Turd-ish Thursday

I drove to Kahala Mall this morning at 8am in my Nissan® Frontier truck. My original intention was to spend an hour or so at Barnes & Noble® before heading to town on the bus. However, I changed my mind once I arrived at the mall. I grabbed my gym bag and walked out to the bus stop at 8:35am. I rode the Route 24 bus to upper Aina Haina, where it turned around and headed for Ala Moana Center.

So, I enjoyed a cup of ABC Store coffee in the Makai Market. I was off to town at 10am on the bus. I restored my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. The Vietnamese guy who cut my hair did a really good job. Then, I performed my usual workout at the gym. When all was said and done, the time was already 2:35pm. Where does the time go? Well, I'll tell you. Most of my time is absorbed in transit on the bus. Yeah, what a waste!

Back at Kahala Mall, I looked around for a bit. I stopped by Barnes & Noble® and observed that the hottie bookseller was on duty. Overall, I felt truly alienated in the mall. I just don't fit in. As I sat on a wooden bench across from Radio Shack®, I was able to watch "mainstream" society parade in front of me. I could see all of the useless junk they purchased. I could hear them gabbing about nonsense on their expensive "smartphones." I could see them sending text messages to anyone and everyone. I observed their interactions and behavior. I could see the effect of hundreds of "me first" robots getting in each other's way. Oh, the horror!

Alas, I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 4:30pm in a state of confusion. My only accomplishment was the divestiture of the Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock (made in China). I deposited the dysfunctional timepiece in the Goodwill dropbox.

I parked my Nissan® Frontier truck in the Slob Manor driveway. I had already grilled a couple of panini when I heard someone outside with a weedwhacker. The landlord apparently decided that the time was right to cut down the immense weed crop growing next to the driveway. I had to interrupt my dinner to move the truck onto the side street. By the way, moving the truck onto the side street is not a quick task. I cannot cross over to the opposing lanes of Kalani'ana'oe Highway, so I have drive all the way to Aina Haina to turn around. And, I cannot make a left turn onto the side street, so I have to drive another block in order make the turn. Can you imagine the amount of petrol that I wasted?

At 6pm, I moved the truck back into the driveway from the side street. New Year's Eve is notorious for vandalism. In addition, almost everyone in the neighborhood will be exploding fireworks. I really don't feel like washing the residual crap off of the truck tomorrow.

The common cold is still with me, now standing at 19 days. I am still gagging and choking on phlegm and spittle, although the symptoms have abated somewhat. Either I am extremely weak and feeble, or the common cold is not what it used to be. Pretty much all of the illnesses that plague humanity have grown resistant to human antibodies and medication. I don't doubt that the common cold may become lethal in the near future.

Absorción

My last visit to Hawai'i Kai for the week was a carbon copy of the previous Wednesday. Moms and I made the same rounds in Koko Marina, with lunch courtesy Zippy's again. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee and vanilla ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:30pm.

I briefly visited Koko Head Park before finding shaded parking in Koko Marina for my Nissan® Frontier truck at 2:30pm. I performed my usual workout at the gym. I was able to complete my full cardio workout because I was fortunate to find an elliptical machine right in front of the sole electric fan in the entire gym. I can definitely confirm that the air conditioning has been set to a much higher temperature.

While at Koko Head Park, I happened to chat with a tourist from Florida who was visiting relatives in Hawai'i Kai. The African-American chick asked for directions to the botanical garden in Koko Crater. She also wanted to know about the other trails in the area. So, I gave her the rundown.

Although I was completely stuffed from lunch, I managed to choke down a banana and a Spam® Musubi for dinner. At Zippy's, I had chosen to eat a Loco Moco plate lunch, not to be confused with Loco Moco Drive Inn. What a greasy concoction!

I ate my dinner while sitting at one of the tables overlooking the scenic Koko Marina parking lot. Then, I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to initiate another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. When I set foot in my squalid room, I immediately noticed that the Advance Time Technology wind-up clock (made in China) was three hours behind for no apparent reason. The clock is now slated for divestiture. The cheap Sentry digital clock (made in China) is now poised to permanently replace the latter.

By the way, I happened to chat with Solomon again while he was on break outside Foodland this morning. I asked him if he knew of any rentals in Hawai'i Kai. He said that one of the housemates where he lives is moving out today. So, I should be finding out the details soon.

Aside from the upcoming divestiture of the Advance Time Technology wind-up clock and a couple of small useless crap, I have not seen much progress in whittling down my useless possessions. I really do not feel like running advertisements to sell the junk. If I did so, then I would have to deal with potential buyers through phone calls and ultimately in person. Oh, the horror! Thus, until I can effectively deal with my various phobias, I will be keeping my useless junk. What a pathetic story!

Useless Tuesday

Just another useless urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... I had absolutely nothing to do. I followed my usual itinerary, but there was simply no purpose in doing so. I even postponed the restoration of my monk haircut. So, I am looking even more like a homeless guy. Sheesh!

This afternoon, I happened to run into Bill, a former Asylum faculty member, at the gym. He said that he is now an official member of the gym. Unlike myself, Bill has returned to wage slavery, albeit part-time. He also purchased a small condo in Makiki, so I assumed that he sold the townhouse in Kane'ohe. I will probably see him around the gym from now on.

The Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock (made in China) had stopped again this morning for no apparent reason. I immediately slated it for divestiture, that is, until I discovered that the plastic bag which I used to protect the clock had wound tightly around the main spring's wind-up key. Thus, the clock stopped working. If I had refrained from my psychotic compulsion to wrap everything in plastic bags, then the clock would have been fine. Oddly, I have yet to store my Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo in a plastic bag.

Foolish as it may sound, I was actually contemplating the purchase of one of those tiny netbooks, the ones with the Intel® Atom® processor. Then, I would install Moblin on it. Why do I want to succumb to rampant materialism? Why collect more useless junk? I tried to rationalize the process by telling myself that the Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer is over two years old. The hard drive is probably close to its end-of-life, thanks to many months of hurdy-gurdy "torrent" file-sharing. Worst yet, the anticipated drama of upgrading Ubuntu Linux on my Toshiba® computer is unnerving. Remember when I tried the upgrade to "Intrepid Ibex" (v8.10)? The "Live CD" version worked fine but, upon installation, the wireless and Ethernet connections ceased to function. Well, let's hope that I do not give in to temptation. I don't need any more techno-gadgets. Lord, have mercy!

Mirror Image Week

I spent another Monday out in Hawai'i Kai. Moms and I made the usual rounds. For lunch, moms served leftover baked ham, fresh ahi sashimi, fresh vegetables, and rice. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee and vanilla ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 2pm.

I was not able to find shaded parking for my Nissan® Frontier truck in Koko Marina until close to 3pm. The whole place was packed with fools, most likely loitering in the theater complex. I performed my usual workout at the gym, although I limited my cardio workout to 25 minutes at an easy pace. I was so bloated from lunch that I could barely move.

I ran into Mark while I was shopping for my own groceries at Foodland late in the afternoon. We chatted for a bit. I finally returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 6pm. Same ol' shit.

Another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening found the ol' lavahead choking and gagging randomly on his own phlegm and spittle. Chalk up another day to the common cold. The symptoms appear to be worsening as I enter the third week of the wretched illness. As of last night, I discontinued the use of the CVS® cold and flu elixir. Let's see what happens next, shall we?

I should mention that the upcoming week will be a mirror image of last week, since there is yet another holiday to endure. I have already initiated the process by shifting my gym workouts by one day. The gym will be closed on Friday. The library will most likely be closed from Thursday through Sunday. Here we go again!

Bang the Drum Feverishly

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday ... almost back to normal again. I rode the Route 23 bus to Ala Moana Center at 8am this morning. Ann happened to be on the bus. She mentioned that her job has degraded to part-time status. She is only working 19 hours per week as a result. Obviously, Ann's employer wanted to insure that she no longer receives healthcare benefits.

Foodland in Ala Moana Center was the usual nightmare along with extremely rude and inefficient employees. I ended up purchasing a cup of coffee from the ABC Store, where the experience was much more pleasant.

The hottie gym trainer was busy with two gym members when I arrived at the gym at 10:20am. Once again, baby spent quite a bit of time in the weight room. Baby, a Lexi Stone (aka Angela McLin) look-alike, was looking mighty fine, by the way.

After my gym workout, I rode the bus to Ala Moana Center. Believe it or not, I ended up at Foodland. I purchased a banana, a Chicken Caesar Salad, and a slice of apple pie for a total of $2.56 (thanks to another "Meal Deal" card redemption).

I then rode the Route 24 bus to Kahala Mall. At first, I was not planning to alight there. However, along the way, I contemplated the depressing ambiance of Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Why would I want to eat a wonderful meal in a dump like that? So, I envisioned myself sitting at one of the concrete tables just outside the entrance of the mall.

When I arrived, I found the place to be even more packed with satanic gargoyles than yesterday. There was absolutely no place to sit in or outside the mall. I walked around for about 15 minutes, becoming more and more perturbed. Why didn't I just return to Slob Manor? I was fatigued and hungry. Perhaps my agitation may have had some connection with the frustration of not having a babe like the hottie gym trainer. Who knows? I kept pacing back and forth, inside and outside the mall. Finally, a table opened up outside adjacent to Starbucks®.

I sat down and ate the delicious salad and apple pie. I took my time in order to savor every bite. Most of the people around me had expensive lunches courtesy Whole Foods®. Of course, no one would have been able to guess that my food came from the rank-and-file dump, Foodland. I observed the myriad shoppers coming and going. All of them had several large shopping bags and big smiles on their kabuki masks.

As always, I spent a little time at Barnes & Noble®. I finally returned to Slob Manor at 4:10pm. The rest of the day is not worthy of mention. Neither is there much more to say other than another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening awaits. Incidentally, fifteen days have elapsed and the common cold is still going strong.

