Grand Theft

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... no, not exactly. Everything was going boringly smooth until I went to work out at the gym. Well, the workout went fine. However, when I returned to the locker room and opened my locker, I saw that some of my clothes were lying on top of my gym bag. I knew something was wrong. Then, I discovered that the small bag containing all of my valuables was missing.

In all, the following was stolen:

• Credit Card
• Bank ATM/debit card
• Driver's license
• Bus pass
• Supermarket discount cards
• Trademarked prescription shades
• Slob Manor (read: rental housing) key
• PO Box keys
• Leather wallet (gift from Shirley a few years ago)
• $10 cash

The dickheads actually locked the locker after the theft. Immediately, I reported the theft to the gym staff. They were nice enough to let me use the phone so that I could call and terminate the relevant cards.

I took a quick shower before the police arrived. Officer Lul was not too cordial. I was on the phone attempting to terminate my credit card when he arrived. He seemed impatient, so I had to end the call prior to completion. I wrote out the report. He gave me some follow-up information, then abruptly got up to chat with the gym staff. I ended up borrowing enough money for bus fare from one of the gym staff in order to return to Slob Manor. I was fortunate that the front door of Slob Manor was left unlocked.

My greatest worry now is whether I will become a victim of identity theft. The thief has my personal information complete with signature. He has my bank account number. He has my credit card information. If he is able to read the magnetic stripe on the driver's license. he will have access to even more personal data.

The real headache commences tomorrow. I have only 50 cents to my name. I will need to get a temporary or replacement driver's licence. Then, I need to get another ATM/debit card from the bank. I also need access to money. Otherwise, I will not be able to purchase a new bus pass or shop for groceries. I will also have no way to retrieve my mail until I pay for a new key.

What is really interesting is that I often leave my gym bag lying around unattended on the table in the inner courtyard at the library. When I sit outside in the coconut grove in the Capitol district, I leave my gym bag in the library. No one has ever ruffled through it. The library is filled with the homeless and the destitute. The gym, on the other hand, is populated with paying members of the wage slave class. What does that tell you?

Animal Crackers

Well, I finally made the jaunt to Barnes & Noble® in Kahala Mall this morning. I was reluctant to carry my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer with me. It's too cumbersome, I thought to myself. Actually, I'm just too protective of it, just like all of my other useless possessions. Why do I purchase the crap if I don't plan to use any of it as intended? Although the netbook was purposed to inherit the status as my one-and-only main computer, it is primarily a portable "blog" editor.

My "life," as most of us fondly call our legacy, has now developed into a permanent existential crisis. If not distracted, I am constantly questioning the past and the present. My past has served as the antecedent for the present. So much of it is garbage. Culture, faith, beliefs (religious and secular), all of which are the foundation and pillars of society and so-called "civilization."

Even as I type this nonsense on the keyboard, I can't help but occasionally peruse the entire computer. Like everything else around me ... the shaky table, my cup of coffee, the magazine display shelves full of every kind of periodical imaginable ... they make up my immediate, albeit feigned, reality. I see my hands, growing more wrinkled by the day. I can discern the inanimate from the animate.

In the local event horizon, I see the other patrons, that is, other human animals around me. We don't look or act like animals, or so it seems. The deception gives me only fleeting comfort. For a moment, I revert back to all of the antecedent falsehoods that put humans into a special class. For that moment, I feel invincible. I feel a oneness with the universe, all the while subconsciously telling myself that our souls could not possibly perish. I must force the absolute truths (refer to the "blog" of July 28th) back into my feigned reality. Oh, the horror.

Just moments ago, in the main mall, I was privy to observe a group of senior citizens sharing coffee and deserts. I saw high school kids walking around, no doubt late for school. I saw toddlers playing on the carpet while their parents sat and sipped coffee. In other words, I witnessed the full spectrum of the human life-cycle.

Life is really too short. I keep trying to tell myself that it isn't, but it is. Unfortunately, I have so much time on my hands that I can literally see the clock ticking down the seconds of my remaining existence. I do not have the kind of money necessary to live in a state of permanent distraction such that I can forget or preempt any of my dreary mortal thoughts. Yes, I finally arrived at same point that the great thinkers did over the myriad millenia of humanity. Unfortunately, any of my thoughts, great or not, will be not be original.

For the moment, though, I have peace of mind. I am not privy to the base level of stupidity as when I am in environments populated by the so-called "lower classes" of people. Perhaps, again, I have eluded myself to believe that humans are anything but animals. The subterfuge of being "civil" barely suppresses the "inner animal." Heck, animals have a lot in common with us: blood, organs, muscle, bones. We even share a similar lifespan. All of our biological functions are very similar, if not exactly the same. A truly trained eye can observe very similar behavior patterns between humans and animals, even within the human capability of reason. Have humans really gone too far in separating themselves from the animals and the animal world?

Alas, the highlight of the day was the restoration of my extreme monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. Reluctantly, I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). When I walked in the front door, I could hear shouting upstairs. Alan was lying on the couch with a glazed look on his face. Joseph, the Iraqi guy, and his limerant object were arguing yet again. Same thing yesterday, although I neglected to mention the idiocy in the "blog." I surmise that Joseph and his limerant object are "fuck buddies." After all, chicks have needs as well. And, since she believes that Joseph is irresistible to other babes, she would have been more than tempted to tap his Vienna Sausage. The only reason that they haven't progressed further is because the Iraqi guy is a shiftless bum. Naturally, chicks are attracted to guys like Joseph because they believe that they can change the guys' foolish ways.

Alan is, of course, too blinded to see the truth. He said that Erica told him that she was forced to move into Slob Manor because of financial problems. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Believe me, no chick is stupid enough to move into the same place with a guy who is determined to "own" her. Their arguments betray the fact that they are doing da wild thing. No guy would willingly tolerate a babe yelling at him if they are only friends. It's all basic "inner animal" behavior.

18 Chen 8 Chicchan

(12.19.17.13.5) Every day is essentially a nightmare ... the nauseating traffic, the crowded bus often running late, the myriad morons, and the ensuing heatwave. One week of extreme heat and humidity, I might add.

At the library, I am reading three books concurrently, the titles of which I will specify upon the completion of each. The subject matter? Another history of humanity primer, a cosmological treatise, and a commentary on the human impact on the planet. All great stuff, by the way.

As I mentioned yesterday, I have been ruminating about the next turning point. I have no idea about the extent of moms' longevity. For all I know, moms could outlive me. In the meantime, I must make considerable financial sacrifices to remain in Hawai'i. Moms longevity, as I have stated previously, is most likely because moms expects to live through Armageddon and greet the resurrected ones in a world restored by God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam).

Moms may actually witness Armageddon, but not one brought on by a clash with Satan. I am speaking of what I have fondly called the "secular Apocalypse." In my on-going analysis, I believe that the prospect for a global nuclear conflagration is extremely realistic. The empire, for one, has been militarily prodding global trouble spots in order to trigger a world war. China and the Russian Federation have been treading lightly and often making consolations to appease the empire. I believe that most world leaders, notably that of China, Russia, and Japan, know that the empire is willing and able to deploy nuclear weapons of mass destruction (NWMDs) with no hesitation. In fact, I believe that most world leaders are certain that a "nuclear war" is inevitable in our near future. They are simply buying time, as it were.

Typical Global Hottie

The only possible deployment of a nuclear device is on a civilian population. The device itself is overkill when considering its possible deployment on military targets. Thus, the NWMD has only one deployment goal, that is, the depopulation of civilian centers. It is technically not a military weapon.

The peons of the First World, including the empire, have been reeling from the economic downtown (mostly due to financial fraud). Unemployment and social unrest is increasing. In the empire, unemployment is realistically at about 19 percent and rising. As unemployment increases, the wealth transfer upward to the ruling elite (i.e., the moneychangers and powers-that-be) is increasing at an even faster rate. The new generation of ruling elite is adamantly opposed to any kind of wealth redistribution. We can expect unemployment to rise to 50 percent soon, along with the complete elimination of the middle class.

Sooner or later, the burgeoning mass of "useless eaters" will resort to violent expressions of the "inner animal." The ruling elite know full well that there is no way to establish a policing force large enough to control the masses. The problem would have be dealt with way before any signs of social unrest.

The world population is currently about 7 billion people. Very shortly, it will be 8 billion. The global economic depression will generate a huge mass of "useless eaters." All the while, resource allocation of food, oil, and water will serve to exacerbate the problem. The only solution will be to trigger a global "nuclear war," one that is effectively controlled. The empire is currently prodding for a "flash point" in the Middle East and Central Asia theaters. Ultimately, the war must involve Russia, China, Japan, and the remaining few real European powers (with NWMDs). No doubt, the war strategists have computed the optimal number of nuclear detonations that can occur without causing a "nuclear Winter" scenario. Each detonation must target a major civilian population center in the aforementioned target countries including the empire using the Hiroshima/Nagasaki template.

