clothes to dry, I returned to town for the relaxation aspect of my day. I sought out my bench of refuge in the courtyard of the State Capitol Building. As usual, I sat facing South toward the grove of banyan trees. The trade winds were brisk, almost to the point of being annoying. I composed the "blog" with my Palm® TX while enjoying the scenery.
Intermittent showers interrupted my transcription of thoughts. Does it matter? I have very little to discuss in the "blog." I am striving for the simplest life-style, which requires that I deconstruct as much of the modern day trappings as possible. Even my thought process must be simplified. How else can I attain freedom?
There is little that I can contribute to humanity. It is running its rabid course toward self-destruction because it was just to eager to be infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins." There is no rabies shot to cure society of its madness. I can no longer understand or tolerate society, no less its whims and its satanic gargoyles.
As I observed and pondered the trees and plants, the birds, the clouds in the sky, I wondered how humanity fits in. I could imagine the landscape devoid of the hideous concrete monoliths constructed by humanity. Humanity could have coexisted with the rest of the lifeforms on the planet had there been better foresight. A controlled population with real communities that are based on real values rather than materialism would have retained a sustainable paradigm. The fact of the matter is that the crafty humans (read: satanic gargoyles) have used Darwinian evolution as the excuse for their stupidity when, in fact, the most obvious cause is just plain evil. Yes, evil minds and evil hearts. That, my friends, is what I am so desperately trying to escape from. In essence, the latter has been the premise of my previously stated desire to "return to innocence."
Frankly, I am sick and tired of the debauchery, covetousness, and magnanimous sins that now comprise the so-called "normal" psyche and life-style. One need not be a genius or a soothsayer to see how far gone society really is.
The siren's song of El Diablo is omniscient, and I must avoid being lured into the trap. It's too easy to fall for the sinister kahuna's tricks. Thus, as I deconstruct my life and move toward greater simplicity, I will have little reason to become ensnared. Foolish as it may seem, I am optimistic that I will eventually find what I am searching for and attain peace of mind.
While I was waiting for the prison transport (read: bus) to Waikiki, a guy walked to me and asked if I could spare a cigarette. I told him that I don't smoke. He was wearing earbuds to listen to his CD player. He yanked the earbuds out. "I had to take off my headphones to tell you that you're a respectable looking guy. You've got a beautiful face and great body. Hey, I'm not a fag and all. But, I wanted to tell you that are representative of a great Chinese American or Japanese American," he said. He may have been slightly hammered because he staggered off to ask around for a cigarette. I have had more casual exchanges with former students, gym members, and strangers than usual for some reason.
I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, this evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby looked mighty fine. I meandered about, perusing books here and there. On the way back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel), I had to take a circuitous route to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I ran out of Van Camp's® canned Pork and Beans, so I had to retrieve another package filled with ... canned beans! There's still another package of canned beans stored in my truck. I look forward to the day when I am emancipated from a steady diet of canned beans. Sheesh!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Night of the Iguana Redux
I slept well for once last night. Thus, I was not so groggy this morning. I am not certain whether the young hotties are still in the adjacent prison cell (read: little shoebox). If they are still there, they have been very quiet.
Another day of homeless guy emulation. The library hosted live classical music. My enjoyment of the performance was marred by a "gook" who talked continuously on his cell phone for over an hour. I then lapsed in and out of a coma in the first floor courtyard for an hour. After my brief cardio workout at the gym, I returned to Quagmire prison (read: hotel) to do the dreaded laundry chores one day earlier than expected. I was supposed to perform the laundry chores tomorrow, but I would prefer that Sunday be a day of relaxation. Naturally, that begs the question: Isn't every day a relaxing day for the ol' lavahead? Apparently so, since I have absolutely nothing on my agenda.
This evening, I spent my furlough time in Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park). I sat on the bench with the anonymous homeless guy's shopping cart parked next to it. I spent an hour doing absolutely nothing except ponder how I became who I am. I can no longer be a hamster, I concluded. I am now the Iguana. While walking out of the park, I stopped to listen to the local AA group that meets nightly. All the members sit in a circle and each takes a turn to speak to the group. As I continued walking along the beach walk, I observed all of the homeless. Oddly, I have not seen any of the old cast members from Lou's Kabuki Theater. Where, pray tell, is the semi-lucid homeless guy? My final stop was the Food Pantry. I bought an apple, a banana, and a small package of Kim Chee Tako Poke. That's a mouthful, isn't it? I figured that it would make a better snack than a pint of ice cream. The rest of the evening will be the same ol' shit. I will spend some time in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Last night, in my conversation with Lori, she suggested that I pull the "condotel" unit from the market for a couple of months and then list it again, the idea being that I would be able to sustain less in losses as the so-called "housing bubble" inflates again. At this point in time, I am not really concerned about the losses. Financial loss is an everyday phenomenon for me as well as any other rank-and-file peon. Each month that the "condotel" unit is not sold, however, actually decreases my net loss, at least on paper.
Another day of homeless guy emulation. The library hosted live classical music. My enjoyment of the performance was marred by a "gook" who talked continuously on his cell phone for over an hour. I then lapsed in and out of a coma in the first floor courtyard for an hour. After my brief cardio workout at the gym, I returned to Quagmire prison (read: hotel) to do the dreaded laundry chores one day earlier than expected. I was supposed to perform the laundry chores tomorrow, but I would prefer that Sunday be a day of relaxation. Naturally, that begs the question: Isn't every day a relaxing day for the ol' lavahead? Apparently so, since I have absolutely nothing on my agenda.
This evening, I spent my furlough time in Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park). I sat on the bench with the anonymous homeless guy's shopping cart parked next to it. I spent an hour doing absolutely nothing except ponder how I became who I am. I can no longer be a hamster, I concluded. I am now the Iguana. While walking out of the park, I stopped to listen to the local AA group that meets nightly. All the members sit in a circle and each takes a turn to speak to the group. As I continued walking along the beach walk, I observed all of the homeless. Oddly, I have not seen any of the old cast members from Lou's Kabuki Theater. Where, pray tell, is the semi-lucid homeless guy? My final stop was the Food Pantry. I bought an apple, a banana, and a small package of Kim Chee Tako Poke. That's a mouthful, isn't it? I figured that it would make a better snack than a pint of ice cream. The rest of the evening will be the same ol' shit. I will spend some time in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Last night, in my conversation with Lori, she suggested that I pull the "condotel" unit from the market for a couple of months and then list it again, the idea being that I would be able to sustain less in losses as the so-called "housing bubble" inflates again. At this point in time, I am not really concerned about the losses. Financial loss is an everyday phenomenon for me as well as any other rank-and-file peon. Each month that the "condotel" unit is not sold, however, actually decreases my net loss, at least on paper.
In the grand scheme, when the empire's economic system collapses (or "corrects"), there will be no hedge for the rank-and-file peons. We will be swept away in a vortex just like helpless turds in a toilet bowl. Nothing can protect us, not even gold investments.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Running with Pruning Shears
I really needed some quality sleep last night, but I was denied that simple pleasure. Two young hotties in the adjacent prison cell (read: little shoebox) decided to have a party at 2:30am. What is amazing is that they had brought a boombox with them to Hawai'i. I had to call the watch commander (read: front desk person). A prison guard (read: security guard) was dispatched, not once, but twice in the course of an hour. Apparently, there were numerous complaints, but the young hotties could care less. The party went on until 4am. Even after that, I could hear the irritating text messaging chimes of their cell phones every few seconds for the next 30 minutes.
I was extremely groggy again this morning. I left at 10:30am, first stopping off at the Waikiki Banyan to pay the parking fee for my truck. The young hotties in the adjacent prison cell were still fast asleep. I followed my usual homeless guy protocol, although I required a cup of coffee from Safeway® to stay awake. I passed the time in the library courtyard before going to the gym. On the way back to Waikiki on the prison transport (read: bus), an older (read: thirty-something) blond hottie sat next to me. Toward the end of the journey, baby smiled and made some small talk. I noticed that baby was wearing a waitress uniform, although I could not ascertain which eatery that she works at. Actually, baby was acting suspiciously prior to our brief chat, but there's no need to discuss such matters. After all, I am a monk.
I made a last-minute decision to attend the grand opening of Debbie's new office in Kaimuki. It took me forever to get there on the prison transport. The problem involved the transfer to the Route 1 prison transport. Not one prison transport showed up for over 40 minutes. A fellow frustrated rider chatted with me during that time. Then, four Route 1 prison transports came at the same time. When I finally arrived at Debbie's new office, I was surprised to see Lori and Kirk there. In fact, I spent my time talking with them as well as chowing down the great food. I also dropped back a lot of fine wines. Lori and Kirk subsequently gave me a ride back to Waikiki. Thank goodness. I am not certain if I could have tolerated the ride back to Waikiki on the prison transport.
Not wanting to sit in my prison cell for the rest of the evening, I walked to the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). I had no idea where I wanted to go. All I knew was that I was hammered. I boarded the first prison transport to stop. So, I was on my way to Ala Moana Center. I spent a whopping 15 minutes at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." later, I rode the prison transport back to Waikiki Beach. I always make sure to ride the 10pm Route 8 prison transport since I have gotten to know Tom, the driver.
I ended up sitting on a bench near Pavilion One, the former home of Lou's Kabuki Theater. I sat there for a long time just staring into the horizon. I finally walked back to Quagmire Prison. My mind had played tricks on me all night as I had intrusive thoughts about the hottie waitress. Fortunately, I came to my senses. Just another day of homeless guy emulation.
Economics and wars go hand-in-hand. At least that's the impression one would get upon reading Naomi Klein's latest book, "Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism." The empire, of course, has seemingly been behind almost every coup or junta that replaced a regional democratically-elected government, all to protect business interests. The rise of "coporatocracy" has long been in the making. According to Stephen Kinzer in his book, "Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq," the empire initiated its first imperial conquest right here in Hawai'i back in the 1890s. Of course, that precludes the Westward expansion of the empire when it massacred, humiliated, and bowled over the Native Americans and Mexicans.
Hawai'i was the empire's first conquest outside its continental boundaries when it aided in the overthrow of the government of Queen Lili'ou'kalani. In a nutshell, a group of "American" gabacho1 (read: haole) missionaries relocated to Hawai'i to "Christianize" the savages. The pious hellfire preachers succumbed to their own imperfections and let greed rule their hearts. They saw an excellent opportunity to exploit the fertile lands of Hawai'i through agriculture (i.e., sugar cane and, later pineapples). The evildoers then whittled away at successive monarchs ending with King Kalakau'a, persuading the kings to convert to an "ownership society." The gabachos subsequently bought up all the land and imported "coolie" (i.e., Japanese and Chinese slaves) to work on the plantations, of which my grandparents were included. The gabachos became extremely wealthy. However, greed knows no end. Exporting to the US exacted a heavy tariff since the latter maintained a protectionist stance at the time. Only if Hawai'i were somehow annexed to the US, then the tariffs would be nullified. When Queen Lili'uo'kalani inherited the throne, she raised the issue of revising the Constitution of Hawai'i which included a controversial plan to allow the non-Hawai'ian population (including the "coolie" laborers) to vote. Whoa! We can't have that, can we? Clearly, the haoles were not happy about that, even more so because they constituted a very small minority. At risk was the gabacho power base. The rest is history.
Contrast the sordid history of Hawai'i to the equally sordid history of the empire's involvement in the overthrow of Iranian, Argentinean, Chilean, and Indonesian governments in the recent past. Yes, money and big business was always involved. In Mussolini's time, it was called Fascism. Today, we define the process as "regime change." Wars are a necessary component of economic policy whether the latter is staged by directly by the empire or by proxy.
The dollar has continued to drop incrementally daily against all major currencies, now at a much faster pace after the Fed lowered short-term interest rates. At the same time, the calls for an incursion into Iran are increasing. Were it not for history, we would be completely in the dark about the events that are repeating themselves ad nauseum. The fact that most "Americans" have little knowledge of history allows the atrocities to continue. The moneychangers and powers-that-be are pleased.
In the end, greed become all-consuming. As the empire depletes the number of nation-states that it can destroy and plunder, it will turn upon itself. That is, it will turn upon its own population, commencing with the lowest economic classes on up. It will destroy and plunder those classes until the game is finally over. Then what?
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.
I was extremely groggy again this morning. I left at 10:30am, first stopping off at the Waikiki Banyan to pay the parking fee for my truck. The young hotties in the adjacent prison cell were still fast asleep. I followed my usual homeless guy protocol, although I required a cup of coffee from Safeway® to stay awake. I passed the time in the library courtyard before going to the gym. On the way back to Waikiki on the prison transport (read: bus), an older (read: thirty-something) blond hottie sat next to me. Toward the end of the journey, baby smiled and made some small talk. I noticed that baby was wearing a waitress uniform, although I could not ascertain which eatery that she works at. Actually, baby was acting suspiciously prior to our brief chat, but there's no need to discuss such matters. After all, I am a monk.
I made a last-minute decision to attend the grand opening of Debbie's new office in Kaimuki. It took me forever to get there on the prison transport. The problem involved the transfer to the Route 1 prison transport. Not one prison transport showed up for over 40 minutes. A fellow frustrated rider chatted with me during that time. Then, four Route 1 prison transports came at the same time. When I finally arrived at Debbie's new office, I was surprised to see Lori and Kirk there. In fact, I spent my time talking with them as well as chowing down the great food. I also dropped back a lot of fine wines. Lori and Kirk subsequently gave me a ride back to Waikiki. Thank goodness. I am not certain if I could have tolerated the ride back to Waikiki on the prison transport.
Not wanting to sit in my prison cell for the rest of the evening, I walked to the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). I had no idea where I wanted to go. All I knew was that I was hammered. I boarded the first prison transport to stop. So, I was on my way to Ala Moana Center. I spent a whopping 15 minutes at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." later, I rode the prison transport back to Waikiki Beach. I always make sure to ride the 10pm Route 8 prison transport since I have gotten to know Tom, the driver.
I ended up sitting on a bench near Pavilion One, the former home of Lou's Kabuki Theater. I sat there for a long time just staring into the horizon. I finally walked back to Quagmire Prison. My mind had played tricks on me all night as I had intrusive thoughts about the hottie waitress. Fortunately, I came to my senses. Just another day of homeless guy emulation.
Economics and wars go hand-in-hand. At least that's the impression one would get upon reading Naomi Klein's latest book, "Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism." The empire, of course, has seemingly been behind almost every coup or junta that replaced a regional democratically-elected government, all to protect business interests. The rise of "coporatocracy" has long been in the making. According to Stephen Kinzer in his book, "Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq," the empire initiated its first imperial conquest right here in Hawai'i back in the 1890s. Of course, that precludes the Westward expansion of the empire when it massacred, humiliated, and bowled over the Native Americans and Mexicans.
Hawai'i was the empire's first conquest outside its continental boundaries when it aided in the overthrow of the government of Queen Lili'ou'kalani. In a nutshell, a group of "American" gabacho1 (read: haole) missionaries relocated to Hawai'i to "Christianize" the savages. The pious hellfire preachers succumbed to their own imperfections and let greed rule their hearts. They saw an excellent opportunity to exploit the fertile lands of Hawai'i through agriculture (i.e., sugar cane and, later pineapples). The evildoers then whittled away at successive monarchs ending with King Kalakau'a, persuading the kings to convert to an "ownership society." The gabachos subsequently bought up all the land and imported "coolie" (i.e., Japanese and Chinese slaves) to work on the plantations, of which my grandparents were included. The gabachos became extremely wealthy. However, greed knows no end. Exporting to the US exacted a heavy tariff since the latter maintained a protectionist stance at the time. Only if Hawai'i were somehow annexed to the US, then the tariffs would be nullified. When Queen Lili'uo'kalani inherited the throne, she raised the issue of revising the Constitution of Hawai'i which included a controversial plan to allow the non-Hawai'ian population (including the "coolie" laborers) to vote. Whoa! We can't have that, can we? Clearly, the haoles were not happy about that, even more so because they constituted a very small minority. At risk was the gabacho power base. The rest is history.
Contrast the sordid history of Hawai'i to the equally sordid history of the empire's involvement in the overthrow of Iranian, Argentinean, Chilean, and Indonesian governments in the recent past. Yes, money and big business was always involved. In Mussolini's time, it was called Fascism. Today, we define the process as "regime change." Wars are a necessary component of economic policy whether the latter is staged by directly by the empire or by proxy.
The dollar has continued to drop incrementally daily against all major currencies, now at a much faster pace after the Fed lowered short-term interest rates. At the same time, the calls for an incursion into Iran are increasing. Were it not for history, we would be completely in the dark about the events that are repeating themselves ad nauseum. The fact that most "Americans" have little knowledge of history allows the atrocities to continue. The moneychangers and powers-that-be are pleased.
In the end, greed become all-consuming. As the empire depletes the number of nation-states that it can destroy and plunder, it will turn upon itself. That is, it will turn upon its own population, commencing with the lowest economic classes on up. It will destroy and plunder those classes until the game is finally over. Then what?
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Citizen of the Empire
I am a citizen of the empire, an automaton born into citizenship by default. I am a peon by class, which makes me the equivalent of an amoeba both politically and financially. The course of the empire is not charted by me or my fellow peons. Unlike my fellow peons, I chose to remove myself from the kaleidoscope of vanity and put myself into the the squared circle of the truth. So distracted by pursuits of vanity, my fellow hamsters are running rabidly in the hamster wheel but going nowhere extremely fast. Even the lowly hamster will end up "kicking the bucket." Why expend useless energy in pursuit of nothing? The hamster wheel powers the engine of the empire. If the empire chooses to go to war, the hamsters provide the power to propel the juggernaut to oblivion. As for me, I have decided to exit the hamster wheel. Yet, I remain a citizen of the empire ...
