Post No. 1,675

Well, I slept a little better last night. However, I instinctively woke up at 4am this morning. That's usually the time the Iraqi guy's limerant object takes the dog for a walk, then returns to hand-feed the pathetic little thing. Or, if Alan has a night off, he noisily prepares a snack at that time in the kitchen. I donned the AOSafety® Stow-A-Way® earmuffs for a true field test. Noise attenuation was pretty good. Unfortunately, the earmuffs are somewhat uncomfortable. I was not able to go back to sleep. So, I was groggy for most of the day. I suffered from major bouts of disorientation, which was very disconcerting.

At the library, I completed reading, "Mirage Men: An Adventure into Paranoia, Espionage, Psychological Warfare, and UFOs," by Mark Pilkington. The book is quite interesting, especially when extrapolating the dastardly concepts over the whole spectrum of what is deemed "disinformation." I was better able to understand why truth is so elusive.

I have to get used to punching in the number "56" in the age field on the console of the elliptical machine when initiating my cardio workout at the gym. The cardio equipment is able to monitor my heart rate and determine what range of exertion I am in. Mind you, I have been somewhat appalled over the past few years when I noticed that my target range has been decreasing. It's actually an easy task to calculate using:

THR = 0.8(220 - Age) beats per minute

Yeah, my heart rate should average about 130bpm in order to prevent a cardio event. Believe me, I cannot even break out in a sweat with a heart rate that low. Sheesh!

Ol' Lavahead Day 2010

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.

Sleep deprivation for the third day in a row has left me in a zombie-like state. There is always someone in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) making noise about every two hours after 10pm. The stupidity continues to cycle until 7am. Last night, the theater of stupidity actually commenced at one o' clock in the morning when the new idiot in the attached studio returned from parts unknown and decided to perform his laundry chores. Once I am awakened, I have great difficulty going back to sleep. The real problem is that Slob Manor has no insulation in its walls. And, the laminated and tiled floors are both acoustically "live." Every sound echos and amplifies in the "chamber of horrors." Anyway, due to my fatigue, I was not able to enjoy Ol' Lavahead Day.

I did manage to stop by City Mill in the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center and purchase a pair of $21 AOSafety® Stow-A-Way® earmuffs. Why? To protect my hearing? No, to protect my sanity. The noise reduction rating is only 21dB, which is much less than the claimed 30dB reduction with the cheap disposable CVS® foam earplugs. Unfortunately, I cannot use the foam earplugs on a constant basis without risking another earwax problem. Even more ridiculous is that, in the lower sound spectrum, all hearing protection is less effective. The lower spectrum is, of course, amplified superbly by the Slob Manor acoustics.

Back at Slob Manor, I assumed that the Indian guy has moved out completely. However, he seemed to have abandoned many of his possessions, taking only what he must have deemed to be valuable. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object were making a lot of noise upstairs in the second floor common area at 7:30pm. I figured that they were moving around the remaining furniture to suit their needs. Since my squalid room is right below the common area, I was privy to hear every thud amplified by the poor Slob Manor acoustics. I briefly tested my new AOSafety® Stow-A-Way® earmuffs. Sadly, the thuds are in the lower sound spectrum. So, the level of attenuation was still inadequate.

Joseph and his limerant object were having a grand ol' time upstairs. After all, they won. The Indian guy is gone. Bad ol' puddy tat! Now, they have the entire house to themselves. In a day or so, I expect to see the Indian guy's abandoned kitchenware removed and all of his former shelf space commandeered. The landlord does not seem to care. Alan doesn't seem to mind either. In any case, the writing is on the wall, so to speak. The situation is "going to hell in a handbasket" fairly rapidly.

I really don't know why I am wasting my time rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, as it were. I have zero renter's rights in Slob Manor, all the while Joseph is increasing his domain. The quality of tenants has decreased significantly. Let's face it, nothing will get better. I need to "get my ass in gear" and find another place to reside. In the meantime, I have my AOSafety® Stow-A-Way® earmuffs to help me survive the ordeal.

Well, that's Ol' Lavahead Day in a nutshell. What is to be learned about the small microcosm that is depicted daily in the "blog"? Aside from the obvious rampant stupidity, we can infer that society-at-large is rapidly degenerating. The "inner animal" is ready to burst out after millenia of captivity by the now-failing "civilization" paradigm (refer to the "blog" of November 21st). We are rapidly approaching the crossroads, perhaps even the Rubicon.

Old Man Transition

Same ol' shit (i.e., Sunday urban nomad routine). No details necessary. When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I opened the front door to find Alan laying on the couch in the living room. He was elated to tell me that the Indian guy is officially moving out of Slob Manor. In fact, the Indian guy transported some of his stuff this afternoon. Oddly, the company vehicle has not been driven since Friday. Apparently, the Indian guy's babe has been driving him around. Both the landlord and Alan suspect that the Indian guy had his own vehicle repossessed. However, I did not entertain the rumor.

The big question is whether Joseph, the Iraqi guy, will be asked to move upstairs. Or, will his limerant object have the entire second floor to herself. Actually, she has had the entire second floor to herself for over a month already. Effectively, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object will commandeer the entire house, just as I have predicted. Of course, Alan doesn't mind at all if the limerant object takes over the house. He'd gladly be her slave.

Well, I must begin acclimating myself to the world of senior citizenry. Thus, I have been observing all of the senior citizens around me during my urban nomad treks. I note everything about them: the way they dress, the way they walk, whether they must incorporate the use of prosthetics, and so forth. I watch their demeanor. I eavesdrop on their conversations, if possible. I observe what they eat. Everything, because the future is here, my friends. I am a decrepit senior citizen!

Old Man Noises

The highlight of the day was the regular monthly meeting with Shirley. The itinerary was nearly the same as last month (refer to the "blog" of October 30th) with the exception that Shirley met me at Koko Marina. We then ate lunch at Gyotaku in the Niu Valley Shopping Center. The reason? A discrete early celebration of Ol' Lavahead Day.

A sobering experience nearly ruined the day, though. Shirley had to purchase a few greeting card at Foodland before departing for Kailua. One of the Foodland employees asked Shirley if I was her father. Do I really look that old already? As much as I don't want to admit it, the truth is plainly visible for all to see. As one who is always searching for the truth, I must accept the truth when offered. Otherwise, I would be a hypocrite. With that in mind, I have decided to expedite the pruning of my massive hurdy-gurdy collection.

This morning, before I departed for Hawai'i Kai, the Iraqi guy gave me a couple of persimmons. At first, I refused because I have never acquired a taste for the fruit. On second thought, I accepted the gift graciously and will give it to moms next week. A few minutes later, I gave Joseph a new T-shirt that I was about to donate to Goodwill with other stuff. That's détente, my friends. I also gave Shirley a couple more of my useless possessions as part of my on-going divestiture program.

Uneventful, Very Uneventful

An uneventful day ... no crowds, no stress, no nothing. I followed the usual urban nomad itinerary, but I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) before 3pm, much earlier than usual. Of course, I immediately locked myself in my squalid room. I ate the leftover turkey and dressing that I had saved from yesterday. I have to admit that the dinner was delicious.

A strange car was parked in the driveway, specifically in the Indian guy's usual spot. I observed that it was a company vehicle with the AECOM® logo on the side. The Indian guy is employed by the firm. However, the Indian guy was nowhere to be found. The landlord had mentioned that the Indian guy was supposed to come by to pay his overdue rent. The landlord was nowhere to be found either. From what I understand, the Indian guy may be moving out as early as this weekend.

Well, my massive hurdy-gurdy collection is now down to an all-time low of 120 titles. I don't know if it can get much lower than that. Otherwise, there would be no purpose for my expensive Seagate® FreeAgent Go® 640GB portable hard drive, eh?