Historically, increasing populations were encouraged in order to spur economic growth. The elite ruling class grew wealthy on the backs of the billions of rank-and-file peons and slaves. However, now that wealth is flowing at an incredible pace to the top of the food chain regardless, thanks to financial fraud, the masses of peons have been made expendable.

Each civilian center could yield a population of one million of more people to instant annihilation. No doubt, the unwitting elite class residing in the target civilian centers will be sacrificed. They obviously were not high enough along the "food chain." Infrastructure damage will be total, and the area will be a dead zone for about 2,000 years. For the war strategists, there's no real loss if food, water, or energy resources are unaffected.

Most of the progressive doomsayers in the empire are expecting internal collapse to occur. Anarchy amongst the rank-and-file peons is what they fear will result. Some of the more radical doomsayers are expecting a government roundup and "internment" of the lower classes (approximately 75 percent) of the civilian population. Some expect a Roman-style collapse. The Roman Empire, though, fell because of imperial overreach and a barrage of invasions by barbaric tribes.

I do not believe that the empire's ruling elite will wait for such events to occur. There are few good answers to the questions about the empire's motives in the Middle East, Central Asia, Africa, Latin America, and so forth. History could, theoretically, repeat itself infinitely. Most people assume that to be the case. I'm not one of them.

Pavlovian Beasts

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Later, moms served Welcome® vanilla ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

My nephew has not returned to school yet. He has another appointment with the doctor on Wednesday, and he should be given a clean bill of health. He needs to go back to school, or he'll end up a shiftless bum like Joseph, the Iraqi guy.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Iraqi guy, Joseph, and his limerant object went out to dinner, sort of a "date" I would assume. As I don't particularly trust the limerant object, I cannot assume that her testimony to Alan was entirely truthful. For example, she told Alan that her dog does not like Joseph and always barks at him. I have seen the dog in Joseph's room, perfectly happy to be there. Her feigned disdain for Joseph is probably shibai (read: histrionics). She knew exactly what she was getting into when she moved into Slob Manor. What she really wants is for Joseph to shape up and get a job. Then, she will submit to his every whim.

When Joseph and his limerant object returned from their "date," they immediately went upstairs. Another argument ensued, just like a few weeks ago. Friends do not get into arguments like that. Only lovers do. Alan was "played like a fiddle" when Erica told him otherwise. I have no idea what her motives were. I am even beginning to doubt the eye surgery story. Well, after the Iraqi guy and his limerant object made up, they watched the tube together.

I neglected to mention that the Iraqi guy's buddy disappeared a few days ago. He's apparently gone back to Arizona, according to what the Iraqi guy's limerant object told Alan. So, what about the house that he rented out before moving to Hawai'i? What about his alleged job in Waikiki? Most likely, all are fabrications. Supposedly, Joseph's buddy served as a language translator for the empire after the invasion of Iraq. He cannot return to his homeland because he now has a price on his head.

My mental state is far less fragile than before. However, my control of the "inner animal" is another story. Thus, I have essentially restricted myself to my squalid room at Slob Manor. I rarely venture into the common areas. I even eat my food in my crappy little room. I only converse with Alan (or the Indian guy, if I run into him). I have absolutely no time for the adolescent games being played by Joseph and his limerant object.

Overall, I don't know what I am going to do. I feel trapped because I am trapped. Tasks are piling up, and I can find no energy to bring any to completion. I completely dread the the thought of returning to wage slavery. I don't want any part of the so-called "mainstream." I am making preparations for the only possible turning point in my life, that is, the untimely passing of moms. I will have to act quickly and make monumental decisions because the exodus will have suddenly given me a small window to escape for good. That day is inevitable, no matter how much I try to put it out of my mind.

In my quest for knowledge and for understanding humanity, I have discovered that there really is no stronger bond between parent and child (given no artificially induced dysfunctions). The bond between the parents themselves, or between siblings, or between friends and lovers is never as strong. There are no genes passed or inherited, so the latter relationships essentially are superficial in comparison. I have yearned for inner and outer peace so that I can reconcile the next stage of human life. Instead, I am constantly bombarded by stupidity from morons who have reverted to Pavlovian beasts. They have become the kind of rabid animals that need to be "put down."

For the past few nights, before I go to sleep, I lie on my sleeping bag and look up at the ceiling fan just as Martin Sheen's character did in the beginning of the movie, "Apocalypse Now!" Although my vision does not segue into helicopter blades, I am brought to a temporary state of inner peace. That's probably the only reason why I have slept much better, for what it's worth.

Stupid Pet Tricks (Reprise)

This morning, I had another internal debate, albeit brief, with myself about starting my itinerary at Kahala Mall. No dice. Last week, I drove around in my Nissan® Frontier truck too much for my liking. So, I followed the familiar Sunday itinerary instead.

A Russian tourist happened to sit next to me on the bus. He wanted to know which bus stop to alight at in order to walk to Ala Moana Center. From there, he wanted to board a bus to Kane'ohe. He did not want to pay for another full fare as the transfer voucher only allows for one connecting route. I told him that I was alighting at the bus stop which would be the most convenient to walk to Ala Moana. Then, it dawned upon me that he could simply ride to town and board a Kane'ohe-bound bus on Alakea Street. He was grateful for my directions.

Otherwise, nothing noteworthy transpired. I was, however, able to catch a microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer at the gym as usual. Is a microsecond enough? Who knows? Sometimes a microsecond is an eternity.

During my stopover this afternoon at Ala Moana Center on the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I sat on one of the wooden benches near the Sears® Automotive Center as I always do. A young guy was sitting on the bench just a stone's throw away. With no fanfare, he retrieved his ukulele from its case and began playing it. I was amazed. He put on a flawless performance for almost 30 minutes reminiscent of Jake Shimabukuro. Amidst the stench of old tires and the noise of fools roaming the parking lot in their 4,000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles), an artist was at work. People walking by occasionally glanced over in his direction. For the most part, he was ignored. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized. Had he played any longer, I would have missed the Route 23 bus. Many thanks to a talented unknown artist.

Back at Slob Manor, I had an interesting and long discussion with Alan. We covered a lot of nonsense. Of particular interest was his tête-à-tête with Erica last night. She apparently confessed that there is no romance between her and Joseph, the Iraqi guy. She is particularly not impressed by Joseph's sloth life-style (i.e., sleeping all day, watching the tube when not sleeping, and getting drunk out on the town almost every night). Yet, Joseph apparently has quite a few "white" hotties who want him and his Vienna Sausage. One of the alleged hotties, who is quite affluent, wants to make Joseph a "kept man." Joseph doesn't want anything to do with any of them because, according to Erica, "he doesn't trust white people." However, Joseph wants Erica (who is half "white") real bad, so bad that he talked her into moving to Slob Manor to lure her into his lair. Even Joseph's family has been pushing him to find a way to marry her. After two rejections, though, Joseph has not been deterred.

Erica was gone for two weeks because she went in for some kind of eye surgery. The surgery was not successful, so she will be going in again. Erica also disclosed that the Indian guy's babe works in the same office with him. Apparently, the Indian guy likes to live dangerously as office romances are strictly discouraged in these troubled times.

So, where is the Iraqi guy getting his money? Is he playing the role of "Lucky Piérre" to Alhmed Chalabi? According to Erica, Joseph's cousin (i.e., Erica's former stud) is paying the bills. "He's got a lot of money," she told Alan. Erica also warned Alan that Joseph is "like a second son" to the landlord. Prodding Joseph may invite big trouble. Then, why does the landlord always mention that Joseph, the "second son," is "kind of stupid"?

The aforementioned bouts of stupidity at Slob Manor are indicative of the kinds of grief that can bring out the "inner animal" in anyone with more than a pea-sized brain. The remainder of my life is fairly short. I do not need to be exposed to more "stupid pet tricks." Sheesh!

Will to Animal

I spent all last night and early this morning locked in an internal debate about whether I would drive my Nissan® Frontier truck to Kahala Mall and spend the morning in the Barnes & Noble® Café. After all was said and done, I ended up just taking the bus to Ala Moana Center and followed my usual urban nomad routine from there. Why did I waste so much time in deliberation?

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Iraqi guy's babe ended up having a long (i.e., over an hour) tête-à-tête with Alan this evening in the dining area. She just happened to come downstairs while he was sitting there. Yeah, right. She was working her wily charms on him. Old guys are easy prey for young hotties. Her motive? Win Alan over to her (read: the Iraqi guy's) side, of course. She was using her innocent voice, nothing like the foul-mouthed ho' that I overheard a few weeks ago. Alan, of course, is a fool. He probably believes that he is offering her "mature" guidance, all the while waiting for an indication from her of any interest in him. Yeah, there's no fool like an old fool.

As for the ol' lavahead, his squalid desk has once again been overrun by sugar ants. It's the same crappy desk which I moved from the second floor. Obviously, the scent previously left by the sugar ants is as potent as ever. There's no way to obliterate the scent unless I incinerate the desk.