The hottie "bookseller" at Barnes & Noble® has been looking extremely gorgeous lately. She has been wearing dresses for the past few days, and I must say that she is quite striking. I know not why I keep reporting the attendance of the hottie "bookseller." It makes no difference to me as I am a monk. Well, yes, I am a citizen of the empire as well. No doubt,we've all heard that the monks in Myanmar (formerly Burma) have gone on a rampage against the ruling junta. The monks apparently grew tired of the hamster wheel. Go monks!
Watching the hottie "bookseller" gliding through the aisles with books in hand is breathtaking. Somehow I doubt that baby realizes that she is a hottie. It has only been recently that baby has dolled up, no doubt readying herself for ... a hamster. Then, baby can mate and create more hamsters, all of whom will synchronously power the family hamster wheel. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, and all for the empire.
I did not sleep last night. I merely remained supine in bed, waiting for physical fatigue to take its course. Six hours later, I gave up. A new day had arrived, and I was completely groggy. My whole being was riddled with a dull pain. I had no choice but to purchase a cup of coffee along with the usual air-filled energy bars at Safeway®. I sat in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments instead of making the trek to the library. As usual, I observed all of the homeless who were loitering in the adjacent park. At 1pm, I dropped my gym bag off at the gym. Then, I restored my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. The guy who cut my hair today was very quick. He finished within 15 minutes. I had allocated a whole hour, since that is usually the amount of time it takes.
With nothing else to do, I walked to the park that is adjacent to the Beretania Street Apartments. I sat on the only vacant bench. A few minutes later, three blah-lahs (read: local losers) joined me. One of the guy was powering down cheap brewskis while looking around for the cops. He was also rummaging through the trash can for redeemable cans and bottles. Oddly, he offered me some Chinese roast chicken that he had purchased in Chinatown. While he went off to rummage through the other trash cans, his two buddies sat on the bench with me and watched the landscapers clean the park. It was quite relaxing. I felt right at home with the blah-lahs. As much as I enjoyed my time in the park, I had to go to the gym. After my usual workout, I reluctantly returned to Waikiki.
This evening, I once again took advantage of my furlough to seek refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I spent a little more time perusing Naomi Klein's book, "Shock Doctrine." A brief observation that I may or may not delineate upon - there have been a significant increase in articles focusing on the thesis of the fall of the empire. The authors have run a gamut of political and economic beliefs which, in and of itself, implies the significance of the event. I, myself, refer to the event as the "secular Apocalypse."
The hottie "bookseller" at Barnes & Noble® has been looking extremely gorgeous lately. She has been wearing dresses for the past few days, and I must say that she is quite striking. I know not why I keep reporting the attendance of the hottie "bookseller." It makes no difference to me as I am a monk. Well, yes, I am a citizen of the empire as well. No doubt,we've all heard that the monks in Myanmar (formerly Burma) have gone on a rampage against the ruling junta. The monks apparently grew tired of the hamster wheel. Go monks!
Watching the hottie "bookseller" gliding through the aisles with books in hand is breathtaking. Somehow I doubt that baby realizes that she is a hottie. It has only been recently that baby has dolled up, no doubt readying herself for ... a hamster. Then, baby can mate and create more hamsters, all of whom will synchronously power the family hamster wheel. Oh, what a tangled web we weave, and all for the empire.
I did not sleep last night. I merely remained supine in bed, waiting for physical fatigue to take its course. Six hours later, I gave up. A new day had arrived, and I was completely groggy. My whole being was riddled with a dull pain. I had no choice but to purchase a cup of coffee along with the usual air-filled energy bars at Safeway®. I sat in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments instead of making the trek to the library. As usual, I observed all of the homeless who were loitering in the adjacent park. At 1pm, I dropped my gym bag off at the gym. Then, I restored my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. The guy who cut my hair today was very quick. He finished within 15 minutes. I had allocated a whole hour, since that is usually the amount of time it takes.
With nothing else to do, I walked to the park that is adjacent to the Beretania Street Apartments. I sat on the only vacant bench. A few minutes later, three blah-lahs (read: local losers) joined me. One of the guy was powering down cheap brewskis while looking around for the cops. He was also rummaging through the trash can for redeemable cans and bottles. Oddly, he offered me some Chinese roast chicken that he had purchased in Chinatown. While he went off to rummage through the other trash cans, his two buddies sat on the bench with me and watched the landscapers clean the park. It was quite relaxing. I felt right at home with the blah-lahs. As much as I enjoyed my time in the park, I had to go to the gym. After my usual workout, I reluctantly returned to Waikiki.
This evening, I once again took advantage of my furlough to seek refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I spent a little more time perusing Naomi Klein's book, "Shock Doctrine." A brief observation that I may or may not delineate upon - there have been a significant increase in articles focusing on the thesis of the fall of the empire. The authors have run a gamut of political and economic beliefs which, in and of itself, implies the significance of the event. I, myself, refer to the event as the "secular Apocalypse."
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Cut & Run
After enjoying a delicious cup of coffee at the Barnes & Noble® Café in Kahala Mall, I met moms at the Aina Haina Shopping Center. Moms was just completing a round of errands. I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. I washed my truck and then went for a tanning hike up Koko Head. As always, the view was fantastic.
When I returned from the hike, I joined moms for lunch. Hot dogs and leftovers were the main course with coffee ice cream for dessert. After lunch, I walked to the gym in Koko Marina. After I returned, I said good-bye to moms and departed on the slow journey which would eventually lead me back to Waikiki.
I stopped at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai to purchase a few air-filled energy bars. Then, I ended up at Kahala Mall to waste some time. After all, time is one thing that I have plenty of. I composed the "blog" on my Palm® TX while sitting on a bench outside Barnes & Noble®. It dawned upon me that I have been less inclined to compose the "blog." That's the "technophobia" that I discussed briefly yesterday. My definition is slightly different, though. I am not afraid of technology per se. Rather, I am fearful of how we have become enslaved to it. At this point in time, I would rather live without the myriad electronic gadgets that now create a lifeline for our survival. Yet the latter option is not possible ... yet.
Moms is beginning to experience more difficulty in walking. As moms puts it, she sometimes "loses control of my legs." In fact, moms has fallen a couple of times. The inevitability of moms using either a cane or one of those hideous walkers makes me shudder. Then, there will be even more issues if moms becomes bound to a wheelchair. I don't even want to consider the future option of putting moms in one of those morbid senior care facilities. I don't think that moms will thrive in such an environment. Mind you, the latter issues are right around the corner. Therefore, I need to emancipate myself from every form of slavery before then. My own issues must become secondary.
As for the "blog," I am essentially running out of material. Everything is the same ol' shit, if that has not already been made evident. I long for the day that I will be emancipated from the "blog" as well as from the chains of vanity of our so-called "society." Until then, I will never have peace of mind.
I meandered around the mall for a while. All I could think about was how much I dreaded returning to my prison cell (read: little shoebox). What a horrid little tomb! I finally made myself leave for Waikiki at 5:15pm. Along th way, I reflected on comments that I have made about the 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles). I have never been able to understand why we need such a huge vehicle to often transport one individual. Even if that individual was a fat slob, the weight differential between the fat slob and the vehicle is still absurd. Then, it dawned upon me that the 4000-pound motorized chair is, in actuality, a mobile casket. It's all about cadaver comforts - living in a tomb (read: mausoleum) and riding around in a mobile casket. Most "Americans" are already brain dead, so we need not worry about pre-mummification issues.
Naturally, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® again. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Did baby look mighty fine? Is the sky blue? I meandered through the aisles with no express purpose. My only goal was to remain out of Quagmire prison (read: hotel) and Waikiki as long as possible. Eventually, I had to return to the cesspool. When am I just going to cut my losses and flee?
The true face of the "American People" became manifest during the visit by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. All I can say is that the brain donors of the empire are extremely open to the idea of an incursion into Iran as evidenced by the hostility directed at Ahmadinejad. The same old tricks used to justify the so-called "war on terror" and the invasion of Iraq are being recycled. And, guess what? The same ol' shit still works like a charm!
I am still reading the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden." It is not a difficult read, mind you. However, there is still a lot to digest. In comparison, the myriad books by numerous gabachos1 are simply rhetorical doublespeak. I am only interested in the truth. Much of what bin Laden discussed is verifiable history. My reading of Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization," can attest to that. Incidentally, a very interesting interview with Ahmadinejad appeared in the Washington Post. It's a worthy read because a clearer picture is presented about the many misquotes that have been used to demonize Ahmadinejad.
Overall, I am beginning to wonder if securing the truth is doing me any good. After all, I am a citizen of the empire ...
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.
When I returned from the hike, I joined moms for lunch. Hot dogs and leftovers were the main course with coffee ice cream for dessert. After lunch, I walked to the gym in Koko Marina. After I returned, I said good-bye to moms and departed on the slow journey which would eventually lead me back to Waikiki.
I stopped at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai to purchase a few air-filled energy bars. Then, I ended up at Kahala Mall to waste some time. After all, time is one thing that I have plenty of. I composed the "blog" on my Palm® TX while sitting on a bench outside Barnes & Noble®. It dawned upon me that I have been less inclined to compose the "blog." That's the "technophobia" that I discussed briefly yesterday. My definition is slightly different, though. I am not afraid of technology per se. Rather, I am fearful of how we have become enslaved to it. At this point in time, I would rather live without the myriad electronic gadgets that now create a lifeline for our survival. Yet the latter option is not possible ... yet.
Moms is beginning to experience more difficulty in walking. As moms puts it, she sometimes "loses control of my legs." In fact, moms has fallen a couple of times. The inevitability of moms using either a cane or one of those hideous walkers makes me shudder. Then, there will be even more issues if moms becomes bound to a wheelchair. I don't even want to consider the future option of putting moms in one of those morbid senior care facilities. I don't think that moms will thrive in such an environment. Mind you, the latter issues are right around the corner. Therefore, I need to emancipate myself from every form of slavery before then. My own issues must become secondary.
As for the "blog," I am essentially running out of material. Everything is the same ol' shit, if that has not already been made evident. I long for the day that I will be emancipated from the "blog" as well as from the chains of vanity of our so-called "society." Until then, I will never have peace of mind.
I meandered around the mall for a while. All I could think about was how much I dreaded returning to my prison cell (read: little shoebox). What a horrid little tomb! I finally made myself leave for Waikiki at 5:15pm. Along th way, I reflected on comments that I have made about the 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles). I have never been able to understand why we need such a huge vehicle to often transport one individual. Even if that individual was a fat slob, the weight differential between the fat slob and the vehicle is still absurd. Then, it dawned upon me that the 4000-pound motorized chair is, in actuality, a mobile casket. It's all about cadaver comforts - living in a tomb (read: mausoleum) and riding around in a mobile casket. Most "Americans" are already brain dead, so we need not worry about pre-mummification issues.
Naturally, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® again. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Did baby look mighty fine? Is the sky blue? I meandered through the aisles with no express purpose. My only goal was to remain out of Quagmire prison (read: hotel) and Waikiki as long as possible. Eventually, I had to return to the cesspool. When am I just going to cut my losses and flee?
The true face of the "American People" became manifest during the visit by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. All I can say is that the brain donors of the empire are extremely open to the idea of an incursion into Iran as evidenced by the hostility directed at Ahmadinejad. The same old tricks used to justify the so-called "war on terror" and the invasion of Iraq are being recycled. And, guess what? The same ol' shit still works like a charm!
I am still reading the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden." It is not a difficult read, mind you. However, there is still a lot to digest. In comparison, the myriad books by numerous gabachos1 are simply rhetorical doublespeak. I am only interested in the truth. Much of what bin Laden discussed is verifiable history. My reading of Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization," can attest to that. Incidentally, a very interesting interview with Ahmadinejad appeared in the Washington Post. It's a worthy read because a clearer picture is presented about the many misquotes that have been used to demonize Ahmadinejad.
Overall, I am beginning to wonder if securing the truth is doing me any good. After all, I am a citizen of the empire ...
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Technophobia
Another homeless guy emulation kind-of-a-day left me fatigued. When will the proverbial water torture ever end? Apparently, not very soon. I do absolutely nothing all day. Sometimes, I just lapse in and out of a coma no matter where I am. I don't feel productive, but I have never been productive in any of my ventures anyway.
I am becoming much more "technophobic" as the days go on. I have observed how the majority of satanic gargoyles are literally attached to their technology toys (read: shiny objects). For example, I am usually privy to listen to at least three loud cell phone conversations while riding the prison transport (read: bus) at any time. Notebook computers, cell phones, and music players are commonly carried every day by a large number of fools. Why? Coincidentally, I had problems with my Net access since late yesterday afternoon. I suspected that my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer was at fault. I went through a number of steps including the return of my computer to its last restore point of five days ago. Nada. It turns out that the shitty Net service provider is at fault yet again. I also uninstalled Apple® Quicktime®. There will be absolutely no Apple® products on my notebook computer ever again.
To say that I am very fatigued with technology is an understatement. And, I am tired of having to depend on technology toys (i.e., computer, etc.) in order to function in society. It's just not the way we were meant to live and survive.
The Net connectivity issue was totally out of hand by 6:30pm. Attempting to compose the "blog" was a nightmare. Saving just the drafts took about 20 minutes each time. Some sites just didn't load. Fortunately, I had been at Happy Hour in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) earlier and consumed three free drinks. Although I was feeling groggy, I was able to enjoy my nightly furlough. I spent about 30 minutes at Ala Moana Beach Park. The place was fairly deserted except for the homeless. Then, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I will spend an hour of reading in the prison compound before calling it a night.
I am becoming much more "technophobic" as the days go on. I have observed how the majority of satanic gargoyles are literally attached to their technology toys (read: shiny objects). For example, I am usually privy to listen to at least three loud cell phone conversations while riding the prison transport (read: bus) at any time. Notebook computers, cell phones, and music players are commonly carried every day by a large number of fools. Why? Coincidentally, I had problems with my Net access since late yesterday afternoon. I suspected that my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer was at fault. I went through a number of steps including the return of my computer to its last restore point of five days ago. Nada. It turns out that the shitty Net service provider is at fault yet again. I also uninstalled Apple® Quicktime®. There will be absolutely no Apple® products on my notebook computer ever again.
To say that I am very fatigued with technology is an understatement. And, I am tired of having to depend on technology toys (i.e., computer, etc.) in order to function in society. It's just not the way we were meant to live and survive.
The Net connectivity issue was totally out of hand by 6:30pm. Attempting to compose the "blog" was a nightmare. Saving just the drafts took about 20 minutes each time. Some sites just didn't load. Fortunately, I had been at Happy Hour in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) earlier and consumed three free drinks. Although I was feeling groggy, I was able to enjoy my nightly furlough. I spent about 30 minutes at Ala Moana Beach Park. The place was fairly deserted except for the homeless. Then, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I will spend an hour of reading in the prison compound before calling it a night.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Babel
I met moms this morning at Kahala Mall after first enjoying a cup of coffee at the Barnes & Noble® Café. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. After lunch, I drove moms back to Hawai'i Kai. I chatted with moms briefly. Then, I walked to the gym in Koko Marina. I walked back after my workout. After chatting with moms, I departed for Kahala Mall again.
I walked around the mall briefly after I arrived there. Then, I walked across the street to Times Market. The place was packed. I found nothing worthy of purchasing, so I walked back to the mall. I meandered around and stopped by the Apple® Store. I was piddling around on one of the computers when the idiotic blah-lah (read: local loser) security guard advised me that I had ten minutes, then I had to leave. I observed that he gave no else the same advisement except a group of rambunctious teenagers. I left the store, but I returned a few minutes later to report the incident to a couple of the sales people. The results were less than satisfactory. Obviously, I must really look like a homeless guy, although I was not toting my gym bag with me.
After that crap, I was actually relieved to return to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). And, let me tell you, I am now extremely happy with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. I spent an hour or so at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® this evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. The rest of the evening was the same ol' shit.
The stock market remains volatile. The UAW is launching a nation-wide general strike. The dollar is still declining because of the Fed short-term interest rate cute. Now, a few of the idiotic financial "pundits" are screaming for more rate cuts to stop the dollar's decline. Wasn't that the cause in the first place?
A full week has elapsed, and I still have no takers for the detestable "condotel" unit. My impatience is growing. No doubt, the sinister kahuna is once again toying with the oversized cranium. I am shackled to Babylon and, therefore, I cannot flee at will. Each day, I hear the warning growing louder and clearer, "Get out of Babylon!" Woe is me!
I walked around the mall briefly after I arrived there. Then, I walked across the street to Times Market. The place was packed. I found nothing worthy of purchasing, so I walked back to the mall. I meandered around and stopped by the Apple® Store. I was piddling around on one of the computers when the idiotic blah-lah (read: local loser) security guard advised me that I had ten minutes, then I had to leave. I observed that he gave no else the same advisement except a group of rambunctious teenagers. I left the store, but I returned a few minutes later to report the incident to a couple of the sales people. The results were less than satisfactory. Obviously, I must really look like a homeless guy, although I was not toting my gym bag with me.