Mind Snap Remix

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 7:50am this morning when I suddenly turned around and headed to Kahala Mall. To make a long story short, the whole day was mired in bad decisions subsequent to some serious waffling. I spent time in the Barnes & Noble® Café again. Then, I rode the bus to town, specifically to go to the gym.

I dropped my gym bag off at the gym. Then, I meandered around for a while. I eventually stopped by Longs®. Finally, I performed my usual workout at the gym. I exited at 1:30pm. Almost two hours later, I was was still waiting at the bus stop at 3pm. In fact, I had walked to three different bus stops. Each time, I decided to move to another bus stop, I observed the buses that I had been waiting for pass by. The whole situation would have been comical were it not for the fact that I was growing extremely exasperated. I was literally confused and lost. I had originally wanted to ride back to Kahala Mall via Waikiki and Ala Moana Center, but I kept changing my mind.

I finally boarded a Route 1 bus heading directly to Kahala Mall. The bus was crowded. Eventually, an obese chick (term used loosely) with her hyperactive progeny boarded the bus. The kid sat next to me and immediately started kicking me, so I alighted at the next bus stop. Strangely, the next Route 1 bus came by within one minute. I arrived at the mall at the same time as the other bus.

The mall, the buses, downtown ... everywhere was extremely crowded. Fools were out shopping as if Saturnalia was still in the future. Even the poorest of the poor who ride the bus had two or three large shopping bags. Naturally, they each took up two seats. In addition, I was fatigued and hungry, but I had nowhere to go. Had I kept my original plan to go to Hawai'i Kai, then I could have just shopped at Foodland.

I contemplated Zippy's, but the idea did not sit well with me. I walked twice to Times Supermarket across the street. Finally, the second time, I purchased a banana, a container of Yoplait® yogurt, a two-piece package of lamp-baked chicken, and a big-ass chocolate chip cookie.

I had walked around the mall a few times, but I became disoriented because of the manic crowds of shoppers. The parking lot was a nightmare of predators looking for a good spot. I did not want to drive through the parking lot at all. Even the drive back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) was tense. Traffic was heavy, and the fools were weaving in an out of all three lanes. In conclusion, the day after Saturnalia is just not a good time to be out and about.

I was able to enjoy my dinner, though. I ate the two pieces of lamp-baked chicken for a snack. I grilled panini on my beloved DeLonghi® "retro" contact grill and panini press. Then, I ate an orange, followed by a helping of Yoplait® yogurt. What's left? Another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening, of course!

This evening, I puzzled over the massive disorientation that I experienced earlier. Was I going through a bout of derealization? Was it another senior citizen moment? Was the common cold partly responsible? Did I approach the edge of sanity? Or, was the sinister kahuna involved?

Saturnalia 2009

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was seriously impeded by Saturnalia. My Nissan® Frontier truck and I arrived at Kahala Mall around 8:30am this morning. I had hoped that Starbucks® would be open, but I was denied again. I ended up purchasing a cup of Seattle's Best® coffee at Zippy's, if you can believe it. I sat in the near vacant mall with my cup of coffee, although there were actually quite a few people coming and going. Longs® was the only store that was open. The place was fairly crowded.

By 11am, there were more people filing into the mall. I assumed that they were heading to the theater complex. I felt that my time was up. So, I sadly departed for Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

Once back at the dump, I opted to wash my Nissan® Frontier truck. I can't remember the last time that I washed it. The paint really needs to be waxed. Oh well. I piddled around for the rest of the afternoon. The Indian guy was home. He must have been driving himself berserk. He kept going in and out of his room, each time slamming the door. Were such foolishness not so annoying, then some comic relief could have been derived.

I consumed a Hormel® Compleats® microwavable meal for my Saturnalia dinner extravaganza. I prepared and ate the meal downstairs in order to prevent the Indian guy's obsessive-compulsive behavior from ruining the ambiance. The meal was delicious, by the way.

I took a brief walk after dinner into Niu Valley. I walked as far in as Niu Valley Middle School. I took a few moments to observe the campus from a distance. Imagine that 40 years ago, I attended the then-called Niu Valley Intermediate School. I also took in the sights of the neighborhood, not that there was much to see.

Another Saturnalia event has come and gone. For me, Saturnalia was a wasted day with an upcoming wasted urban nomad kind-of-an-evening ahead. The common cold is still hanging on. What else is new?

Midnight Sunshine (Reprise)

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was essentially a waste of time and money. My Nissan® Frontier truck arrived at Kahala Mall at 8am this morning. I shopped for a couple of food items at Longs®. Then, I ended up in the Barnes & Noble® Café. I perused a few Linux magazines for fun.

I departed for town on the bus at 11am via Waikiki and Ala Moana Center. No stopovers, however. I performed my usual workout at the gym. Then, I headed back to Kahala Mall directly. Once back at the mall, I meandered around aimlessly. The place was packed with last-minute Saturnalia shoppers. The resemblance to a crowded cattle pen was uncanny. I made the decision to eat a pre-Saturnalia snack at Taco Bell®. Can you guess what I ordered? For old times' sake, I sat on a concrete bench outside the desolate office building adjacent to the mall. I ate my snack in peace, although a few people walked by and sneered at me because I look like homeless guy.

At 4:30pm, I knew that I had enough of that Saturnalia crap. So, I drove back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The rain started up just as I approached Aina Haina. So, I parked my truck in the ant-infested driveway of Slob Manor.

While I was heating up a box of Weight Watchers® Smart Ones® Lasagna Florentine (i.e., frozen meal) for dinner in the microwave oven in the first floor kitchen, the playboy Chinaman returned. I had a nice chat with him, actually. Turns out that he works for a living doing tours, which is what his two minivans are for. So, he is not a playboy. Apparently, I am the only playboy (obviously sans babes) in the dump.

Alan apparently purchased a Cisco®/Linksys® WRT120N wireless router and replaced the TrendNet® unit. Yet, he was still not able to connect to it. I used my Palm® TX to scan for the signal and found it to be intermittent. Then, I searched the Net for reviews of the product using my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Oh boy. What a piece of shit! There are myriad negative reviews detailing the same problems that Alan experienced while attempting to set up the router. Since I am connected to the 4-port switch by CAT-5 cable, I have no apparent problems. The TrendNet® wireless router, albeit fully functioning, is now sitting on the floor in my squalid room.

Well, another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening will be devoid of Saturnalia activities. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do. So, I have begun to plan my strategy to upgrade Ubuntu Linux "Hardy Heron" 8.04 LTS. I still have a year of support time left. However, I cannot wait until the last minute. I have contemplated the migration to either another "flavor" of Linux, or switching entirely to FreeBSD or OpenSolaris. Unfortunately, Ubuntu still remains the most viable option.

By the way, the sole person who was actually friendly to me today was a derelict-looking guy who might have been homeless. He even gave me his newspaper to read while I was in the Barnes & Noble® Café. Ironic, isn't it? Those who seem to have the least to offer are often the kindest people.

On the eve of Saturnalia, I am still fighting the common cold (i.e., sinus congestion cold). Last night, I had to break down and take another half-dosage of the CVS® cold and flu elixir. So far, twelve days have gone by with no improvement. I suspect that I have another week to go. Hele on, braddah!

Inconveniences

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai found moms and I making the rounds in Koko Marina, specifically Zippy's for lunch and Foodland. Later, moms served pumpkin pie and Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:30pm.

My Nissan® Frontier truck and I spent about an hour in Koko Head Park for no other reason that I could not find shaded parking in Koko Marina. At the gym, I discovered that my "All Clubs" membership does not include the new Pearl City branch or the Waikiki branch. Say what? Wasn't it just a year or so ago that I performed my usual workout in the Waikiki gym? Did I not purchase my membership at the Waikiki gym many moons ago? What a crock of shit!

Later in the afternoon, I happened to chat with Solomon, one of better cashiers at Foodland, before entering the store. He was on break. He commended me on my easy-going holo-holo pace. I told him that I have nowhere to be in rush to get to. He laughed. Solomon also mentioned the hectic pace of the mainland, and how the latter has infested Hawai'i. I then learned that he spent 26 years on the mainland. He is 46 years old, been married and divorced three times. He even owned a couple of house on the mainland. However, his overall situation turned sour, and he returned to Hawai'i with little more than the shirt on his back. He now lives in a rented room in a townhouse in Hawai'i Kai. His mode of transportation is his mountain bike as well as the bus.

Well, I reluctantly returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in order to begin another tortuous urban nomad kind-of-an-evening with the prolonged sinus congestion cold. I will most certainly be privy to another "wee hours" phone conversation courtesy the playboy Chinaman. He is out and about until about 3am. When he returns, he gabs on the phone for 2.5 hours or until the sun rises (whichever is longer). Then, he goes "beddy-bye." The playboy Chinaman appears to have a lot of time and money, which is why he has the young ho' fixated with him. They both use Chinkspeak as their first language, which makes me wonder about their citizenship. The playboy Chinaman owns three 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles), two of which are minivans with commercial license plates. I have no idea about where goes during his waking hours, but his destination is certainly not a place of work. He is playboy, for goodness sakes.

I really despise holidays. They just present major inconveniences for the urban nomad routine. I have been trying to plan for both Saturnalia and New Year's weekends. The closure of the gym and library leave me with little in the way of options. As a matter of fact, the library will be closed from Thursday through Sunday inclusive. Well, I will just wait until I "cross that bridge" before making any decisions.

Low Technology Proxy

Last night, I placed my new Gigaware 4 Gbyte USB flash drive (made in Mexico) in a plastic sandwich bag, sealed it up, and stored it in the gym bag that serves as luggage. I am not sure whether I will ever need it for its intended purpose. I also decided to lift the moratorium that was imposed on the divestiture of useless junk (refer to the "blog" of November 25th).

