Animal Farm (Reprise)

As I was waiting for the bus with a cup of coffee in hand at Ala Moana Center this morning, the fat slob derelict sitting on the concrete bench next to me begged for some coffee. I handed the nearly-full cup to him. He thanked me profusely. I walked back to Foodland to procure another cup of coffee. When I returned to the bus stop, I noticed the full cup lying on the concrete bench. The fat slob was gone. I was quite perturbed. I did not give him the cup of coffee out of compassion, mind you. I don't even believe that compassion actually exists. It's just a word in our vocabulary that some religious nut created. Perturbed, yes I was, because the slob wasted the coffee that he begged for. Even the lowest forms of human scum display the same "entitlement" thinking that is so prevalent in empire.

A cult member (of the same religious denomination that moms belongs to) was passing out the cult's publications to people at the bus stop. I tried to become invisible, but to no avail. The next thing I knew, there were two magazines on display in front of my face. The cult member attempted to engage in conversation about the Unholy Scriptures. I said nothing as I acquired the two magazines. The cult member moved on to the next victim. All members of the cult who are in good standing are required to use the publications to begin a "witness," the overall purpose of which is religious conversion. Cult members are required to do so in order to qualify for entry into the non-existent Kingdom of God (of the Yahweh Triad).

I have reached the pinnacle of religious intolerance, or close to it. My consciousness has also reached a pinnacle, one in which I realize that I am merely a member of another species of mundane animal. There is nothing special about my existence or that of any of my fellow humans. No fictitious deity has given me or anyone else any special drawing rights. Essentially, I have no "free will." I can make some minor decisions, but I am always at the mercy of my animal nature. A select few clever humans have attempted to tame the savage beasts through government and religion over time, but the desired behavior can only be maintained through fear and guilt. The entire failed "civilization" paradigm is based on fear and guilt. A short period of permissiveness (i.e., rampant consumerism and materialism) transpired, but the situation quickly spiraled out of control. Now, massive repression is being invoked to bring the rank-and-file peons back into the fold.

At the library, I happened to see Ann. She was dressed in business attire. I assumed that she was now back in wage slavery, but she had actually just completed a second interview with a law firm. Sadly, Ann was in full wage slave mode. From what I could tell, she was eager to return to the "gray cubicle" with a vengeance. Have I not seen this theater before? Well, I hope that the employment situation works out for her this time. However, I would not be surprised to see her unemployed again in a matter of a few weeks. If Ann was savvy enough, she would realize that the employment-unemployment game could work to her advantage. If she could remain employed for at least two or three months, she would qualify for unemployment benefits for the rest of the fiscal year. If she could play the latter game for six more years, then she would be able to survive adequately until she can file for early Social Security benefits at 62 years of age.

In a way, I'll miss the unemployed Ann. During the last few months, I have gotten to know Ann, the person. Now, Ann is beginning to sound like a "team player" (i.e., wage slave babble). It's the same kind of nonsense that I am privy to hear en masse in the locker room at the gym during the corporate wage slave lunch hour. A "power" workout replaces the "power" shoe for an hour. Lot of "power" talk in between. Sorry, no thanks.

I have been giving homelessness (as an option) a lot more serious thought, although I am not altogether certain about what I mean by the word, "serious." True homelessness is about as close to the animal world as we humans can realize. It is one-step above a bestial existence. Actually, though, the homeless of empire are a lot better off than many Third World citizens. But, I digress. How many homeless guys are contemplating the purchase of a Ford® Transit Connect and plan to keep it stored in a parking structure? How many homeless guys own a detestable "condotel" unit in Waikiki? How many homeless guys have a gym membership? How many homeless guys can actually afford the monthly homeless shelter fee up front?

Yeah, how serious am I, really? I can't stand a day without a shower. I must clean my teeth in a fairly elaborate ritual every night. My clothes must be fairly clean, although I wear the same outfit continuously for a least three days straight. I refuse to carry all of my earthly and useless possessions with me at all times. I cannot imagine using a shopping cart as a mobile home. I need a minimum of five hours of decent sleep. How many of the homeless can make such demands?

Although I realize that I am an animal, I can't seem to live like one. Although I despise the failed "civilization" paradigm, I adhere to its rules and rituals zealously. I am clearly intolerant of troglodyte behavior, even though such behavior is rather bestial (i.e., animal-like). Am I really in touch with the "inner animal"?