No-Holiday Holiday 2010

I followed what would normally be a Sunday urban nomad itinerary because of the No-Holiday Holiday. An explanation of my disdain for this particular holiday is to be found in the "blog" of last year. Ala Moana Center was fairly crowded this morning considering that only three stores were open (i.e., Long®, Foodland, and the ABC Store). Not even the Makai Market was open. Sears® was also open later for a half-day. People are just itching to spend lots of money, eh?

After my workout at the gym, I ended up back at Ala Moana Center. The place was quite crowded by then. I reluctantly purchased a meatloaf local-style bento from Foodland. I had no choice since none of the food outlets were open. I had actually planned to stop in Waikiki because almost all of the stores were open there, but I thought better of the idea when I realized how unnerving the experience would be.

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I noticed that someone was cooking a turkey. I then decided to wash my Nissan® Frontier truck, a task that I do not care to perform anymore. The landlord briefly chatted with me while I was outside. She said that she cooked the turkey for all of us in the dysfunctional Slob Manor household. A few minutes later, Alan came back from grocery shopping. He had purchased a couple of pies and other goodies to go with the meal.

Since I already had purchased my dinner, I simply packed away a plateful of turkey and dressing to eat tomorrow. I ate my meatloaf dinner in my squalid room. Alan ate his turkey dinner alone in the dining area. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object were locked away in his squalid room. The landlord had tried to call them, but no one answered the phone.

The landlord was in and out a couple of times to finish the preparation of the turkey. She also told me that the Indian guy is most likely moving out very soon. The Indian guy has not been seen in Slob Manor for almost two weeks. He is apparently staying at his babe's place. I mentioned the news to Alan. He seemed joyful. However, Alan doesn't realize that Joseph and his limerant object will commandeer the entire house once the Indian guy is gone.

And, Alan just can't seem to believe that there's more going on between Joseph and his limerant object than meets the eye. Last night, the love birds (read: fuck buddies) spent hours in the second floor common area with the lights off. Then, the limerant object spent the night in Joseph's room. "But she said that she has never slept with him," Alan retorted. The floor in Joseph's room is pretty hard, I rebutted. He should also ask himself why Joseph and his limerant object have nowhere to go for the holiday. The limerant object is a local girl. Where's her family? Where are their friends?

Briana Banks

Well, I discussed all of that before in the "blog." The limerant object hangs out only with one person, that is, Joseph. She never goes out without him. She has no babe friends, which is very odd. The only person she calls on her cell phone is Joseph. What is even more odd is that she is a hottie, with the kind of Briana Banks figure (i.e., thin with a large bustline) that guys would kill for. Yet, there are no guys calling her. Nada. Does Alan notice any of that? Did he happen to observe the limerant object doing Joseph's laundry, something that she told Alan that she would never stoop low enough to perform.

I am not sure whether Alan knows that babes lie a lot, especially to guys. I have no idea why babes feel the need to lie incessantly, but they do regardless. It's even worse when a guy is in a "relationship" with a babe. I am certain that many guys would beg to differ. However, most of the dissenters are probably the typical "nice guy." Previously, in my ignorance, I attributed the dishonesty of babes to some kind of genetic disposition along with an unhealthy dose of Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline Christianity, and Islam) nonsense. In my more enlightened state, I am more inclined to believe that babes have been "socialized" with stereotypical "female" characteristics as established by a chauvinistic paternal antecedent.

Later, Joseph cooked his own elegant meal for both himself and his limerant object. Both of them ignored the food that the landlord had prepared. From my squalid room, I could hear the limerant object swooning over her Iraqi chef. I could hear the hot oil sizzling as he deep-fried his tasty "terrorist" treat. I tried to imagine the sheer power that he exerted over his frying pan.

The highlight of my day was when I installed the much-awaited updates for MeeGo® on my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. Sadly, none of the aesthetic problems were resolved, most of which were actually regressions from the last version. Maybe next month's updates will be more promising.

Tidbits of Yore

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 rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan was up and about right after Joseph's limerant object returned from wage slavery at 4:30pm. He immediately began warming up leftovers in the microwave oven. Alas, Joseph also returned shortly afterward and commandeered the kitchen in order to cook another lavish Middle Eastern "terrorist" meal for his limerant object. Alan should be given credit for trying, I suppose. However, he is a victim of his own foolishness, as he admitted to the limerant object that he is not outgoing enough to make a move on an attractive babe. Although Alan's chances were slim to none to begin with, he has unwittingly ended the game for himself. Babes expect a guy to make the move immediately. End of story.

Well, when all else fails, bring out the tidbits. I have had to disable a few of the SpamGuard features for my one-and-only e-mail account. Apparently, a lot of legitimate e-mail was automatically deleted. Even my own custom filters was discarding legitimate e-mail. That's also the reason why it took me so long to create an account for the MeeGo® Forums. So, I now have to scour the SpamGuard and trash folders daily. What a mess!

I have perused a few of the advertisements for various "Black Friday" sales. I noticed that netbook computers will be on sale for $190 or less at several places. Why didn't I wait to purchase the semi-useless netbook? I can also purchase an electronic piggy bank for $10 on sale. I could really use a piggy bank, although I never have any cash on hand. Yeah, even I was tempted by some of the cheap useless crap. The satanic gargoyles, however, are going to go berserk on Friday. The buses will be crowded. The malls will be mobbed. Thank goodness, I'll be sitting in the inner courtyard at the library. I won't be spending a dime.

14 Ceh 12 Imix

"The failure to begin to deal with our bloated military establishment and the profligate use of it in missions for which it is hopelessly inappropriate will, sooner rather than later, condemn the United States to a devastating trio of consequences: imperial overstretch, perpetual war, and insolvency, leading to a likely collapse similar to that of the former Soviet Union." -- Chalmers Johnson

(12.19.17.16.1) Same ol' shit. No details necessary. I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 4:10pm. Joseph, the Iraqi guy, was on his way out to parts unknown. Alan commenced cooking at 4:25pm. Yeah, he was reenacting the same scenario of exactly one week ago. Joseph's limerant object arrived at the usual time, just like clockwork. Unlike last Tuesday, she did not come back downstairs, not even to walk the dog. Eventually, at 5pm, Joseph returned to Slob Manor. Alan's plan to dine with the limerant object was thwarted. Subsequently, Alan was engaged in a slammin' soirée. Alan then monopolized the kitchen until he departed for wage slavery at 8:30pm, most likely to screw up Joseph's dinner with his limerant object. The limerant object sought refuge in Joseph's room until Alan was gone. Alan left a plate of food on the counter, no doubt for the limerant object, and took the rest with him. Stupid pet tricks.

What really perturbs me is the fact that Joseph, the Iraqi guy, would not even be here were it not for Shrub and his cronies. Well, I can't simply blame Shrub because the empire had been trying to put down Saddam, its puppet-gone-rogue, for a number of years. Joseph still has family in Iraq, which leads me to believe that he cannot return home and remain alive for very long. In other words, he is most likely a traitor to his people. He sided with the empire. Since he is currently destitute, Joseph could not have been much more than a low-level stooge.

Chalmers Johnson I always have more to write about, but I don't particularly enjoy writing for myself. Thus, I will only take the time to pay tribute to Chalmers Johnson, who passed on a few days ago. Johnson is most noted for his book, "Blowback: The Costs and Consequences of Empire." His last book, "Dismantling the Empire: America's Last Best Hope," is his final warning and wake-up call.

Post No. 1,667

Yesterday, the Iraqi guy left for parts unknown at 3pm. He left his limerant object at home alone in Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Not surprisingly, Alan spent a lot of time in the living room, from 4pm until 8:15pm. Joseph's limerant object came downstairs several times. And, of course, Alan was right there conveniently to engage in conversation. I was locked in my squalid room, thank goodness. Because of the tunneling effect of the shabby Slob Manor construction, I was able to hear their conversation clearly even with the door closed.