And, what of the Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo? What is its real purpose? Well, I have made a decision to downgrade my dependence on technological toys. I don't really possess much in the way of techno-gadgets, but I can see how easily the acquisition of the latter can get out of hand. My ultimate goal, of course, is to reduce my technology-based dependence to a single notebook computer (currently the Toshiba® Satellite) and nothing more.

Once a gadget is acquired, there is the tendency to continue to replace (read: upgrade) it. For example, my Palm® TX serves a few valuable functions, although I cannot say that it is indispensable. I use it for a music player and as a quick means to access the Net to check e-mail or bus arrival times. Can I live without it? Sure, but I began to think that I would need to plan for a replacement once it gives out. That's the big trap, isn't it?

What I really want to do is replace any existing gadgetry with a low technology proxy (e.g., the Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo). Can I not achieve the same level of satisfaction from low or no technology?

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... the Saturnalia craze has gone "hog wild." I brought my Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo along for the ride. Unfortunately, the poor yo-yo was privy to observe the myriad satanic gargoyles at their worst. In the hedonistic frenzy of Saturnalia, people were emulating cattle, or should I say, mad cows.

My time at the library was essentially useless. I discovered that every single book that I was either reading (or have been waiting to read) is no longer on the shelves. Why are people checking out these genres of book now? Perhaps they are all "reality shopping" to find answers about the troubled times. I performed my usual workout at the gym and, hard as it may be to believe, I couldn't get back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) quick enough. All that's left is another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

On a sad note, I happened to notice a small black speck inside the Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo. The speck was a deceased sugar ant. The two side pieces of the yo-yo are hollow. Somehow, the damned sugar ant found its way inside the yo-yo. Can you believe it? Now, even my new Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo has been desecrated by the sugar ants. I have vowed to commit even more heinous mass ant genocides. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Yo-Yo Madness

The common cold is still hanging on. I have already exceeded the dosage limitations for the CVS® cold and flu elixir, but I have no other choice. I have determined that I contract one of two types of colds. Last month, I experienced the nasal congestion cold. My nasal passages are completely blocked, accompanied by a sore throat. The other type is the sinus congestion cold. My sinuses are filled with mucous, which causes extreme post-nasal drip. There is no nasal congestion and no sore throat. The sinus congestion cold seems to have longest duration, up to two weeks.

Moms, myself, and my Nissan® Frontier truck made the usual rounds in Hawai'i Kai, with lunch courtesy Panda Express®. The fortune in my fortune cookie read, "You should do well at making money and holding on to it." Fat chance, thanks to Ben Bernanke and the rest of the asswipes at the Fed. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:45pm. Then, I commenced my usual urban nomad routine.

At the gym, I decided to shift my workout schedule by one day to compensate for the Saturnalia holiday. At first, I thought that I would not bother. However, the gym will be closed for Saturnalia. I will have a complete day off from working out. I will have to take a shower at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Oh, the horror!

After a filling lunch, I opted for a Spam® Musubi and a banana for dinner, both purchased at Foodland. Then, I reluctantly returned to Slob Manor to begin preparations for another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

I finally shortened the string of my new Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo, but I may not have tied the loop in the regulation manner. Oh well. Urban Coyote submitted a "Top Ten" list (à la Dave Letterman) of reasons for the ol' lavahead's procurement of the Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo. So, let's have a look-see. At the number ten spot:

• He wants to practice the yo-yo tricks so he can annoy his brother.

Number nine:

• He finds the transfer between kinetic and potential energy fascinating.

At number eight:

• It's a substitute for having a pet such as a dog or a cat.

Is it time for a cold beverage? Paul, do we have any cold beverages on hand? Okay, number seven:

• It's a disguise, so he'll look like a cast member of "Leave It to Beaver."

Ladies and gentlemen, in the number six slot:

• He needs it to practice for his audition with "American Idol."

Only five more to go. At number five:

• To begin his retro-1950s collection of keepsakes.

I'm getting a little thirsty, Paul. Where are the cold beverages? At number four ... ladies and gentlemen, I'm betting on this one ... number four:

• As a gimmick to start conversations with the gym trainer hottie.

And, at number three:

• As a teaching aide for demonstrations at the Diploma Mill.

Number two:

• To cast and retrieve at the bus stop to distinguish himself from the homeless.

And, now ... Paul, could we have a drum roll please ... the number one reason for a senior citizen like the ol' lavahead to possess a Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo is:

• To smash ants with at his rental room.

Okay, let's get back to our regular program now, shall we?

While at Longs® earlier today, I procured a couple of Hormel® Compleats® microwavable meals that will suffice as food at my Saturnalia dinner extravaganza. At $2.39 each, how could I go wrong? Say, maybe I should stop by Longs® tomorrow and procure two more Hormel® Compleats® meals for my New Year's Day dinner extravaganza. Am I livin' large, or what?

Egg Nog & Tidbits

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday was radically improved by the presence of the hottie gym trainer at the gym. Baby was guiding a gym member through a circuit in the weight room. At one point, baby was standing next to the staircase while writing notes in her training book. I was able to peruse baby's fine form in the tight black pants that she was wearing. My mind almost snapped. The testosterone overload, however, enabled me to rip through my workout with absolutely no pain.

The mystery of the hottie gym trainer is once again best augmented by another small, fuzzy image found on the Net. For some reason, baby looks different. Well, it is a small, fuzzy image. Baby, in person, is actually quite stunning.

Coffee this morning was courtesy Foodland in Ala Moana Center. After my gym workout, I visited Foodland again when I stopped off at Ala Moana this afternoon. I purchased a banana, a piece of Dutch Apple Pie, and a roll of Futomaki Sushi for an expensive snack.

While waiting for the Route 24 bus, I observed the myriad satanic gargoyles spending money like there's no tomorrow. Oh, the insanity of Saturnalia! Huge widescreen LCD tubes were filing out the door of Sears® along with a host of other "big ticket" items. I was dumbfounded. Of course, I went on a spending spree myself this week. I spent a whopping $12.50 when I purchased the now-useless Gigaware 4 Gbyte USB flash drive (made in China) and the $2.50 Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo (made in Mexico). Wheee!

I did not stop off at Kahala Mall this afternoon. I assumed that the Saturnalia shopping insanity would be just too much for my fragile mental state. So, I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 3:15pm. No further details are necessary. Just know that another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening awaits the ol' lavahead.

I discovered that Alan was the culprit who botched up the cabling between the cable modem and wireless router. He has apparently called Oceanic because he was not able connect to the wireless router. The service representative made him go through a few useless procedures. Later, he learned that the antenna for the wireless card on his computer was broken. Needless to say, he screwed up my fixed IP address, so now I have to go through myriad security questions when I log on to most of my on-line accounts.

I neglected to mention that I purchased a small carton of Meadow Gold® Egg Nog on Friday from Foodland (since I had a coupon for 75 cents off). Unlike last year, that will be sole carton of the creamy beverage for my consumption. No cheap booze will be added. In fact, I cannot remember when I last imbibed any cheap booze. I am not missing the "fire water." Hele on, braddah!

Yo-Yo Imperative

Not one penny would have been spent today had I not been running low on CVS® cold and flu elixir. I had intended to ride the bus straight to town. However, I experienced yet another sleepless night because of extreme post-nasal drip. At any moment that I was starting to doze off, the mucous from my sinuses would drip down into my throat and cause me to gag. So, I ended up at Ala Moana Center this morning at 8:15am. I quickly walked to Longs® to purchase a new bottle of CVS® cold and flu elixir. I also found the elusive Duncan® yo-yo (made in Mexico) for $2.50 on sale. Naturally, I had to procure it. I now own the classic Duncan® Imperial® model.

I enjoyed a fine cup of ABC Store coffee before commencing the urban nomad kind-of-a-day. At the library, I continued to read Jim Marrs' book, "The Rise of the Fourth Reich." I wanted to lapse in and out of a coma to make up for my sleep deprivation, but the book was too interesting to put down. Instead, I downgraded the cardio portion of my usual workout at the gym to 25 minutes. And, I was on my back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) about 30 minutes earlier than usual.

After eating dinner and completing my usual chores, I attempted to go on-line with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer (as per the urban nomad kind-of-an-evening). I was unable to connect using my wired LAN configuration. I discovered that someone has disconnected the CAT-5 cable from the router. Then, I also discovered that the cable modem was connected to the wrong port on the wireless router. I finally reconfigured everything and reset both the cable modem and the wireless router. Which one of the fools at Slob Manor screwed up the wiring and why?

So, what of the new Duncan® Imperial® orange-colored yo-yo? Is it simply a replacement for the lone chawan or the pink rubber piggy bank replica? Well, yes and no. Obviously, we need some kind of emblem to represent the mendicant life-style. However, the Duncan® Imperial® yo-yo has a greater purpose. Can you guess what that might be?

Talking to Myself Again

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai found moms and I making the rounds in Koko Marina (or Foodland, specifically). For lunch, moms served lamp-baked chicken, ahi sashimi, fresh vegetables, and rice. Apple pie and Foremost® coffee ice cream rounded out the meal. I kept moms company until 1:30pm.

I drove my Nissan® Frontier truck to Longs® in Kuapa Kai in search of the elusive Duncan® yo-yo that was allegedly on sale. The employees there were not interested in locating the product. So, I departed to commence my usual urban nomad routine. No further details are necessary.

The common cold continues to plague me. I suffered yet another sleepless night due to chronic post-nasal drip. I would have been a zombie all day were it not for the coffee that moms had brewed earlier this morning. Sad to say, even the CVS® cold and flu elixir has ceased to be effective. In fact, I am down to the last dose, so I am saving the latter until the urban nomad kind-of-an-evening comes to a close.

According to the Feedjit® Live Feed, there have been no legitimate readers of the "blog" in days. Fools are stopping by in search of ... you guessed right ... babe pictures. So, there really is no need for me to comment on anything. I'll just leave it at that.

Laugh or Cry?