Error 400 Bad Request

Last night, I spent all evening downloading hurdy-gurdy video clips while I listened to my archive of House Music, all on my beloved netbook. The whole process is so rote that anyone could perform the benign activity in a comatose state. And, that I did. I have only filled one-third of the capacity of my portable external hard drive. Yet, what am I going to do with all of those hurdy-gurdy video clips? Does anyone else have a massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL)? What will you do with your collection?

What's to say about another typical urban nomad kind-of-a-day? Nada, aside from restoring my extreme monk haircut. I'm literally running out of time, but I continue along my path of banality like there's no tomorrow. Sheesh!

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I had written a note a few days ago to the landlord about Joker's noise problem. The landlord apparently showed the note to Joker. Although he manages to refrain from making noise after midnight, Joker has remained obstinate about making as much noise as possible before midnight. I am, however, not in my squalid room all day. Joker, being as ornery as he is, waits until I return to the dump before commencing his noise-making day. By the way, I had the opportunity to peruse Joker's lair when I had to fuss around with the crappy wireless router the other day. Two words: garbage dump. As for Joker, one word: dickhead.

Blogger® apparently went through another meltdown at approximately 6:15pm HST. All navigation on the site was thwarted by a general "Error 400" message. I was actually hoping that Blogger® would remain out of commission for a few days, just like the last incident. I have nothing of interest to write about in the "blog" anyway. Well, I discovered that the workaround requires deleting the Blogger® cookies every few minutes. That requires logging in over and over again. Too fatiguing. So, let's call it a day now, shall we?

Done Said It All

Last night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), we experienced problems with the wireless router. As usual, I was involved in the troubleshooting process. The comedy of errors wasted over an hour. Downtime for the Net was well over an hour. The inevitable result was that I had to cut the "blog" short. Otherwise, I would have had to delay my viewing of "Firefly" on Hulu®.

I also chatted briefly with Alan. Apparently, he has not been able to fill all of the vacant rooms in his five-bedroom "McMansion" in Arizona with renters. He lowered the asking rent to $425 per month, but to no avail. Currently, he is short $1,000 of his monthly mortgage payment. Alan is paying rent for his squalid room in Slob Manor and for most of the mortgage in a house that he does not reside in. Sound familiar? Yes, the so-called "American Dream" has seriously gone awry.

No problems with the wireless router this evening, but I find that I have little to discuss. After 15 years of composing the old journal and the "blog," I have pretty much discussed everything ad nauseam. I should probably spend all evening downloading more hurdy-gurdy clips for my massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). What else have I to do?

Post No. 1,884

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that I engaged in an interesting chat on the bus in the afternoon with a haole guy from New Jersey. He had mentioned the increasing crime in the Kalihi industrial area. A personal incident involved a run-in with six Micronesian guys dressed up like hip-hop gangsters. The Micronesians are becoming quite a problem. However, it is politically incorrect to discuss the group as a whole because the empire turned their homeland into a radioactive wasteland many moons ago. They are free to come and go as they please anywhere in the empire. Unfortunately, most of them choose to remain in Hawai'i and add to the ballooning ranks of poverty.

By the way, rumor has it that Sarah Palin had attended the Diploma Mill here in Hawai'i when she was younger. Her tenure was cut short by her apparent disenchantment with all of the grubby-looking "brown people" who make up most of the local population. Can't say that I blame her, even though I am one of those detestable "brown people." Heck, just hop on almost any of the buses in town. I guarantee that most people will experience the "willies." Hawai'i has an incredibly large number of hideous and gruesome "brown people."

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I will be spending part of the evening viewing the next released episode of "Firefly" on Hulu®. That's the highlight of my entire week. Sheesh!

Postponing the Inevitable

I'm not sure why, but I was wondering what happened to Ann. I haven't seen her around for about three weeks now. For her sake, I hope that she has found a wage slave job that will keep her financially afloat for the time being. Otherwise, she has about two months before her unemployment benefits are exhausted. Would Ann risk becoming homeless? I don't believe that she has even entertained the idea.

I was also wondering about Lori. From what Ann told me, I just cannot imagine Lori living in total isolation on Molokai for six long months. In my last face-to-face meeting with Lori, she said that she is down to about $5,000 in reserves. That's not much. My mind, though, was completely boggled by the amount of money that Lori burned through in two years. Ann provided a few details, so I was able to piece most of the story together with the patchy tidbits that Lori volunteered. Interestingly enough, Lori always arranges impromptu meetings in order to update me on what's going on with her. Then, when we do meet, she avoids the subject matter entirely. I don't probe for answers because, frankly, I am not overly concerned. I believe that Lori always has second thoughts about revealing any information. Would Lori risk becoming homeless? I doubt that she's entertained the idea either.