At one point, Alan mentioned that he was not an outgoing guy, so he is unlikely to make any moves on an attractive babe. I recognized the "cheap trick" for what it was, which is a true dork's way of hinting to a babe that he is interested in her. I am sure that Joseph's limerant object knows that something is up. She's probably denying her intuition because Alan should know that he's too old for her. Alan, of course, is waiting for the right moment to snap into action. He's waiting for a sign. He's already told me several times that he has established quite a "rapport" with the Iraqi guy's limerant object. What? Did you say, "There's no fool like an old fool"?

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.

Moms mentioned that Uncle Stoney had passed on a few days ago. The funeral will be conducted on the Big Island, so our immediate family will not be attending. Uncle Stoney was the last uncle on pops' side of the family.

As an addendum to the discussion about "quantitative easing" the other day, I am including a referral to Michael Hudson's latest article titled, "Why Paul Krugman Waves the Flag for Uncle Sam," that appeared on the Counterpunch site. An excerpt:

Unfortunately, most economists are brainwashed with the trivializing formula MV=PT. The idea is that more money (M) increases "prices" (P) – presumably consumer prices and wages. (One can ignore velocity, "V," which is merely a tautological residual.) "T" is "transactions," for GDP, sometimes called "O" for Output.

Some 99.9 per cent of money and credit is not spent on consumer goods (the "T" in MV = PT). Every day more than an entire year's GDP passes through the New York Clearing House and the Chicago Mercantile Exchange for bank loans, stocks and bonds, packaged mortgages, derivatives and other financial assets and bets. So the effect of the Fed's Quantitative Easing (monetary inflation) is to inflate asset prices, not consumer prices and other commodity prices.

Okay, you be the judge ... again.

Failed "Civilization" Paradigm

An uneventful Sunday would have come to pass were it not for a psychotic homeless bitch whom I encountered at Ala Moana Center this afternoon. I was sitting on one of the wooden benches near the Sears® automotive center. I had just finished a pint of Häagen-Dazs® Java Chip ice cream, which I purchased at Foodland just for sheer pleasure of being. The homeless ho' had stopped with her shopping cart (read: mobile home) right in front of me. Inside the shopping cart were all its worldly possessions. Crowning the pile was a filthy stuffed toy bear.

The bitch was obese with massive amounts of make-up caked on its contorted kabuki-mask face. It was wearing some kind of hideous dress that was stretched beyond the fabric's tensile strength by the bulging layers of blubber underneath. The ho' had somehow managed to pull a tight pink camisole over the dress. Oh, the horror! It asked me for money, then a "donation," neither of which I could accommodate. It then called me "stupid" and made obtuse references to "rape." Calmly and politely, I said, "Get the fuck outta here, you stupid fat bitch! Beat it!"

As the tub of lard lumbered off with its shopping cart, I calmly and politely called out, "Get the fuck outta here, you fat bitch, before I call mall security!" I repeated myself a couple of times for clarity. Then, I heard somebody yell to me to "shut up." I saw an old guy acting brave, beckoning me to challenge him. I walked over to him. He seemed to cower in fear, raising his walking cane up to defend himself. Of course, I calmly and politely had to explain to him about what had transpired. His poor wife even had to step between him and my humble self. Well, I certainly wasn't going to hit the old fool.

All in all, my ice cream experience was completely ruined. I attempted to summon the Mall Nazis (read: security guards). However, none were around, as to be expected. I had no choice but to depart because the Route 23 bus had arrived. I had planned to stop off at Subway® in the Aina Haina Shopping Center. With my appetite already ruined by the homeless Medusa, I thought better of the idea.

Oddly, I had been thinking all day about the failed "civilization" paradigm. The idea had come to me upon completion of the book, "Pornified," by Pamela Paul. However, after the incident with the homeless Medusa, I widened my horizon. "Civilization," as I have previously discussed, is a human-concocted paradigm. The main construct of the "civilization" model is the artificial barrier that has been erected between humans and animals. If I may be so bold, the whole purpose of "civilization" is to maintain that artificial distinction.

"Civilization" only works because of institutional policing and self-policing. Currently, what we are experiencing is the breakdown of self-policing behavior. What I mean by "self-policing" is that a participant in "civilization" (i.e., "society") is trained and indoctrinated from infancy to follow social rules, laws, morals, customs, and so forth. Growing into adulthood, the participant is then required to self-police behavior in a way that produces civility and common order. The breakdown is occurring because generational indoctrination had gradually fallen to the wayside. Participants are no longer trained thoroughly. Thus, the "inner animal" is allowed to manifest itself externally.

It comes as no surprise that we have observed a drastic increase in institutional policing. Frankly, with the breakdown of self-policing, the likelihood of a collapse of "civilization" becomes real. The dilution of social order will only increase as the "inner animal" fully and consciously returns to the human psyche. Left unchecked, each and every one of us will metamorphose back into our true animal state.

Rules, laws, morals, customs, and so forth were designed to suppress the "inner animal" by force. Suppression, however, does not mean obliteration. Suppression is a force of opposite magnitude that can keep the "inner animal" at a low static equilibrium. "Static" by no means indicates the complete absence of tension. Rather, extreme tension by two opposing forces is the only way that static equilibrium can be maintained. The stronger the "inner animal" tendencies, the more suppression must be applied.

Grasping the entire "inner animal" concept will serve to clarify the reasons why "civilization" is doomed to collapse. The rot commences at the basic level when self-policing becomes obsolete. Individuals begin to lapse morally, ethically, and socially which allows the "inner animal" to gain strength over the forces of suppression. Increased institutional policing will be required to enforce external suppression of the collective "inner animal," but will also lead to totalitarianism. A vicious cycle will ensue because the "inner animal" will resist containment especially by "extreme prejudice."

All social pathology, from crime to pornography addiction to alcoholism to marital infidelity to you-name-it, can be defined by the conflict of the "inner animal" and the human-concocted "civilization" paradigm. We humans are a species of animal. The longer we deny that fact, the more we will encounter ever-worsening problems.

As a Creationist (i.e., benign creation) and an agnostic, I should be last person to preach that we humans are animals. However, all of the non-existent readers of the "blog" who have followed my casual research will know the reasons. We are living by a paradigm that goes against our true nature. It is that very paradigm which will trigger our self-destruction.

Easy (Fiat) Money

Could there be a day not worthy of even a phrase in the "blog"? Well, that could be any day in the life od the ol' lavahead. However, some days are more nondescript than others. So, should I even belabor the point?

Well, I briefly mentioned yesterday in the "blog" that the Vienna Sausage may be at the point of total dysfunction. Thus, I ran full diagnostics on the Vienna Sausage. Although slightly sluggish, I must report that the Vienna Sausage is still alive and well.

Typical Quantitative Easing Hottie

Lots of talk about Ben "Handjob" Bernanke's latest "quantitative easing" plan at the Fed. As usual, the truth is difficult to extract. So many realities ... you be the judge.

Mind Exodus

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. For lunch, moms served Keoki's® Pork Lau Lau, fresh ahi sashimi, fresh vegetables, and rice. 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.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I had a brief chat with the landlord. She mentioned that a new guy would be moving into the attached studio. She was also looking for the Indian guy. Apparently, he has not paid his rent for this month yet. His cell phone is also apparently turned off. In a clandestine manner, I tried to undo some of the damage caused by the Iraqi guy's limerant object. I told the landlord that the Indian guy is hardly around. "He only comes by on the weekends, just to do laundry," I said, which was the truth.