Well, with the FBI now conducting routine raids on the homes of anti-war activists, the empire is beginning to show definite signs of deep internal decay. Imperial overreach, including two or more empire-formulated global conflagrations, is certainly a major part of the problem. We are at the point where "we" (i.e., the powers-that-be) must decide whether to choose democracy (term used loosely) or continued imperialism. Frankly, I believe that the decision has already been made. Internally, we have a quasi-feudal system in the making. Sadly, the citizenry is just too distracted to react. Most of the empire's citizens are going down easily. No protest. No fight. They just disappear into cardboard boxes under freeway off-ramps.

An empire-formulated conflagration in Iran is coming. Yeah, the doomsayers and I have been saying that for at least three years. The delay is in the planning. The empire's war strategists can only consider options that bring total victory, lest we have more embarrassing situations such as Iraq and Afghanistan. Iran is a much larger, heavily populated nation. It has not been debilitated by years of war and economic sanctions. So, the real issue is whether to use weapons of mass destruction (WMDs), and whether the latter will be used on civilian populations.

Empires always rewrite history and destroy any evidence of the vanquished. Iraq was a symbol of Mesopotamia, the land that once was controlled by the Sumerians and the Babylonians. Afghanistan is a matter of imperial hubris. The Soviet Union made its final descent into collapse once it entered Afghanistan. The empire wants to humilate the Russian Federation, all that's left of the Soviet state. Afghanistan is the critical chess piece. Iran is all that remains of the Persian empire. To bring down Iran is to finally stomp on the artifacts of Persia and its memories as well as to inflict a painful wound on the Muslim world. Remnants of old "civilizations" must be eradicated before the new culture of empire can be forced upon the masses.

And, what about the oil? Oil, the pipelines, the energy transit facilities, the refineries, the ports ... that's old news. Sure, the empire wants hegemony over the Middle East and Central Asia. Yes, it wants to control the energy resources of the region. Yes, it wants to surround and threaten both the Russian Federation and the People's Republic of China. Yes, it wants to support Zionist Israel to the same ends. However, the most important tasks facing the empire are to "Christianize" the Muslims and to destroy any remnant of legacy cultures, societies, and "civilization." The powers-that-be want to "homogenize" the Arabs, Persians, and Muslims just like what is done to cow's milk. If they can't be "homogenized," then they must be destroyed.

The root of the problem is the so-called "human condition," and what I have designated as the "will to animal." Killing and maiming are just natural acts for the human animal. The great thinkers have tried to bamboozle the masses by making them believe that they can become "civilized," uphold justice, and live peacefully. Unfortunately, the "inner animal" will always prevail.

Powerless Fool

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Zippy's. Later, moms served Welcome® vanilla ice cream for dessert. The last few cartons of Foremost® ice cream were marginal in quality. My nephew was still at home recuperating. He has now been out of school for one-sixth of the school year. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

I neglected to mention that my sister-in-law had to take moms to the doctor last Saturday. I'm not sure what the problem was. From moms' description, the symptoms seem to indicate a bladder or urinary infection.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I discovered a used condom lying on the floor next to the washing machine. I know that the Indian guy's babe stayed over last night, but they left earlier than I did this morning. And, the soiled condom was not there this morning. The Iraqi guy's babe returned sometime during the day, though, after being gone for over two weeks. I must assume that the Iraqi guy and his babe did da wild thing, no doubt to reconcile their differences. Once she goes Iraqi, she's never going back-i. Get it? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! As for leaving the jism-encrusted condom lying around ... pretty juvenile, I'd say.

A few days ago, moms expressed concern that I was going to run out of money soon. I told moms not to worry. After all, I am doing enough worrying myself. And, as to be expected, Ben "Handjob" Bernanke at the Fed has again kept short-term interest rates at zero percent. I must now modify both the model and my prediction for the empire's economy. I had assumed that interest rates were following a damped oscillation analogy. I expected that interest rates would only be able to rise to about three percent in the next iteration before another collapse. I also expected at least two or three cycles with peak interest rates being successively lower. Now, I am almost certain that interest rates will never rise again in my lifetime.

Frankly, the current economic crisis is really not a problem for the ruling elite (i.e., the moneychangers and powers-that-be). In fact, the entire elite class has "recovered" and is now profiting substantially from the so-called "crisis." The stock market is surging. Profits for corporations are the highest in history right now. And, the rich asswipes are getting richer. As I stated many moons ago, unemployment could approach 50 percent and the empire's economy would do just fine. There is no need for a middle class. Dependence on a middle class went out with "globalization." As long as interest rates remain at zero, money is very cheap to obtain for those who have access. Cheap money and Enron®-style accounting will keep the "system" intact for a very long time.

As for the ol' lavahead, we know that he is going to run out of money sooner or later, most likely sooner. What can he do? Absolutely nothing. That's the true definition of powerlessness. The ol' lavahead is heading up Shit Creek without a paddle. Sheesh!

Resistance is Futile (Reprise)

My days are becoming more nondescript as time passes. I continue to read books at the library, but I have no explicit purpose. I am simply reading for the sake of reading. The concept of knowledge has become vague. Knowledge, for the most part, is just another person's opinion. I don't even really attempt to find the truth anymore.

Typical Deep Thinking Hottie

I don't even know if I want to follow in the footsteps of the great thinkers. After all, look what some of the more influential fools have given us in the form of modern "civilization." The stratification of society and the increase in leisure time seem to have been the impetus that gave rise to the great thinkers. Had they been locked in endless battles for survival, they would not have had the time to concoct such nonsense.

Of course, few of the general populace (even in the elite class) can attain the status of "great thinkers." Most humans are mental midgets and bamboozlers, much like Joseph, the Iraqi guy (read: Chalabi's stooge). Their intellect is hard-wired to the "inner animal." To become productive in society, they must be trained through successive stages of operant conditioning.

Great thinkers need not be coaxed into thinking. Deep thoughts come naturally, usually propagated by the quest to understand mortality. Yes, the same issue that perpetually haunts the ol' lavahead is what most likely spurred the beginning of all intellectual discourses (e.g., ethics, morality, law, philosophy, religious dogma, pseudo-science). The great thinkers, in effect, set out to tame the savage beast (i.e., the "inner animal"). Hence, "civilization" came to be.

Mortality has certainly proven to be a great motivator. Knowing that humans can be made "civilized" raised the issue that humans were not animals. Animals, guided by instinct alone, are definitely mortal. They have no active consciousness that invokes self-awareness. Thus, they are not able to contemplate their own mortality, no less be aware of when the end comes. Since humans are quite aware of their mortality, there must be more to the story. Surely, we have advanced souls that are impervious to the decay of mere flesh. Here, of course, is where the great thinkers went awry.

A very small handful of great thinkers invented religion. That's obviously a simplistic statement. However, about 75 percent of the 7 billion humans on earth are affiliated with the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam). They fully believe that their deity has mandated that they "be fruitful and multiply and subdue the earth." They also believe in either the immortality of the soul or a future resurrection. Would we have a population problem if humans knew the absolute truth?

Like the great thinkers, I am confronted by my mortality. Even with distractions, I wonder what it will be like to vanish into nothing. My whole life experience will disappear as if I never existed. Tears always come to my eyes when such thoughts pass. I am quite attached to my existence, no matter how miserable it may seem.

The moment is now, though. Yet, I am locked in what I deem "same ol' shit." The same daily benign routine. The same collection of useless possessions. The same vast hurdy-gurdy library. Blah, blah, blah. Well, all I am doing is being mortal. The only major change could happen if I suddenly became immortal. Otherwise, human life is always the same ol' shit.

Simple, Very Simple

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Well, that's not exactly all that happened. I had to take my nephew to Queen's Hospital for a doctor's appointment at 10am. My nephew apparently has had a painful and sleepless week because of the surgery on his nose. We arrived on time. My sister-in-law was supposed to be there to meet us, but she ran about 20 minutes late. I departed shortly after she arrived.

After moms and I had finished making the rounds in Hawai'i Kai, we discovered that my sister-in-law and my nephew were nowhere to be found. Finally, they returned at 1pm. My sister-in-law told moms and I that my nephew had become unconscious while the doctor was removing the gauze from his nasal passages. My nephew was taken by ambulance to Kapi'olani Hospital. I'm not exactly sure what transpired, but the nephew is doing fine now.

I didn't have much time to engage in deep thought. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Has there ever been any evidence of deep thought in the "blog"? One facet of the exodus is simplification whether through asceticism or mendicancy. We're not just speaking of material possessions. One's whole lifestyle is affected. Even thoughts must be simplified. No doubt, humans are capable of complex thought processes. However, our mortality insures that too much deep thinking is just a waste of time. And, really, there are just too many distractions.