Lot's of crap going down everywhere, and all I seem to care about is homelessness. Odd, isn't it? Well, actually, not so odd. After all, the moneychangers and powers-that-be of empire are gradually displacing more and more of the rank-and-file peons. While I am not close to being forced into homelessness, the time will come soon enough. And, likely, your time will also come up in the not-so-distant future. Personally, I feel that I am at the point where I am simply "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." Sheesh!

Homeless Connect

At the library, my homeless buddy mentioned that he will be moving to Mano'a effective today. I surmised that he would be moving his van from Palolo to Mano'a. No details were offered. Incidentally, I have been real surprised by the number of new faces out on the street as late. I am speaking of the homeless. Their numbers are increasing dramatically.

The homeless epidemic is, of course, universal across the empire. The collapse of the so-called "housing bubble" has increased the number of renters which, in turn, has increased rents. More and more people are being forced onto the streets because rents are no longer affordable.

Ford® Transit Connect

In view of the deplorable situation at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have been reviewing my options, particularly homelessness. With that in mind, I have been focusing on logistics. My immediate thought is to replace my truck with the Ford® Transit Connect. It makes more sense than the Nissan® Cube. The replacement of the truck also coincides with my concern that it is already too high for moms to climb into the cab. by the way, I would not actually reside inside the Transit Connect. Rather, I would park it at, say, the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I would store all of my worldly possessions in it. And, I would stop off at least once every day to drop off dirty laundry, pick up fresh clothing, and probably take a long nap in the back. One look at the Transit Connect would reveal that it is an ideal vehicle for a homeless guy. Naturally, I would still drive the Transit Connect to Hawai'i Kai twice per week to visit moms. Note that the Transit Connect is low enough for easy entry.

The main concern in my transition to homelessness is access to one of the homeless shelters, even if I must ride the bus to all the way out to Makaha every afternoon. Distance is obviously not a concern. And, I can certainly afford the $100 monthly fee to use the shelter. However, I have no idea if any space is available.

Mind you, I am already keenly aware that the homeless life will be extremely difficult. I won't be loitering around the library as much since I will be commuting by bus most of the day. I'll still be going to be gym daily. That will be my only access to shower facilities. If I park the Transit Connect in Waikiki, I will access to coin-operated laundry facilities within walking distance. All food will have to ready-made. I will need to locate cheap plate lunch shops and also begin frequenting the "soup kitchens" (i.e., food lines for the needy). Setting up shop, so to speak, in Waikiki also has another advantage. Waikiki is a short bus ride to Ala Moana Center, where I can easily transfer to a bus heading to one of the homeless shelters.

So, why does it keep coming back to the issue of becoming homeless? I am at a nihilistic peak, which is really a big slump in so-called "mainstream" terms. Surely there must be more to my existence than sitting in my squalid room at Slob Manor, unwittingly victimized by the moronic Joke, all the while downloading hurdy-gurdy video clips. There certainly must be more to life than sitting day-in and day-out in the inner courtyard of the library. Yet, how would homelessness solve any of the latter existential issues?

Homelessness as a means to an end is not something cognitively visited upon by the homeless population. Homelessness is usually an end to failed means. Unbeknown to most of the homeless is the fact that they will never escape its debilitating grip. They are essentially done. Finished. The moneychangers and powers-that-be have guaranteed that result. Hope will not change anything. The ol' lavahead, however, believes that homelessness can "wipe the slate clean." Tabula rasa, if you will.

Dog House (Continued)

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. I was extremely groggy since the moronic Joker woke me up at 4am this morning. He was continuously bouncing the metal sphere off the floor, his new game of "fetch" with his rodent-like dog, as I detailed yesterday in the "blog." Let's face it, Joker is a fucktard.

I spent a few minutes at Koko Head Park this afternoon because I could not find any shaded parking in Koko Marina. I sat outside on one of the benches made of recycled plastic bottles. I watched the clouds pass overhead while I waited for an epiphany. None was forthcoming. I really don't believe that there is such a thing.

Last night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I engaged in an interesting chat with Kyle. He, too, has been annoyed by Joker's inconsiderate noisemaking. Kyle also mentioned that Joker owns two dogs. The newest dog apparently is not properly trained. So, it happened to relieve itself on the kitchen floor a few days ago in Kyle's presence. That's probably why Joker has been doing his laundry chores daily. The dog most likely relieves itself anywhere in Joker's lair of garbage. That's a small price to pay to have two rodent-like varmints serving Joker's "needs." I tried to imagine Joker's puny Vienna Sausage stuffed in one of the dog's mouth. Then, I carried it further by visualizing the abused pooch chomping off its owner's appendage and digesting it for dinner. Oh, a sickening, yet hilarious, thought.