Joseph, the Iraqi guy, has been keeping a real close watch on his limerant object. He is now escorting her from her 4000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile) to the house every afternoon when the limerant object returns from wage slavery. Alan was up and about at 4:15pm. He quickly slithered back into his squalid room once he saw the Iraqi guy readying himself for escort duty. Tension between Alan and Joseph seems to have increased, negating the small truce induced by Alan's prior offering of a biscuit to his puny nemesis.

Well, we certainly have gotten caught up in the general stupidity for past few days, haven't we? The distractions are both time-consuming and mind-numbing. Not to worry, though. The ol' lavahead never forgets his mortality. After locking myself in my squalid room for the evening, I prepared myself to sit in front of one of my two computers for the next few hours. As usual, I read all of the depressing and often conflicting alternative news sites. I don't get too frustrated anymore because I have long ago realized that truth is elusive. After I can no longer tolerate the stupidity, I scour the usual hurdy-gurdy sites for new hurdy-gurdy clips to add to my massive hurdy-gurdy collection (now down to 148 titles). Oh, so boring. The Vienna Sausage isn't even amused any longer. Heck, maybe it stopped functioning. Who knows? Should I check?

I only came to senses when I finally loaded one of the stored Deep House Cat mixes in the computer's media player. I can escape to another world though Deep House Music. While I await the real exodus, I can at least experience a mind exodus. A mind exodus ... intriguing.

Monastic Eunuch

I had fooled myself into believing that I could actually get some sleep last night. Was I ever wrong. The idiot who resided in the attached studio at Slob Manor (read:rental housing) spent the whole night moving and cleaning his former squalid dump. The attached studio is not much larger than my own squalid room area-wise. However, the brain donor had moved six truck loads in the past four nights, three loads of which he transported last night alone. He owns a new Toyota® Tacoma truck, similar in size to my Nissan® Frontier truck. How did he fit all of that crap in the tiny living space?

At midnight, I finally had to power up my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. I composed the idiotic "blog" in order to pass the time that I normally would be sleeping. Fortunately, I only had to tolerate another 30 minutes of idiocy before the fool departed for good. Sadly, I can only expect another brain donor to take his place in the next day or two. When will the stupidity ever end?

Another day has come and gone. Same ol' shit. At the library, I completed reading the book, "Pornified: How Pornography Is Transforming Our Lives, Our Relationships, and Our Families," by Pamela Paul. Let me just say that I'm not quite in agreement with the author's thesis. Instead, I am convinced that pornography is an indictment of the failed "civilization" paradigm.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read:rental housing) at 4:15pm, I observed that Alan was up and about. Once again, I suspected that he was awaiting the arrival of the Iraqi guy's limerant object, now Alan's limerant object as well. Unfortunately, Joseph emerged from his room a few minutes later and thwarted Alan's plan again. As to be expected, I locked myself in my squalid room.

At about 5:45pm, the landlord came by. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object were sitting in the dining area having a "platonic" chat. I was surprised to hear Joseph's limerant object going off on a tirade about the Indian guy. She slanted the details to make it seem as though the Indian guy has made it very uncomfortable for both Joseph and herself. What a crock of shit! The Indian guy is only around the dump on the weekends, basically just to do his laundry. Joseph and his limerant object have had the entire second floor common area to themselves, which they have fully taken advantage of. As I have stated, they pretty much have taken over the entire house. And, just think, if you are a taxpaying citizen of empire, then you have subsidized the Iraqi guy's welfare income and his full-coverage health plan. He's enjoying his "paid" vacation on you and I.

I have had my own peeves about the Indian guy, but I have never disclosed them to the landlord. As far as the Indian guy's messiness is concerned, the landlord was well aware of the problem by simple observation. What Joseph's limerant object did to the Indian guy is unfair. He was not there to defend himself. So, the next time when I see the Indian guy, I will inform him about what transpired behind his back.

On a side note, my massive hurdy-gurdy collection has shrunk down to 155 titles from well over 400 not too long ago. Was Pamela Paul's book in some way responsible? Yes and no. Actually, the collection was simply getting out of hand, so to speak. In addition, the Vienna Sausage is rapidly becoming dysfunctional. I've always wanted to be a monastic eunuch. My wish is coming true.

Chinaman's Hat

I just knew that I wasn't going to get any sleep at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night, even though I retired at 10pm. I could hear the assorted Chinamen sitting outside the Chinaman house next door. They were speaking Chinkspeak loudly. Glass bottles were being tossed about, so the Chinamen were obviously drinking cheap booze. As the minutes ticked onward, the Chinkspeak kept getting louder. And, the Chinamen were getting more hammered.

At midnight, the guy in the Slob Manor attached studio either woke up from the noise or gave up any attempt to sleep. Within minutes, he was moving furniture around and dropping heavy objects on the floor. He resides diagonally above me, so I could hear all the noise. He also began transporting more crap to his truck, each time having to reset his car alarm. He's been moving steadily for several days now. How much crap does the idiot have? How does it all fit in that tiny studio?

Within 15 minutes, one of the Chinamen began prancing about the property next door. He was singing in some cacophonous Chink dialect at the top of his lungs. At times, he was probably about 25 feet away from my window. I, myself, got up at about one o' clock and set up my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer to compose the ridiculous "blog." What else could I do?

The human-induced noise continued until the wee hours of the morning. The Chinamen continued to revel in a drunken stupor. The idiot in the Slob Manor attached studio walked back and forth to his truck carrying one small item at a time until who-knows-when. In between, he continued to drop heavy objects on the floor. The clown actually works as a full-time wage slave, so I don't understand why he enjoys sleep deprivation. As for the ol' lavahead, he just remained supine in his sleeping bag, pretending to sleep.

I am totally baffled by the insanity that is continuously playing out all around me. I have detailed numerous kinds of psychopathology in the "blog" that requires urgent institutional treatment. I have been describing actual people in my immediate environment. Can you infer that something is really not right with all of them?

Groggy as I was, I departed at 7:15am this morning on the bus. My destination? Kahala, specifically the dentist's office. No stop at the mall, however, thanks to my last episode with the Mall Nazis (read: security guards). The rest of the day? Same ol' shit.

When I returned to Slob Manor at 4:10pm, I was not surprised to see Alan in the kitchen. After all, the Iraqi guy's limerant object was due to return within 20 minutes. Alan brought up Joseph's emergency visit to the hospital. Much to my surprise, I learned that Joseph has free health coverage through Med-Quest. He also has welfare benefits with all of the entitlements. Mind you, I do not qualify for any of those programs, and I am a citizen of empire with absolutely no income. Joseph is an Iraqi foreign national, a so-called "alien." He has everything, free of charge. Before any non-existent reader starts laughing, know that, as a citizen of empire, you are also paying Joseph's way. Obviously, Joseph has the last laugh.

The limerant object called Joseph on his unlimited contract cell phone (also paid by all citizens of empire). He went outside to wait for her arrival and subsequently escorted her from her vehicle, a very late model Audi® A4, to the house. Alan's plan to converse with her was apparently thwarted. Yes, the Iraqi guy's limerant object drives an expensive automobile, even though she claims to be poor. Anyway, I suspect that the limerant object is on to Alan's scheme to hook up with her. Did someone say, "Stupid pet tricks"?

Typical Gamma-Ray Hottie

On a side note, cosmology is a much more interesting topic than mental midgetry. Gamma-rays, anyone?

Deep Rot (Continued)

I survived another day of peon living. Not bad, actually. I had more contact with humans than usual. I kept running into a young guy who was wearing heavy eyeliner for some reason. First, I saw him in the Ala Moana Center restroom, then Foodland, and finally at the bus stop. At Foodland, he asked me what kind of coffee I was getting. I replied that I had just filled my cup with French Roast. He said that he usually blends French Roast with Irish Cream flavored coffee and imagines that there's whiskey mixed in. We had a good laugh. At the library, the only guy who is friendly to me said that he will be gone for four months. He going on a trip to various countries in Southeast Asia. I also ran into Ann. She's moving in with Lori on the North Shore this coming Saturday.