After that crap, I was actually relieved to return to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). And, let me tell you, I am now extremely happy with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. I spent an hour or so at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® this evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. The rest of the evening was the same ol' shit.
The stock market remains volatile. The UAW is launching a nation-wide general strike. The dollar is still declining because of the Fed short-term interest rate cute. Now, a few of the idiotic financial "pundits" are screaming for more rate cuts to stop the dollar's decline. Wasn't that the cause in the first place?
A full week has elapsed, and I still have no takers for the detestable "condotel" unit. My impatience is growing. No doubt, the sinister kahuna is once again toying with the oversized cranium. I am shackled to Babylon and, therefore, I cannot flee at will. Each day, I hear the warning growing louder and clearer, "Get out of Babylon!" Woe is me!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Emulation
Just as a homeless nomad continues his endless journey, so must I. There is no immediate destination. Filling the void left by too much idle time is the only priority of the day. The day was a carbon copy of last Sunday. The only difference is that the hottie gym trainer was on duty at the gym this afternoon. Baby was looking hot, by the way.
Later, I made my triumphant return to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No one even noticed. Not even the hottie "bookseller." Baby was looking mighty fine. Alas, I will probably lounge around in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Well, there's one important lesson that I have learned since being incarcerated in the cesspool known as Waikiki ... I don't ever want to be a typical tourist. What a waste of time and money. I surmise that most tourist destinations are just like Waikiki, a shopping destination. And, I cannot even imagine being insulted by the ridiculous tour packages that are tailor-made for idiots. Of course, mediocrity is the reference standard these days, so I cannot expect much else.
The whole tourism industry is staffed by Filipino minimum wage slaves and gabacho1 management. There's nothing remotely resembling the islands' unique multicultural demographics. It's all "made for TV (read: tube)" garbage. The gabachos1 remade Hawai'i in their image - cheap, tacky, vile, and pure vanilla.
The only sane place in Waikiki is Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) at night. I can hardly believe that I am making the latter statement given the precarious nature of the park itself, what with the myriad gay blades trolling for action and all. Yet, as long as one stays along the well-lit pathway, there is little chance for foolish encounters. It also helps to sit on a bench that has a homeless guy's shopping cart (read: mobile home) parked next to it.
The pathway runs along the beach, so the ambiance is generally good for quiet introspection. The city lights of Waikiki proper are way off to the right. The ocean is a dark, ominous mass with only a trace of white froth appearing under the moonlight as the waves gently break.
The daily homeless guy emulation is the proverbial water torture of life. Each day is likened to another drip of water splashing on the visage of the oversized cranium. I don't even know how the homeless can sustain any semblance of sanity under such conditions. I anxiously await the divestiture of the "condotel," just as I eagerly await the pain and suffering of the secular Apocalypse. For me, I can only hope that my exodus from society will near completion soon. The exodus will not be an easy path. I will end up paying exorbitant rent for substandard housing, of which I will most likely need to return to wage slavery to afford. I fully expect short-term interest rates to go to zero percent and remain there indefinitely. Otherwise, the "serial bubble" economy will collapse in a major recession. As I have already mentioned, the rank-and-file peons will be inundated with rising inflation and rising prices. The dollar may actually collapse, possibly fueled by a run on the banks. The economy will still be intact, albeit almost totally dysfunctional. There's just going to be hella po' folk around. Lot's of pain and suffering, too.
I had thought about investing in gold before, but I never followed through. Back then, which wasn't that long ago, gold was selling at a little over $400 per ounce. It has almost doubled. The dollar could stabilize if the necessary market correction and recession were allowed to occur. The dollar, however, will never rise again since the empire has long ago stopped producing what it consumes, that is, unless it can control most of the world's petroleum and energy resources. Otherwise, a weaker dollar and low short-term interest rates will continue in order to "paper over" the empire's huge debts. That's the fruit of greed and avarice.
I have not gone into any in-depth discussion about these issues as I have in the past. There's no sense in citing references because few readers bother to peruse them. In any case, the alternative media listing in the "blog" provides the links for curious minds. I will refrain from quoting articles unless the information is of great importance. My immediate goal is to return the "blog" to its intended purpose, which is to chronicle my exodus from society.
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist, fat slob.
Later, I made my triumphant return to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No one even noticed. Not even the hottie "bookseller." Baby was looking mighty fine. Alas, I will probably lounge around in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Well, there's one important lesson that I have learned since being incarcerated in the cesspool known as Waikiki ... I don't ever want to be a typical tourist. What a waste of time and money. I surmise that most tourist destinations are just like Waikiki, a shopping destination. And, I cannot even imagine being insulted by the ridiculous tour packages that are tailor-made for idiots. Of course, mediocrity is the reference standard these days, so I cannot expect much else.
The whole tourism industry is staffed by Filipino minimum wage slaves and gabacho1 management. There's nothing remotely resembling the islands' unique multicultural demographics. It's all "made for TV (read: tube)" garbage. The gabachos1 remade Hawai'i in their image - cheap, tacky, vile, and pure vanilla.
The only sane place in Waikiki is Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) at night. I can hardly believe that I am making the latter statement given the precarious nature of the park itself, what with the myriad gay blades trolling for action and all. Yet, as long as one stays along the well-lit pathway, there is little chance for foolish encounters. It also helps to sit on a bench that has a homeless guy's shopping cart (read: mobile home) parked next to it.
The pathway runs along the beach, so the ambiance is generally good for quiet introspection. The city lights of Waikiki proper are way off to the right. The ocean is a dark, ominous mass with only a trace of white froth appearing under the moonlight as the waves gently break.
The daily homeless guy emulation is the proverbial water torture of life. Each day is likened to another drip of water splashing on the visage of the oversized cranium. I don't even know how the homeless can sustain any semblance of sanity under such conditions. I anxiously await the divestiture of the "condotel," just as I eagerly await the pain and suffering of the secular Apocalypse. For me, I can only hope that my exodus from society will near completion soon. The exodus will not be an easy path. I will end up paying exorbitant rent for substandard housing, of which I will most likely need to return to wage slavery to afford. I fully expect short-term interest rates to go to zero percent and remain there indefinitely. Otherwise, the "serial bubble" economy will collapse in a major recession. As I have already mentioned, the rank-and-file peons will be inundated with rising inflation and rising prices. The dollar may actually collapse, possibly fueled by a run on the banks. The economy will still be intact, albeit almost totally dysfunctional. There's just going to be hella po' folk around. Lot's of pain and suffering, too.
I had thought about investing in gold before, but I never followed through. Back then, which wasn't that long ago, gold was selling at a little over $400 per ounce. It has almost doubled. The dollar could stabilize if the necessary market correction and recession were allowed to occur. The dollar, however, will never rise again since the empire has long ago stopped producing what it consumes, that is, unless it can control most of the world's petroleum and energy resources. Otherwise, a weaker dollar and low short-term interest rates will continue in order to "paper over" the empire's huge debts. That's the fruit of greed and avarice.
I have not gone into any in-depth discussion about these issues as I have in the past. There's no sense in citing references because few readers bother to peruse them. In any case, the alternative media listing in the "blog" provides the links for curious minds. I will refrain from quoting articles unless the information is of great importance. My immediate goal is to return the "blog" to its intended purpose, which is to chronicle my exodus from society.
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist, fat slob.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Make or Break
Another day of homeless guy emulation found me in the usual nomadic circuitous path around town. On my way to Safeway®, I saw an ambulance speeding into the parking lot with sirens blaring. As I got closer, I observed an obese Caucasian babe (term used loosely) lying on the asphalt. She either fell or fainted. I spent a relaxing two hours at the library, did my cardio workout at the gym, headed back to Waikiki, and then returned to town to enjoy some peace and quiet. You know the drill. At least I had time for personal contemplation.
My social life is non-existent, which is fine by me. As I predicted, once I no longer engaged in a high-profile function such as that of a pseudo-professor, my social skills would atrophy rapidly. I had learned a lot about interpersonal and communication skills, both of which I lacked for most of my life. I learned effective presentation skills as well. In the past, I was afraid to speak in front of an audience. The latter skills are unnatural for a monk and, therefore, must be practiced regularly. Alas, only three months have elapsed, but I no longer have even the basic skill of carrying on a simple conversation.
My days are marked by silence. I speak to no one. My only conversations are in my mind or in the "blog." Sometimes I hear myself utter my thoughts in a whisper. I can understand how the homeless and the derelicts end up talking to themselves or an imaginary "friend." Unless the mind keeps itself in check, it could easily find itself succumbing to deranged impulses.
I have not grown weary of my own companionship. I seem to only get along with myself, which seems to explain why I am a loner. The disadvantages of the monk life-style can be exemplified by the levels of frustration, impatience, and intolerance which amplify minor annoyances. Clearly, humans are social beings. We perform better as individuals when we are part of a community of family and friends. As for me, I have had to forsake most family, friends, and acquaintances because I have nothing in common with them. I share no common interests or values. I am concerned about matters that are of little importance to them.
In retrospect, I should have remained a pure celibate monk throughout my life. Biology is difficult to fight, and I gave in. Sadly, I cannot envision myself in any kind of relationship with a babe. I have nothing in common with babes. And, I have never wanted a family of my own. Well, let me correct the previous statement. If I could have had a family of my own that was not as dysfunction as the majority of "American" families, then I would certainly reconsider. However, the debased values of a debaucherous society can only produce a severely compromised populace. In essence, there are no values.
There are very few choices open to someone who is adamant about maintaining an isolated and singular life-style. It means being alone all the time. There are no places to go, no events to attend. There are no invitations from anyone. Few people, if any, call or send e-mail. On a positive note, there are no foolish distractions. There are few lapses of vanity. For the most, all aspects of life become controlled and regimented, fine-tuned, as it were. The margin for error decreases, but there is the danger of becoming a zombie automaton, or worse, a sociopath. Without external behavioral checks and balances, the likelihood of the latter increases significantly.
On the other hand, the monk life-style could open new doors to increased spirituality and altruism. Or, it could lead to an endless nomadic quest in search of meaning. The paths are endless. In other words, the monk life-style could simply become another horrific prison, or it could be the road to "freedom."
I was beside myself to find something to do for the evening. The same ol' shit is beginning to grate on my nerves. Nonetheless, I ended up back in Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) again. I sat on the same bench next to the homeless guy's shopping cart (read: mobile home) with my Palm® TX again. Then, I walked back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). Why do I even go back there? Why don't I just sleep in the park?
On a side note, Alan Greenspan admitted in his book, "The Age of Turbulence: Adventures in a New World," that he urged Shrub to invade Iraq. Henry Kissinger admitted in a Washington Post opinion piece that the upcoming incursion in Iran is about Iran's oil. So, Osama bin Laden told it like it was. For fuck's sake, when are going to rid ourselves of these damned Nazis?
My social life is non-existent, which is fine by me. As I predicted, once I no longer engaged in a high-profile function such as that of a pseudo-professor, my social skills would atrophy rapidly. I had learned a lot about interpersonal and communication skills, both of which I lacked for most of my life. I learned effective presentation skills as well. In the past, I was afraid to speak in front of an audience. The latter skills are unnatural for a monk and, therefore, must be practiced regularly. Alas, only three months have elapsed, but I no longer have even the basic skill of carrying on a simple conversation.
My days are marked by silence. I speak to no one. My only conversations are in my mind or in the "blog." Sometimes I hear myself utter my thoughts in a whisper. I can understand how the homeless and the derelicts end up talking to themselves or an imaginary "friend." Unless the mind keeps itself in check, it could easily find itself succumbing to deranged impulses.
I have not grown weary of my own companionship. I seem to only get along with myself, which seems to explain why I am a loner. The disadvantages of the monk life-style can be exemplified by the levels of frustration, impatience, and intolerance which amplify minor annoyances. Clearly, humans are social beings. We perform better as individuals when we are part of a community of family and friends. As for me, I have had to forsake most family, friends, and acquaintances because I have nothing in common with them. I share no common interests or values. I am concerned about matters that are of little importance to them.
In retrospect, I should have remained a pure celibate monk throughout my life. Biology is difficult to fight, and I gave in. Sadly, I cannot envision myself in any kind of relationship with a babe. I have nothing in common with babes. And, I have never wanted a family of my own. Well, let me correct the previous statement. If I could have had a family of my own that was not as dysfunction as the majority of "American" families, then I would certainly reconsider. However, the debased values of a debaucherous society can only produce a severely compromised populace. In essence, there are no values.
There are very few choices open to someone who is adamant about maintaining an isolated and singular life-style. It means being alone all the time. There are no places to go, no events to attend. There are no invitations from anyone. Few people, if any, call or send e-mail. On a positive note, there are no foolish distractions. There are few lapses of vanity. For the most, all aspects of life become controlled and regimented, fine-tuned, as it were. The margin for error decreases, but there is the danger of becoming a zombie automaton, or worse, a sociopath. Without external behavioral checks and balances, the likelihood of the latter increases significantly.
On the other hand, the monk life-style could open new doors to increased spirituality and altruism. Or, it could lead to an endless nomadic quest in search of meaning. The paths are endless. In other words, the monk life-style could simply become another horrific prison, or it could be the road to "freedom."
I was beside myself to find something to do for the evening. The same ol' shit is beginning to grate on my nerves. Nonetheless, I ended up back in Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) again. I sat on the same bench next to the homeless guy's shopping cart (read: mobile home) with my Palm® TX again. Then, I walked back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). Why do I even go back there? Why don't I just sleep in the park?
On a side note, Alan Greenspan admitted in his book, "The Age of Turbulence: Adventures in a New World," that he urged Shrub to invade Iraq. Henry Kissinger admitted in a Washington Post opinion piece that the upcoming incursion in Iran is about Iran's oil. So, Osama bin Laden told it like it was. For fuck's sake, when are going to rid ourselves of these damned Nazis?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Cadaver Comforts
The realtor and his client came by this morning about 20 minutes earlier than scheduled. Thus, I had not departed yet. The client, a little ol' lady, was looking for a place for herself. Alas, she was looking for something larger with a lanai. They spent only a few minutes looking around. I departed for town right after they left.
The ride on the prison transport (read: bus) was unpleasant. It was packed with rude and arrogant Diploma Mill students. Little wonder why I will never return to wage slavery in higher education. I was relieved when I alighted in town. When I walked through Kamali'i Park, I was asked by a homeless guy to go to the store for him. He probably wanted some cheap booze. The bakery at Safeway® was almost completely cleaned out. So, I ended up with a couple of foccacia bread snacks and a cup of coffee. As I was walking to nowhere, I felt raindrops coming down. Then, the rain commenced. I made my way to the Beretania Street Apartments and sat in the lanai area while I waited for the rain to subside. I observed a number of the homeless in the adjacent park. An hour passed by. Finally, the rain stopped long enough for me to trudge to the library with my gym bag.
I sat at one of the tables in the inner courtyard and composed the "blog" on my Palm® TX. The irritating little "virtual" keyboard was getting on my nerves more than usual. It is fairly impossible to type anything longer than one sentence. Missing or wrong characters proliferate when using the substandard device. The rain was still coming down intermittently.
Why do I bother composing the "blog" in such a frustrating manner? My only other choice is to sit in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. However, I can longer stand to sit in that dump for any period of time. It's a damned tomb (read: mausoleum).
I am not at all certain about how much longer I can tolerate a malignant life-style. I no longer want to be a part of the libertarian/Milton Friedman/"ownership" society. Wouldn't it be nice to have a place to congregate or hang out without having to pay an admission fee or purchase something? The "ownership" society is the reason why we must sit in our tombs when not engaged in shopping or wage slavery. The tomb life-style encourages the acquisition of useless possessions in order to fulfill cadaver comfort.
Cadaver comfort is what we have been taught to strive for. Essentially, the satanic gargoyle is a zombie, a cadaver. Effectively brain dead with a physically decaying body, the cadaver goes through the motions of living. The whole idea of "ownership" is foolish because the maximum length of "ownership" is our lifespan. Sadly, the moneychangers and powers-that-be have persuaded us that we are not entitled to anything unless we can purchase or lease it. Thus, both of the evil entities have exploited the "system" to transfer as much wealth to themselves from the lower classes of peons. Using the ill-gotten gains, the evildoers bought up everything in sight. Then, they turned around and sold some of their bounty back to us at a premium. We are fooled to believe that we are "owners" while, in fact, we "own" nothing (i.e., useless crap). The cycle keeps repeating until the rank-and-file peons are broke and must assume debt to continue the process. In the end, we become cadavers seeking comfort over all else. The "ownership" society has imprisoned and enslaved us in a life-style more becoming of an expired soul.
Yes, the latter is the life-style that we revere and treasure. It is a prison of our own making, and only we can break out, if we so desire. Yet, most of the slaves do not want to escape. They do not want to relinquish their "ownership" rights, even though they "own" nothing. The "owned" property cannot give us immortality. In fact, most of the crap becomes worthless in a short period of time. However, the fools persist in vanity. I, myself, can no longer entertain such foolishness.