The Slob Manor landlord is powerless to do anything about Joker. The landlord needs the rent money, or it will be foreclosure time. That's why Joker is getting his way. Only one dog was originally allowed because the dog was part of Joker's psychotherapy. Now, Joker has two dogs. The longer the landlord allows him to break the provisions of the lease, the more likely that "implied consent" will prevail. Joker is a mental midget, but he definitely knows how to "game the system." That's why the fat slob has free income for life (paid for by you and I).

Late this afternoon at Slob Manor, I heard Joker meandering around outside. I looked the window of my squalid room only to see a grotesque sight. The fool was wearing a bright pink tank top and old man shorts. His puny arms were hanging like shriveled twigs. His massive pear-shaped gut below his concave chest was the only part of his physique that filled the tank top. I really can't imagine being that hideous.

I can actually imagine Joker still living on the second floor of Slob Manor ten years from now. He'll probably have five or ten dogs, all servicing his "needs" on a rotational basis. Every nook and cranny will be filled with boxes of crap up to the ceiling. Dog feces and urine will cover the entire exposed surfaces of the laminate floor. Joker will, by then, look like a huge beachball with a small pinhead on top and tiny toothpicks for limbs. Obviously, he will truly be disabled, and his free income for life would be justified. Why doesn't he end it all right now while he still has some, albeit little, dignity?

Dog House

My tablet computer remains deprecated. I only power it up to perform software updates, if I happen to read about any on the CrackBerry Forums. So far, there have been no enhancements in functionality, at least in the areas that I am interested. I was even more perturbed when I discovered that more and more Web sites are blocking access by mobile devices. Well, my netbook continues to function as the workhorse of computing.

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Joker has been getting weirder and weirder. He's holding regular conversations with his rodent-like dog, sometimes ten or fifteen minutes in duration. He has also purchased a new toy for the mangy mutt. However, Joker seems to be the one who has more fun with the metal sphere. He continually bounces it off the floor to amuse the varmint (or himself). It also makes a racket when it rolls around. During the times that I am in my squalid room, I noticed that Joker plays with the metal sphere about every ten minutes on average. I surmise that the benign activity is contiguous throughout the day when I am gone.

Frankly, Joker probably extracts much more than just weird companionship from his rodent-like dog. I can imagine him rubbing dog food on his puny Vienna Sausage and force-feeding the pathetic pooch with it. Believe me, Joker's relationship with his "pet" is beyond platonic. Fucking faggot.

Old single guys like Joker and Alan are borderline psychotic. I should know because I am one of them. However, unlike Joker and Alan, I make a conscious effort to not make loud old man noises. I also maintain an exercise regimen in order to keep my body and mind from atrophying. Both Joker and Alan are hoarders as well. They both have myriad boxes of crap stuffed in their personal space. Alan even hoards food. In addition to taking up half of the available cupboard space in the Slob Manor kitchen, he also has the entire freezer stuffed with his food. Most of that crap has been there for years. I have no idea whether he is aware that freezer food only has a lifetime of six months.

Alan, of course, is not as bad off as Joker. Since Alan is employed and fully engaged in pursuing the so-called "American Dream," he is still in possession of his mental faculties. Joker is too far gone. His mind has turned to mush, even more exacerbated by overdosing on anti-depressants. His entire "self-esteem" is literally in the paws of his rodent-like dog. And, "Sweetness," the scrawny little varmint, is the only warm-blooded being in Joker's proximity. That's why Joker has made the canine his limerant object. Yeah, Joker is one sick puppy (no pun intended).

Joker is often locked up in his dung heap (i.e., second floor of Slob Manor) for days at a time. He has nowhere to go, except to his parents house in Aina Haina or his blubbery former babe's place. I don't even know why he doesn't take his rodent-like dog to the nice dog park in Hawai'i Kai. Being locked up day and night in a rubbish dump is not conducive to good mental health. As I said, Joker is too far gone. Seriously, I am waiting with bated breath for the day that I see the coroner's van parked outside and Joker's carcass being carted off the the morgue. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Hurdy-Gurdy Heresy

Previously in the "blog," I described my disgust with the so-called "mainstream news." Lately, the disgust has carried over to the alternative news as well. I don't believe that I need to waste any more of my precious time reading about crap that I have absolutely no control over (e.g., shenanigans of empire). I'm only finding myself extremely frustrated, considering that I am constantly exposed to myriad brain donors. My commentaries concerning current affairs is mummified.