As I was walking to the gym at 1pm, I saw the Indian guy walking in the other direction with two chicks from the office, one of whom was his babe. I waved to him. That's the only time I see the Indian guy these days.

When I finally returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was surprised to see Alan cooking furiously. I surmised that he was cooking food to take to work. His workmates usually trade off on bringing food to work for everyone. However, he normally doesn't cook until much later, usually an hour before he departs at 8:30pm. This afternoon at 4:10pm, he was already done. No surprise, as the limerant object always returns from work at 4:30pm. And, that's when she arrived, just like clockwork. What a coincidence!

I was already locked in my squalid room for the evening. The limerant object walked her dog and came back about 15 minutes later. Alan most likely asked her to join him for dinner. She went upstairs. After about 25 minutes, I could hear Alan packing up the food and cleaning up. He was slamming things around, including the door of his squalid room, as if he was perturbed. The limerant object finally came back downstairs at 6:30pm. Alan quickly offered to bring the packed food out of his car. He prepared a generous plate for her, which was obviously the main part of his master plan.

At 6:40pm, Alan's big dream came true. He had his dinner date (term used loosely) with the Iraqi guy's limerant object. They sat at the dining table and ate a meal together for the first time. Even from my squalid room, I could hear how excited he was. Normally, a deadpan personality, Alan came alive in the presence of the limerant object. He was animated. He made jokes. He waited on her hand and foot. He was wooing baby. Tomorrow, I expect that he will have a ridiculous shit-eatin' grin plastered on his wrinkled face. The whole scenario reminded me of something straight out of the infamous hurdy-gurdy site, Jurassic Cock. As I have said all too often, there's no fool like an old fool ...

Wait! Joseph, the Iraqi guy, returned to Slob Manor while Alan and the limerant object were eating dinner. Joseph immediately started cooking a lavish meal for his limerant object. Alan's dream date was interrupted by the putrid smell of deep-fried Middle Eastern "terrorist" cuisine. Oh, the horror! Even while writhing in pain because of a kidney stone, Joseph rose to the occasion, not to be outdone by the likes of Alan. Deep rot? Is the sky blue?

Deep Rot

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.

When I set foot inside Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 4:30pm, I was greeted by the Iraqi guy's limerant object. She initiated a conversation by mentioning that the attached studio was available for rent. I had, in fact, observed the former occupant moving out in the past few days. The landlord was also standing in the driveway when I drove in with my Nissan® Frontier truck. She was apparently showing the studio to prospective tenants.

The limerant object also mentioned that Joseph, the Iraqi guy, was taken by ambulance to the hospital on Saturday. He apparently is suffering from a large kidney stone. Joseph's limerant object took the day off from work to take him back to the hospital today. So, who exactly is paying the medical bills? The limerant object also mentioned that the Indian guy's babe has been using her toiletries when spending the night at Slob Manor.

Not more than three minutes into the conversation, Alan abruptly emerged from his squalid room. He immediately sat down at the dining table across from the limerant object and hijacked the conversation. Fortunately, I was busy putting away my groceries. And, frankly, I was not that interested in conversing with the limerant object. Alan's sudden appearance, however, was what I would classify as "adolescent" behavior. Does Alan think that I am going to move in on his action? Oh brother.

Alan spent the rest of his time (before departing for work at 8:30pm) sitting in the living room. Whenever the limerant object came downstairs, he was naturally available to converse with her. He's also become very friendly with the limerant object's dog. Can you guess why? As I said before, there's no fool like an old fool.

As I have mentioned prior, Alan is a strange guy. He's 58 years old. He looks and acts the part. I have never seen the guy wear anything other than dress slacks and long-sleeve dress shirts, even on extremely hot days. For exercise, he sometimes walks briskly to the Aina Haina Shopping Center. Yes, he wears his dress-up duds for the walk. When he returns, he is dripping with sweat. His dress shirt is completely soaked. There's more, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Why do I insist on transcribing my continuous ordeal with mental midgets? More so, given that I am essentially talking to myself in the "blog." All of the working details and technical minutia that are relevant to collapse is already being covered by myriad commentators. I need not regurgitate the same crap. Rather, I bring the "grassroots" mental midgetry to the forefront so we can all understand just how deep the rot really goes. It's in your 'hood. It's in your backyard. It's in your home (read: mausoleum).

Aloof (Reprise)

Another boring Sunday has come to pass. Same ol' shit. The highlight of the day was my procurement of a Subway® Meatball Marinara $5 Footlong® sandwich, which I devoured for dinner. I should mention that I tried the Black Forest Ham $5 Footlong® sandwich last week. Not as good as I expected.

Sadly, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) while I was sitting in the dining area and eating my delicious sandwich. They looked at me as though I was trespassing on private property. The sad part is that I am rarely outside my squalid room these days. Dinner was essentially ruined. I should have just ate the sandwich at the dismal little Subway® store in the Aina Haina Shopping Center. Lesson learned.

Later, the Iraqi guy departed for parts unknown. He left his limerant object at home alone. Not to worry. Alan offered his companionship for well over two hours. She was probably exercising her wily ways to gain some advantage for Joseph. Alan, perhaps, was feeling that he restored a working rapport with her. As I stated the other day, there's no fool like an old fool.

What Alan probably doesn't realize is that Joseph's limerant object is completely screwed up in the head. Her family is supposedly "local" and lives in Aina Haina. Yet, she never visits them. I suspect that her parents disowned her when she hooked up with the Iraqi guy's cousin. I am not a racist, even though I use all of the popular racial slurs. I could really care less if Joseph is a "raghead." However, many people don't view ethnic issues favorably.

As I mentioned before, the limerant object does not appear to even have babe friends. And, as she is a hottie, I find it odd that the only guy she hangs out with is her "platonic friend," Joseph. Yeah, right. The chick is really screwed up. She wants Joseph bad, but it is he who is playing hard to get. She's given up everything to hook up with an Iraqi guy, any Iraqi guy. Do I feel any empathy for her? No, not at all.

Fortunately, I remain aloof at Slob Manor and everywhere else. I have no friends and few acquaintances. I hang out with no one but myself. My cell phone has been turned off for over two years. No one contacts me by phone or even e-mail anyway. I rarely check either for messages. In other words, my social life is non-existent. To be honest, I can no longer even carry on a decent conversation. I cannot even verbally articulate a single coherent sentence. I can only construct simple phrases such as, "Beat it, you dumb asshole!" I am also unable to comprehend what people are saying beyond a handful of words. After that, I don't even hear a word being said. My conversations are now strictly in my own mind. That's why I cannot return to the so-called "mainstream." Am I worried that I am going berserk? No.

Chalabi's Stooge (Reprise)

The day? Same ol' shit. I followed the proven Saturday routine, with the exception that I stopped off at Foodland Farms in the Aina Haina Shopping Center on the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon. I was able to trade one of my Maika'i Rewards vouchers for a pint of Starbucks® coffee ice cream. I devoured the whole pint while I waited for the next bus to arrive. Never mind that I consumed 160 percent of the daily allowance for saturated fat and 80 percent of the daily allowance for cholesterol. Ice cream has got to be one of life's greatest pleasures.

I arrived back at Slob Manor at 5pm. The Indian guy apparently returned earlier with his babe. I could hear him upstairs. It sounded as if he was moving furniture around. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object were huddled in fear in the Iraqi guy's squalid room downstairs. No doubt, they "consummated" their fear. Later, the two fuck buddies assumed command over the kitchen and dining area. As for me, I immediately locked myself in my squalid room for the rest of the evening.