Chalabi's Stooge

"Percentage wise, America now has (in order of increasing stupidity) more nincompoops, jerks, numb nuts, shitheads, utter halfwits, morons, imbeciles, idiots, assholes and complete assholes than any other country in the world (in fairness, America just edged out France in utter halfwits and barely beat the UK in complete assholes)." -- Carmen Yarrusso, paraphrasing a recent Rand study

Last night at the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) refugee camp, the "Mutt and Jeff" of the Arab world (i.e., Joseph, the Iraqi guy, and his sidekick buddy) were going in and out of Joseph's room. They left the door ajar, and the wind slammed it shut. After the door slammed shut for the fifth time in a row, I yelled, "Stop slammin' the fuckin' door!" Somehow, I believe the two "raghead" goofballs are tied in with creepy Ahmed Chalabi.

At the library, I completed the reading of a short book titled, "This Fleeting World: A Short History of Humanity," by David Christian. For some reason, I found the book to be quite interesting. In fact, its brevity invoked a lot of contemplation on my part. I'm probably going to continue reading books about early world history, even though I have essentially wrote off the subject as irrelevant.

Back at Slob Manor, Alan mentioned that he had a chat with Joseph about the allocation of fridge space. I told Alan that he may as well have been talking to the wall. Alan has also had a few problem with his newly acquired house in Arizona. First, the swimming pool's pump went out. Now, he's discovered that the interior displacement of the house may be 700 ft² less than what was stated in the realtor's listing. He's hinting at a lawsuit. Oh, the perks of the so-called "ownership society"!

Attempting to compose a daily "blog" is a daunting task, especially if the "blog" centers around the author's life. If the author leads a boring, nondescript life-style, the task is further complicated. Not too many people are interested in the scribblings of a nobody. There are days that I have a lot on my mind. In fact, I pretty much compose the "blog" in my head throughout the day. However, when I return to the dismal Slob Manor refugee camp, I lose all interest in transcribing the details. Most times, I suffer instant amnesia when I see the horrific caricature of Joseph, the Ahmed Chalabi stooge.

I should be carrying my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer with me daily. Well, I should be doing a lot of things. I should be divesting my useless possessions. I should be preparing for the exodus. Blah, blah, blah. Heck, I'm just going to relax and listen to a few select Deep House Cat mixes for the rest of the evening.

Distractions Redux

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the two Iraqi "ragheads" have been living' large. Partying every night. Chasing "American" booty. Living rent-free. Since Joseph, the original Iraqi guy, has taken over the entire house, he is essentially living the so-called "American Dream" for free. Isn't that great?

I was looking forward to spending the morning at the Barnes & Noble® Café in Kahala Mall. However, my plans were thwarted when I discovered that the battery in my Nissan® Frontier truck was completely discharged.

Fortunately, I was able to board a Route 23 bus to Ala Moana Center at 7:50am. I purchased a cup of coffee at Foodland and walked to the Sears® Automotive Center. The service representative whom I spoke with gave me the option of four different batteries after I had stated that I just want the equivalent of the factory-installed battery. I was a little perturbed.

I followed the usual urban nomad itinerary. However, I was preoccupied with my new dilemma (i.e., distraction). I completed my workout that the gym an hour earlier than usual. I rode a very crowded bus back to the Slob Manor refugee camp. I ate an early dinner. I decided that I would ride the next bus to Hawai'i Kai and purchase a battery at the NAPA® store. Then, I would ride the bus back to the dump with the new battery.

Just as I was walking to the bus stop, I saw the 4:20pm bus roll on by. I was becoming unnerved. I recalled that, just a few days ago, I had actually wondered when the battery was going to go bad. After all, it has been over five years. For some reason, I attempted to start the truck. Unbelievable as it may seem, it started right up. After cooking all day in the hot sun, the battery came back to life. I dared not shut the engine off. So, I drove off, not knowing my destination.

I really did not feel like swapping the batteries in the hot sun, so I opted to return to Sears®. A different service representative assisted me. He verified that the battery was bad. He adhered to my wishes for a factory-equivalent battery. With the labor charge, the total came to be $110 and some change. When I retrieved the vehicle, I noticed that the digital clock was reading the correct time. So, the mechanic must have kept the vehicle powered while replacing the battery.

I looked around Barnes & Noble® for a few minutes, but I really wasn't in the mood. After spending $110 on a new battery for the truck, I was done in. The ride back to the Slob Manor refugee camp was uneventful. I was certain that I would maim both of the Iraqi "ragheads" if they gave me any grief.

Typical Distraction Hottie

Well, another distraction, a bad one at that, has caused me to waste yet another day of my finite existence. When will it end? I don't know. Perhaps distractions are really all there is to the human experience. Without distractions, there would be too much time to think. And, we know where excessive thinking can lead us. Yes, bad religion and pseudo-science. The so-called "true value" of our lives cannot be based upon much, although humans try real hard to disprove the latter. True value can only occur in the moment and is seemingly fleeting. The past is of no value since it is long gone and often tainted. The future has not yet arrived, so it is worthless.

Post No. 1,603

Last night, I used the Russian guy's MeeGo® repository to install the non-free codecs. The installation went smoothly. And, everything is working just fine. Of course, the media playback quality is not excellent on my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. However, it is still passable.

Another day has come and gone. Same ol' shit. When I arrived back at the refugee camp known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I noticed that the Joseph, the Iraqi guy, had shoved my food toward the back of my allotted shelf in the fridge so that he could squeeze in some of his food. That happens almost every day to both Alan and I. So, I threw his offending food into the trash can outside. What is he going to do? Kick my ass?

The two Iraqi fools returned about an hour afterward. Later, I heard the Iraqi guy's buddy outside talking Arabic gibberish on his cell phone. Through the window, I could see him walking around on the neighbor's property and practically yelling into his cellphone. I am not sure if these two Iraqi morons are trying real hard to get lynched. If so, I'll help to set up the gallows. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

I am becoming quite perturbed with these distractions. There are good distractions, and there are bad ones. Obviously, I am only privy to the bad ones. I don't have much time left on the planet, so I really don't need to cater to a couple of Iraqi "ragheads." I'd rather have no distractions than bad ones. If I had no distractions, then I could possibly follow in the footsteps of the great thinkers.

Sadly, a handful of the great thinkers may have been responsible for the sad state of humanity. They gave us both religion and pseudo-science. In reality, all we humans ever needed to know is what I call the "absolute truths" (refer to the "blog" of July 28th). Perhaps a true understanding of our mortality would have made for a better world.

On a side note, I believe that I have unlocked the mystery of the true nature of my vast hurdy-gurdy library. The hurdy-gurdy collection was expressly expanded so it could be gradually pruned down. Each pruning is akin to divestiture. Thus, I am made to feel as though I am accomplishing an exodus goal (i.e., divesting useless possessions). There's no other way to explain the phenomenon because there are quite a few video clips which have never been viewed. In any case, I am simply wasting more valuable time. Sheesh!

Refugee Camp Dispatches

I departed for Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 8:15am this morning. Once at Koko Marina, I purchased a cup of coffee and Foodland and immediately headed to the gym. I performed my usual workout, took a quick shower, and rode the bus to Kuapa Kai. I met Shirley at The Shack at 12:30pm for our now-monthly meeting. Afterwards, we made the usual pilgrimage to Costco®.

Shirley and I parted company back at Koko Marina at 3:15pm. I ended up at the gym again to complete the cardio portion of my workout. I made one last stop at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai before returning to the refugee camp ... errr, Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

Well, the Iraqi guy's friend spent his first night at Slob Manor. According to the landlord, the Iraqi guy's friend owns a house in Arizona. He allegedly purchased the place for $50,000 or so. Then, he rented it out for $1,000 a month and moved to Hawai'i. Does something sound wrong here? Naturally, the Iraqi guy's friend is another Iraqi. Where are these clowns getting the money? The duped landlord is letting the friend live at Slob Manor indefinitely for free, just like Joseph, the original Iraqi guy. Sleazy, very sleazy.

Typical Turf War Hottie

I spoke with Alan about the new living arrangements. He was at wit's end. In fact, he said that he saw the Iraqi guy and his buddy this morning. They both ignored Alan, which was not unexpected. Alan expects a "turf war" to erupt. He's probably right.

I have been experiencing sharp intermittent pains in the groin area for a day now. Since testicular torsion is uncommon for guys over 30, I have to wonder whether I am suffering from a hernia. Growing old and decrepit is no fun. Coupled with lack of sleep, I am not in the mood to take any crap, especially from Iraqi refugees. If the pain persists, I will be making another visit to the Waikiki Health Center.

By the way, MeeGo® suddenly recovered from its own maladies last night. I left the screen brightness widget alone, so that may have been the cure. Strange things. I also happened to read a MeeGo® review on the Phoronix site. Apparently, MeeGo® performs quite well. The shocking part, though, was that Ubuntu Netbook Edition "Lucid Lynx" actually uses slightly less power than Meego®. Apparently, I was wrong in my own assessment. Nonetheless, I am remaining loyal to MeeGo®.