Last night, the Chinaman and his young ho' were talking at the top of their lungs from the time they arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) circa 10:30pm. At midnight, I could still hear them talking. Their voices were even echoing out in the yard. Obviously, I couldn't sleep. So, I had to walk downstairs and mummify the situation. Not that it mattered. The common cold kept me most of the night anyway, even with a full dosage of the CVS® cold and flu elixir.

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was severely hampered by the common cold. I did not feel well, but I went through the motions of the urban nomad routine. I rode the bus to town via Waikiki and Ala Moana Center, but I did not engage in any coffee time frivolities at the Makai Market.

At the gym, I happened to chat with the gym member who is a bus driver. He is going on vacation next week to Japan. He said that he was going to meet his grandson there. Grandson? I figured that he didn't look much older than I am. It turns out that he has three grandchildren, the oldest being 20 years of age. Then, he told me that he was 63 years old. I was dumbfounded. Frankly, my bro looks older than him. Sheesh!

Once back at Slob Manor, I observed that the sugar ant situation has approached critical mass. Even the cheap desk in my squalid room has been infiltrated again by the sugar ants. All I can do is commit mass ant genocide. Whatever the pest exterminators did yesterday, the results were extremely marginal.

The common cold had worsened by late afternoon, so I am looking forward to a mediocre urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. I am close to finishing off the bottle of CVS® cold and flu elixir. Do I need to purchase another bottle? Most likely. Less than a month has elapsed since my last bout with the common cold. Is my poor diet the problem? Are the myriad sick people who I am forced to encounter in public areas the cause? Or, I am slowly falling victim to the empire's "swine flu" bioweaponry?

To add insult to injury, Time® magazine has announced that Ben Bernanke is the recipient of Putz of 2009 award. What a crock of shit! Just another example of how brazen the moneychangers and powers-that-be have become. After raping and pillaging the masses, they have gall to raise up their "posterboy" in an act of sheer arrogance. We truly live in a Fascist state. Truly sickening.

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that I received the latest property tax assessment for the "condotel" unit. The bad news is that the assessed value of the "condotel" unit is about half of what I paid for it. In other words, I have a "paper loss" of $60,000 or so. The "loss" is far greater than I had imagined. The good news is that I will owe less in property taxes. I am not sure whether I should laugh or cry.

Godot on Furlough

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... well, not exactly. The first "Furlough Day" for the library almost left me with no contingency. I made my way to Ala Moana Center to enjoy a cup of ABC Store coffee. I sat in the Makai Market for the longest time.

At about 11:15am, I rode the bus to town. I checked my mail at the Post Office. Then, I dropped off my gym bag at the gym. I met up with Shirley at 12:30pm in the lobby of the office building where she works. We walked to the Hukilau Restaurant. Lunch was excellent. We both chose the Hukilau Bento (not to be confused with an ordinary bento). Very delicious, to say the least. Alas, the hour went by fairly quickly. Shirley now has a Facebook page, but it is set to "private." I am not able to view it, unless I join Facebook again. That's not likely to happen.

The rest of the day was the same ol' shit. When I finally returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I looked around for signs that the pest exterminators had been there. There were thousands of sugar ants in the second floor bathroom as usual. And, another thousand or so sugar ants were targeting the remnants of a Panda Express® dinner that the Indian guy left lying around in the second floor common area about three days ago. The landlord had told me that the pest exterminators were going to treat Slob Manor for ant infestation. Look like shabby work to me.

I downed another half-dosage of CVS® cold and flu elixir last night, but the post-nasal drip is continuing to worsen. I suspect that another bout of the common cold is coming on. So, I will down a full dosage later at the end of another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

Shit Creek, No Paddle?

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... very few details are necessary. At the library, I mummified the reading of the book about the Maya. There was just too much embellishment in there. And, I really do not believe that the Maya were into the "New Age" life-style. I have commenced reading one of Jim Marrs' books titled, "The Rise of the Fourth Reich: The Secret Societies That Threaten to Take Over America." I am planning to read several of his books for no particular reason.

I suffered a moderate headache all day. At first, I thought that I was going through caffeine withdrawal since I did not drink any coffee this morning. However, the headache was with me from early on. I have been experiencing post-nasal drip for two days, so I assume that what I have is really a sinus headache. Looks like a mild version of the common cold is plaguing me.

Anyone following the ol' lavahead's journal and "blog" have read how the hapless putz never seems to get a break. In fact, there seemed to be a sinister force thwarting him at every turn. In the latest bout of evil persecution, the ol' lavahead discovered that the BIOS in his Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer does not allow booting from the USB port. That's right, the "piece of shit" Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer has once again caused him more grief. Is it really true that Toshiba® computers are crap? You bet! Never buy a Toshiba® computer unless you can be a happy Microsoft® sycophant. Thus, the purchase of the Gigaware® 4 Gbyte USB flash drive (made in China) was a waste of money. There is no way to burn an ISO disk with Linux installed, so the ol' lavahead is "up Shit Creek" as usual.

I entered another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening in a fatigued and demoralized state. I have often felt like throwing all of my useless possessions in the trash can, and my rage and disappointment from the latest episode of foolishness nearly forced my hand. Fortunately, I discovered that I can create an ISO disk without Brasero or any of the other crappy Linux graphical CD burning utilities. Gnome® Nautilus apparently has a utility built-in. Once an ISO file is saved on the computer, a context menu option is available to burn an ISO disk. How simple is that? There is also a command line option. Perhaps it is I who should return to the Microsoft® fold.

Muthathar al Zaidi Day 2009

Last year, we declared December 14th a worldwide holiday to be known as "Muthathar al Zaidi Day." The honoree is best known as the shoe-throwing journalist who almost clobbered Shrub at a news conference in Iraq last year. His anger at what the empire did to his country, on false pretenses no less, could not be suppressed. Fortunately, he was polite enough to simply throw a pair of harmless shoes instead of a hand grenade.

I almost had to endure another sleepless night, not because of the Chinaman, but due to a developing sore throat. I finally got up and downed a half-dosage of CVS® cold and flu elixir. Within a couple of seconds, my throat was completely soothed. I was able to sleep for the rest of the night.

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai found moms and I making the usual rounds, with lunch courtesy Zippy's. Later, moms served fresh apple pie with Foremost® vanilla ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:30pm.

The rest of the day was typical urban nomad. I did, however, stop by the Radio Shack® in Koko Marina to purchase a Gigaware® 4 Gbyte USB flash drive (made in China) for $10 on sale. I eventually returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to prepare for another benign urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

So, why did I purchase the Gigaware® USB flash drive? To store hurdy-gurdy videos? Of course not. I am planning to make the USB drive bootable for running "Live CD" versions of Linux and other operating systems (e.g., Haiku) as well as the installers. As you may recall, I was not able to get the Brasero CD/DVD burning utility to function properly, so I assume that it will fail at creating an ISO disc as well.

While I was at Radio Shack®, I also perused a couple of netbooks. I must say that they are very tiny. The screen is way too small for my poor vision. My Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer has a 17-inch screen, and I am barely comfortable with that. I am also not convinced that the Intel® Atom® processor is powerful enough to run the various bloated operating systems that are available. I have not seen Moblin running on any netbook yet, but it seems to be quite promising.

Ultimately, I am curious about Ubuntu 10.04 LTS (aka Lucid Lynx) and whether many of the problems that I have encountered have been solved. There are other "distros" (i.e., distributions) of Linux, but each has its own set of problems. The real selling point of Ubuntu is its vast hardware compatibility. For that reason alone, I may stick with Ubuntu. Alas, only time will tell.

Immigration in a Nutshell

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday ... any details? None needed. Only know that I was able to catch a mere microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer just as I entered the gym. Baby was looking mighty fine.

The Chinaman kept me up again last night with another marathon phone conversation. Apparently, all Chinamen love gabbing on the phone in Chinkspeak (i.e., cacophony) way into the wee hours of the morning. The Chinaman was asleep when I left at 8am this morning. He finally woke up at 6pm, over an hour after I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my urban nomad outing. No doubt, he will be up all night again.

Speaking of the Chinaman, I have been observing that there are hella Chinese everywhere. Oddly, they all speak Chinkspeak rather than the empire's beholden language. The same phenomenon is evident in the Filipino community as well. For some reason, the Chinese and Filipino populations in Hawai'i are both growing exponentially. And, it's fairly obvious that they are recent immigrants.

What's going on here? Perhaps Lou Dobbs was on to something. There's some "fishy" nonsense going, and I believe we are looking at illegal immigration on a grand scale. Who benefits from illegal immigration? Heck, the moneychangers and powers-that-be, as usual. Dobbs probably did not realize how deep the whole illegal immigration business went. He essentially "bit the hand that feeds him," so he was targeted for removal using the highly effective "race" card.

Stasis in Chaos Redux

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... no details are necessary. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred. The urban nomad itinerary was fulfilled without a hitch. Of course, what is there to fulfill?

After the completion of yet another nomadic outing, I alighted the bus and walked back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The landlord happened to be walking around the driveway. The landlord told me that the Indian guy was given the ultimatum to either clean up his mess or he would be charged for maid service. I assume that is why the Indian guy was diligently cleaning on Wednesday. He seemed a little despondent when I greeted him at the time. The Indian guy also replaced the broken handheld shower head. I now understand why he did not ask the landlord to replace it. Aside from that, I have nothing to look forward to except another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

There are now 1,322 posts in the "blog," if you can believe it. The exodus has been dragging on that long. Between the old journal and the "blog," I am now ending my 13th year of publishing the details of a life in utter chaos. I never expected to still be here composing the same crap ad nauseum. And, in case anyone was wondering, I have no idea about what is to follow. I have been pondering my situation daily, going over various scenarios and contingencies, but I have yet to converge on a concrete plan.