As usual, the Iraqi guy attempted to reserve the entire laundry facility for himself. He accomplishes that by continuously drying his clothes for hours at a time, sometimes days. He once kept the same load in the dryer for three days straight. The dryer was running day and night. Oddly, the landlord doesn't seem to care that the utility bills have skyrocketed. The Indian guy, however, put an end to Joseph's foolishness by starting up a load of laundry. Joseph immediately removed his clothes from the dryer. Joseph and his limerant object also seemed to expedite their dinner plans. They must have realized that the Indian guy was planning to cook dinner. Sadly, if the Indian guy moves out, there will be no one to keep Joseph in check.

Alan was right about one thing, however. The landlord and her fat slob husband just adore Joseph, the Iraqi guy. They just cannot get enough of him. They pamper Joseph and cater to his every whim, even though Joseph screwed over the landlord's fat slob husband. Remember when the two Chinamen (i.e., Raymond first, then Jason), were living in Slob Manor? The landlord felt sorry for them until they absolutely could not afford to pay the rent anymore. Then, they both had to go. Joseph has not paid rent from Day One. As I said, the landlord just adores Joseph.

One would think that, from the running commentary, the Iraqi guy is a stud. Not really. He's a short, unassuming guy. He looks like a typical Middle Eastern Arab "raghead" sans the "rag." He has a very shifty "terrorist" look about him. He is certainly one of Ahmed Chalabi's boys.

Detailing the endless "stupid pet tricks" is a real waste of time, especially when one's remaining lifespan is short. If there were any legitimate readers of the "blog," they might suggest that I start getting out more and living life to the fullest. While the suggestion is often sincere, it is also "mainstream" garbage. The message is a subliminal call to embark on rampant consumerism. I am already "living life" because I'm still here, am I not? What most people consider "living life" is essentially a big trap to me. I want freedom. Sadly, part of what I define as "freedom" is isolation from moronic human animals. I really cannot tolerate the "stupid pet tricks" much longer.

One and the Same

My bro took the day off, so moms and I went on an excursion to Ala Moana Center in my Nissan® Frontier truck. Moms only shopped at Sears®. Then, moms and I rode back to Koko Marina. We ate lunch at Loco Moco. 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.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Indian guy finally returned. Joseph, the Iraqi guy, greeted him humbly. "Good to see you, my bro," he said. The Indian guy immediately reclaimed the second floor common area for an extended tube-watching session. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object were forced to flee and spend time downstairs in the kitchen and dining area. So, Joseph cooked another lavish meal for his limerant object. Alan and the ol' lavahead were sequestered in their respective squalid rooms. Alan doesn't mind, of course, because he knows for certain that the Iraqi guy and his limerant object only have a platonic relationship. Soon enough, 58-year-old Alan will make his move and win over the 30-something limerant object. There's no fool like an old fool.

Lack of sleep again has left me in a delirious state. Thankfully, I found an excerpt from an article that clearly defines one of my current issues:

Atheists, on the other hand, have had to come up with ways of dealing with death more or less on our own. Like anyone who rejects the dominant culture, and who rejects the default answers to hard questions that get spoon-fed us by this culture, we've had to come up with our own answers. The same way that LGBT people are forced to think about sexuality and gender; the same way that vegetarians are forced to think about the ethics of food ... atheists are forced to think about death, and what kind of value life might have when it's brief and finite. If we once had religious beliefs about an immortal afterlife, letting go of those beliefs forced us to think about death, and to face its finality, and to come up with ways of coping with it. And even if we were raised non-believers, the religious views of death are so ubiquitous in our culture that they're impossible to ignore ... and non-religious alternatives, to put it mildly, aren't. Atheists have had to come up with these alternatives more or less on our own. (To be fair, some religious adherents have thought carefully about these questions too, the way some straight people/cisgendered people/carnivores have thought carefully about sexuality/gender/food ethics ... but being an atheist means having that thoughtfulness thrust upon us, whether we like it or not.)

So when the subject of death arises, atheists can't evade it. We can't paper it over with a Band-Aid of "Well, we'll see each other again on the other side," with no careful thought about whether that other side is remotely plausible, or whether it would be desirable even if it existed. And every time we hear people talk about Heaven or angels or past lives or their loved ones being in a better place and looking down on them right now, we're reminded: "Oh, yeah. We don't think that. We think that when we die, we die forever. We don't think our dead loved ones are with God. We think that they're fucking dead." We have to face death a little bit, every day of our lives.

The article is titled, "Why Atheists Are Better Prepared for Death Than Believers," which appeared on the Alternet site. As we all know, I am not an atheist. The only label that I can possibly accept for now is that of "agnostic."

After over a year of religious research (detailed in the "blog"), there was no way to avoid the crossroads of mortality. That's why I initiated the damned research in the first place. I wanted answers. I wanted the absolute truth. I wanted the exodus. They are, as it turns out, one and the same.

Brainwashed

A holiday left me no alternative but to follow the usual Sunday urban nomad itinerary. Yes, I know that it's only Thursday. Spending time at Kahala Mall was out of the question because of my last experience with the Mall Nazis (read: security guards) on November 2nd. And, the Mall Nazis are just part of the symptoms of increasing totalitarianism.

The situation at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) may degenerate further. The Indian guy has not been seen at Slob Manor for over five days straight. I have a feeling that he's going to be moving out soon to cohabit with his babe. If so, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object will then have the entire dump to themselves. Heck, with a room available, Joseph could easily persuade the landlord to take in another destitute Iraqi. Or, the Iraqi guy's cousin will move in. Two Chalabi "ragheads" in Slob Manor? Not workable.

By the way, I should offer a brief explanation about why I take nothing but the absolute truths (refer to the "blog" of July 28th) seriously anymore. Remember when Shrub was in office? There was a lot of talk about how martial law would be instituted and a quasi-dictatorship installed. The library, in fact, has several shelves of outdated books on the topic of the Shrub Imperial Dynasty that never materialized. When Shrub's second term was up, he disappeared into obscurity. Only recently, because of his "memoirs," have we been reminded of his foolishness. Shrub is just one example. There are many more.

There's just hella disinformation out there, wherever "out there" is. Throw a healthy dose of distractions in the mix and the result is a confused and stupefied populace. A clear mind can sort through the fog of subterfuge to discover that only the puppets are visible on the stage of the vast theater of empire. They run through endless theatrics of the tired "good cop, bad cop" genre. Clearly, other entities are pulling their strings. I call those entities the "moneychangers and powers-that-be." I don't know who they are. Are they the Bilderberg Group? I just don't know.

Prime Directive

Well, I'm still around. And, I'm still engaged in the same ol' shit. Two highlights of the day:

• Restored my extreme monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design
• Ate an early dinner at Subway® in the Aina Haina Shopping Center.

Everything else was rote and mundane. No nefarious forces attempted to "take out" the ol' lavahead.

Let me reiterate that the "blog" will continue on as stated yesterday. I will make further refinements in order to accommodate zero readership. Eventually, I will have to simply cut down on postings. Brevity is now the prime directive.

My only comment for the day is that the situation in the empire is "going to hell in a handbasket" rapidly. I have only been skimming over the alternative news sources, while completely ignoring the so-called "mainstream press." Lots of crap going down. I am still holding to my own predictions as detailed in the "blog" of September 28th. I delineate no further on those issues because of the prime directive.

I am stumped by my own situation. My intuition tells me that I should immediately abandon the status quo and become a homeless guy. I should also invest in a true homeless guy wardrobe in order to remain incognito. Brevity and poverty go hand-in-hand. Is my intuition correct?