Refugee Camp

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Zippy's. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

My nephew is going in for minor surgery on Monday. He has a fractured nose as a result of the recent brawl. The other party involved was located. He apparently has severely blackened and swollen eyes, thanks to the nephew. They both attend Kaiser High. As the story goes, the punk was picking on a smaller kid when my nephew intervened. Obviously, what I mean by the word "intervened" is that my nephew punched him repeatedly in the face. As I stated previously, I'm not sure what to make of the nephew. Too many violent video games, perhaps?

Well, MeeGo® let me down last night. I am using the latest version (v1.03), which worked fine upon installation the other day. The problem appears to be with the "Devices" panel. A new screen brightness widget was added, truly a welcome addition. Prior to the introduction of the widget, the screen brightness could only be adjusted using specific keyboard combinations. Upon reboot, though, the brightness was always back at full intensity. Unfortunately, the widget is unstable. It either freezes the panel or causes it to crash. MeeGo® continues to function, even with the disabled panel. But, for some reason, the ability to shutdown the computer is also impaired. Pathetic, very pathetic.

This just in! The Slob Manor (read: rental housing) landlord informed me that Joseph, the Iraqi guy, has an Iraqi friend coming to stay with him "temporarily" for several weeks. The friend is moving from Arizona and is looking for a place to rent. Is Slob Manor turning into an Iraqi refugee camp? Is he going to be another sleazy asswipe like Joseph? Is the sky blue?

Wag the Dog

Another wasted day ... need I say more? I have mummified the plan to curtail my coffee consumption. Even though I am spending over $1 per day on coffee, I no longer care. My investments will eventually be robbed from me by the "system" anyway. I am going to squeeze what little enjoyment I can out of my life, damn it!

I want answers, but nothing is forthcoming. I need answers in order to attain peace of mind. Shiny objects don't do anything for me. The latest questions involve human legacy. I am completely dumbfounded by the fact that we know nothing about our past. Everything beyond 1,500 years ago is essentially fuzzy. What little we know about early history has been passed down in written form, but the integrity of the content is suspect. All history has been rewritten by any conquering tribe, village, kingdom, religion, or empire and reflects the interests of the conquerors. By and large, I believe that much of human history has been permanently eradicated. And, I also suspect that the problem has plagued humans throughout their existence.

One would think that some traces of early prehistory would have filtered through an oral tradition. That was my hope anyway. However, I have come to realize the folly of my error. There is now no doubt in my mind that even early tribes of humans eradicated the oral traditions of subdued tribes and replaced them with their own. Later, methods such as genocide and forced population dispersion were also used to completely strip groups of people of their unique identity and legacy. Thus, here we are today, with history dominated by so-called "Western civilization" and its Greco-Roman, Western Orthodox and Catholic cornerstones. Early human legacy is long gone. We'll only have historians and other academic types making wild guesses to fill in the blanks.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Iraqi guy's babe, Erica, has not returned since I last saw her on Wednesday morning. I was on my out, about 6:40am. She was on her way to work as usual, but I noticed that she had taken her dog along. Something was odd about that. However, she did not have any luggage with her.

I also had a chat with Alan. He had a minor incident with the Iraqi guy the other day. Apparently, Erica's dog somehow managed to escape outside without a leash. Alan was reversing his car in the driveway. Fearing that Alan would run over the dog, the Iraqi guy panicked and yelled at Alan. That didn't go over too well. By the way, I now refer to the Iraqi guy as "Joseph," although his "official" nickname is Joe the Putz.

I suspect that the lover's quarrel on Tuesday evening between the Iraqi guy and his babe was about the dog. The dog, the Iraqi guy's babe told me, is the most important part of her life. She hand-feeds the dog. She sleeps with the dog. She never takes the dog anywhere without a leash. She's deathly afraid that the dog will run out into traffic. Blah, blah, blah. That Iraqi fool probably confessed to her that the dog slipped outside on his watch. What a maroon!

Netbook Blues

Another day has passed with absolutely nothing accomplished. I am even running out of material for the "blog." Can you believe it? I certainly am not going to rehash the urban nomad itinerary. I am sure that anyone who is familiar with the "blog" can probably recite the entire itinerary and lapse into a coma at the same time.

A short addendum to my discussion of yesterday. The so-called "Agrarian Era" commenced about 8,000 BCE, which is often cited as the cause for a major boom in human population. What I find strange is the implication that humans never developed agriculture or domesticated animals prior to that. We're talking about 240,000 years of simple foraging. Does that make sense for behaviorally- and anatomically-modern humans? The biggest puzzle, of course, is that agriculture apparently developed both independently and concurrently in several regions with no evidence of cross-communication. The pseudo-science explanation is that there must be something inherent in all humans that caused a synchronization of development patterns amongst mutually exclusive groups. Pure nonsense.

Even after purging a huge number of hurdy-gurdy video clips from my vast hurdy-gurdy library, there are still about 400 titles left. The hurdy-gurdy library is clearly out of control. Is it time to just reformat the entire Seagate® FreeAgent Go® portable hard drive?

By the way, in MeeGo® news, a Russian guy has set up his own "community" repository. The latest additions are the non-free codec packages. I had already added the repository when it first came on line. However, I had already compiled and installed the NTFS-3g driver and the latest libpurple file, so I had no need to access the repository. When I get around to it, I will install the non-free codecs. Is my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer finally ready for full deployment?

As I stated previously, I believe that netbook computers are on their way out. Aside from the "tablet" fad, the notebook computers have remained the "workhorse" of portable computers. Most users are quite content to lug around a huge and heavy notebook computer (and its power supply) in an equally large carrying case. I see notebook computers everywhere. And, the netbook? Mostly the more affluent of the homeless have them. I surmise that most people are just not willing to compromise on multimedia capability (e.g., movies and gaming). As for the ol' lavahead, he's past that stage of "shiny objects" rendition. He doesn't watch "mainstream" movies. He doesn't play video games. He avoids the "mainstream" news. He doesn't engage in social networking. A netbook is just fine for him.

Twiddle (Reprise)

Anything new to report? No, not really. Same ol' routine. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Iraqi guy's babe returned two hours later than usual. He and his babe appeared to have had a lover's quarrel upstairs. In fact, now that I've mentioned it, a chick's presence in an all-guy household, especially if the chick is mated to one of the clowns, is a big problem. First, a chick will always assume that the whole house is her domicile. Second, any kind of "domestic" problem involving the couple will adversely affect everyone else. Finally, the introduction of another chick ... say, the Indian guy's babe ... into the mix usually results in the dreaded "hen house" effect. Will the situation worsen? Is the sky blue?

The Iraqi guy has apparently been lying all day on his bed and watching his widescreen LCD tube while his babe went to work. Miraculously, though, he has purchased a new scooter. He also has his own personal satellite dish so he can receive Arabic channels. Where does he get the money? From Saddam's hidden treasure, perhaps? The landlord, however, believes that he is too poor to pay rent. In addition, the landlord has no idea that he has hooked up with his limerant object. Sheesh!

I have been trying to make sense of the pseudo-scientific "fact" that behaviorally- and anatomically-modern humans have existed for 250,000 years or so. The most ludicrous part about the "fact" is that human population growth remained at 0.01 percent until 8,000 BCE. That means 9,000 years would be required for the population to double. Oddly, after 8,000 BCE, the human population began rising exponentially with the largest gains occurring in the so-called "Industrial Era." Let's really think about that "fact" now, shall we?

I cannot believe that humanity would have survived with a 0.01 percent growth rate. I would assume that any kind of catastrophe would have caused our immediate extinction. In addition, there's just no way that behaviorally-modern humans would have curtailed da wild thing. Heck, there were no hurdy-gurdy videos available for downloading in those days.

The whole problem rests with our binary explanation of the origin of life. Either we believe that life formed spontaneously and required a very long time to evolve, or life was created by God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam) about 6,000 years ago. Since the latter explanation is simply foolish, we have no choice but to accept the former. Right? I, for one, do not accept either. However, that's neither here or there.

I could believe that humans were around 250,000 years ago if there was the possibility that one or more somewhat advanced civilizations sequentially existed (and decayed) during that time period. I am more open to the idea that global natural catastrophes and human foolishness caused repeated attrition of the general population. Remember, we are talking about behaviorally- and anatomically-modern humans.

Typical "Earth Crust Displacement" Hottie

Unfortunately, when one must choose from only two possibilities, then there is little leeway. Explanations must be made to fit the general model. The theory of evolution calls for extremely long periods of time to elapse before certain changes take place. The same goes for theories about the earth, which is why Charles Hapgood's Earth Crust Displacement (ECD) Theory has been made a laughingstock.

On a side note, I have once again decided against the adoption of Twitter®. Who really cares about what the ol' lavahead is doing at the moment? Who really cares where the ol' lavahead is at the moment? No one. Absolutely no one.