I have divested my useless possessions and cast off most of my personal associations in order to be ready to travel light and remove any sentimentality, respectively. Well, that was my half-baked plan. Previously, I have entertained the foolish notion that I would somehow be "saved" in the eleventh-hour. As I grew wiser, I discarded such foolishness.

So, here we are, following my hapless adventures since my tenure back in the infamous Roach Motel in Convalescent City. Some things just never change.

Algorithm of an Uncontrolled Life

Another Friday visit to Hawai'i Kai found moms and I making the rounds in Koko Marina. Later, moms served homemade Beef Curry Stew, ahi sashimi, fresh vegetables, and rice for lunch. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:45pm. Actually, moms and I had walked down the street to one of moms' friends from the church in order to drop off some stuff. The rest of the day was classic urban nomad, which eventually will segue into a typical urban nomad kind-of-an-evening at the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) hellhole.

I was overcome by a strange feeling of disconnection all day. I felt as if I was actually someone else who happened to be inhabiting my body, whatever that is supposed to mean. While waiting for moms, I read the newspaper with incredible dismay. My detachment apparently caused me to see the so-called "mainstream news" in a different light. As highly propagandised as such news is, there was a moment when I felt as if "shock therapy" was being dispensed. Every news item was, in my detached interpretation, very catastrophic. I could not believe what I was reading. Life in the empire is a living hell! When did it come to this? Even the local news was plagued by chaos and crisis. The point that I am making, of course, is that I was seeing through all the mind-controlling rhetoric. I was seeing the truth.

As I looked around the house, I noticed that the place was extremely cluttered. Mind you, I had already observed the clutter in the past. However, in my state of disconnection, I was seeing clutter beyond reason. My bro and his family are, in essence, the typical empire household. There is not one square-inch that does not scream, "Rampant consumerism!" Why, look at the new Samsung® 46-inch LCD widescreen tube that my bro just purchased. "It was a deal I couldn't pass up," he told me. There's also stuff lying around everywhere. The whole house is "filled to the brim." There is such a coldness to it all. The typical rank-and-file empire household primarily consists of consuming (and unquestioning) automatons. There is something terribly wrong with the typical familial structure. Some humane aspect is missing.

I realize that, if I return to the "mainstream," I must accept those kinds of conditions. I must become a willing participant in the farce, and I must love it. I have to overlook the breech with reality and bring out the "inner" automation. I can "have it all," if I am willing to play by the rules. Oh, I know the rules well. I was in deep just three years ago. I failed because I could not fully implement the "me first" mindset. I was too polite. I let the satanic gargoyles precede me. And, I didn't properly wear my kabuki mask.

Well, there is no need to wax nostalgic about such foolery. Once disconnected, there is no further reason to reconnect. Once the truth is discerned, there is no way to return to the path of lies. At the qualifying age for the Ross® senior citizen discount, I have run out of time in the "system." Game over. I am left to complete my life's journey on the lonely path of exodus.

Steps in the Dark

Another urban nomad kind-0f-a-day was marred from the start. The Route 1L bus was right on time this morning which put in me in Aina Haina a few minutes earlier than usual. I opted to ride the Route 24 bus into the upper Aina Haina valley, but it never showed up. Instead, I saw it roll by across the street as it headed to Waikiki. What happened? As far as I can tell, the bus driver had gone up the wrong street and bypassed the bus stop by the Aina Haina Shopping Center.

I walked across the street to wait for the next Route 1L bus. A wretched old (about my age) haole guy joined me a few minutes later. After 40 minutes, I wondered why the bus did not arrive. Not owning a watch, I asked the old fart for the time. He was obnoxious with his reply. "Sorry I bothered you," I said snidely. I should have "tuned his ass." The bus finally arrived at 9:50am.

I rode the bus to Kahala Mall and alighted. Not wanting to have my whole day ruined, I purchased a big-ass cup of coffee at Starbucks®. I walked out to the bus stop and was able to board the next Route 24 bus within a couple of minutes. At Ala Moana Center, I immediately transferred to a bus that was heading to town. Fortunately, I was able to enjoy the cup of coffee for the entire trip.

Once in town, I engaged in the usual urban nomad routine. Few details are necessary. At the gym, I simply went through the motions of a typical workout. I was quite tired because the Chinaman kept me up for most of the night. The moron was talking at the top of his lungs on the phone at 1am. From what I can tell, the Chinaman is up for most of the night and sleeps all day. Then, he departs to do heaven-knows-what a couple of hours before I return to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 5pm. To his credit, he has not disturbed me in several weeks.

This afternoon, Mark ended up on the same bus that I was riding. So, we were able to chat for the duration of the trip. Once back in my squalid room at Slob Manor, I made preparations for another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

Even the most casual observer should notice the high degree of chaos that has permeated daily life in the empire. I, myself, have been transcribing the local phenomena right here in the "blog." Also, most conspicuous is how much the general populace is totally mind-controlled by self-adulation, cigarettes, cheap booze, illicit drugs, the tube, and rampant consumerism. Every single day, I must deal with these morons.

I have recently observed that many more of the homeless are exhibiting psychotic symptomatology. I have seen many of them over and over again in the course of the years. Gradually, I noticed that many of them started talking aloud, although I can never determine if the conversations are directed at themselves or to imaginary friends. The homeless are an unique case because they have been emancipated from the mind-controlled society involuntarily. The homeless possess the precious freedom that many of us seek but, in the illusion of a mind-controlled reality, they cannot distinguish the value of the latter.

The closer an individual is to true freedom, the more the mind-controlled society attempts to impose its restrictions upon that person (in addition to the self-policing tactics of its sycophant citizenry). The alienation inflicted upon the victim is hostile which, in due time, breaks the victim's character. If the homeless knew just how close they are to freedom, they would most likely become immune to the relentless covert attacks. However, the nefarious power of peer conformity is too great.

All institutions of society-at-large are instruments of oppression. We often call them the building blocks of "civilization," but nothing can be further from the truth. The mind-controlled society's institutions are the pillars of the mausoleum of slavery. Modern "civilization" is institutional slavery.

Now, I am beginning to wonder when I will be overcome by psychosis. When will I start babbling incoherently amongst the bus passengers while drool drips from the sides of my mouth? When will I commence long orations about nothing to non-existent audiences? It's bound to happen because I will not give in to the demands of the mind-controlled society. I have been alienated and ostracized. I have nowhere to turn since my brethren are already clinically insane. How much longer can I feign to be a part of a society that I disdain? That's the real question.

Subscape Remix

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was only marred by the bus ride back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon when a bunch of punk school kids boarded the Route 1L bus at Kahala Mall. Yes, the last ten minutes of my urban nomad outing was pure hell. The punks were making all kinds of noise and being overly obnoxious. I had to change seats in order to avoid any urge to commit genocide. Then, a 300-pound fat slob brushed his arm against the oversized cranium as he attempted to lumber to the front of the bus. I would like to have carved up the beached whale and sell his blubber for rent money.

The only deviation from my usual routine was the restoration of my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. Everything else was mundane and rote. Even I am beginning to wonder how long I can endure the same ol' shit.

I neglected to mention that I happened to scratch the black paint on the casing of my tiny Master Lock® Model 646 combination lock (made in China) when I attempted to force it into the locker latch at the gym a couple of days ago. Foolishly, I inadvertently discovered that, if I insert the lock upside down into the latch, it fits fine. I am supposed to be an engineer. Why couldn't I see that before?

I am deliberately avoiding the discussion of my usual topics, especially that of the ills of empire. Although there are clear signs that we are approaching some kind of cataclysm, I cannot verify whether the latter is apocalyptic or not. Neither can I say that the year 2012 will be of any horrific significance. Clearly, there is ample reason to believe that the status quo will be restored and the same crap will keep happening in cycles. Human nature tends to favor permanence ad nauseum. My own thoughts as expressed in the "blog," however, have slanted toward an inevitable collision course with a fate of our own making (i.e., the proverbial "chickens coming home to roost").

Mental Tribunal Revisited

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was ten minutes behind schedule subsequent to the tardy arrival of the Route 24 bus at Ala Moana Center. As a result, there were no tables available for me to sit at in the Makai Market. I had to sip my ABC Store Kona-blend coffee outside on a wooden bench along with my trusty gym bag. Sitting on the next bench was a homeless guy. He had all of his worldly possession stuffed in one piece of luggage with rollers. There were several plastic shopping bags filled with stuff attached to the sides of his suitcase. He also possessed a small radio, which was playing music. The patrons who were walking by gave both us the once over. At some point, I noticed that there was some kind of horrid smell, like dog shit (i.e., dung), in the air. Naturally, I assumed that the source of the odor was the homeless guy.

I walked back into the Makai Market. I found a spot to sit down. However, within ten minutes, a group of noisy tourists stationed themselves in close proximity to me. I immediately got up, walked outside, and sat on the same bench next to the homeless guy. I was far more comfortable there.

I eventually ended up at the library in town. A guy sat at the table adjacent to the one that I had reserved for myself. I could again smell a distinct odor, dog shit, which I assumed was coming from the other guy. I moved one more table over. I meandered around in search of something to read. I checked the on-line catalog and discovered that all of the books of interest were not available. Finally, I found the book, "The Mayan Factor: Path Beyond Technology," by Jose Arguelles.

As I sat down to peruse the book, I could still smell the dog shit. That's when I took a close look at my slippers (read: slippahs). There was some messy crap stuck on the bottom of the right slipper, which I assumed was dog shit. I realized that I probably stepped in the dog shit when I deposited some stuff in the recycle bin at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) as I was leaving for town. The landlord owns two dogs, which run loose every now and then. I was blaming the offensive odor on others when I was the culprit. Definitely a humbling experience.

Fed up with the putrid stench, I walked out to the coconut tree grove in the Capitol district. I found a small twig to scrape the dog shit from the bottom of the one slipper. Can my situation become any more pathetic? The rest of the day followed the usual urban nomad routine. After performing my usual workout at the gym, I took a long, hot shower. I always wear my slippers in the shower (for sanitary reason). So, I was able to sanitize the desecrated slippers. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor in no time. Only an urban nomad kind-of-an-evening awaits me.