The rain was still coming down as I walked to the gym. The trip took me about 20 minutes since I had to seek shelter at various intervals. I did my usual workout at the gym before departing for Waikiki on a bus packed with Diploma Mill students. When will this torture ever end? To add insult to injury, I ate beans and bread for dinner, the ubiquitous prison meal. I have been eating beans and bread almost every night for months on end. Frankly, I am getting sick of it. When I open the can, what I see starts resembling "street pizza," if you know what I mean. Yet, as I watch the interest rates of my money market funds decrease daily, I will have no choice but to continue my standard prison diet. I can thank that asswipe Ben Bernanke for my bad fortune. Oh, we're all in the same boat, by the way. A weak dollar means that our individual wealth has been shriveling up. And, we don't have to make comparisons to other national currencies. Import prices will rise soon enough. No, all we have to do is look at the value of the dollar now as opposed to, say, ten years ago. It is worth less now. So, every asset that we "own," all the money that we earned, and all of our savings and investment accounts have all lost value. Isn't that great? Of course, if all one "owns" is debt, then the debt has decreased. Sadly, debt is still debt.
The empire is a dangerous nation to reside in. Its people are effectively too stupid to notice anything going on. Rather than deduce that they are being robbed blind by the moneychangers and powers-that-be, the simpletons will work two or three jobs to stay financially afloat. Their knowledge of the empire's action in the world is abysmally poor. They are all dumber than a knob. Right now, foreign investors are taking advantage of the cheap assets in the empire, thanks again to Ben Bernanke. They are buying up corporations and private equity firms (that buy up corporations). Soon nothing, including the national infrastructure will be owned by the empire. It's a strange empire, isn't it? It is selling itself off piece by piece to fuel the military juggernaut that is attempting to take over control of the world's oil supplies. The moneychangers and powers-that-be are making a fortune, of course. It's just the peons like you and me that are being robbed blind. It can't happen here, right? As the old cliché goes, "Been there, done that."
I could not remain in lockdown all evening, so I decided to ride the prison transport to Waikiki Beach. There were about six or seven younger derelicts hanging out, drinking cheap booze, and carrying on at the prison transport stop. To be honest, it was a comical sight. The Route 8 prison transport pulled up to the curb. I recognized the driver and waved. he explained that he was called off the route last night, which is why several of us were left waiting a long time for another prison transport.
When I arrived in Waikiki Beach, there was a lot of commotion. Apparently, the Waikiki Ho'olaule'a (i.e., Aloha Festival) was the main event for the evening. Yet another "made for tourists" folly. In disgust, I walked to Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) and found a bench to sit on. I noticed that one of the homeless had left a shopping cart full of belongings next to the bench. In fact, it looked as though I was the homeless guy in question. I was tempted to ask the tourists for spare change when they walked by. I spent the time composing the "blog" on my Palm® TX, which will appear tomorrow. At 10pm, I walked back to Quagmire Prison. Pathetically, I purchased a pint of Dreyer's® ice cream at the Food Pantry as I succumbed to the temptation of cadaver comfort in the form of junk food. The rest of the evening will be the same ol' shit, just like it always is. Thank goodness for ice cream!
The ride on the prison transport (read: bus) was unpleasant. It was packed with rude and arrogant Diploma Mill students. Little wonder why I will never return to wage slavery in higher education. I was relieved when I alighted in town. When I walked through Kamali'i Park, I was asked by a homeless guy to go to the store for him. He probably wanted some cheap booze. The bakery at Safeway® was almost completely cleaned out. So, I ended up with a couple of foccacia bread snacks and a cup of coffee. As I was walking to nowhere, I felt raindrops coming down. Then, the rain commenced. I made my way to the Beretania Street Apartments and sat in the lanai area while I waited for the rain to subside. I observed a number of the homeless in the adjacent park. An hour passed by. Finally, the rain stopped long enough for me to trudge to the library with my gym bag.
I sat at one of the tables in the inner courtyard and composed the "blog" on my Palm® TX. The irritating little "virtual" keyboard was getting on my nerves more than usual. It is fairly impossible to type anything longer than one sentence. Missing or wrong characters proliferate when using the substandard device. The rain was still coming down intermittently.
Why do I bother composing the "blog" in such a frustrating manner? My only other choice is to sit in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. However, I can longer stand to sit in that dump for any period of time. It's a damned tomb (read: mausoleum).
I am not at all certain about how much longer I can tolerate a malignant life-style. I no longer want to be a part of the libertarian/Milton Friedman/"ownership" society. Wouldn't it be nice to have a place to congregate or hang out without having to pay an admission fee or purchase something? The "ownership" society is the reason why we must sit in our tombs when not engaged in shopping or wage slavery. The tomb life-style encourages the acquisition of useless possessions in order to fulfill cadaver comfort.
Cadaver comfort is what we have been taught to strive for. Essentially, the satanic gargoyle is a zombie, a cadaver. Effectively brain dead with a physically decaying body, the cadaver goes through the motions of living. The whole idea of "ownership" is foolish because the maximum length of "ownership" is our lifespan. Sadly, the moneychangers and powers-that-be have persuaded us that we are not entitled to anything unless we can purchase or lease it. Thus, both of the evil entities have exploited the "system" to transfer as much wealth to themselves from the lower classes of peons. Using the ill-gotten gains, the evildoers bought up everything in sight. Then, they turned around and sold some of their bounty back to us at a premium. We are fooled to believe that we are "owners" while, in fact, we "own" nothing (i.e., useless crap). The cycle keeps repeating until the rank-and-file peons are broke and must assume debt to continue the process. In the end, we become cadavers seeking comfort over all else. The "ownership" society has imprisoned and enslaved us in a life-style more becoming of an expired soul.
Yes, the latter is the life-style that we revere and treasure. It is a prison of our own making, and only we can break out, if we so desire. Yet, most of the slaves do not want to escape. They do not want to relinquish their "ownership" rights, even though they "own" nothing. The "owned" property cannot give us immortality. In fact, most of the crap becomes worthless in a short period of time. However, the fools persist in vanity. I, myself, can no longer entertain such foolishness.
The rain was still coming down as I walked to the gym. The trip took me about 20 minutes since I had to seek shelter at various intervals. I did my usual workout at the gym before departing for Waikiki on a bus packed with Diploma Mill students. When will this torture ever end? To add insult to injury, I ate beans and bread for dinner, the ubiquitous prison meal. I have been eating beans and bread almost every night for months on end. Frankly, I am getting sick of it. When I open the can, what I see starts resembling "street pizza," if you know what I mean. Yet, as I watch the interest rates of my money market funds decrease daily, I will have no choice but to continue my standard prison diet. I can thank that asswipe Ben Bernanke for my bad fortune. Oh, we're all in the same boat, by the way. A weak dollar means that our individual wealth has been shriveling up. And, we don't have to make comparisons to other national currencies. Import prices will rise soon enough. No, all we have to do is look at the value of the dollar now as opposed to, say, ten years ago. It is worth less now. So, every asset that we "own," all the money that we earned, and all of our savings and investment accounts have all lost value. Isn't that great? Of course, if all one "owns" is debt, then the debt has decreased. Sadly, debt is still debt.
The empire is a dangerous nation to reside in. Its people are effectively too stupid to notice anything going on. Rather than deduce that they are being robbed blind by the moneychangers and powers-that-be, the simpletons will work two or three jobs to stay financially afloat. Their knowledge of the empire's action in the world is abysmally poor. They are all dumber than a knob. Right now, foreign investors are taking advantage of the cheap assets in the empire, thanks again to Ben Bernanke. They are buying up corporations and private equity firms (that buy up corporations). Soon nothing, including the national infrastructure will be owned by the empire. It's a strange empire, isn't it? It is selling itself off piece by piece to fuel the military juggernaut that is attempting to take over control of the world's oil supplies. The moneychangers and powers-that-be are making a fortune, of course. It's just the peons like you and me that are being robbed blind. It can't happen here, right? As the old cliché goes, "Been there, done that."
I could not remain in lockdown all evening, so I decided to ride the prison transport to Waikiki Beach. There were about six or seven younger derelicts hanging out, drinking cheap booze, and carrying on at the prison transport stop. To be honest, it was a comical sight. The Route 8 prison transport pulled up to the curb. I recognized the driver and waved. he explained that he was called off the route last night, which is why several of us were left waiting a long time for another prison transport.
When I arrived in Waikiki Beach, there was a lot of commotion. Apparently, the Waikiki Ho'olaule'a (i.e., Aloha Festival) was the main event for the evening. Yet another "made for tourists" folly. In disgust, I walked to Fudgepacker Park (formerly Kapi'olani Park) and found a bench to sit on. I noticed that one of the homeless had left a shopping cart full of belongings next to the bench. In fact, it looked as though I was the homeless guy in question. I was tempted to ask the tourists for spare change when they walked by. I spent the time composing the "blog" on my Palm® TX, which will appear tomorrow. At 10pm, I walked back to Quagmire Prison. Pathetically, I purchased a pint of Dreyer's® ice cream at the Food Pantry as I succumbed to the temptation of cadaver comfort in the form of junk food. The rest of the evening will be the same ol' shit, just like it always is. Thank goodness for ice cream!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Generic Time of Reckoning
Another tanning hike Thursday, which naturally started off with a cup of coffee from the Barnes & Noble® Café in Kahala Mall. If only life could be this simple forever, eh? The hike itself was very enjoyable. I visited with moms after that. Moms was not feeling too well. So, I drove down to Koko Marina to purchase a couple of Beef Curry plate lunches from Loco Moco. I walked down to the gym in Koko Marina after lunch. After my workout, I walked back, said good-bye to moms, and reluctantly made the trek back to Waikiki. Along the way, I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. I just did not want to return to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) quite yet.
As I sat on a bench outside Barnes & Noble®, I could see someone in the distance hobbling along with a cane. As he continued walking closer, I recognized that the person in question was Pseudo-professor Jim. I kept looking straight ahead. He glanced over at me a couple of times, but I avoided any eye contact. I have nothing to do with past acquaintances from the Diploma Mill. That time has come and gone.
I ended up at Barnes & Noble® again this evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I happened to peruse the new book by Bill Bonner and Lila Rajiva titled, "Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets." Looks pretty good. The Route 8 prison transport (read: bus) never showed up at its usual time. So, I walked to another prison transport stop (read: bus stop) to see if I could connect with the Route 19 prison transport. Alas, I ended up waiting an hour. A local guy alighted another prison transport. He ended up waiting along with me for the same prison transport. We ended up talking story for the duration of the trip. Lately, people have been initiating conversations with me for no apparent reason. Well, it was close to midnight when I finally set foot in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). So much for the evening.
There are two showings scheduled this week for the "condotel" unit. I am becoming anxious about what could be my final major step in my exodus from society. However, once I am free of the mortgage for the "condotel" unit, I will have to return to the seedy world of rental housing and slumlords. Out of curiosity, I will investigate the option of entering a homeless shelter. I have no desire to pay rent that is just as high as my current mortgage. If I end up in a rental situation, then I will most likely become a hermit, leaving the hermitage only for grocery shopping, my gym workout, or wage slavery. If I end up in a homeless shelter, then I will continue my daily nomadic journeys. In either case, my evening visits to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, will most likely come to an end.
My more pressing concern, of course, is figuring out a way to get out of dollar-backed assets. I am literally banking on purchasing a large quantity of gold, most likely Krugerrands, before gold surpasses $1,000 per ounce. Incidentally, the dollar dropped considerably against other currencies. Even the stock market reacted negatively. Isn't that what the fools wanted in the first place? Then, for the first time ever, Saudi Arabia's central bank refused to drop its interest rates to keep its currency pegged with the dollar. And, obviously, if the dollar continues to slide, it will affect the nefarious yen "carry trade," the one that's been keeping the US economy propped up for a decade or so. Oil and gold prices has gone up. The effect of inflation (i.e., injecting more money in the "system") causes a rise in prices.
Personally, I do not expect the dollar to ever recover. A strong dollar is impossible when the empire produces practically nothing. The main industry is the selling or servicing of debt. Hence, while the dollar remains the world's reserve currency, it may not collapse. However, there is a long way to the bottom. The Fed's underlying goal may be to inflate away the empire's debt. However, that risks full-scale capital flight by foreign investors, of which we rely upon for our $2 billion daily national debt service. The sickly state of affairs is also hinged on consumer spending, which needs to kick into high gear next month at the start of the Saturnalia shopping season. If consumer spending drops precipitously (i.e., if personal credit lines are not increased), then we will see massive unemployment in the service sector (read: most of the economy). At that point, there will be no way to prop up the economy any further. The "correction" in the form of a huge recession must come about. What can we do? Absolutely nothing, my friends. We are unwitting pawns with no capability to shift our assets on a whim as do the elite class. Pain and suffering could be right around the corner.
As I sat on a bench outside Barnes & Noble®, I could see someone in the distance hobbling along with a cane. As he continued walking closer, I recognized that the person in question was Pseudo-professor Jim. I kept looking straight ahead. He glanced over at me a couple of times, but I avoided any eye contact. I have nothing to do with past acquaintances from the Diploma Mill. That time has come and gone.
I ended up at Barnes & Noble® again this evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I happened to peruse the new book by Bill Bonner and Lila Rajiva titled, "Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets." Looks pretty good. The Route 8 prison transport (read: bus) never showed up at its usual time. So, I walked to another prison transport stop (read: bus stop) to see if I could connect with the Route 19 prison transport. Alas, I ended up waiting an hour. A local guy alighted another prison transport. He ended up waiting along with me for the same prison transport. We ended up talking story for the duration of the trip. Lately, people have been initiating conversations with me for no apparent reason. Well, it was close to midnight when I finally set foot in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). So much for the evening.
There are two showings scheduled this week for the "condotel" unit. I am becoming anxious about what could be my final major step in my exodus from society. However, once I am free of the mortgage for the "condotel" unit, I will have to return to the seedy world of rental housing and slumlords. Out of curiosity, I will investigate the option of entering a homeless shelter. I have no desire to pay rent that is just as high as my current mortgage. If I end up in a rental situation, then I will most likely become a hermit, leaving the hermitage only for grocery shopping, my gym workout, or wage slavery. If I end up in a homeless shelter, then I will continue my daily nomadic journeys. In either case, my evening visits to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, will most likely come to an end.
My more pressing concern, of course, is figuring out a way to get out of dollar-backed assets. I am literally banking on purchasing a large quantity of gold, most likely Krugerrands, before gold surpasses $1,000 per ounce. Incidentally, the dollar dropped considerably against other currencies. Even the stock market reacted negatively. Isn't that what the fools wanted in the first place? Then, for the first time ever, Saudi Arabia's central bank refused to drop its interest rates to keep its currency pegged with the dollar. And, obviously, if the dollar continues to slide, it will affect the nefarious yen "carry trade," the one that's been keeping the US economy propped up for a decade or so. Oil and gold prices has gone up. The effect of inflation (i.e., injecting more money in the "system") causes a rise in prices.
Personally, I do not expect the dollar to ever recover. A strong dollar is impossible when the empire produces practically nothing. The main industry is the selling or servicing of debt. Hence, while the dollar remains the world's reserve currency, it may not collapse. However, there is a long way to the bottom. The Fed's underlying goal may be to inflate away the empire's debt. However, that risks full-scale capital flight by foreign investors, of which we rely upon for our $2 billion daily national debt service. The sickly state of affairs is also hinged on consumer spending, which needs to kick into high gear next month at the start of the Saturnalia shopping season. If consumer spending drops precipitously (i.e., if personal credit lines are not increased), then we will see massive unemployment in the service sector (read: most of the economy). At that point, there will be no way to prop up the economy any further. The "correction" in the form of a huge recession must come about. What can we do? Absolutely nothing, my friends. We are unwitting pawns with no capability to shift our assets on a whim as do the elite class. Pain and suffering could be right around the corner.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Flash Point
My first observation this morning was how happy everyone, from rank-and-file peons on up, was. They all had a large bounce in their strides. That's the effect the initial short-term interest rate cut by the Fed has had in a matter of a few short hours. And, that's just the beginning. Figure on 0.5 percent cuts every six weeks until the rate is at zero percent. The so-called "serial bubble economy" lives and prospers! Expect a huge stock market "bubble" for the next six months. As the stock market loses steam, the possibility to begin the incursion into Iran will increase. When the stock market collapses, expect the rank-and-file peon to once again lose lots of wealth in the form of failed pensions and retirement funds. By then, though, the old real estate "bubble" will have found new life. If the game can continue, that is, if the dollar does not drop so low and collapse, then we can expect the serial equity/war/housing "bubble" to cycle every ten years. As for now, with two more rate cuts in the queue for the year, there will be a wild Saturnalia shopping spree. Expect consumer spending to surge to its highest levels as new loan instruments are offered to the public.
As for me, I have may have been thwarted once again. Selling the despicable "condotel" unit may now take a lot longer as investors wait for interest rates to keep going down. That's at least six months, a length of time that I can no longer afford. The other side of the coin for investors, of course, is that property values will inflate again as cheap money becomes available. As a matter of fact, expect price inflation to take off except for products made in China or have Japanese labels (also made in China). Oil, gold, and food prices will probably go through the roof.
My day was the usual poverty-stricken homeless guy emulation in its most debased form. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) via a circuitous route through Ala Moana Center. I placed my gym bag on one of the benches and stood next to it as I waited to transfer to another prison transport. A fat slob gabacho1 using crutches appeared with his wife. "Excuse me, is that your bag? Could you move it please? I need to sit down," he bellowed in a condescending manner. I moved my gym bag so that the "fat fuck" could sit his fat ass down. "You need to lose some weight, asshole," was my advice to him. Always count on Lou's School of Etiquette to open its doors for matriculation at any time.