Eunuchs or Unix Redux

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

My nephew apparently got into some kind of brawl on Friday evening at Koko Marina with a bunch of punks, which required him to visit the emergency room at an unnamed hospital. He would have returned to school this morning, but he had a doctor's appointment because of recurring headaches. I don't know what to make of the nephew.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have confirmed that there are essentially two couples in residence. The Indian guy's babe is spending the night regularly. Both the Indian guy and the Iraqi guy have gorgeous haole hotties, if you can believe it. Heck, chicks like that would not even give the ol' lavahead the time of day. Not that I really care.

As I've stated too often, the babe situation is completely over for the ol' lavahead. Babes have never been interested in the oversized cranium anyway. Little wonder since I have nothing in common with them. Well, what about da wild thing? That is an issue which I thought the vast hurdy-gurdy library would help alleviate. Obviously, the aforementioned library is causing its own problems. In addition, the Vienna Sausage is just not atrophying quick enough. My gym workouts are probably maintaining my testosterone level above the average senior citizen.

What I really need to do is desensitize my mind. I have to equate da wild thing with a filthy and vile animal activity. I have to look upon it as a degenerate form of bestiality. All the while, I must prune my vast hurdy-gurdy library down to nothing. In other words, I must become an eunuch. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! I've been claiming to be an eunuch for years. Obviously, I have been kidding myself.

Reaching Out to Nothing

Alas, not much new to report in the "blog." I spend most of my time vegetating anyway. Aside from the terribly benign urban nomad routine during the day, I have nothing to do in the evening except to download more hurdy-gurdy videos for my extensive library, although the number of titles is gradually shrinking. I can see why so many people spend hours in front of the tube watching boring programs and movies. What else is there to do?

I am no longer actively reading all of the alternative news sites on the Net either. I simply skim through the news items. Yeah, I'm not doing much in the way of "reality shopping" these days. Then, I go back to my hurdy-gurdy video downloading. Aside from that, I compose the "blog," or what's left of it.

I had contemplated the addition of a new "blog," one that would be compose by the extremely small handful of readers. I gave up on the idea because there would be little interest. And, I do not want to administrate yet another useless "blog." I thought about reviving the message boards, but the same issues prevail. So, I revisited the brainstorm incorporating Twitter®, for what it's worth. Sadly, the jury is still out for the final decision.

Of course, if someone else wanted to create and administrate an adjunct "blog," I would probably entertain the idea. As long as my part is to simply link the adjunct "blog" to this one, then I would have no objections. Yet, what purpose would it serve?

Truth As Religion

Last night, I installed the latest update (v1.03) to MeeGo® on my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. Very nice. And, of course, I had to flush out the package cache using the command line option. Next month, there will be a major upgrade (v1.1) for MeeGo®. I just hope that I do not have perform a fresh install.

I did not sleep well at all last night. Various Slob Manor (read: rental housing) residents were coming and going about every two hours until 5am this morning. I have no idea who they were. All I could hear was the front door being slammed shut repeatedly.

"Fucking mental midgets," I kept muttering to myself all night long. The fun and games at Slob Manor would not be so bad if I was a young punk like the perpetrators. Sad to say, I am in my twilight years. I am in no mood for "stupid pet tricks." I really need to be in an environment where I can come to grips with mortality. I must reconcile my life before it is too damned late.

When not disturbed by general stupidity, I try to take in as much as I can through my five senses. I observe as much as I can with my eyes, while telescopically focusing on minute details. I listen to all of the sounds with my ears, filtering out as much of the noise pollution as possible. I touch things with my fingers, but I insure that I feel every nuance. With my nose, I attempt to sense the various non-obnoxious scents in the air. And, taste is quite important to me, even with the extremely bland food that I eat. I am describing the essence of living. The true meaning of life is life itself, and the true purpose of life is to live. I am a pauper who cannot afford to travel far and wide. I must, therefore, enhance my local experience. I am performing simple human sensory tasks, but I now realize that one day I will never have the ability to do so again. I want to see and appreciate the ultimate beauty that the world has to offer.

At the library, I completed reading the book, "The History of White People," by Nell Painter. The title is probably misleading, which is why no one seems to want to borrow it. I found the contents fascinating because Painter pretty much confirmed my suspicions that even recent history is oftentimes bogus. We have no idea where human "races" or ethnicities originated. Even with the recent advances in science (read: pseudo-science), there are just better guesses (i.e., statistical probabilities with some level of significance) available. Readers may find the book shocking because some of the concept quackery mentioned is still passed on as facts in current times.

Truth, as I have stated many times before, is elusive. Even on this day, the anniversary of the tragic "September 11th" event, the real truth about what happened is still not known. Everything from Peak Oil to global climate change ... heck, why not include the theory of evolution? ... falls victim to alternative realities. Yes, the modern day version of the truth is like religion. There are too many sects, and faith is all that determines a relativistic truth. I've given up on faith, so I don't expect to find the real truth anytime soon. Only the few absolute truths (refer to the "blog" of July 28th) are known quantities. Nothing more, nothing less.

Post No. 1,594

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms served lamp-baked chicken, ahi sashimi, fresh vegetables, tofu, and rice for lunch. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

My nephew is still out of school due to some kind of disciplinary suspension. I cannot believe that he's been out for one-ninth of the academic year already. Little wonder why the high school graduation rate in Hawai'i is so pathetic.

The ridiculous comedy-drama continues to play itself out at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The Indian guy and his babe returned early again, circa 5:30pm. They immediately went upstairs. The Iraqi guy's limerant object sought refuge in the Iraqi guy's room. When I briefly left my squalid room at 6:30pm to retrieve a cup of ice, I happened to observe the Iraqi guy and his limerant object lying on his bed together, cuddling, with the door wide open. So, apparently, the Iraqi guy's romantic strategy was successful. When all was clear, the Iraqi guy cooked another lavish meal for his limerant object. They entertained themselves for several hours in the dining area. I could hear the limerant object talking and talking, profanity peppered liberally in her monologue. She's a strange bitch, nothing at all like the persona she presented to the rest of us. The dinner wine, flowing like water, must have freed her tongue.

Earlier, I had told Alan that we now have six people (of which there are two couples) and a dog residing in the house. Well, the Indian guy's babe does not actually reside at Slob Manor. However, she will be hanging around a lot, I'm sure. The couples have taken priority for use of the kitchen, which means that Alan and I must either wait oftentimes until after 10pm or just prepare our meals in our squalid rooms. I have already opted for the latter. And, I have decided to align myself with the Indian guy and have vowed to assist his cause in a clandestine manner.

Here I am, in the final stretch to the end, and I must now endure endless "stupid pet tricks." Three-plus years of communal housing has taken its toll on me. With so little time left, I am now wondering why I continue to tolerate that crap. My agenda should have changed once I realized the absolute truths (refer to the "blog" of July 28th). Instead, I continue to "kick the can." How close to the edge of sanity will I be pushed to before I snap into action?

Stupid Pet Tricks

Well, the situation at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night even exceeded my own expectations of stupidity. Yes, we had an almost-cloned repeat of the foolishness of one week ago (refer to the "blog" of September 1st). The Iraqi guy and Erica, his limerant object, were spending a leisurely two hours in the kitchen and dining area. Then, the Indian guy abruptly arrived at 7:30pm with the same babe as last week. No doubt, the Iraqi guy was peeved that his romantic meal was interrupted. Needless to say, the kitchen remained the focus of activity until past 10pm. The foolish Iraqi guy had closed all of the windows in the kitchen again. So, the Indian guy's garlic-laced cooking odors permeated every nook and cranny.

At one point, Erica was locked out of the house while she walked her dog. From outside my window, she had to ask me to open the front door. She happened to mention the Indian guy and his "girlfriend." So, I assumed she recognized the babe in question.

As it goes, the Indian guy's "girlfriend" may have spent the night in violation of Slob Manor rules. For some reason, the Indian guy was up at 6am this morning cooking breakfast. For two, maybe? He left his unwashed cookware in the sink.

The only highlight of the day was when I restored my extreme monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. All else was moot. About an hour after I returned to Slob Manor, the Indian guy's "girlfriend" showed up. The Iraqi guy had left the front door open and was pacing around outside. The Indian guy was already upstairs, although I did not hear him arrive. A few minutes later, the Indian guy and his alleged "girlfriend" were off to a Yoga class together. Then, the Iraqi guy's limerant object returned from walking her dog. She was whining to the Iraqi guy about the Indian guy. I almost burst out laughing.

There's something really suspicious about the Indian guy's conduct in the past two weeks. I suspect that he is attempting to psychologically wreak havoc on the Iraqi guy (and his limerant object). For the past three years that I have resided in Slob Manor, I have never observed the Indian guy cooking so much. Nor, has he ever brought a babe to visit. That is, until the Iraqi guy and his limerant object moved in. My guess is that the Indian guys believes that the Iraqi guy and Erica are a couple. He is, therefore, competing with the Iraqi guy with the intention of shutting him down. I can't say that I blame the Indian guy. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object have essentially taken over the whole house. Will it get even more stupid? Didn't I already predict that it would?