Official Farewell

I was able to sleep better than usual last night. Thank goodness. I was barely coherent by late afternoon yesterday. I wasn't even sure if I would make it back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in one piece. I was going through some unusual mind experiences while driving my Nissan® Frontier truck. Even composing the rote "blog" was a daunting task.

As for the day, nothing extraordinary transpired during my urban nomad trek, that is, nothing out of the ordinary psychotic adventures that modern society has to offer. I have, in fact, become so detached from society-at-large that I can no longer function properly within it. I am a pariah.

The downtown library is once again my safe haven. If anything, I can enjoy the usually peaceful inner courtyard. I can also lapse in and out of a coma to catch up on much needed rest. And, obviously, I can continue to read books at a leisurely pace. The fringe benefit is that I get to eat my lunch in the coconut tree grove in the Capitol district.

I departed for the gym an hour earlier than usual. Actually, that's going to be my standard departure time. After completing my workout, I was able to ride the bus back to Slob Manor with an arrival time before 4pm. From that point forward, I locked myself in my squalid room.

Incidentally, I have noticed that Joseph, the Iraqi guy, now has double the fridge space than I have. He has, over a period of time, intrusively displaced some of my space. He also has three times more cupboard space than both Alan and the Indian guy combined. I have no cupboard space at all since Joseph gradually squeezed me out. Not bad for a guy living rent-free now for three months. Joseph apparently worked doing odd jobs at an undisclosed location for a couple of days last month, just enough to make a little spare change. Otherwise, he is either watching the tube or sleeping. I am expecting the Slob Manor landlord to raise the rent soon in order to cover Joseph's expenses.

Finally, there have been no legitimate readers of the "blog" for weeks now, at least according to the Feedjit® Live Feed. The number of visitors who are searching for babe pictures has also declined significantly. I really don't care. The "blog" is just a hollow shell. There's no substance inside, much like my own "soul." Once the absolute truths were discovered (refer to the "blog" of July 28th), then all was said and done.

While I will continue the "blog" in the same hollow vain, I do not expect that anyone will be reading its content anymore. However, I have not officially bid farewell to all of the readers who have come and gone over the fourteen years that the "blog" and old journal have existed. Thus, this posting will suffice as the official farewell notice. Many thanks to all.

Typical Official Farewell Hottie

I have already met many of the objectives of the exodus. However, I am currently in a near-checkmate situation, hopelessly locked into a bad mortgage and declining savings. I cannot move any further forward. Sadly, I have no faith in the political or financial processes, especially that of empire. The reasons have already been explained in the "blog." Thus, the only indication that I am alive and well will still be the useless daily "blog." If my postings stop without any explanation, know that I have succumbed to the nefarious forces that will soon engulf all of you as well. If anyone is actually reading the "blog," I urge you to remain vigilant.

Wit's End

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.

I had to spend some time on Friday as well as today to remove a ridiculous piece of malware called "My Security Engine" from the computer of one of moms' neighbors. Actually, I could not do much on Friday since the computer appeared to be completely hijacked by the malware. Ever since I switched to Linux, I have lost much of my instant expertise with other operating systems. However, I later found more information about the rogue malware. I was able to remove it successfully.

Completely fatigued from weeks of sleep deprivation, I hastily completed my workout at the gym. I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 4pm and locked myself in my squalid room. The Indian guy and his babe have not been around for about two days. So, the Iraqi guy and his limerant object have been running amuck. Alan was also sequestered in his squalid room until he departed for work at 8:30pm. Alan, of course, is unlikely to be annoyed since he is quite partial to Joseph's limerant object.

Not a day passes without silent ruminations about topics covered previously in the "blog." I am too fatigued to further delineate upon them. Actually, I would only be repeating myself. The various distractions are wasting a lot of my time and energy. There is no escape. I am living on an overcrowded island. The constant idiocy, like the moronic Joseph yelling Arabic into his cell phone upstairs as we speak, is analogous to the infamous water torture. Drip after drip until the neurons in the mind explode. I am at wit's end.

Seventh of November

The relevant and applicable quote for the day from the "blog" of two weeks ago:

A very ordinary Sunday has come to pass. I was able to catch an extended view of the hottie gym trainer at the gym. Since I now wear my Oakley® prescription shades during my weight workout, I was able to see baby quite well. Baby was looking mighty fine.

Nothing else was noteworthy. And, what did I do when I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in the afternoon? Lock myself in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), of course!

Incidentally, I should clarify that the Indian guy and his babe usually hang out at Slob Manor only every other day. And, that's when he usually cooks. The Iraqi guy and his limerant object, however, have taken over the whole house. They simply act as if no one else lives in the dump. Alan doesn't seem to care since he is partial to the Iraqi guy's limerant object. To his credit, the Indian guy always reclaims his "turf" whenever he's around. Observing Joseph, the Iraqi guy, defer to the Indian guy is somewhat amusing.

I have not been able to access the MeeGo® repositories using the system update utility. The same error message keeps popping up. As an alternative, I used the zypper command line utility to access the repositories, which turned out to be successful. I was relieved because MeeGo® was very close to being uninstalled again.

Post No. 1,651

Once again, I suffered from sleep deprivation. The punchline, of course, is that noise was not the culprit. Indeed, I had deployed a pair of foam ear plugs before going to sleep last night. I didn't insert the ear plugs into the ear canal, however. I simply wedged the plug against the opening of the ear canal. I don't want to through another ear wax adventure.

The real culprit(s)? Sugar ants. Hundreds of them. Worst yet, they were biting my legs and arms every few minutes all night long. The ants were in my sleeping bag and all over the cheap Slob Manor (read: rental housing) bed. This morning, I discovered hundreds more sugar ants all over the floor near the window. I have no idea why they were congregating there, but I had to squish every single one of their tiny heads with a filthy rag. Oh, the horror!

At the library, I happened to run into Ann. She's still unemployed. And, she discovered that the new owners of the house (of which she is currently the caretaker) have decided to accelerate their plans. So, Ann is now moving out in two weeks. She has already put most her possessions in a storage unit. Ann will be temporarily moving into Lori's place on the North Shore. I listened to Ann for about 30 minutes or so. She is clearly going through an existential crisis, one very similar to what I went through in my time. Unfortunately, Ann has taken a beating from the "system" and has been humbled to be a more compliant wage slave.

The rest of the day? Perform my usual workout at the gym. Ride the bus back to Slob Manor. Lock myself in my squalid room. Same ol' shit.

Losers?

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 rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Every night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the entire kitchen and dining area is occupied by one of the two resident couples (i.e., the Indian guy and his babe, or the Iraqi guy and his limerant object). Alan and I are relegated to eating meals in our squalid rooms. If we cooked, we would have purchase portable stoves and use them in our squalid rooms. Alan, of course, is quite partial to Joseph's limerant object. After all, he did "read" her palm. He has also commented to me about how good both of the babes look in tight little shorts.

Alan is just two years older than I am. I don't believe that he has had much in the way of experience with chicks. Well, neither have I for that matter. That's why I'm still a virgin (in theory). However, I do not have an idyllic perception of babes. I know about their wily ways. I know how ruthless they are. And, that's why I avoid them like the plague. That's not true. They avoid me like the plague.

I've known many guys who are losers when it comes to babes. After all, it takes one to know one. Unlike the others, though, I know exactly why I am "undesirable" (i.e., detestable) to babes. I have absolutely no physical, financial, or social characteristics that are "sexually" attractive. In very early prehistoric times, guys like the ol' lavahead would have been thinned from the herd immediately. In other words, I would have had an extremely short and unmemorable life back then.

In these modern times, losers are allowed to coexist with regular people. I will be fortunate to live out the remainder of my life, sans babes, without any worry that I am a genetic failure. Losers are fortunate that they can live vicariously by downloading hurdy-gurdy videos from the Net. No need for real babes.