The rest of the day was the same ol' shit. Heck, I spend more time lapsing in and out of a coma than reading while I sit out in the courtyard of the Hawai'i State Library. The material that I have been reading only ends up making me frustrated. Anyway, all I could think about applying the sleeper hold on Fed chairman Ben Bernanke. Perhaps he would be able to realize the folly of his error and repent.
Once again, I sought refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I spent an hour or so meandering around. Once I move out of Waikiki, I will not be frequenting the establishment much, if at all. Thanks to that asswipe Ben Bernanke, my time is limited.
Just in case anyone wants to read an excellent synopsis of Naomi Klein's book, "The Shock Doctrine," a review by Stephen Lendman appeared on the Global Research site. "The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism" explodes the myth of "free market" democracy. It shows how neoliberal Washington Consensus fundamentalism dominates the world with America its lead exponent exploiting security threats, terror attacks, economic meltdowns, competing ideologies, tectonic political or economic shifts, and natural disasters to impose its will everywhere. Wars are waged, social services cut, and freedom sacrificed when people are too distracted, cowed or bludgeoned to object. Klein describes a worldwide process of social and economic engineering she calls "disaster capitalism" with torture along for the ride to reinforce the message - no "New World Order" alternatives are tolerated.
Understanding that Milton Friedman's economic philosophy, really an extension of Mussolini's concept of Fascism, provides the reason for our current world crises. The Orwellian future is definitely here now.
1Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremecist.
As for me, I have may have been thwarted once again. Selling the despicable "condotel" unit may now take a lot longer as investors wait for interest rates to keep going down. That's at least six months, a length of time that I can no longer afford. The other side of the coin for investors, of course, is that property values will inflate again as cheap money becomes available. As a matter of fact, expect price inflation to take off except for products made in China or have Japanese labels (also made in China). Oil, gold, and food prices will probably go through the roof.
My day was the usual poverty-stricken homeless guy emulation in its most debased form. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) via a circuitous route through Ala Moana Center. I placed my gym bag on one of the benches and stood next to it as I waited to transfer to another prison transport. A fat slob gabacho1 using crutches appeared with his wife. "Excuse me, is that your bag? Could you move it please? I need to sit down," he bellowed in a condescending manner. I moved my gym bag so that the "fat fuck" could sit his fat ass down. "You need to lose some weight, asshole," was my advice to him. Always count on Lou's School of Etiquette to open its doors for matriculation at any time.
The rest of the day was the same ol' shit. Heck, I spend more time lapsing in and out of a coma than reading while I sit out in the courtyard of the Hawai'i State Library. The material that I have been reading only ends up making me frustrated. Anyway, all I could think about applying the sleeper hold on Fed chairman Ben Bernanke. Perhaps he would be able to realize the folly of his error and repent.
Once again, I sought refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I spent an hour or so meandering around. Once I move out of Waikiki, I will not be frequenting the establishment much, if at all. Thanks to that asswipe Ben Bernanke, my time is limited.
Just in case anyone wants to read an excellent synopsis of Naomi Klein's book, "The Shock Doctrine," a review by Stephen Lendman appeared on the Global Research site. "The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism" explodes the myth of "free market" democracy. It shows how neoliberal Washington Consensus fundamentalism dominates the world with America its lead exponent exploiting security threats, terror attacks, economic meltdowns, competing ideologies, tectonic political or economic shifts, and natural disasters to impose its will everywhere. Wars are waged, social services cut, and freedom sacrificed when people are too distracted, cowed or bludgeoned to object. Klein describes a worldwide process of social and economic engineering she calls "disaster capitalism" with torture along for the ride to reinforce the message - no "New World Order" alternatives are tolerated.
Understanding that Milton Friedman's economic philosophy, really an extension of Mussolini's concept of Fascism, provides the reason for our current world crises. The Orwellian future is definitely here now.
1Gabacho, a fat slob White Supremecist.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Repeating History
Yet another homeless guy kind-of-a-day has affronted me, and I have prevailed. Library. Gym. Free Happy Hour in Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). Laundry chores. Same ol' shit.
Later, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I also stopped by Foodland to purchase two bananas and a Fuji apple. I again perused Naomi Klein's book, "The Shock Doctrine." What I found particularly interesting was Klein's coverage of the Argentine and Chilean economies after after certain coups had overthrown the existing government and the Milton Friedman "Chicago School of Economics" policies were put into effect. Then, it dawned upon me that the US is currently going through the same kind of freakish Friedman economic "experiment," only somewhat more polished in its implementation.
Incidentally, the more that I read, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," the more convinced I become that bin Laden was not the mastermind of the "September 11th" event. I am not even certain that he masterminded any of the so-called "terrorist" activities. I mention the latter in passing because I remain suspicious about the "September 11th" event. Although Mike Ruppert in his book, "Crossing the Rubicon," did not go into detail about the structural collapse of the twin towers of the former World trade Center, he did present enough evidence and a superb timeline to raise further questions about the event. Perhaps Alan Greenspan knows the truth about that as well. Greenspan, Bernanke, Friedman, they're all Nazis.
The long-awaited decision by the Fed arrived today in the form of an unusually high 0.5 percent short-term interest rate cut. Naturally, the stock market surged. The continued inflation of the "serial bubble" economy has begun. Rather than deal with the real problems, the Fed has signalled that it prefers increasing debt over the possibility of inflation and dollar devaluation. Only the rank-and-file peons like the ol' lavahead stand to lose. The mortgage crisis will not be abated, which underscores the true nature of the "fix." Troubled homeowners will not be able to afford any kind of refinancing. The "fix" will simply paper over the toxic mortgaged-back debt packages. The "fix" is intended to keep the private equity leveraged buyouts (LBOs) rolling smoothly while jobs and production are exported to cut costs. The "fix" may save the Saturnalia shopping season as personal loans and credit card rates become more affordable.
For the ol' lavahead, rough times are ahead. His savings will be depleted as he attempts to keep up with inflation. Already, the 0.5 percent drop interest rates translates to $200 less per month in dividend income. The nation will lapse into a deep recession once the real correction occurs. In the meantime, expect the fed to continue to drop short-term interest rates to zero percent at 0.5 percent every six weeks. The dollar will continue to devalue. As we near the zero percent level, the incursion into Iran will commence. That should be anytime within the next six months. The Fed will keep interest rates at zero percent for close to two years. Does that all sound familiar? Yes, recent history is repeating itself.
Later, I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I also stopped by Foodland to purchase two bananas and a Fuji apple. I again perused Naomi Klein's book, "The Shock Doctrine." What I found particularly interesting was Klein's coverage of the Argentine and Chilean economies after after certain coups had overthrown the existing government and the Milton Friedman "Chicago School of Economics" policies were put into effect. Then, it dawned upon me that the US is currently going through the same kind of freakish Friedman economic "experiment," only somewhat more polished in its implementation.
Incidentally, the more that I read, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," the more convinced I become that bin Laden was not the mastermind of the "September 11th" event. I am not even certain that he masterminded any of the so-called "terrorist" activities. I mention the latter in passing because I remain suspicious about the "September 11th" event. Although Mike Ruppert in his book, "Crossing the Rubicon," did not go into detail about the structural collapse of the twin towers of the former World trade Center, he did present enough evidence and a superb timeline to raise further questions about the event. Perhaps Alan Greenspan knows the truth about that as well. Greenspan, Bernanke, Friedman, they're all Nazis.
The long-awaited decision by the Fed arrived today in the form of an unusually high 0.5 percent short-term interest rate cut. Naturally, the stock market surged. The continued inflation of the "serial bubble" economy has begun. Rather than deal with the real problems, the Fed has signalled that it prefers increasing debt over the possibility of inflation and dollar devaluation. Only the rank-and-file peons like the ol' lavahead stand to lose. The mortgage crisis will not be abated, which underscores the true nature of the "fix." Troubled homeowners will not be able to afford any kind of refinancing. The "fix" will simply paper over the toxic mortgaged-back debt packages. The "fix" is intended to keep the private equity leveraged buyouts (LBOs) rolling smoothly while jobs and production are exported to cut costs. The "fix" may save the Saturnalia shopping season as personal loans and credit card rates become more affordable.
For the ol' lavahead, rough times are ahead. His savings will be depleted as he attempts to keep up with inflation. Already, the 0.5 percent drop interest rates translates to $200 less per month in dividend income. The nation will lapse into a deep recession once the real correction occurs. In the meantime, expect the fed to continue to drop short-term interest rates to zero percent at 0.5 percent every six weeks. The dollar will continue to devalue. As we near the zero percent level, the incursion into Iran will commence. That should be anytime within the next six months. The Fed will keep interest rates at zero percent for close to two years. Does that all sound familiar? Yes, recent history is repeating itself.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Hegemon
This morning, "Flip" was up at the crack of dawn. He engaged in the same malignant behavior, one that is clearly psychotic. Well, hey! "Flip" is flippin' out! What can I say?
I arrived at Kahala Mall circa 9am. A large cup of coffee was in order for the morning, courtesy the Barnes & Noble® Café. Later, I met moms for lunch. We ate at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. On the way to Hawa'ii Kai, we stopped off at Foodland in Koko Marina so that moms could shop for groceries. Later, I was able to chat with moms. At 1pm, I walked down to the gym in Koko Marina. After my workout, I walked back, said good-bye to moms, and departed. I did not want to return to Waikiki immediately, so I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. Unlike in the morning, the place was packed, mostly with kids who just got out of school. I loitered around in my safe have, Barnes & Noble®, until 5pm. Then, I made the arduous voyage back to Waikiki.
All was quiet when I arrived back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I took advantage of the quiet time to collect my senses. Although fatigued, I managed to make the trek to Ala Moana Center. I stopped off at Foodland first. Then, I was off to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, yet again. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I perused an interesting book titled, "The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism," by Naomi Klein. I had a nice conversation with another guy waiting for the prison transport to Kane'ohe. Also, I have gotten to know the driver of the last Route 8 prison transport (read: bus) back to Waikiki. It's nice to know that there are some actual humans still left on the planet. I will probably spend an hour or so in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). I am still reading, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden." I should more comments about the book as I near its completion.
Last night, I felt quite disconnected when I made the journey Ala Moana Center. After alighting the prison transport, I walked along the perimeter of the second level parking area. I could see most of Ala Moana Beach Park. Three of the park's homeless were sitting in the large prison transport stop (read: bus stop) shelter at the edge of the park. I looked around in bewilderment at the massive amount of concrete that formed the mall's monolithic structure. Plants and trees are forced to subsist in minimal soil or concrete planters, all pruned in subservience to the domination by humans. I finally arrived at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine as she always does. Of course, I am simply repeating myself.
My disconnection has become an existential crisis of sorts. There is a culmination of issues, "Flip" being the most minor. I have pondered all aspects of my disconnectedness in a piecemeal fashion, spending only as much time on any one issue until frustration wields its ugly head.
The shitty "condotel" unit is at the core of the disconnection. I lowered my asking price. If there are no legitimate offers within three weeks, I will lower the asking price to $139,000 or thereabouts. I must divest the dump in order to emancipate myself from the mortgage and idiots like "Flip." In addition, I must recover as much of my accumulated $54,000 in equity as possible. Yet, the problem remains ... where will I reside after all is said and done? The concrete jungle is just a huge mausoleum. How can anyone feel alive in those catacombs? There are also the slums of Makiki, parts of which look very much like the Third World. Nothing looks inviting.
What will I do if I must return to wage slavery? I am not sure if I can perform the Smiley Burger duties, as did Lester Burnham in the flick, "American Beauty." I am tempted to go on until the money runs out, a plan seemingly followed by most "Americans" these days. It doesn't matter anyway. The moneychangers and the power-that-be will drain us of our wealth over time. That's a given. Why fight it?
There really is no express purpose for my existence. I am simply here, living out my limited time. I have no desire to be busy. I question why I still maintain so many useless material possessions. And, why do I continue to compose the same mindless crap for the "blog"? Why am I attempting to explain a disconnection that is even elusive to me?
What it really amounts to is that I am sick of the "system." I can no longer function within it. Yet, how do I escape? As I sever one tie, another existing tie becomes stronger. Or, artificial ties become manifest. Can we actually escape the "system" without going insane?
Even the books in the bookstore are too representative of the "system." There is no radical thought, just the typical centrist, watered-down crap. It is all rote and bland, somewhat reminiscent of shitty fast food. I have probably learned more truths in the first half of the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," that I have read so far. Even Alan Greenspan has confirmed bin Laden's accusations that the empire is engaged in a resource war. Yet, do idiots like "Flip" even care? Of course not! He's busy flippin' out. Sheesh!
I am also in conflict with the "big picture." What is the essence of being blown to bits by a bomb, or riddled with bullets? Does a life cut short mean anything? What is the value in observing genocide? What is the meaning of judgment given such inequities in mortality? Why is human life so cheap? What is it like to live in real fear? What kind of courage does it take to fight a crusading empire? Against the backdrop of a shopping mall, my ruminations are simply ludicrous.
I arrived at Kahala Mall circa 9am. A large cup of coffee was in order for the morning, courtesy the Barnes & Noble® Café. Later, I met moms for lunch. We ate at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. On the way to Hawa'ii Kai, we stopped off at Foodland in Koko Marina so that moms could shop for groceries. Later, I was able to chat with moms. At 1pm, I walked down to the gym in Koko Marina. After my workout, I walked back, said good-bye to moms, and departed. I did not want to return to Waikiki immediately, so I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. Unlike in the morning, the place was packed, mostly with kids who just got out of school. I loitered around in my safe have, Barnes & Noble®, until 5pm. Then, I made the arduous voyage back to Waikiki.
All was quiet when I arrived back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I took advantage of the quiet time to collect my senses. Although fatigued, I managed to make the trek to Ala Moana Center. I stopped off at Foodland first. Then, I was off to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, yet again. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I perused an interesting book titled, "The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism," by Naomi Klein. I had a nice conversation with another guy waiting for the prison transport to Kane'ohe. Also, I have gotten to know the driver of the last Route 8 prison transport (read: bus) back to Waikiki. It's nice to know that there are some actual humans still left on the planet. I will probably spend an hour or so in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). I am still reading, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden." I should more comments about the book as I near its completion.
Last night, I felt quite disconnected when I made the journey Ala Moana Center. After alighting the prison transport, I walked along the perimeter of the second level parking area. I could see most of Ala Moana Beach Park. Three of the park's homeless were sitting in the large prison transport stop (read: bus stop) shelter at the edge of the park. I looked around in bewilderment at the massive amount of concrete that formed the mall's monolithic structure. Plants and trees are forced to subsist in minimal soil or concrete planters, all pruned in subservience to the domination by humans. I finally arrived at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine as she always does. Of course, I am simply repeating myself.
My disconnection has become an existential crisis of sorts. There is a culmination of issues, "Flip" being the most minor. I have pondered all aspects of my disconnectedness in a piecemeal fashion, spending only as much time on any one issue until frustration wields its ugly head.
The shitty "condotel" unit is at the core of the disconnection. I lowered my asking price. If there are no legitimate offers within three weeks, I will lower the asking price to $139,000 or thereabouts. I must divest the dump in order to emancipate myself from the mortgage and idiots like "Flip." In addition, I must recover as much of my accumulated $54,000 in equity as possible. Yet, the problem remains ... where will I reside after all is said and done? The concrete jungle is just a huge mausoleum. How can anyone feel alive in those catacombs? There are also the slums of Makiki, parts of which look very much like the Third World. Nothing looks inviting.
What will I do if I must return to wage slavery? I am not sure if I can perform the Smiley Burger duties, as did Lester Burnham in the flick, "American Beauty." I am tempted to go on until the money runs out, a plan seemingly followed by most "Americans" these days. It doesn't matter anyway. The moneychangers and the power-that-be will drain us of our wealth over time. That's a given. Why fight it?
There really is no express purpose for my existence. I am simply here, living out my limited time. I have no desire to be busy. I question why I still maintain so many useless material possessions. And, why do I continue to compose the same mindless crap for the "blog"? Why am I attempting to explain a disconnection that is even elusive to me?
What it really amounts to is that I am sick of the "system." I can no longer function within it. Yet, how do I escape? As I sever one tie, another existing tie becomes stronger. Or, artificial ties become manifest. Can we actually escape the "system" without going insane?
Even the books in the bookstore are too representative of the "system." There is no radical thought, just the typical centrist, watered-down crap. It is all rote and bland, somewhat reminiscent of shitty fast food. I have probably learned more truths in the first half of the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," that I have read so far. Even Alan Greenspan has confirmed bin Laden's accusations that the empire is engaged in a resource war. Yet, do idiots like "Flip" even care? Of course not! He's busy flippin' out. Sheesh!
I am also in conflict with the "big picture." What is the essence of being blown to bits by a bomb, or riddled with bullets? Does a life cut short mean anything? What is the value in observing genocide? What is the meaning of judgment given such inequities in mortality? Why is human life so cheap? What is it like to live in real fear? What kind of courage does it take to fight a crusading empire? Against the backdrop of a shopping mall, my ruminations are simply ludicrous.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Flippin' Out
I was rudely awakened at 7:30am this morning by a slammin' soirée, courtesy the Filipino fool, "Flip." Then, at 8am, the fire alarm continually sounded for twenty minutes. I could hardly wait to get outta the dump.