I have many interesting thoughts during the day, but I just do not feel like transcribing them to the "blog" once I return to Slob Manor. Perhaps, if I had a netbook computer to carry around ... see how rampant materialism just seems to pop up out of nowhere? That's why I have to "nip it in the bud."

So, instead of the usual nonsense, I decided to run a Net search to find the hottie gym trainer. By the way, I discovered her name many moons ago since the gym has a wall devoted to all of the trainers. I submitted baby's name on the Yahoo! search engine. There's not much data about our hottie gym trainer friend. There are maybe two or three pictures of her. She is either 38 or 39 years old of Portuguese (read: Portagee) ancestry, a graduate of Kailua High School in the Class of 1988, a UH graduate with a BS in Health, Exercise Science, & Lifestyle Management, works at Castle Medical Center as well as the gym, has a page on Facebook, appears to be unmarried, possibly owns a home about a block from Kailua Beach, and is a total hottie. Whoa! That was much more interesting than discussing the ills of empire, eh?

Long Story Short

To make a long story short, the day was almost identical to last Friday. The Indian guy was up before 6am. He made a lot of noise as usual. He also attempted to take a shower again. Why does he bother? The shower head is still lying at the bottom of the bathtub. What a maroon!

Moms and I made the rounds around Hawai'i Kai including Safeway® and Longs® in Kuapa Kai. Lunch was courtesy Panda Express® in the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. Finally, moms shopped for groceries at Foodland in Koko Marina. My bro returned early from work again, just before moms and I left at 10:30am. Later, moms served the last of the Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I also chatted briefly with my bro. Then, I departed at 1:30pm.

The rest of the day was typical urban nomad. I also ate a banana and a Spam® Musubi for dinner again while sitting at one of the tables overlooking the beautiful Koko Marina parking lot. I reluctantly returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to commence another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

I neglected to mention that Shirley, Lori, John in Modesto, and the Ubuntu Forums sent greetings on Ol' Lavahead Day. Lori is currently running a marathon in Australia. Where does she get the funding? John seems to be doing fine. He's working on a couple of potentially lucrative Net projects. I finally responded to Shirley, so we will most likely be getting together for our ritual lunch sometime soon. In the meantime, hele on, braddah!

Hele On, Braddah!

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that, as I was leaving Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in the morning, I saw the landlord out in the driveway. The landlord asked, "Where you going? Holo holo?" Yeah, I replied. So, another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday followed the same holo holo routine. Hele on, braddah!

At the gym, I was privy to peruse the hottie gym trainer, a Lexi Stone (aka Angela McLin) look-alike, working with a gym member on the weight machine next to me. Baby is so hot! Later, baby walked through the weight room. She had changed out of her trainer outfit and was wearing a skimpy and tight top. Oh man! Magma was flowing from the ol' lavahead.

Anyway, the bus ride from town to Ala Moana Center to Kahala Mall was a fiasco, although I will not detail the nonsense. At Barnes & Noble®, I was surprised to see the hottie bookseller from the Ala Moana store working there again. She must have transferred to the Kahala Mall store. Baby was wearing some extremely tight pants. Ho boy! Definitely a day devoted to the hotties.

Of course, reality must always enter the "big picture." I was back at Slob Manor by the usual time, ready and able to commence an urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. Nauseating, just nauseating.

On a side note, I am finally beginning to see what the moneychangers and powers-that-be have up their sleeves. They cleverly installed Obama as chief executive of empire to usher in the "good cop" era. They immediately disarmed the so-called "liberals" by utilizing an ethnic minority puppet (i.e., the "race card"). The hidden truth is that Obama simply turned out to be Shrub in disguise.

Believe me, the so-called "liberals" are bamboozled and confused. They have no idea about what's going on. They have been betrayed, but they are frozen in inaction. The "bad cop" era is right at our doorstep. I believe that Sarah Palin will most likely be the new chief executive of empire in the next (s)election. What better candidate to continue the bamboozlement and confusion, all the while toeing the line for the moneychangers and powers-that-be. And, once again, the so-called "liberals" will be disarmed because Palin is female (i.e., the "equal rights card"). The moneychangers and powers-that-be are a shrewd group, having honed their skills to perfection over time.

Obviously, the whole underlying process is just "theater" and histrionics. Everyone is on the same side. They are just playing their respective "good cop, bad cop" roles. The rank-and-files peons who constitute the masses cannot see through the ruse. All the while, the masses are being raped and pillaged. When will they ever learn?

Subscape

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day commenced at 7:30am this morning with a bus ride to Ala Moana Center. In Waikiki, a guy boarded the bus who was heading to the Hawai'ian Waters Adventure Park. He asked the bus driver for route information. "The last time I was in Hawai'i, the fare was a dollar," he added, laughing. He apparently was a soldier stationed at one of the bases. He was discharged after spending time in Iraq. He was manning the gun turret when a mortar shell hit the armored vehicle he was riding in. He was thrown from the vehicle, but the other crew members were not so fortunate. I wondered to myself if any of the leaders of the Fascist empire had even heard an account like that firsthand.

I purchased coffee at Foodland this morning. I was taken aback by the friendly service offered to me by the cashier. I also checked the price of the Foodland coffee cup, which can be used for 69-cent refills. The price was $6 as opposed to $7 at the Foodland in Hawai'i Kai. Even the refills are ten cents more in Hawai'i Kai. Whassup wi' dat?

I had an interesting chat with a couple of friendly tourists at the Ala Moana Makai bus stop who wanted to travel around the island. So, I told them which bus to take and where it would take them. I hope they enjoyed their day. The rest of the day was strictly routine.

At the library, I completed reading David Icke's book, "Alice in Wonderland and the World Trade Center Disaster." Although the title has a "tin foil hat" ring to it, the book itself was quite interesting. I also read, "Crop circles: Exploring the Designs and Mysteries," by Werner Anderhub and Hans Peter Roth. Definitely a book worthy of perusal.

I then performed my usual workout at the gym before returning to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to initiate another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. No further details are necessary.

I should mention that, as I was walking back to the dump from the bus stop, I heard someone call out, "Uncle T!" I looked around and saw a couple of guys in a car who were waving. They were former students of mine at the detestable Diploma Mill. That was probably five years ago or more. I was surprised that they remembered me. Actually, though, I was one of the more popular faculty. Too bad the whole experience was ruined in the end by a bunch of morons and fat slobs in the administration. That's the big pitfall of wage slavery.

I happened to check out the new KDE desktop for Linux, and I have to admit that it is a lot more polished than the current Gnome® desktop. Of course, changing desktops will not solve any of the problems that I have with Ubuntu. So, why bother?

Fantasy of Freedom

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 8:15am this morning. Unfortunately, I failed to remember that moms was going to be out until 11am. So, as a contingency, I started off at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai to purchase a cup of Seattle's Best® Colombian coffee. I ended up at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. I sat on one of the metal benches along the main promenade. Sitting on the next bench was a homeless guy. Every few minutes, the homeless guy would break out in a Buddhist chant. I must admit that he sounded very authentic. However, I was probably the only person who was impressed by his skill.

I walked around the strip mall. There were plenty of shoppers by 10am. I immediately noticed how happy all of the shoppers appeared. They were very excited about buying useless crap and Saturnalia presents. When I entered Ross®, I could really feel the collective jubilation. The sensation was mind-numbing. I, on the other hand, was not as captivated as the shopping brethren. I mainly felt dizzy and disoriented.

Moms and I only made the rounds in Koko Marina. Lunch was courtesy Zippy's. My nephew was home because of "Furlough Friday." He was engaged in yet another intense video game session. My bro had returned early from work. I had only chatted with him briefly before moms and I left on our excursion. Once back, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I only stayed until 1:15pm. Then, I embarked on the usual urban nomad routine.

After my workout at the gym, I purchased my dinner at Foodland which comprised of a Spam® Musubi and a banana, which I ate while sitting at one of the tables along the periphery of the parking lot. I also purchased a piece of Dutch Apple Pie that I ate along with a navel orange and a few bites of Safeway® yogurt back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

The Spam® Musubi was pretty good, by the way. I have learned how to pick a good one. First, locate the larger Spam® Musubi of the bunch. Then, carefully, kneed the Spam® Musubi between your fingers to insure that the rice is not dried out. If the rice is quite pliant, then the small slice of Spam® should not have the texture of old leather.

Incidentally, the Indian guy departed at 4am this morning after making a lot of noise. I could hear what sounded like an attempt to use the shower. The pipes were groaning as the water attempted make its way up to the headless spigot. Without a shower head, there is not enough back pressure to keep the shower cut-off valve closed. I have no idea where the clown is taking his showers, if at all. My guess is that he's stepped up his dosage of deodorant.

The Indian guy also left a frying pan and its cover in the downstairs kitchen sink for well over a week. He had made an omelet. The were large scraps of the omelet in the pan and in the sink, all of which were stinking and rotting. Yesterday, the frying pan and its cover disappeared, The "official" storyline is that the landlord threw it in the trash can. Of course, I know better. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

On a side note, I am sure that most readers (if there are any at all) know that my relationship with my bro and his family is non-existent. I do not pretend to be faultless. As a matter of fact, I am probably entirely to blame for the situation. I have made no real effort to patch the situation, although a mild attempt was made mutually after pops' passing. Sadly, the situation returned to "normal" shortly afterward. I will continue to maintain some kind of détente in the interim. Ultimately, though, I will end up in permanent estrangement from my bro and his family. I should feel some kind of impending loss, but I don't.