Incidentally, the Iraqi guy noticed the "For Sale" sign in the back window of my Nissan® Frontier truck. He expressed an interest in purchasing it. Does he have $15,000 in cash to spare? I thought that he was flat broke, at least according to the landlord. As I said, the clown is a con man, a bamboozler.

Well, the ol' lavahead is always at the trailing edge of technology. Netbooks such as his Acer® Aspire One are probably on their way out. The so-called "tablets" are now in vogue thanks to the Apple® iPad®. Frankly, I cannot see myself using a "tablet," although I like the form factor. I already know the limitations of touchscreen digitizers. And, there's just no way to efficiently type anything even with Swype®. Well, who am I to say? I am just one netbook user amidst millions of "tablet" connoisseurs.

Meaning & Purpose (Yet Again)

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned. Should I discuss the malignant events back at Slob manor (read: rental housing)? Let's not. I am, frankly, sick of "mental midgetry."

I had a few more comments to make about my enslavement to the "system" but, really, why bother? I have probably stated the same nonsense previously. The real issue, of course, is that I have no concept of mortality. I have an unhealthy fear of it, but I know nothing about it. All I know is that I have woven an intricate biographical fabric of which I do not want to part with.

Understanding mortality requires that I attempt some kind of recollection of the time before my birth. Yes, I know that's impossible. My imagination could conjure up a ludicrous past life, I suppose. To be honest, though, I have very little recollection of my past. My childhood memories have nearly vanished, except of occasional flashbacks that plague me from time to time. I also have little recollection of my adolescent years, possibly because they were so mundane. So, exactly what "biographical fabric" am I referring to?

I am satisfied with who I am at this point in time, fully knowing that "who I am" is a culmination of all of the experiences that I can and cannot remember. My "biographical fabric" is my self-aware soul. I only wish that I came to understand the absolute truths (refer to the "blog" of July 28th) much earlier.

I am not prepared to disappear into nothingness. Just the thought makes me irritable and cranky. How can I be here at one moment, then disappear completely at the next? Just the idea that I would be gone is chilling. Heck, I won't even know that I'm gone. What is one to make of that? None of us are adequately prepared for the end. Our entire society and so-called "civilization" has separated us from the animal world using dubious criteria. We've fabricated religions, beliefs, truisms, and pseudo-science to instill ideas in the mind that elude reality. We've elevated human life up on special pedestal, yet the "inner animal" still rages on, waiting to kill and maim with pleasure.

We've also established extremely arbitrary standards for "meaning and purpose," yet our mortality insures that neither are relevant. I am gradually coming of age, so to speak, but I am constantly thwarted by noise, stupidity, distractions, essentially what we could call "stupid pet tricks." Being a pauper, I am unable to escape the literal flea circus of rank-and-file peons. I must constantly engage in animal-to-animal behavioral transactions in order to simply exist. I cannot transcend to a higher plane of thought. I must always grovel around in the mud and dung with the rest of the hogs.

Yet, do I really know what I am talking about? What exactly will transcending to a higher plane of thought accomplish? Too much thinking is what got humanity into the bind it's in right now. Perhaps I am grasping at straws because I do not understand that the true meaning of life is life itself, and that the true purpose of life is to live.

Predator & Prey

Another day in the urban nomad salt mines ... same ol' shit. Not much noteworthy to report. A clown happened to step on my feet on the bus this morning as he bumbled his way to the exit. "You stepped on my feet, you fuckin' dickhead," I yelled across the aisle. The crazy African-American bitch, whom I had a run-in with a few weeks ago on the bus (refer to the "blog" of July 1st), was sitting in the back with a look of fear in her face.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was surprised to see that Alan had returned. He was supposed to be back from Arizona last Wednesday. There apparently was a slight delay in funding by his bank, so he did not receive the keys to his "McMansion" until the 1st of September. I filled him in about the recent nonsense at Slob Manor. We also noted that there were bird droppings on the kitchen counter. So, the Iraqi guy must have had the front door open for a spell.

The Iraqi guy has been livin' large, even though he is unemployed. The landlord feels sorry for the bamboozler, so he pays little or nothing for rent. He has the whole of Slob Manor to himself all day long. Naturally, this evening, he had to cook another lavish meal for his limerant object. Then, he and his limerant object leisurely ate dinner in the dining area. Total time? About two hours. Obviously, no one else could use the kitchen during that time. Later in the evening, he will soak himself with a hideous cologne and go out trolling. Never mind that he is supposedly a devout Arab Muslim. Never mind that his limerant object is home alone. What a con man!

Slave Labor Day should have been the time for me to reflect on my own continued enslavement to the "system." However, I am not a slave who is indentured in hard labor. Nonetheless, I am still a slave. Yesterday, I alluded to being caught up with computers and my vast hurdy-gurdy library (see catalog) as a function of an "inner animal" quest. Really, that's only a part of the problem.

The real trap has been my unsuccessful foray into the world of the so-called "ownership society." I attempted to play the same game as the big boys, and I lost big time. The "condotel" unit is my loser's trophy. It sucks out so much money from my non-earning investments. Thus, I am completely strapped for cash. From there, the dominoes continue to fall, one after the other. That's how I ended up in Slob Manor with a host of useless possessions. I have no money to seek out the Big Money Grip entertainment venues. So, I am left with my two computers and my vast hurdy-gurdy collection.

When faced with mental midgets such as the Iraqi guy, his limerant object, and the myriad fools on the bus, the "inner animal" is coldly lurking in the background, ready to pounce. I am at the point where I no longer distinguish humans from animals. We may wear clothes and shoes, we may speak languages rather than produce cacophonous nonsense, we may walk on two legs rather than four, but we are still animals. I do not need to imagine an evolutionist's ape. In the animal world, there are only the stations of the predator and the prey. As humans, our only advantage may be our ability to choose which one we want to be.

Slave Labor Day 2010

Another day at Kahala Mall, pretty much the same as Saturday with one twist. I finally deployed my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer in the field. I had already exhausted the limited selection of Linux periodicals. What else could I do to pass the time for a couple of hours or so in the Barnes & Noble® Café?

Typical Emancipated Hottie

The mall was incredibly packed for a supposedly restful holiday, Slave Labor Day. As usual, a senior citizen exercise class convened at 8am in the center of the mall. Several hundred senior citizens participated, all in varying stages of decrepitude. Much to my chagrin, many of the senior citizens were just a few years older than the oversized cranium. In other words, they were in my age group. I will essentially be one of them in due time. What is sad to see is the sheer number of senior citizens who require some sort of prosthetics to remain ambulatory. Of course, that should be nothing new considering how many senior citizens ride the bus along with the ol' lavahead.

I tried to imagine what many of them looked like when they were younger without the canes and walkers, without the severely wrinkled and weathered skin, without the all too familiar black splotches and skin discolorations. We're talking about twenty years ago, perhaps. When I was a much younger fool, twenty years seemed like such a long time. Now, it's just a flash in time.

The implications of a short lifespan should have motivated us to insure a real "quality of life" over the thousands of years of human existence. Rather, the opposite has occurred. Enslavement has been honed to near perfection, with pain and suffering providing the sordid backdrop. How can one make sense of it all?

The ridiculous Slob Manor (read: rental housing) follies attest to the animal nature of humans. There seems to be no escape from it. The unchoreographed stupidity is what can be projected unto a grand global scale. Little wonder why killing and maiming, the "inner animal" wielding its ugly head, is so prevalent. The "inner animal" is the beast that seems to cause the most turmoil, an inner conflict with little resolution except violence.

I am finding that the "inner animal" is also the cause of a lot of problems for the ol' lavahead. For example, I became quite tormented this morning when I contemplated my need for two computers. The latter problem becomes even more annoying when I consider my obsession with asceticism. The root of the conundrum, of course, is the dreaded "inner animal." The "inner animal" is often relentlessly guided by biology, obviously a prison of its own kind. My need for two computers at present is based upon the maintenance of the vast hurdy-gurdy library that is residing on my Seagate® FreeAgent Go® portable hard drive. The hurdy-gurdy library is a substitution for the biological need to mate, that is, until the Vienna Sausage renders itself totally dysfunctional due to old age. In the days before computers, the unfulfilled "inner animal" quest to mate would probably have manifested itself in senseless violence. Now, the acquisition of techno-gadgets and shiny objects serves to pacify the "inner animal" through distraction and substitution.

I rode a crowded bus to town, performed my usual workout at the gym, and returned to the mall. I then loitered in various locations in the mall, doing nothing but sitting around like a few of the other senior citizens. I am perpetually astounded by how much fun people have at the mall. And, I am always flummoxed by the amount of money being spent. Like Saturday, I stopped off at Foodland Farms in the Aina Haina Shopping Center on the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

When I stepped in the door of the dump, I observed the Iraqi guy in the kitchen feverishly cooking an extravagant meal for his limerant object. The limerant object was sitting with dog in hand and watching her fervent admirer engage in his culinary expertise. Naturally, I knew that they would be using the kitchen and dining area for an indefinite period of time. So, I ate my pathetic meal in my squalid room.