I neglected to mention that I stopped by the Apple® Store last night. I was curious to see the new iPod Touch, which is essentially the same as the iPhone but without the phone. Sadly, the iPod Touch does not come with an e-mail client, although it has Wi-Fi® and the Safari Web browser. Otherwise, it could have easily edged out most PDAs including my Palm® TX.
Another day of homeless guy emulation found me sitting in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments. I observed the homeless hanging out in the adjacent park. A few of them were sleeping on the benches. Often, I wonder if I am witnessing my own fate in the near future.
I did my usual cardio workout at the gym. I rode in the back of the prison transport (read: bus) with a couple of drunk blah-lahs (read: local losers). A couple of other blah-lahs, albeit sober, boarded the prison transport along the way to Waikiki. The blah-lahs all know each other from various drug rehabilitation programs. Many of them go to Waikiki to hang out, usually at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) shelters with other blah-lahs and get drunk.
Back in Waikiki, I noticed that "Flip" had left the "Do not disturb" placard on his prison cell (read: little shoebox) door. I decided to engage in a slamin' soirée of my own. I quickly departed for town after I unpacked my gym bag.
I was able to sit in the inner courtyard of the State Capitol building and compose the "blog" on my Palm® TX. As always, I had an unobstructed view of the banyan tree grove. The trade winds were cool and soothing. I also discovered that I could access the Capitol wireless network. Booyah!
The rest of the afternoon was a repeat of last Sunday. I managed to take some time to clean the windows of my prison cell again. After my prison dinner (read: beans and bread), I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and read the paper. "Flip" walked through the prison compound with his ice bucket to obtain ice from the prison ice machine. He gave me the stink eye when he walked by. I departed for Ala Moana Center at 8pm. I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes &Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I stayed there until 10pm, then reluctantly returned to Waikiki. I spent the remainder of my waking hours in the prison compound.
I am becoming much more anxious to move out of Waikiki. The financial loss to divest myself of the "condotel" unit is more than worth the agony of being enslaved to a mortgage and living in a tomb-like prison cell (read: little shoebox). As Joe Bageant warned, we must pay dearly to escape the "middle-class lockdown." I have no idea where I will end up. I am already certain that I will not qualify for most rental housing because I am unemployed.
Freedom is about all that I can think about. I need mobility regardless of whether I take advantage of it. I will also free myself of the "blog" once I attain some semblance of freedom. Even now, I am tempted to increase the intervals between "blog" ramblings. After all, every day is the same ol' shit.
However, for now, I will detail my plight until I am close to full emancipation. I should add that I no longer feel as though I am missing out on all life has to offer. I no longer worry about becoming "successful," having a babe, seeing and doing everything, and owning useless crap. Whenever I observe the myriad senior citizens hobbling about with their walkers, I am assured that any life-style other than focusing survival is pure vanity. Even now, my meager worldly possessions only serve to haunt me and weigh me down like an anchor.
In the past week or so, I have also have also experienced a frightening retrospective about the amount of dough that I have wasted in my lifetime in order to pursue a life-style that ultimately proved meaningless. I do not even need to itemize that crap. And, what, pray tell, did I get out of it? Nada. That's a hard lesson to learn.
Well, the big news is that Alan Greenspan dropped the "big one" obscurely in his new book titled, "The Age of Turbulence: Adventures in a New World." The quote appeared in an article about Greenspan's book on the Washington Post site:
The empire imports only about a third of its oil from Middle Eastern nations, mostly from Saudi Arabia. No surprise, given the fact that the dollar became the petro-dollar after a deal was struck with the House of Saud. Ironically, the empire spends upwards of $60 billion annually to safeguard oil shipments through the Persian Gulf. The whole purpose, according to Leon Hadar (author of the book, "Sandstorm"), is global resource hegemony. Controlling and protecting Middle Eastern oil shipments is the method the empire uses to exact control Europe and Japan. With the rise of China and Russia as economic behemoths, the circumstances in the last few years have changed. We are witnesses to the resulting instability right now.
I neglected to mention that I stopped by the Apple® Store last night. I was curious to see the new iPod Touch, which is essentially the same as the iPhone but without the phone. Sadly, the iPod Touch does not come with an e-mail client, although it has Wi-Fi® and the Safari Web browser. Otherwise, it could have easily edged out most PDAs including my Palm® TX.
Another day of homeless guy emulation found me sitting in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments. I observed the homeless hanging out in the adjacent park. A few of them were sleeping on the benches. Often, I wonder if I am witnessing my own fate in the near future.
I did my usual cardio workout at the gym. I rode in the back of the prison transport (read: bus) with a couple of drunk blah-lahs (read: local losers). A couple of other blah-lahs, albeit sober, boarded the prison transport along the way to Waikiki. The blah-lahs all know each other from various drug rehabilitation programs. Many of them go to Waikiki to hang out, usually at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) shelters with other blah-lahs and get drunk.
Back in Waikiki, I noticed that "Flip" had left the "Do not disturb" placard on his prison cell (read: little shoebox) door. I decided to engage in a slamin' soirée of my own. I quickly departed for town after I unpacked my gym bag.
I was able to sit in the inner courtyard of the State Capitol building and compose the "blog" on my Palm® TX. As always, I had an unobstructed view of the banyan tree grove. The trade winds were cool and soothing. I also discovered that I could access the Capitol wireless network. Booyah!
The rest of the afternoon was a repeat of last Sunday. I managed to take some time to clean the windows of my prison cell again. After my prison dinner (read: beans and bread), I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and read the paper. "Flip" walked through the prison compound with his ice bucket to obtain ice from the prison ice machine. He gave me the stink eye when he walked by. I departed for Ala Moana Center at 8pm. I ended up at my safe haven, Barnes &Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I stayed there until 10pm, then reluctantly returned to Waikiki. I spent the remainder of my waking hours in the prison compound.
I am becoming much more anxious to move out of Waikiki. The financial loss to divest myself of the "condotel" unit is more than worth the agony of being enslaved to a mortgage and living in a tomb-like prison cell (read: little shoebox). As Joe Bageant warned, we must pay dearly to escape the "middle-class lockdown." I have no idea where I will end up. I am already certain that I will not qualify for most rental housing because I am unemployed.
Freedom is about all that I can think about. I need mobility regardless of whether I take advantage of it. I will also free myself of the "blog" once I attain some semblance of freedom. Even now, I am tempted to increase the intervals between "blog" ramblings. After all, every day is the same ol' shit.
However, for now, I will detail my plight until I am close to full emancipation. I should add that I no longer feel as though I am missing out on all life has to offer. I no longer worry about becoming "successful," having a babe, seeing and doing everything, and owning useless crap. Whenever I observe the myriad senior citizens hobbling about with their walkers, I am assured that any life-style other than focusing survival is pure vanity. Even now, my meager worldly possessions only serve to haunt me and weigh me down like an anchor.
In the past week or so, I have also have also experienced a frightening retrospective about the amount of dough that I have wasted in my lifetime in order to pursue a life-style that ultimately proved meaningless. I do not even need to itemize that crap. And, what, pray tell, did I get out of it? Nada. That's a hard lesson to learn.
Well, the big news is that Alan Greenspan dropped the "big one" obscurely in his new book titled, "The Age of Turbulence: Adventures in a New World." The quote appeared in an article about Greenspan's book on the Washington Post site:
I am saddened that it is politically inconvenient to acknowledge what everyone knows: the Iraq war is largely about oil.An excellent analysis was provided by Ray McGovern in an article titled, "Greenspan Spills the Beans on Oil," that appeared on the Consortium News site.
The empire imports only about a third of its oil from Middle Eastern nations, mostly from Saudi Arabia. No surprise, given the fact that the dollar became the petro-dollar after a deal was struck with the House of Saud. Ironically, the empire spends upwards of $60 billion annually to safeguard oil shipments through the Persian Gulf. The whole purpose, according to Leon Hadar (author of the book, "Sandstorm"), is global resource hegemony. Controlling and protecting Middle Eastern oil shipments is the method the empire uses to exact control Europe and Japan. With the rise of China and Russia as economic behemoths, the circumstances in the last few years have changed. We are witnesses to the resulting instability right now.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Espiritu (Reprise)
Another day of emulating a homeless guy has left me physically and emotionally spent. The highlight of my nomadic journey was the library. Incidentally, I have been reading an interesting book by Leon Hadar titled, "Sandstorm: Policy Failure in the Middle East." Quite an eye-opener, by the way. After a quick cardio workout, I was back in Waikiki in a flash.
I was able to discuss the "condotel" unit with Debbie, my realtor. She mentioned that both the lower priced units in Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) are now in escrow. I decided to lower the price of my unit to $142,000 (for a gross projected loss1 of approximately $23,100). Had I paid rent instead, the cost would have been about $13,200 for the year. Thus, my net projected loss would be about $9,900 or so. I will incur no further expenses for the "condotel" unit. I will only keep everything clean and operational until it is sold.
I escaped to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, for the evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I simply perused a few books and meandered around. Myonly hope is that my days in Quagmire Prison are limited. I can hardly wait to escape ... permanently.
As I sat on the filthy bench in Fudgepacker Park (read: Kapi'olani Park) last night, I pondered my purpose in life. What exactly am I here to fulfill? I am no better than a typical "useless eater." From my personal history in the "blog," there is little evidence of purpose beyond survival on the cheap. I am a senior citizen, virtually penniless and at the whim of the "system." I am essentially friendless, so I travel alone in silence. I am single, so my gene pool ends with me. I have been emancipated from wage slavery, so I have no income and no healthcare plan. My worldly possessions are basic, not much more than the average homeless person. My days are filled with rote and nonsensical treks, with only the gym as a confirmed destination.
I've grown to despise living in a box. Call it a tomb or mausoleum, it's still the same. The modern living compartment is a prelude to the ether world, much like the pyramidal mausoleums of the ancient Egyptians. The tombs were filled with treasures such that the mummified carcasses could enjoy wealth in the afterlife. The modern mummy is able to enjoy the treasures in the present tense.
I choose to live as an ascetic, quite similar to Osama bin Laden, I might add. I derive no pleasure from material possessions, a lesson that was long in learning. King Solomon had lamented about the vanity of materialism in the Book of Ecclesiastes. How long ago was that written? Obviously, wisdom is timeless, and history is a lesson for those of us in the present.
I have had many intrusive thoughts lately, vivid daydreams actually, that highlighted my past foolishness. I am not exactly sure why these visions have come about now. I became distraught as my mind held me to account for my endless bouts of stupidity and vanity. I suppose that it was my history that brought me to where I am now but, in retrospect, I can safely say that I wasted a good portion of my life.
Would I have been better off if I had become a "high achiever," a chaser of the dollar? Would I have felt more fulfilled with a family of my own and countless friends? Would I feel more secure as a rich stud? In the short, fleeting span of human existence, I cannot answer affirmatively to any of those questions. For what kind of security or joy beyond temporary would I derive? The soul longs for immortality, but it is limited by the physical constraints of time regardless. Hence, the paradox of the mind's ability to imagine timelessness, yet never being able to fully comprehend it. That's where spirituality come in, I suppose. The spirit is the essence of the soul, and it is the purpose of our being.
The sinister kahuna has been very exacting in how it has distracted humankind from its real purpose of spirituality. In its place has been put the false gods of money, consumerism, and hedonism. The epidemic of the "seven sins" has diverted humankind onto the road to destruction.
A false assumption would be that I had no choice but to choose my current path because I am a loser by societal definitions. Rather, I chose the path that steered me away from the mania and contradictions of society. What else is there to develop except the depths of our thinking? What else is part of our being? Certainly not these vain toys and trinkets.
Humans had long ago been given the ability to create a peaceful and sustainable society. Yet, that was forsaken in order to satisfy satanic desires. We were given the knowledge of good and evil, both of which must be conceptualized for free will to exist. Evil could have remain dormant had we chosen to contain it. The spirit does not have to embrace evil. And, even if the wrong path is chosen, the mind and spirit can still purge evil desires and machinations. The soul has the ability to "repent" and to make emends when necessary.
Obviously, it seems as though I am proselytizing in religious terms. The terms can also be defined philosophically if we wish. Semantics aside, we are discussing the same entity. Pure philosophy is simply thoughts devoid of spirituality, however. Spirituality requires us to transcend the physical barriers of human thought. We must consider the whole universe and how we fit in. Without figuring in such an expanse, then we are doomed to restrain ourselves to the common material world, the one which taunts us only with shiny objects.
1Gross projected loss (best case scenario) includes $5,000 capital loss, $5,500 buying cost, $4,000 selling cost, $2,600 maintenance fee, and $6,000 in mortgage payments after tax deduction.
I was able to discuss the "condotel" unit with Debbie, my realtor. She mentioned that both the lower priced units in Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) are now in escrow. I decided to lower the price of my unit to $142,000 (for a gross projected loss1 of approximately $23,100). Had I paid rent instead, the cost would have been about $13,200 for the year. Thus, my net projected loss would be about $9,900 or so. I will incur no further expenses for the "condotel" unit. I will only keep everything clean and operational until it is sold.
I escaped to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, for the evening. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I simply perused a few books and meandered around. Myonly hope is that my days in Quagmire Prison are limited. I can hardly wait to escape ... permanently.
As I sat on the filthy bench in Fudgepacker Park (read: Kapi'olani Park) last night, I pondered my purpose in life. What exactly am I here to fulfill? I am no better than a typical "useless eater." From my personal history in the "blog," there is little evidence of purpose beyond survival on the cheap. I am a senior citizen, virtually penniless and at the whim of the "system." I am essentially friendless, so I travel alone in silence. I am single, so my gene pool ends with me. I have been emancipated from wage slavery, so I have no income and no healthcare plan. My worldly possessions are basic, not much more than the average homeless person. My days are filled with rote and nonsensical treks, with only the gym as a confirmed destination.
I've grown to despise living in a box. Call it a tomb or mausoleum, it's still the same. The modern living compartment is a prelude to the ether world, much like the pyramidal mausoleums of the ancient Egyptians. The tombs were filled with treasures such that the mummified carcasses could enjoy wealth in the afterlife. The modern mummy is able to enjoy the treasures in the present tense.
I choose to live as an ascetic, quite similar to Osama bin Laden, I might add. I derive no pleasure from material possessions, a lesson that was long in learning. King Solomon had lamented about the vanity of materialism in the Book of Ecclesiastes. How long ago was that written? Obviously, wisdom is timeless, and history is a lesson for those of us in the present.
I have had many intrusive thoughts lately, vivid daydreams actually, that highlighted my past foolishness. I am not exactly sure why these visions have come about now. I became distraught as my mind held me to account for my endless bouts of stupidity and vanity. I suppose that it was my history that brought me to where I am now but, in retrospect, I can safely say that I wasted a good portion of my life.
Would I have been better off if I had become a "high achiever," a chaser of the dollar? Would I have felt more fulfilled with a family of my own and countless friends? Would I feel more secure as a rich stud? In the short, fleeting span of human existence, I cannot answer affirmatively to any of those questions. For what kind of security or joy beyond temporary would I derive? The soul longs for immortality, but it is limited by the physical constraints of time regardless. Hence, the paradox of the mind's ability to imagine timelessness, yet never being able to fully comprehend it. That's where spirituality come in, I suppose. The spirit is the essence of the soul, and it is the purpose of our being.
The sinister kahuna has been very exacting in how it has distracted humankind from its real purpose of spirituality. In its place has been put the false gods of money, consumerism, and hedonism. The epidemic of the "seven sins" has diverted humankind onto the road to destruction.
A false assumption would be that I had no choice but to choose my current path because I am a loser by societal definitions. Rather, I chose the path that steered me away from the mania and contradictions of society. What else is there to develop except the depths of our thinking? What else is part of our being? Certainly not these vain toys and trinkets.
Humans had long ago been given the ability to create a peaceful and sustainable society. Yet, that was forsaken in order to satisfy satanic desires. We were given the knowledge of good and evil, both of which must be conceptualized for free will to exist. Evil could have remain dormant had we chosen to contain it. The spirit does not have to embrace evil. And, even if the wrong path is chosen, the mind and spirit can still purge evil desires and machinations. The soul has the ability to "repent" and to make emends when necessary.
Obviously, it seems as though I am proselytizing in religious terms. The terms can also be defined philosophically if we wish. Semantics aside, we are discussing the same entity. Pure philosophy is simply thoughts devoid of spirituality, however. Spirituality requires us to transcend the physical barriers of human thought. We must consider the whole universe and how we fit in. Without figuring in such an expanse, then we are doomed to restrain ourselves to the common material world, the one which taunts us only with shiny objects.
1Gross projected loss (best case scenario) includes $5,000 capital loss, $5,500 buying cost, $4,000 selling cost, $2,600 maintenance fee, and $6,000 in mortgage payments after tax deduction.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Pigs at the Trough
Can you guess what kind of day this was? Yes, a homeless guy emulation kind-of-a-day. I found myself back at the library in town. I sat out in the the first floor lanai area of the inner courtyard. I placed the chair next to the wall. I sat in the chair, leaned back, and closed my eyes for nearly two hours, reminiscent of my days sitting in the detestable resin chair. Unbelievable as it may seem, I was actually able to clear my mind. No thoughts filled the oversized cranium as I listened to the wind rustling through the palm fronds. Sadly, I was jolted back to reality a few times thanks to a handful of satanic gargoyles using their cell phones.
I was very groggy when I finally walked over to the gym. I did my usual workout. Then, I rode an extremely crowded prison transport (read: bus) back to Waikiki. And, what did I have to look forward to once back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox)? Why, a nice prison dinner (read: beans and bread), of course!