Where is all of this crap heading anyway? By "crap," I mean the useless banter in the "blog." In all honesty, I do not know. I suppose that the exodus was the main goal, but that may have been a figment of my imagination. I may fooled myself into believing that I could escape reality ... that is, the reality of slavery. I have been composing this garbage now for over a decade. Since then, there have only been incremental changes. In the meantime, I have gotten older and more decrepit. Life has essentially passed me by, and any worldly opportunities are quickly vanishing. I have essentially sealed my fate to become an obscure "senior citizen" loner, not that I mind.

Am I happy about these circumstances? I cannot answer positively or negatively. I am indifferent, just as I am indifferent to almost all aspects of a so-called "normal" human life. The research that I have performed this year has been very enlightening, yet I have not benefited by such enlightenment. Instead, I have learned that we humans know nothing. That is to say, we know nothing of importance about our being. Hence, we are locked into the day-to-day trivia that is about as exciting as a large boulder. Mind you, I am still engaged in the disconnection process. Sometimes I do not know what I am disconnecting from. All of my beliefs, ideals, theses, constructs, abstractions, philosophies, doctrines, axioms, paradigms, and so forth have been desecrated. I am only certain of the fact that I am a slave beholden to the moneychangers and powers-that-be (i.e., the "masters").

I have no freedom, nor have I ever had any freedom. I have always been controlled by some greater legend or myth concocted by the "masters." To simply exist, I had to buy into the "system" both consciously and subconsciously. Just the act of being born executed a fiduciary contract with the "masters." What real hope is there to find freedom?

Divide & Rule

Yet another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... like a sand castle washed out to sea. This morning, the Route 1L bus was early, so I was able to transfer to the Route 24 bus as it headed into the upper Aina Haina valley. I figured that was better than sitting at the bus stop and waiting for the bus to return. Right at the turnaround point, I heard what sounded like a huge air leak. The bus driver then parked the bus. We had to wait about 30 minutes for the Transit Supervisor to arrive along with a replacement bus. Even though I was somewhat behind schedule, the urban nomad itinerary was fulfilled.

When I exited the gym this afternoon, I noticed that the sky was quite dark. There was moisture in the air. I sensed that rain was coming. Fortunately, the huge downpour did not commence until 7:30pm, when I was already deeply engaged in another typical urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

In my day-to-day dealings with myriad insolent satanic gargoyles, I have come to realize that the nefarious "divide and rule" strategy has already been fully implemented in the Fascist empire. The fact that mostly all of the empire's citizens are indifferent or inconsiderate of others is truly an indicator of how deep the rot has permeated. If there are any loyalties at all, those loyalties are reserved for immediate clan. However, even a causal observer of society would know that clan affinity has degenerated significantly. It's "every man for himself."

What about all of those social networking sites and the boom in text messaging? People are communicating all of the time with thousands of "friends." That's a big joke, isn't it? The definition of "friend" should be "trophy acquaintance." So-called "friendships" are simply a matter of convenience, a gauge of superficial popularity, or a network of parasites. It's all part of the psychotic "reality show" mindset. The real culprit is consumerism. Or, should I say, consumer homogeneity through phony differentiation. It's kind of a "groupthink" concept wherein each participant believes that he or she is truly unique or special.

We at the point where the collective (i.e., masses of rank-and-file peons) in the hive only coexist to support each other's inflated ego. There really is no cohesion, which is why the pedigreed elite (i.e., moneychangers and powers-that-be) have been able to exercise extreme control over them. The "divide and rule" strategy has never been more successful.

Thus, we no longer live in a true society. Instead, we live in a façade. Everything looks quite real, but the opposite is true. All of the trappings are present, but something is just not right. What could the problem be? Did you say, "Powerlessness"? Yes, that's right. We are neutered wimps.

Castles in the Sand

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... still nothing new to report. Same itinerary, same ol' shit. Incidentally, the library will now be subject to furlough days, which will modify the urban nomad routine. There will be three furlough days this month (Dec 16th, 24th, and 31st) in addition to the holidays. Next year, the furlough days will occur on alternating Wednesdays of each month.

I have been pondering David Icke's thesis about the shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs). There are a couple of problems concerning the existence of such creatures, given the descriptions provided by Icke. A shape-shifting entity who can move from one dimension to another or change physical form does not make much sense. The being from another dimension (or universe) must abide by the laws of the host dimension (or universe). If the SSREs in question were to physically appear in this universe, their physical make-up should react wildly with ours. Most likely the SSREs would self-destruct along with the humans whom they "possess," much in way that matter and antimatter annihilate each other. The only other alternative thesis is that the SSREs are, in actuality, supernatural phenomenon. In other words, they are similar to the deities, angels, and demons in folklore.

Icke also mentioned that the SSREs may have originally arrived in advanced spacecraft, the original theory of which can be attributed to Zechariah Sitchin's translation of ancient Sumerian tablets. Space traveling SSREs would have to exist in the same physical universe as we humans. Their lifespan would have to be extremely long in order to travel the universe, even if their spacecraft could approach the speed of light. And, even if the speed of light was attainable, there is no way that the the spacecraft and its occupants could be successfully reconstructed after the mass-to-energy and reverse energy-to-mass conversions. There is also Michael Heiser's site, Sitchin is Wrong, which purports to debunk Sitchin's translations from an academic viewpoint.

I have also pondered about the joke that is money. As can easily be seen, I have a lot of time on my hands. Yes, money is a joke in the empire. Right now, the pedigreed elite (i.e., the moneychangers and powers-that-be) can acquire all the money that they fancy for essentially free. That money can be invested in any scheme. Any returns are pure profit. No interest is due. The sky is the limit. Money for the rank-and-file peons, however, is another story. It is a rare commodity, usually only issued through wage slavery. Every aspect of the rank-and-file peon's life costs money. Nothing is free. There are "appropriate" channels for peons to acquire "wealth," but there is a price to pay as always. We are not just talking about high usury interest rates. There is also the encumbrance or bondage of debt that revolves through time.

The rank-and-file peons (or wage slaves) are only indispensable to the pedigreed elite because they provide the brute labor to add value to the "system." That added value, in turn, is converted to real wealth in the coffers of the pedigreed elite. The rank-and-file peons (or wage slaves) also build the memorials and mausoleums that are so dear to the hearts of the pedigreed elite, and they also serve as cannon fodder in the pedigreed elite's wars for world domination.

Money is used to control the masses of rank-and-file peons. By distributing money as a rare commodity and then utilizing it as a medium of exchange for everything required to live, the pedigreed elite have reduced the rank-and-file peons to the status of "consumer." The latter term is actually derogatory in nature, the definition of which is to acquire, use, discard, and repeat the pattern forever. Acquisitions are limited by the rare commodity, money. All consumer acquisitions are also conduits of bondage because they require endless replacement parts, insurance, or accessorizing. Often, taxes or recurring fees are associated with the acquisitions. Ultimately, the use of debt may be required to maintain acquisitions. No matter what we peons do, we are only building castles in the sand. It's only a matter of time before the tide comes in and washes it out to sea.

Farce (Reprise)

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... I was about to provide moderate details, but why bother? A turd is a turd is a turd. Same ol' shit. At the gym, I attempted to locate my lost Master Lock® combination lock. Nada. My tiny new Master Lock® Model 646 combination lock (made in China) just barely fit the latch on the lockers.

As I predicted in the "blog" of November 8th, the empire's puppet leader, Obama, will be sending in excess of 30,000 more cannon fodder to Afghanistan with the hollow promise of de-escalation a year or so later. I say "hollow" because I know that there will be more "surges" coming up instead. The moneychangers and powers-that-be have really manipulated the "good cop, bad cop" theater so well that the rank-and-files peons are completely bamboozled. Obama is a one-term executive whose sole purpose is to utilize the "good cop" image to lull the masses into complacency with empty promises of "change." The trick worked like a charm, as it always has before. When will the fools ever learn?

I have had recurring bouts of anxiety ... more like panic attacks ... in the past few days. I have received no epiphany, but I have been given a dose of cold reality. I am no longer certain whether the moneychangers and powers-that-be have the ability to resuscitate the "boom" cycle, hard as they may allegedly be trying. Short-term interest rates are at zero percent, which means that money supply has the potential to go to infinity. The pedigreed elite will always increase their wealth whether in good times or bad. Right now, they have access to channels for extremely cheap money to invest in whatever schemes that meets their fancy. The rest of us will have to pay between 5 and 30 percent interest per annum for the same money.

Surprisingly, with all of the economic turmoil, everything seems to be running just fine. Consumption is down, which means that it is not growing. Rather, consumption is stable. We are consuming just as much as before. I have seen the latter phenomenon with my own eyes. It is as if the homeless, newly homeless, and the unemployed are still contributing significantly to the "system." Even the local governments appear to be functioning just fine even amidst a so-called "budget crisis." Here in Hawai'i, all of the foreclosures and the drop in tourism have allegedly decreased tax revenues, but there has been no change in the status quo. The doomsayers have been predicting collapse for well over two years, but there is no sign of collapse. In fact, I am beginning to believe that I am the only one who is suffering. Yes, even the homeless and the destitute are suffering far less.

At this point, the casual reader may suspect that I have lost my wits. However, one has to understand the nature and philosophy of suffering and also why certain victims are doomed to suffer more than others. I claim that many of the homeless and the destitute are suffering far less than I am. Why? These particular homeless and destitute aspire to be part of the "system," so much so that the "system" actually rewards them. If they could become like the affluent satanic gargoyles, they would go "hog wild." The few of us who are attempting to escape the "system" are ostracized no matter how clandestine we operate. It is as if the "system" and its sycophants can identify us and expose us for who we are.

Perhaps David Icke is on to something. Maybe the shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs) move in and out of different dimensions as he claims. They are able to "see" us, even though we cannot see them. They identify the outcasts and rebels and inform the mind-controlled Illuminati (i.e., moneychangers and powers-that-be). That's why there is no escape. There's no way out. The exodus is a farce.