While I was at the mall, I noticed people everywhere with notebook computers. Only one other person had a netbook. The Apple® brand is the computer and cell phone of choice in the islands. Remember when I was one of a very small minority who owned an Apple® iBook? Well, times have changed. Yes, there's incredible snob appeal in owning an Apple® product. Sorry, no thanks.

I'm actually very pleased with MeeGo®. In comparing it with all other netbook operating systems, there's just nothing like it. MeeGo® was very well designed for the small screen. My first impression was not good, mostly because of the cartoon-ish interface. However, after several weeks of usage, I even prefer it over Ubuntu "Karmic Koala" on my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer.

Well, my mind is still gridlocked in introspection. I had hoped that, by carrying my netbook with me today, I would have been able to more fully articulate my thoughts. Obviously, that was not meant to be.

Mind Meld Redux

Last night, I added a select few legacy TrueType fonts to MeeGo® on my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. I could have simply copied the files from my other computer. Rather, I found a Web site which had free download-ready fonts. Then, I deposited the fonts in a folder in my home directory. There's no need to go through the formal system font installation because MeeGo® only allows for one user. Well, all that's left is to compile the non-free codecs source code and install it.

Aside from all of the ambient noise, another reason that I cannot sleep well at night is the active state of my mind. For some reason, I attempt to work on projects (e.g., MeeGo®) after 10pm. After I complete the project for the evening, my mind is completely wound up. So, I am not in a relaxed state suitable for sleep.

Another non-compelling Sunday has come to pass. Nothing noteworthy to report. I treated myself to a local-style bento consisting of half of a lamp-baked chicken with rice and a slice of apple pie, all from Foodland in Ala Moana Center. That was my preliminary Wage Slave Day celebration dinner, which I ate in the privacy of my squalid room when I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

The Iraqi guy closed all of the windows in the kitchen again. He put a putrid electric-powered room deodorizer in there as some kind of consolation for the presence of stale air and lingering food odors. Glass shards were all over the kitchen floor as well. Someone broke a glass cup, perhaps? The carton of rotting eggs was gone, though. Later, the Indian guy returned, only to engage in another cooking soirée for himself. Was there a mess left behind? Is the sky blue?

I managed to chat with the Indian guy while he was cooking. He seems to be agreeable with the new situation at Slob Manor. Of course, the Indian guy never complains about much. He has the persona of an easy-going guy. He just does what he wants to do, and nothing seems to bother him. I'm sure that he's aware of the undercurrents, but he just doesn't care. Perhaps his strategy is the best for Slob Manor.

Stupidity Knows No Bounds

I was on my way to Kahala Mall in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 7:30am this morning. I was quite fatigued because I did not sleep well last night. The routine was the same, with the exception that I had to take my never-worn $300 pair of glasses to LensCrafters® to repair the broken nylon line that holds the lenses in the frame. Fortunately, I was not charged anything for the repair.

I dragged myself through the usual urban nomad routine, although I was barely cognizant of the whole experience. To be honest, I have been gridlocked in a major introspection for the past few days. Details are not necessary. Let's just say that nihilism was at the core. Even at the gym, I was too preoccupied to monitor my workout. Thank goodness, I could run through the entire routine even in a comatose state.

I was very reluctant to return to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). So, I spent a long time loitering in various parts of the mall. Kahala Mall is a very boring mall, but the myriad shoppers were surely having a great time. As for the recession, I saw no evidence of such a phenomenon.

When I finally returned to the dump, I was able to eat dinner in peace in my squalid room. A few minutes later, the Iraqi guy welcomed himself home. He anxiously cooked up another lavish meal for himself and his limerant object, Erica. Where does he get the money? According to the landlord, the Iraqi guy is unemployed and broke. Yet, he eats far better than I do. He also cooks for two people. He has two cars and drives everywhere. I normally ride the bus. The landlord also claims that the Iraqi guy is "kind of slow." Frankly, I believe that he is a bamboozler, a con man.

And, what of his limerant object, Erica? What exactly would possess a babe to move into a filthy hovel with four guys, three of whom are complete strangers? She had her own apartment prior to moving into Slob Manor. Erica claims that the Iraqi guy was very persuasive. Yeah, right. Is she yanking his chain and using him? Or, does she have some kind of secret desire to be the center of attention? Unfortunately, the only guy who continues to show an obsessive interest in her is the Iraqi guy. Frankly, I wish they would cut through all the sexual tension, hook up, and move out.

Typical Daily Hottie

Well, I believe that the time has come to take a break from religiously posting pictures of hotties. The activity is incredibly benign and is a waste of time. If I see any good babe images, I may or may not include them in the "blog" from this point forward.

Poof!

Another wasted day has come to pass, as anyone can imagine. Nothing noteworthy to report either. All I can say is that I have completely lost my appetite for all food, I seem to have no desire to sleep, and I have no inclination to do anything beyond the benign urban nomad routine. And, all simple tasks have become monumental obstacles.

Typical Monumental Hottie
Having a chick reside in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is troubling. Aside from the fact that Erica is prone to whining, there is the issue of the Iraqi guy's obvious infatuation with her. He is extremely protective and possessive of his limerant object. Worse yet, Erica is the former squeeze of the Iraqi guy's cousin. And, according to Erica, the cousin believes that he is still in a relationship with her. Being in a filthy house with four guys will more than likely result in ridiculous game-playing. Of course, I count myself out, but that doesn't preclude that I will not be indirectly affected by the stupidity one way or another.

I am glad that, in my old age, the babe situation has become moot. Just a matter of time before the Vienna Sausage is completely dyfunctional. And, what of my vast hurdy-gurdy library on my Seagate® FreeAgent Go® portable hard drive? Heck, just a couple of touchpad taps (i.e., mouse clicks), and I can nullify the entire hard drive. Poof! No hurdy-gurdy library.

Well, the recent Slob Manor follies have, not surprisingly, made me despise the dump even further. I have commenced eating my paltry dinner in my squalid room. I want to minimize the chances of have to engage in conversation with any of the fools. Yet, even someone with the intellect of a doorknob would know that the time has come to move out of the dump. Why can't I motivate myself to so so?

MeeGo® Egonovism

This morning at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), in the aftermath of the Indian guy's cooking soirée, I observed the Iraqi guy surveying the mess, looking absolutely dejected much as a fallen war general. His own soiled dishes were in a stack on the table in the dining area. From what I gathered, he and Erica were having a peaceful dinner when the Indian guy appeared with his dinner guest. The Indian guy immediately commenced cooking his garlic-laced dishes, which produced some hefty fumes. That sent both Erica and the Iraqi guy fleeing to the Iraqi guy's squalid room with dinner in hand. They remained in his room until they no longer heard any signs of life in the kitchen area (circa 9pm).

At 6:30am this morning, there were cooking utensils piled in the sink. Some kind of sauce was splattered everywhere, as if there had been a food fight. The Iraqi guy's own dinner dishes were stacked with hardened food coated all over them. And, yes, the carton of rotting eggs is still sitting on the kitchen counter. When I returned to Slob Manor in the late afternoon, the kitchen was somewhat cleaner. I have no idea whether the Iraqi guy or the Indian guy cleaned the place. The kitchen windows were not closed. Later, the landlord came by and mentioned that the Indian guy had to cook dinner for the babe because he lost a golf game wager. He made a lobster dish and a lamb dish as the main entrées. The landlord also said that the Iraqi guy was complaining about the mess earlier today. Apparently, both he and Erica are not too fond of the Indian guy. I wonder why.

Typical Lobster Lovin' Hottie

I verified that the MeeGo® netbook operating system is indeed a development platform, which is the reason why it is so spartan. Fedora will be the first "distro" to actually incorporate the MeeGo® UX (in Fedora 14). The advantage of using the Fedora version is that there will be access to Fedora and third-party repositories. The disadvantage is the Fedora version life cycle. I do not want to keep installing new versions every few months.

On a final note, I read an interesting article about Egonovists on the Rev. Rob Times site. What is Egonovism?

Egonovism is the belief in a god and/or a religious structure that is not determined by holy text, organized religion, or religious leaders. It is the Egonovists themselves who determine the religious doctrine. Essentially, they make up the rules, and they decide how to follow them. It is likely that a statistically large number of self-identified Christians fall into the Egonovism category.

The article is certainly revealing insofar as the Westernized bastardization of religion is concerned. There is one short interview with an Egonovist, which really summed it all up. An excerpt:

RRT: If you don’t believe that the god you describe created the universe or all life in it, then why is he worth believing in?

JS: Because to me it’s better to have faith in something than nothing.

Yeah, that's exactly the status of religion in the empire. Sound more like religious relativism, eh?