I opted for some lockdown time in my prison cell, although I cannot say that solitary confinement is fun. I piddled around with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. The computer is full optimized (detailed in the "blog") as far as I am concerned, so it is now simply an appliance, a tool. I felt a little stir crazy by ten o' clock, so I stepped out for a bit. The rest of the evening was the same ol' shit.
I discovered that another of the cheaper priced "condotel" units has entered into escrow. I am becoming very concerned that my unit is consistently being passed up even though it is probably in far better condition than the other available units. I sent an e-mail to Debbie, my realtor, to consult with her. I must free myself of this hellhole before the end of the year. Sheesh!
The poor gorilla is up next for extinction. For evolutionists, the implication is that a close ancestor is soon to vanish for good. For Creationists, the marvelous creatures of the planet earth are slowly disappearing while the most useless of all creation, humans, continues to fester and destroy the planet. Taken in by the epidemic of the "seven sins," humans converted willingly to satanic gargoyles. Evil is a very strong force that feeds upon itself. The Earth is now violently unleashing its own forces of nature to restore equilibrium. If humans don't destroy themselves first, either the Almighty or the planet will finish the job.
I was very groggy when I finally walked over to the gym. I did my usual workout. Then, I rode an extremely crowded prison transport (read: bus) back to Waikiki. And, what did I have to look forward to once back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox)? Why, a nice prison dinner (read: beans and bread), of course!
I opted for some lockdown time in my prison cell, although I cannot say that solitary confinement is fun. I piddled around with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. The computer is full optimized (detailed in the "blog") as far as I am concerned, so it is now simply an appliance, a tool. I felt a little stir crazy by ten o' clock, so I stepped out for a bit. The rest of the evening was the same ol' shit.
I discovered that another of the cheaper priced "condotel" units has entered into escrow. I am becoming very concerned that my unit is consistently being passed up even though it is probably in far better condition than the other available units. I sent an e-mail to Debbie, my realtor, to consult with her. I must free myself of this hellhole before the end of the year. Sheesh!
The poor gorilla is up next for extinction. For evolutionists, the implication is that a close ancestor is soon to vanish for good. For Creationists, the marvelous creatures of the planet earth are slowly disappearing while the most useless of all creation, humans, continues to fester and destroy the planet. Taken in by the epidemic of the "seven sins," humans converted willingly to satanic gargoyles. Evil is a very strong force that feeds upon itself. The Earth is now violently unleashing its own forces of nature to restore equilibrium. If humans don't destroy themselves first, either the Almighty or the planet will finish the job.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Imperium
I was rudely awakened at 5 o' clock this morning by the morons in the adjacent prison cell (read: little shoebox). For one hour, the clowns repeatedly opened and closed the cell door every two minutes. There was also a brief slammin' soirée at 6am. I finally got up at 8am, delirious as ever. I packed my gym bag and left to retrieve my truck.
After driving to Kahala Mall, I staggered over to Longs® to purchase more cans of beans. Nada. All sold out. Feeling dejected, I made my way to Barnes & Noble®. I was so groggy, I had no choice but to purchase a grandé-sized cup of coffee in the café. I perused a few books, but my mind was not in the proper frame for concentration.
I left for Hawai'i Kai at 10am. Just before embarking on my tanning hike, I called Lori. She had called yesterday and left a message on my voicemail. Lori joined me for the tanning hike. She met up with me in Koko Head Park. We were able to chat for close to an hour.
After the hike, Lori rushed off for a lunch appointment. I visited with moms. We drove down to Koko Marina. For lunch, we ate the Chili and Fried Chicken plate lunch from Zippy's. Moms also did a little shopping at Foodland. After lunch, I was able to chat with moms. I stopped off at the Longs® in Kuapa Kai to see if there were any cans of beans available. I was fortunate to find a large stock. So, the day was not a total waste of time.
After returning to Waikiki, I walked to the gym. I dropped my gym bag off in my prison cell after my workout. Then, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the Waikiki branch of the library.
Back in my prison cell, I was privy to the same idiocy of five o' clock this morning. Every two minutes, I could hear the opening and closing of the cell door of the adjacent prison cell. The benign bullshit went on for two hours straight. A few slammin' soirées were thrown in for the hell of it. I finally launched into my own slammin' soirée prior to departing on my furlough. I had identified the moron as a "Flip" (read: Filipino). Apparently, "Flip" and his family are renting out a number of rooms. Thus, they must go back and forth endlessly. They are apparently so used to living with twenty family members in the same two-bedroom house that they must be overwhelmed by the luxury of having separate rooms.
I stopped off at Foodland to purchase a Spam® Musubi for dinner before ending up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I'll spend some time in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night with "Flip" and family. Wheee!
Not a day goes by that I do not reflect on issues which are seemingly out of my control. Almost every book that I have perused, written by either "progressives" or "conservatives," no longer even bother to hide the fact that the sole purpose for the empire's bloody engagement in the Middle East and Central Asia is to secure the area's resources. With the latter goal comes the implicit quest for regional and world hegemony. Countless lives are being violently cut short in order to realize that quest. I am sickened to my stomach now as I realize the obvious: the greatest loss of lives, the so-called "collateral damage," is being sustained by citizens whose country has been occupied by a foreign military force with no justifiable reason (except the securing of oil and natural gas). What can we make of that, aside from the obvious? Few satanic gargoyles lose any sleep at night. In fact, they have all bought into the gabacho mentality, the self-righteous, feeble-minded, White Supremacist dogma. Those in power have supplied the slippery logic that the empire has only honorable intentions. As proof, they offer that the US imports very little oil from the Persian Gulf. What they don't mention is that, in the near future, that will change drastically. The "preemptive" war is to "preempt" a national oil shock once domestic output drops to zero within five years.
Almost every source has indicated that the empire is in its final stages of decline. Even a few of the gasbag "pundits" are "eating crow" these days. The failure in Iraq is proving the obvious. The "liberation" of the Iraqis failed because that was a secondary concern. The so-called "insurgency" is the obvious result. Osama bin Laden had spoken the truth. He stated the plain and simple facts, providing the reasons why the "insurgency" grows stronger. It is not bin Laden's plans per se. The reaction is a natural byproduct of a careless and arrogant invasion.
Sadly, even the lowly rank-and-file peon of the empire blames the Iraqis for their demise. That's the gabacho mind-set at work. The whole incursion has become a game that we must win. After all, winning is the most important aspect of our predator culture. Losers, just like the homeless, become invisible and disappear in shame. In the grand scheme, we are all slated to become losers as we are tediously stripped of whatever wealth we have left. Only the top two percent of the population will survive unscathed. By then, it will be too late.
Morally and ethically, the empire is beyond petty corruption. Financially, the empire teeters precariously while maintaining the most carefree arrogance. "Debts are good," the moneychangers proclaim. "Deficits don't matter," the powers-that-be assert. In the meantime, the military involves itself more and more in the business of others to insure the empire's interests. Then, the infrastructure of the empire is neglected and safety nets are left with gaping holes. And, for what? The profits of the few? Useless trinkets for the masses? Sad, indeed.
After driving to Kahala Mall, I staggered over to Longs® to purchase more cans of beans. Nada. All sold out. Feeling dejected, I made my way to Barnes & Noble®. I was so groggy, I had no choice but to purchase a grandé-sized cup of coffee in the café. I perused a few books, but my mind was not in the proper frame for concentration.
I left for Hawai'i Kai at 10am. Just before embarking on my tanning hike, I called Lori. She had called yesterday and left a message on my voicemail. Lori joined me for the tanning hike. She met up with me in Koko Head Park. We were able to chat for close to an hour.
After the hike, Lori rushed off for a lunch appointment. I visited with moms. We drove down to Koko Marina. For lunch, we ate the Chili and Fried Chicken plate lunch from Zippy's. Moms also did a little shopping at Foodland. After lunch, I was able to chat with moms. I stopped off at the Longs® in Kuapa Kai to see if there were any cans of beans available. I was fortunate to find a large stock. So, the day was not a total waste of time.
After returning to Waikiki, I walked to the gym. I dropped my gym bag off in my prison cell after my workout. Then, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the Waikiki branch of the library.
Back in my prison cell, I was privy to the same idiocy of five o' clock this morning. Every two minutes, I could hear the opening and closing of the cell door of the adjacent prison cell. The benign bullshit went on for two hours straight. A few slammin' soirées were thrown in for the hell of it. I finally launched into my own slammin' soirée prior to departing on my furlough. I had identified the moron as a "Flip" (read: Filipino). Apparently, "Flip" and his family are renting out a number of rooms. Thus, they must go back and forth endlessly. They are apparently so used to living with twenty family members in the same two-bedroom house that they must be overwhelmed by the luxury of having separate rooms.
I stopped off at Foodland to purchase a Spam® Musubi for dinner before ending up at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." I'll spend some time in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night with "Flip" and family. Wheee!
Not a day goes by that I do not reflect on issues which are seemingly out of my control. Almost every book that I have perused, written by either "progressives" or "conservatives," no longer even bother to hide the fact that the sole purpose for the empire's bloody engagement in the Middle East and Central Asia is to secure the area's resources. With the latter goal comes the implicit quest for regional and world hegemony. Countless lives are being violently cut short in order to realize that quest. I am sickened to my stomach now as I realize the obvious: the greatest loss of lives, the so-called "collateral damage," is being sustained by citizens whose country has been occupied by a foreign military force with no justifiable reason (except the securing of oil and natural gas). What can we make of that, aside from the obvious? Few satanic gargoyles lose any sleep at night. In fact, they have all bought into the gabacho mentality, the self-righteous, feeble-minded, White Supremacist dogma. Those in power have supplied the slippery logic that the empire has only honorable intentions. As proof, they offer that the US imports very little oil from the Persian Gulf. What they don't mention is that, in the near future, that will change drastically. The "preemptive" war is to "preempt" a national oil shock once domestic output drops to zero within five years.
Almost every source has indicated that the empire is in its final stages of decline. Even a few of the gasbag "pundits" are "eating crow" these days. The failure in Iraq is proving the obvious. The "liberation" of the Iraqis failed because that was a secondary concern. The so-called "insurgency" is the obvious result. Osama bin Laden had spoken the truth. He stated the plain and simple facts, providing the reasons why the "insurgency" grows stronger. It is not bin Laden's plans per se. The reaction is a natural byproduct of a careless and arrogant invasion.
Sadly, even the lowly rank-and-file peon of the empire blames the Iraqis for their demise. That's the gabacho mind-set at work. The whole incursion has become a game that we must win. After all, winning is the most important aspect of our predator culture. Losers, just like the homeless, become invisible and disappear in shame. In the grand scheme, we are all slated to become losers as we are tediously stripped of whatever wealth we have left. Only the top two percent of the population will survive unscathed. By then, it will be too late.
Morally and ethically, the empire is beyond petty corruption. Financially, the empire teeters precariously while maintaining the most carefree arrogance. "Debts are good," the moneychangers proclaim. "Deficits don't matter," the powers-that-be assert. In the meantime, the military involves itself more and more in the business of others to insure the empire's interests. Then, the infrastructure of the empire is neglected and safety nets are left with gaping holes. And, for what? The profits of the few? Useless trinkets for the masses? Sad, indeed.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Same Day, Same Ol' Shit
This morning, I departed for town at 10am. While I waited at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop), I was approached the the same homeless person that I had encountered on Monday. Today, she asked if had any extra pennies that I could spare. Since I do not carry any cash, I could not help her out. Once in town, I followed my usual homeless guy itinerary. I ended up at the Hawai'i State Library as usual. I have not done much reading lately. Instead, I have sat in the periphery of the first floor courtyard and lapsed into a coma. There were quite a few homeless there as well.
I ran into Eric on the way to the gym. He used to ride the express bus with Mark and I in the old days. He is working two jobs in order to pay down about $18,000 in debt. Much of the debt came about because he got a babe pregnant while working on a cruise ship. He is currently paying about $500 per month in child support. My gym workout was the usual routine. The rest of the day was the same ol' shit, as per the "blog" of April 28th titled, "Who Knew?"
It's getting so bad that I don't even know what day it is when I awaken in the morning. Without my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer or my Palm® TX, there would be no way to know. After all, I have absolutely nothing on the agenda.
I took advantage of my furlough to spend another evening at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. On the way back to Quamire Prison (read: hotel), I stopped off at the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I had to retrieve a package full of Van Camp's® Pork and Beans that I purchased at Longs® on Monday. I will spend an hour in the prison compound to do more reading before calling it a night.
I have been reading less and less lately. I am finding that most books are pure trash or filthy propaganda tools. Thus, I usually end up aborting reading projects once I detect the slippery motives of the author. The real truth is extremely difficult to find. Of course, I happened to discover a condensed form of the truth in the oddest place. Yes, the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," has provided me with solid answers. Here, in the "land of the free," the clowns who are supposed to be telling the public the truth are instead talking from both sides of their mouths. Can't anyone tell the truth anymore?
In her latest article titled, "Pigs of War," that appeared on the Information Clearinghouse site, Cindy Sheehan stated:
Hence, all nations purchasing oil had to keep a significant amount of dollars in their central bank's reserves. The scheme then allowed the US to accumulate extremely large trade deficits with those nations, while it kept little in the way of its own currency reserves. Nations with extremely high dollar reserves usually purchased US bonds, which were called "recycled petro-dollars." As long as the other nations kept significant dollar reserves and purchased US bonds, the dollar remained strong and US interest rates remained low. The course of the dollar's history changed beginning with the appearance of the Euro.
In its own arrogance and hubris, the empire never expected the status quo to change. All nation will forever subject themselves to the dollar's mightiness. Sadly, greed overcame common sense. Out of sheer haughtiness, all sectors of the US began to accumulate debt. The assumption was that all other nations were itching to purchase US debt. So, we embarked on the path of the "serial bubble" economy. Now, here we are today, the dollar is at its lowest point against other currencies. The Fed is poised to risk hyperinflation just to keep the "serial bubble" economy going. Yet, we have not gone through any major correction. Prices for equities and houses are still too high.
I am almost certain that the next "bubble" will be unsustainable. Consumer spending is set to decline, that is, unless credit and loan issuers can once again delve into the nebulous area known as "creative financing." Perhaps we will be seeing 50-year mortgages and lifetime revolving credit card financing. If the Fed's desperate plan to resurrect the Greenspan years fails to keep consumer spending at the same level, especially during the upcoming Saturnalia seasonal shopping spree, then we will go through a "hard landing" by the middle of next year. That's about the most opportune time to start a new war.
I ran into Eric on the way to the gym. He used to ride the express bus with Mark and I in the old days. He is working two jobs in order to pay down about $18,000 in debt. Much of the debt came about because he got a babe pregnant while working on a cruise ship. He is currently paying about $500 per month in child support. My gym workout was the usual routine. The rest of the day was the same ol' shit, as per the "blog" of April 28th titled, "Who Knew?"
It's getting so bad that I don't even know what day it is when I awaken in the morning. Without my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer or my Palm® TX, there would be no way to know. After all, I have absolutely nothing on the agenda.
I took advantage of my furlough to spend another evening at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. On the way back to Quamire Prison (read: hotel), I stopped off at the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I had to retrieve a package full of Van Camp's® Pork and Beans that I purchased at Longs® on Monday. I will spend an hour in the prison compound to do more reading before calling it a night.
I have been reading less and less lately. I am finding that most books are pure trash or filthy propaganda tools. Thus, I usually end up aborting reading projects once I detect the slippery motives of the author. The real truth is extremely difficult to find. Of course, I happened to discover a condensed form of the truth in the oddest place. Yes, the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," has provided me with solid answers. Here, in the "land of the free," the clowns who are supposed to be telling the public the truth are instead talking from both sides of their mouths. Can't anyone tell the truth anymore?
In her latest article titled, "Pigs of War," that appeared on the Information Clearinghouse site, Cindy Sheehan stated:
In one of my meetings with Congressman Conyers, he told me that it was more important to put a Democrat back in the White House in '08 than it was to "end the war." After I recovered from my shock, I knew it was confirmed that partisan politics is exactly what is killing our children and the innocent civilians in Iraq.My respect for Sheehan continues to increase exponentially. Our government should be filled with representatives like her, rather than the partisan hacks and perverts who now fester all elected offices. Needless to say, I am certain that Sheehan has discovered that neither political party will buck the status quo. Both are the same. Heck, they no longer play "good cop, bad cop." As Sheehan herself opines:
What if instead of pigs of war in our government, we had elected officials who put humanity before politics and people before profits? Maybe the horrible twin tragedies of the Bush Regime and 9-11 would have never occurred within our borders and the rest of the world could look up to the USA with respect as a true leader in world peace instead of glaring at our shocking and awful quest for empire off the backs of the many who benefit the pocketbooks of the few?I can certainly agree. However, the empire's financial machinations are yet another aspect of the sheer debauchery that has enveloped its culture. Our whole system of money changed when "Tricky Dick" Nixon essentially threw out the Bretton Woods Agreement. With the fiat currency tied to gold, there was a need to peg it to something of value. Through some chicanery, an agreement was made with the House of Saud and OPEC to trade oil with dollars. In return, the US military would provide policing and security to the resource -endowed states.