Too Far Removed

"The illusionists who shape our culture, and who profit from our incredulity, hold up the gilded cult of Us. Popular expressions of religious belief, personal empowerment, corporatism, political participation and self-definition argue that all of us are special, entitled and unique. All of us, by tapping into our inner reserves of personal will and undiscovered talent, by visualizing what we want, can achieve, and deserve to achieve, happiness, fame and success. This relentless message cuts across ideological lines. This mantra has seeped into every aspect of our lives. We are all entitled to everything. And because of this self-absorption, and deep self-delusion, we have become a country of child-like adults who speak and think in the inane gibberish of popular culture." -- Chris Hedges

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 8am this morning. Moms and I only made the rounds in Koko Marina. Lunch was courtesy Yummy's Korean BBQ. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert.

Moms briefly told me about the huge international convention held at the Hawai'i Convention Center that she attended. The convention was sponsored by moms' church. About 24,000 delegates from around the world were in attendance. The program itself was only four days long. Thus, every four days, there was a turnover of attendees. Moms was there for the last four days commencing on the No-Holiday Holiday (formerly known as Thanksgiving Day). Moms had a whole box full of memorabilia given to her by numerous delegates that she had met. Of course, according to David Icke, moms' church as well as the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints (i.e., Mormons) are both mind-controlling cults with shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs) populating their respective governing bodies.

I kept moms company until 2:30pm. Then, it was time for moms to take an afternoon nap. I ended up at the gym in Koko Marina, only to discover that I had left my combination lock at the gym in town yesterday. While I was frantically attempting to purge the sugar ants from my gym bag, I had inadvertently misplaced my lock. Dam it! I became infuriated. The sugar ants are now beginning to cost me money. I walked to Foodland and to Price Busters, but I could not find a replacement lock at either place. When I returned to the gym, I discovered that there were locks available for sale, but the latter were the keyed variety (for $5). I decided to hold off on any purchase. I left my gym bag in an unlocked locker and performed my usual workout.

After my time at the gym, I drove to Longs in Kuapa Kai. I ended up purchasing a chintzy $5 Master Lock® Model 646 combination lock (made in China). It is a tiny little thing that was designed for luggage, but it will replace the big $8 Model 1500 lock that I lost. What a joke!

I then shopped at Safeway®. As to be expected, I was exposed to myriad rude shoppers, all of them haole. These people really think highly of themselves. They sashay around like celebrities and expect peons like myself to kiss their asses (refer to Chris Hedges' quote above). Even the cashier was rude. After opening and looking into the paper bag that contained a muffin, the bitch just threw it into the plastic shopping bag with the other stuff that I had purchased. The trollop didn't even bother to fold the top closed. I pretty much cussed out anyone who perturbed me. After a shitty Ol' Lavahead Day, I really was not in the mood to take any nonsense from anyone.

A downpour commenced just as I was in the vicinity of Slob Manor (read: rental housing). I parked my Nissan® Frontier truck in the driveway instead of two blocks away on the side street. I was not about to walk back in the pouring rain. Well, as usual, there's nothing left but another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

Incidentally, I attempted to eat the Safeway® muffin and enjoy myself. However, the paper muffin cup was severely stuck to the muffin. In addition, several sugar ants made an appearance even before I could take the first bite. I had to eat the muffin over the open paper bag that transported it. The muffin crumbled pathetically. Some of the crumbs ended up on the crappy Slob Manor table. I picked up the crumbs one-by-one and inserted them into my mouth before any of the sugar ants could secure them. However, one crumb made my tongue burn. Apparently, I had plopped a sugar ant in my mouth.

Quite obvious as it may be, I should state that I am at the "end of my rope." I can no longer tolerate the debauched society of empire. By removing myself from the so-called "mainstream," I have made myself much more vulnerable. As a case in point, I do not subscribe to any "mainstream" news or entertainment. I no longer read "mainstream" books or view "mainstream entertainment." All of that shit poisons the mind. Once again, Chris Hedges from the article tiled, "Addicted to Nonsense," on the Truthdig site:

Celebrity worship has banished the real from public discourse. And the adulation of celebrity is pervasive. The frenzy around political messiahs, or the devotion of millions of viewers to Oprah, is all part of the yearning to see ourselves in those we worship. We seek to be like them. We seek to make them like us. If Jesus and “The Purpose Driven Life” won’t make us a celebrity, then Tony Robbins or positive psychologists or reality television will. We are waiting for our cue to walk onstage and be admired and envied, to become known and celebrated. Nothing else in life counts.

There really is no such entity as "harmless" or "mindless" entertainment (i.e., diversions) in a complex and controlled society like the Fascist empire. Everything that is transmitted or communicated has been carefully contrived to produce the desired effect of control. I have become hypersensitive to those effects because I am so far removed from them.

As I have said many times previously, everyone around me believes that he/she is the star of his/her own "reality" show. They are celebrities in their own eyes. Obviously, Chris Hedges independently concurs. I am neither an aspirant or consumer of "reality" shows in media or in imagination. Reality to me is a hot cup of coffee. That's it.

Ol' Lavahead Day 2009

Avast, mateys, this was not just another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday ... Hear ye! Hear ye! Ol' Lavahead Day is finally here. And, this is certainly not the kind of day that invokes celebratory imagery. In fact, the only sobering reality is that I will qualify for the Ross® senior citizen discount next Tuesday. I do not find such a milestone to be comforting in the least. Well, on second thought, just another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday ...

Just as I was ready to leave at 7:55am this morning, I noticed a huge trail of sugar ants on the floor of my squalid room. I quickly used my humble dustpan and brush to commit mass ant genocide. I happened to notice a few sugar ants crawling on my gym bag, but I did not think much of it.

I enjoyed a cup of ABC Store coffee in the Makai Market at Ala Moana Center. I observed all of the young hotties cavorting around. In sheer contrast, I also observed the myriad decrepit senior citizens hobbling around. An old guy sat at the next table reading a newspaper while drinking ABC Store coffee. About 30 minutes later, he offered the newspaper to me. I gladly accepted. After that kind gesture, I thought for sure that I would have a pleasant Ol' Lavahead Day. How wrong I was!

When I arrived at the gym, I caught a microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer. Baby was looking mighty fine. In the locker room, I discovered that there were hundreds of sugar ants in my gym bag. When I put on my gym clothes, I quickly realized that there dozens of sugar ants all over them. I finally found the source of the problem. There was some kind of food crap stuck to the sole of one of my gym shoes. Mind you, I only wear those shoes in the gym. So, a moron dropped a whole mess of food on the floor and, like an idiot, I stepped on it. Using a paper towel, I cleaned off the shoes. That's when I saw hundreds of sugar ants crawling around inside my gym bag, all over my clean clothes and towel. I did my best to eradicate them.

When I finished my workout, I happened to chat with Frankie, the local guy who has been working as a porter. I have never really chatted with him before. He has always been friendly, though. Today was to be his last day. He is transferring to the new gym in Pearl City. I wished him well.

I rode the bus back to Ala Moana Center. Kabuki-mask-wearing satanic gargoyles were everywhere ... are they the nefarious shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs)? As part of my plan to mildly celebrate Ol' Lavahead Day, I purchased a banana and a Double-Layer Lilikoi Cake at Foodland. The cake would be the highlight of my silent ceremony. I sat on one of the benches on the ground level overlooking the filthy parking lot near Sears®. The stench of petrol fumes was overwhelming. However, I wished myself well and began to eat the cake. Just as I took my first bite, the homeless woman sitting on the next bench asked me for money. I became quite perturbed. I told her that I only use a credit card since I carry no cash. She kept saying, "Debit card," as if to suggest that I should go and withdraw cash for her. I was just about ready to commit homicide. The ceremonial rites had been compromised, and I was ready to "blow a fuse."

I rode the Route 24 bus to Kahala Mall. I used the time to calm myself down. Surely, I would be able to salvage the day, I thought to myself. Wrong-O! I decided that I would eat dinner at Panda Express® in order to salvage any special meaning for the day. I sat at an empty table that was out of the way. Within two minutes, a noisy family sat at the adjacent table just inches away from me. Bad as that mindless action was, the clowns insisted on infringing upon what little space that I had. I exclaimed, "Fucking losers!" Then, I moved to another table. At that point, the whole day and its meaning had been lost forever. I did my best to enjoy the $7 dinner, though.

I ended up at Barnes & Noble® for the remainder of my outing. Obviously, I was in no mood for nonsense. I did not enjoy one second of the time there. I was ready to go back to the detestable dump, Slob Manor (read: rental housing). So, at 4pm, I was on my way.

Back at Slob Manor, I had an interesting chat with Alan. He told me about Orange Guard, an apparently non-toxic insecticide. He said that he had sprayed the entire kitchen counter with it the other day. There hasn't been any sugar ants crawling around on the counter since then. He also told me that the new Chinaman's young ho' is definitely in possession of keys to the house. The Chinaman was gone for almost three weeks, but he returned last night. I'll have more Slob Manor tidbits later.

In the meantime, I look forward to another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. I am quite disappointed that Ol' Lavahead Day did not turn out to be the pleasant experience that I had anticipated. Of course, how could I have expected more? Well, at least I sprayed the soles of my gym shoes with toxic bug spray.

As a consolation, I received a card from my homey Rod in LA. I had also sent him a card a few days ago. We share the same date of birth, as you may recall. I was glad to hear from him.

I suppose that everything ... the research on religion and cosmology, the divestiture of worldly possessions, celibacy, the extreme mendicant life-style ... has been in preparation for this moment. Truly, I have no sense about what reality is anymore. The door to reality seemed to have slammed shut when I accepted that atoms are 93 percent open space. Thus, all matter and all lifeforms are virtually non-existent. We only exist in physical reality because of the four fundamental forces. Without the latter forces, everything would literally vanish into thin air. How can we even begin to fathom such a concept? When all is said and done, what exactly is real?