Incidentally, in the "blog" of September 15th, I mentioned that there were well over 400 titles in my vast hurdy-gurdy collection which is stored on my Seagate® FreeAgent Go® portable hard drive. As of now, there are only 189 titles remaining. Yes, I know that it would have been much easier to simply reformat the portable hard drive.

Talk to the Hand Redux

I could detail another boring urban nomad kind-of-a-day starting with a 30-minute wait for the bus this morning, but I would only be talking to myself. I've already lived through the "shadow" experience. Why repeat the nightmare in words? Who really cares anyway?

Oddly, I did happen to observe a lot of happy people everywhere. And, no wonder, the stock market is surging. The "recovery" is in full swing ... errr, not really ... Ben "Handjob" Bernanke of the Fed decided to pump even more useless fiat currency into the "system." Just another attempt at creating yet another "bubble." When will it end?

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I had an interesting chat with Alan. Apparently, he had engaged the Iraqi guy's limerant object in conversation the other day. Alan assured me that the relationship between the Iraqi guy and his limerant object is purely platonic. Alan even "read" the limerant object's palm and determined that she was disinclined to any romantic relationships at the moment. Oh boy. Is Alan really that blind? Does he not know of the wily ways of babes?

Alan has even won the Iraqi guy's respect because he gave Joseph a biscuit the other day. Joseph immediately took Alan upstairs to witness the unsanitary mess that the Indian guy had left. Alan himself was puzzled about why Joseph showed him the mess. I assume that there is a growing contention between the Iraqi guy (i.e., proxy for his limerant object) and the Indian guy.

The big news is that the Iraqi guy's cousin (i.e., the limerant object's former boyfriend and best friend of the landlord's son) is returning from Iraq. He will apparently be staying at Slob Manor indefinitely. Word has it that he is planning to "officially" move in. Will the cousin be staying in Joseph's room or the limerant object's room? Do you see any potential problems?

I told Alan that I am not in the mood for any more prepubescent games. I am close to my sixties in age now. Unlike Alan, I can't "read" anyone's palm. In fact, a few people might be required to "read" my fist. And, if they are hungry, I'll treat them to a "knuckle sandwich."

Typical Animal Kingdom Hottie

So, once again, I am goosestepping to Hades with the other reality-challenged fools. Distractions, while often humorous, do little to bring redemption to a troubled soul. When is humanity going to transcend the level of petty games? When are we going to come to grips with our "inner animal"? When are we going to return to the animal kingdom where we belong?

Return of MeeGo®

I'm not sure why I didn't learn a lesson the first time I installed Ubuntu on my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer. Last night, unsurprisingly, the Peppermint flavor of Ubuntu let me down as well. First, the network manager disappeared, triggering a reinstall. Next, the power manager stopped working, triggering a second reinstall. Lots of wear and tear on the poor netbook ensued. To say that I was "burning the midnight oil" would be an understatement. Sadly, I found Peppermint to be really sluggish. Applications took several seconds to load. What a disappointment.

With the moderate rain this morning, I opted to leave a little later than usual. So, I downloaded and reinstalled MeeGo®. The latest version has a few problems, but it still functions quite well. In addition, the Russian guy has set up the repository for the new version. However, the MeeGo® install was a nightmare as well. Two installations resulted in kernel panics upon booting. When I installed MeeGo® for the third time, I chose a different partition option (i.e., "Delete all partitions and set up default configuration" as opposed to "Delete all Linux partitions and set up default configuration"). That apparently was the cure. Why, I do not know. I suspect that the problem had to do with the btrfs partition. Later, with MeeGo® running, I attempted to test the system update utility. I kept getting an error message about some kind of missing security protocol. I was severely perturbed.

Sleep deprived as I was, I attempted to depart for town at 9:15am. I must have missed the bus by a couple of minutes because I ended up waiting in the rain for damned near 30 minutes. I stopped off at the Beretania Street Foodland to procure a cup of coffee. I then rode the bus to town and ended up at the gym much earlier than usual. I was back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 2pm.

I ate an early dinner and went back to work on MeeGo®. I checked for the existence of the PGP keys used to gain access to the MeeGo® repositories. Everything was fine. When I attempted the system update again, the utility was working just fine. I also added the Russian guy's repository. A couple of quick commands in the terminal restored my netbook computer to the same functionality before my foray into Ubuntu stupidity.

Say what? Why am I not discussing the mid-term (s)elections? Boring stuff, really. Same old "good cop, bad cop" script, over and over again. Same old crusty faces with shit-eatin' grins. Same distractions. Same ol' shit.

Goosestepping to Hades (Reprise)

An unexciting (S)election Day found me at the Barnes & Noble® Café at Kahala Mall this morning. Same ol' shit. I brought my Acer® Aspire One netbook computer with me, but it was not deployed. The rest of the day? Same ol' shit ... wandering around like a loser ... inhaling the equivalent of a pack of cigarettes by just walking around ... perform usual workout at the gym. Oh, the horror!

When I returned to Kahala Mall, I discovered a "ticket" left by the mall security guards (read: wannabe cops) on my Nissan® Frontier truck. Yeah, it's getting that bad. Losers who can barely read, wearing a badge, and sportin' a Nazi goosestepping attitude are on patrol everywhere. Worst yet, the consumerist society is now allotting only a certain amount of time for shopping and spending money. After that, we're considered to be loitering. Of course, I have predicted that shit right here in the "blog."

On the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I stopped off at Subway® in the Aina Haina Shopping Center to procure another great Meatball Marinara Footlong® sandwich to placate my lost soul. The sandwich was incredibly delicious, I might add.

Well, unbelievable as it may seem, I uninstalled MeeGo® this evening. That's right. I was rapidly becoming disillusioned. So, I opted to install Peppermint Linux. It is based on Ubuntu and Lubuntu. I'm not sure why it installed perfectly, whereas Lubuntu failed. Peppermint uses the LXDE desktop. Overall, it's a nice package. At least I won't have to fret over missing codecs and fonts. In addition, I need the netbook to be a direct replacement for my aging Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer.

As usual, I have been wasting a lot of time on useless distractions. I am also inundated with stupidity from zombie-like fools who seem to have no concept of reality. With each passing day, my lifespan is shortened. Yet, I continue to waste time. For example, why would a soon-to-be 56-year-old fart be wasting time collecting hurdy-gurdy videos of young hotties doin' da wild thing? Why do those "inner animal" urges continue to manifest themselves when the Vienna Sausage is already approaching permanent hibernation? And, why am I wasting time installing and uninstalling various dysfunctional operating systems on my computers? Why didn't I just stick with the "mainstream" crap? When am I just going to "get my ass in gear" and do something to get out of the mess I am in? Why am I goosestepping to Hades?

Longs® Lunacy

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.

Every week, usually on Monday, moms and I go to Longs® in Kuapa Kai. The place is always mobbed because the weekly sale commences on Sunday. Every few weeks, there's a big sale booklet as opposed to the normal newspaper insert. That's when the crowd triples in size. Never mind that the exact same merchandise goes on sale in the exact same cycles. Predictably, senior citizens make up the bulk of the shoppers. Longs® is essentially a senior citizen recreation center. The old folks love to shop and hoard. One of moms' many acquaintances had over ten slippers (read: slippahs) in her shopping cart. Why? Oh well. At least moms seems to enjoy shopping at Longs®.

I spent a couple of hours at the Hawai'i Kai branch of the library this afternoon. I completed reading, "The View from the Center of the Universe: Discovering Our Extraordinary Place in the Cosmos," by Joel Primack and Nancy Abrams. I also learned that the library will be closed tomorrow for (S)election Day. After a quick workout at the gym, I returned to the ever-dismal Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Woe is me!