Hence, all nations purchasing oil had to keep a significant amount of dollars in their central bank's reserves. The scheme then allowed the US to accumulate extremely large trade deficits with those nations, while it kept little in the way of its own currency reserves. Nations with extremely high dollar reserves usually purchased US bonds, which were called "recycled petro-dollars." As long as the other nations kept significant dollar reserves and purchased US bonds, the dollar remained strong and US interest rates remained low. The course of the dollar's history changed beginning with the appearance of the Euro.
In its own arrogance and hubris, the empire never expected the status quo to change. All nation will forever subject themselves to the dollar's mightiness. Sadly, greed overcame common sense. Out of sheer haughtiness, all sectors of the US began to accumulate debt. The assumption was that all other nations were itching to purchase US debt. So, we embarked on the path of the "serial bubble" economy. Now, here we are today, the dollar is at its lowest point against other currencies. The Fed is poised to risk hyperinflation just to keep the "serial bubble" economy going. Yet, we have not gone through any major correction. Prices for equities and houses are still too high.
I am almost certain that the next "bubble" will be unsustainable. Consumer spending is set to decline, that is, unless credit and loan issuers can once again delve into the nebulous area known as "creative financing." Perhaps we will be seeing 50-year mortgages and lifetime revolving credit card financing. If the Fed's desperate plan to resurrect the Greenspan years fails to keep consumer spending at the same level, especially during the upcoming Saturnalia seasonal shopping spree, then we will go through a "hard landing" by the middle of next year. That's about the most opportune time to start a new war.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Lime-Away® Life
Another homeless guy emulation kind-of-a-day. I started off the day by cleaning the mineral build-up in the prison commode (read: toilet bowl) using a coin. My tools are in my truck,and I certainly wasn't going to use my one and only spoon to scrape that crap. Within the next few months, the coin will be worthless anyway.
The highlight of my day was when I saw the hottie gym trainer arriving at the the gym as I was leaving. Baby is such a hottie. I arrived back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) just in time for Happy Hour. I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and continued to read the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden." I consumed three free drinks, in direct opposition to my new policy of abstention. Oh well.
I sought refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, again this evening. No hottie "bookseller." When I returned to Quagmire Prison, I sat in the prison compound again and read my book for about an hour, since the prison Net connection was down again. Sheesh!
I sought refuge at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®, again this evening. No hottie "bookseller." When I returned to Quagmire Prison, I sat in the prison compound again and read my book for about an hour, since the prison Net connection was down again. Sheesh!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Bread & Circuses
Every Monday, I usually drive to Kahala Mall to meet moms for lunch. Today was no exception. As always, I had to stop by Barnes & Noble®. I purchased a small cup of coffee as part of my plan to limit and eventually wean myself of coffee. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. Moms served up coffee ice cream for dessert. I spent a little more time chatting with moms before embarking on my journey of homeless guy emulation.
After I parked my truck in the Waikiki Banyan parking structure, I waited at the nearest prison transport stop (read: bus). I stood next to an obese chick (term used loosely) sitting on the bench. I noticed that the crowd of satanic gargoyles kept a large distance from her. Then, I caught a whiff of an extremely pungent odor, typical of the homeless. I also noticed a shopping cart parked behind the bench filled partially with assorted stuff and a walker was sitting on top of everything. She made conversation with me, asking where she could fill her water bottle. Aside from the beach, I did not know of any public water fountains. She pointed out that she could not go very far because all her worldly possessions were in the shopping cart.
I went to town to do my workout at the gym. Then, I returned to Waikiki on a crowded prison transport (read: bus) filled with Diploma Mill students. I spent an extended period of time cleaning my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I also defrosted the tiny fridge. Later, I spent time at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was really looking hot tonight. I should also mention that I stopped by Longs® (actually twice today) to pick up a few necessities. I also purchased a bottle of Lime-Away® toilet bowl cleaner, the kind with hydrochloric acid in it. Well, what's left of the evening will be the same ol' shit.
As the days go on, I simply wonder how I can survive in an automaton society. There is no discourse about the atrocities being committed in our names. There's just flag-waving, blind patriotism, sublime racism, and a whole lot of shopping. I am, at this point, no longer certain of what we stand for. Our beliefs are convoluted with lies. Our values have been adulterated with the epidemic of the "seven sins." Our lives are solely a function of consumerism. For the most part, we are too ignorant to even be considered world citizens. And, we are more worried about our pride rather than universal justice.
I am astounded by the number of dolts who are taken in by the false patriotic rhetoric spewed by our evil politicians and their "dittohead" following. "Spreading peace and democracy" or "bringing freedom to other nations" are the catch-all phrases used by powers-that-be to justify their imperial pursuits.
The excuse that is given for the common ignorance is that the rank-and-file wage slave is too busy earning a living to devote any time to understand the various policies of state that are oppressing both themselves and the colonial vassal states. Yet, the average number of hours per day that the typical satanic gargoyle spends in front of the tube is outrageous. I would assume that, if the nation is engaged in imperial activities that include genocide and other war crimes, then the civilian population of the empire has a duty to understand the ramifications of the empire's actions. That is not happening.
The election process is now a total joke, a "bread and circuses" freak show reminiscent of the Roman Empire. Even a dulled mind should recognize that, as a democracy, we are now a "failed state." We now have an oligarchy vis-à-vis the "corporatocracy." I read news several accounts of the televised Republican debates. Other candidates were snickering and giggling as Ron Paul spoke out against the war. Apparently, the genocide that is Iraq is a laughing matter. Any fool can see that the majority of the candidates in both corrupt parties will sleep well at night while bombs drop upon cities in distant lands.
In reading more of the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," I have come understand what he is saying. If it were not for the meddling of the imperialist nations of Britain and the US in recent history, there would be no bin Laden, at least not as we know him now. I am not convinced that he is the mastermind of Al Qaida. If anything, he is an ideological spokesman and political motivator. I once believed that he was a "tool," working as an agent of the US. After all, he seems to pop up at the appropriate moment to assist in the imperial ambition of the empire. That is what the "war on terror" is about. The sad part is that Osama bin Laden speaks the truth about what is and has happened in the Middle East and elsewhere. There is no doubt that he is versed on history. And this so-called "enemy" is holding up a mirror to the "American" public. Alas, most of us have been brainwashed to see through gabacho1 eyes. We see bin Laden and his ilk as "brown skins," inferior, barbaric, and mentally deficient. They are religious nuts as opposed to the upstanding members of Christendom2. We are viewing the rest of the world with a monochromatic lens. With that, I can only say that I am fearful of what we are becoming. Each of us as individual organisms when combined together comprise a Frankenstein monster-like beast, a juggernaut that will push onward, crushing anything in its path, until it collapses in ruin from its own weight and destructive force. We have already been given a warning: "Get out of Babylon!"
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle. 2Christendom, the combination of false apostate religions that claim to be Christian.
After I parked my truck in the Waikiki Banyan parking structure, I waited at the nearest prison transport stop (read: bus). I stood next to an obese chick (term used loosely) sitting on the bench. I noticed that the crowd of satanic gargoyles kept a large distance from her. Then, I caught a whiff of an extremely pungent odor, typical of the homeless. I also noticed a shopping cart parked behind the bench filled partially with assorted stuff and a walker was sitting on top of everything. She made conversation with me, asking where she could fill her water bottle. Aside from the beach, I did not know of any public water fountains. She pointed out that she could not go very far because all her worldly possessions were in the shopping cart.
I went to town to do my workout at the gym. Then, I returned to Waikiki on a crowded prison transport (read: bus) filled with Diploma Mill students. I spent an extended period of time cleaning my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I also defrosted the tiny fridge. Later, I spent time at my safe haven, Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was really looking hot tonight. I should also mention that I stopped by Longs® (actually twice today) to pick up a few necessities. I also purchased a bottle of Lime-Away® toilet bowl cleaner, the kind with hydrochloric acid in it. Well, what's left of the evening will be the same ol' shit.
As the days go on, I simply wonder how I can survive in an automaton society. There is no discourse about the atrocities being committed in our names. There's just flag-waving, blind patriotism, sublime racism, and a whole lot of shopping. I am, at this point, no longer certain of what we stand for. Our beliefs are convoluted with lies. Our values have been adulterated with the epidemic of the "seven sins." Our lives are solely a function of consumerism. For the most part, we are too ignorant to even be considered world citizens. And, we are more worried about our pride rather than universal justice.
I am astounded by the number of dolts who are taken in by the false patriotic rhetoric spewed by our evil politicians and their "dittohead" following. "Spreading peace and democracy" or "bringing freedom to other nations" are the catch-all phrases used by powers-that-be to justify their imperial pursuits.
The excuse that is given for the common ignorance is that the rank-and-file wage slave is too busy earning a living to devote any time to understand the various policies of state that are oppressing both themselves and the colonial vassal states. Yet, the average number of hours per day that the typical satanic gargoyle spends in front of the tube is outrageous. I would assume that, if the nation is engaged in imperial activities that include genocide and other war crimes, then the civilian population of the empire has a duty to understand the ramifications of the empire's actions. That is not happening.
The election process is now a total joke, a "bread and circuses" freak show reminiscent of the Roman Empire. Even a dulled mind should recognize that, as a democracy, we are now a "failed state." We now have an oligarchy vis-à-vis the "corporatocracy." I read news several accounts of the televised Republican debates. Other candidates were snickering and giggling as Ron Paul spoke out against the war. Apparently, the genocide that is Iraq is a laughing matter. Any fool can see that the majority of the candidates in both corrupt parties will sleep well at night while bombs drop upon cities in distant lands.
In reading more of the book, "Messages to the World: The Statements of Osama bin Laden," I have come understand what he is saying. If it were not for the meddling of the imperialist nations of Britain and the US in recent history, there would be no bin Laden, at least not as we know him now. I am not convinced that he is the mastermind of Al Qaida. If anything, he is an ideological spokesman and political motivator. I once believed that he was a "tool," working as an agent of the US. After all, he seems to pop up at the appropriate moment to assist in the imperial ambition of the empire. That is what the "war on terror" is about. The sad part is that Osama bin Laden speaks the truth about what is and has happened in the Middle East and elsewhere. There is no doubt that he is versed on history. And this so-called "enemy" is holding up a mirror to the "American" public. Alas, most of us have been brainwashed to see through gabacho1 eyes. We see bin Laden and his ilk as "brown skins," inferior, barbaric, and mentally deficient. They are religious nuts as opposed to the upstanding members of Christendom2. We are viewing the rest of the world with a monochromatic lens. With that, I can only say that I am fearful of what we are becoming. Each of us as individual organisms when combined together comprise a Frankenstein monster-like beast, a juggernaut that will push onward, crushing anything in its path, until it collapses in ruin from its own weight and destructive force. We have already been given a warning: "Get out of Babylon!"
1Gabacho, a White Supremacist satanic gargoyle. 2Christendom, the combination of false apostate religions that claim to be Christian.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Journey of the Lost
I followed my usual nomadic Sunday ritual. Sadly, I gave in and purchased a small cup of Seattle's Best® coffee when I stopped in at Safeway®. I will need to express more conviction. However, I did not drink any coffee for the past three days.
Some days, my nomadic journey is tiresome. On other days, the journey seems magical. I have a kindred, albeit distant, oneness with the homeless. My mode of dress is obviously compliant with the homeless fashion trend. My gym bag, although smaller now, is suspected as luggage for all of my worldly possessions. I am in the very places frequented by the homeless. And, I do not appear to be employed. I can, of course, loiter in places forbidden to the homeless because I can offer proof of minimal financial viability.
The route of the homeless nomad is essentially barren, seemingly devoid of everything except filth. Yet, I have come to appreciate the proximity of aesthetics. For example, when I sit outside in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments, I am afforded a view of the small adjacent park. The park is populated by the homeless for most of the day. Given my dual citizenship in the viable world and the non-world, I can cross over at my convenience. I am able to enjoy the park without having to tolerate the infestation of flies and the smell of piss (read: urine). When I sit in the inner court of the State Capitol building, I revel in the coolness of the trade winds blowing through. I can see the short grove of banyan trees from my strategic vantage point. The homeless, of course, are in the vicinity, but they station themselves in areas devoid of security cameras.
How long can this go on? I really don't know. My future is on hold as I await the sale of the "condotel" unit. I want to return to a rental housing situation. From there, I will make the decision whether to return to some form of pittance in wage slavery. For now, my nomadic itinerary will continue. I must always be exposed to some small but wondrous glory of natural surroundings. The sight of grass and trees is relaxing to the eyes. The chirping birds provide music for my ears. The trade winds are soothing for the soul. Alas, could not the whole planet have been maintained in such natural beauty?
As for the evening, I was off to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® at 8pm. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I ran into Professors Brian and Chathrin. We ended up chatting for 45 minutes. I provided a summary of my last day at the Diploma Mill. Much to my surprise, they knew about my sociopathic buddy. We also discussed the sad state of affairs at the Diploma Mill. There have been a number of demotions and other personnel bullshit. The core is beginning to rot. Soon, it may end up disappearing just like the Asylum. I departed for Waikiki at 10pm. Most likely, I will do more reading in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Here's an oddity. Last night, I attempted to connect to the hotel's wireless network with my Palm® TX and succeeded. I am not sure why it works fine now. You may recall that, in prior days, only a redirect to a blank screen would occur. I suspect that there's been some upgrades in equipment subsequent to all of the recent problems that I detailed in the "blog." Had the wireless network been fully functional all along, I would not have had to purchase my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Oh well.
I have not discussed the issue of Peak Oil lately, and there has been little coverage in various media. However, Peak Oil will not go away. It's here now, and it is one component of the secular Apocalypse. The US now imports over 60 percent of its oil. From various reports, the domestic production of oil, thanks to Hubbert's Peak, will be depleted within the next three to five years. Odd, isn't it? Then, the empire will be solely dependent on imported oil, much of which will come from "hostile" regions. Incidentally, the year 2012 coincides with the end of the Mayan Long Count calendar,which is interpreted by occultists as being the end of time.
There can be no doubt that, if the empire is still in existence at that time, there will be very volatile conditions insofar as energy resources are concerned. Those conditions are ripe for a major escalation in the resource wars (read: "war on terror"). From all indications, the empire is not willing to wait until then. The current financial quagmire will most likely be the impetus to escalate the resource wars within the next six to nine months.
Some days, my nomadic journey is tiresome. On other days, the journey seems magical. I have a kindred, albeit distant, oneness with the homeless. My mode of dress is obviously compliant with the homeless fashion trend. My gym bag, although smaller now, is suspected as luggage for all of my worldly possessions. I am in the very places frequented by the homeless. And, I do not appear to be employed. I can, of course, loiter in places forbidden to the homeless because I can offer proof of minimal financial viability.
The route of the homeless nomad is essentially barren, seemingly devoid of everything except filth. Yet, I have come to appreciate the proximity of aesthetics. For example, when I sit outside in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments, I am afforded a view of the small adjacent park. The park is populated by the homeless for most of the day. Given my dual citizenship in the viable world and the non-world, I can cross over at my convenience. I am able to enjoy the park without having to tolerate the infestation of flies and the smell of piss (read: urine). When I sit in the inner court of the State Capitol building, I revel in the coolness of the trade winds blowing through. I can see the short grove of banyan trees from my strategic vantage point. The homeless, of course, are in the vicinity, but they station themselves in areas devoid of security cameras.
How long can this go on? I really don't know. My future is on hold as I await the sale of the "condotel" unit. I want to return to a rental housing situation. From there, I will make the decision whether to return to some form of pittance in wage slavery. For now, my nomadic itinerary will continue. I must always be exposed to some small but wondrous glory of natural surroundings. The sight of grass and trees is relaxing to the eyes. The chirping birds provide music for my ears. The trade winds are soothing for the soul. Alas, could not the whole planet have been maintained in such natural beauty?
As for the evening, I was off to my safe haven, Barnes & Noble® at 8pm. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I ran into Professors Brian and Chathrin. We ended up chatting for 45 minutes. I provided a summary of my last day at the Diploma Mill. Much to my surprise, they knew about my sociopathic buddy. We also discussed the sad state of affairs at the Diploma Mill. There have been a number of demotions and other personnel bullshit. The core is beginning to rot. Soon, it may end up disappearing just like the Asylum. I departed for Waikiki at 10pm. Most likely, I will do more reading in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) before calling it a night.
Here's an oddity. Last night, I attempted to connect to the hotel's wireless network with my Palm® TX and succeeded. I am not sure why it works fine now. You may recall that, in prior days, only a redirect to a blank screen would occur. I suspect that there's been some upgrades in equipment subsequent to all of the recent problems that I detailed in the "blog." Had the wireless network been fully functional all along, I would not have had to purchase my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Oh well.
I have not discussed the issue of Peak Oil lately, and there has been little coverage in various media. However, Peak Oil will not go away. It's here now, and it is one component of the secular Apocalypse. The US now imports over 60 percent of its oil. From various reports, the domestic production of oil, thanks to Hubbert's Peak, will be depleted within the next three to five years. Odd, isn't it? Then, the empire will be solely dependent on imported oil, much of which will come from "hostile" regions. Incidentally, the year 2012 coincides with the end of the Mayan Long Count calendar,which is interpreted by occultists as being the end of time.
There can be no doubt that, if the empire is still in existence at that time, there will be very volatile conditions insofar as energy resources are concerned. Those conditions are ripe for a major escalation in the resource wars (read: "war on terror"). From all indications, the empire is not willing to wait until then. The current financial quagmire will most likely be the impetus to escalate the resource wars within the next six to nine months.
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