The only pressing event was the Fukushima meltdown. However, news concerning the fiasco has been sequestered. In other words, there's nothing being reported. Out of sight, out of mind. Three nuclear reactors went through varying stages of meltdown. And, one spent fuel cooling pool remains completely exposed to the environment. I'm pretty certain that the situation is out of control. Most of us in the Northern hemisphere have been exposed to who-knows-how-much contamination. No radiation testing is being done, so no one knows. Many of us probably have many "hot particles" already lodged somewhere in our bodies. A hidden time bomb for cancer. That's probably why I have simply given up. I have "thrown in the towel." I just don't care.

Typical "Blog" Hottie

So, I have been reduced to rushing back to the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing) after an underwhelming urban nomad kind-of-a-day and downloading hurdy-gurdy videos for my massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). I now have hours of free time in the evening available to scan the various sites (refer to the "blog" of August 31st of last year to view links) for acceptable video clips. Why has it come to this?

Good Samaritan

Yeah, I know that the title was inspired by the Unholy Scriptures. I neglected to mention that I witnessed a shoplifting incident on Sunday at the Honolulu Cookie Company kiosk in the Makai Mall in Ala Moana Center. I was sitting at one of the tables with my cup of coffee. I saw a local family of six walk by. The young hottie daughter, wearing a short Aloha print dress, sashayed to the kiosk while the rest of the family exited the mall. All of the employees were inside the kiosk, just out of sight. I almost didn't notice anything until I saw her looking right at me as she trotted to the exit. I espied a big-ass box of cookies on her person. I definitely knew that she could not have purchased the cookies in the time alloted. I'm not sure why, but I waited until she was well on her way before I reported the incident. Perhaps, deep down inside, I wanted her to have the cookies. Anyway, a whole team of obese security guards were dispatched to locate the suspect. Long gone, I'm afraid.

This afternoon, after I exited the gym, I sat outside to dry off my feet after my shower. I heard the autoteller machine (ATM) beeping at my local bank next boor. I saw a debit card in the slot. Someone had inadvertently left it there. The bank was still open, so I gave the card to one of the employees. I'm not sure why I always go out of my way to insure that no one goes through the same kind of crap that experienced when my "stuff" was stolen at the gym last year.

The day? Same ol' shit, but you knew that already. At the library, my homeless buddy showed me a few pictures of the homeless food line that he volunteers for which he snapped with his digital camera. By the way, the library is turning into a real zoo. It's the daycare center for the homeless and halfway house derelicts. It's also the cell phone recharging center.

Hulu® Hullabaloo

"You will have full contentment by Summer's end." - Panda Express® fortune cookie

Usual Hawai'i Kai routine. Moms apparently tripped and fell in the back yard sometime over the weekend. Although moms fell onto the grass, she apparently is experiencing residual pains by her ribs. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I wonder if moms may have a minor fracture or bone bruising. If moms is still in pain on Friday when I visit next, then I will have to recommend a doctor's appointment.

During a recent daydream, I imagined what an ideal life for me would be like. Realistically, though, I would need about $1 million more in liquid assets to bring such a dream to fruition. We're not talking about living extravagantly either. I would prefer to live in an independent rental unit, possibly a small cottage or studio on rural land. I would rid myself of the truck, opting instead to rent a vehicle for a couple of days each week. I would pay down all debts, including the mortgage of the detestable "condotel" unit. Then, I'd reassess my strategy to sell the dump. I would place all of my valuable paperwork and possessions in a secured storage unit until both could be whittled down to nothing. Aside from that, not much else would change. Sadly, freedom itself costs a lot of money.

Back at the horrid Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I only look forward to viewing another episode of "Firefly" on Hulu®. There are only a handful of episodes that I have not yet seen. I find that I am really not interested in any of the other archived tube shows. So, when I have viewed all fourteen of the "Firefly" episodes, then I'm done. Well, I may catch a few episode of "Hawai'i Five-O" just for fun. Sheesh!

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

A different shade of the same ol' shit. I followed the usual urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday routine until I arrived at the gym in town. Even though the hottie gym trainer was in the weight room with her client, I departed within a few minutes to go to the gym across from Ala Moana Center. I knew that I would end up there anyway because the showers were still being worked on at the downtown branch. Why didn't I just walk directly to the other gym in the first place? I don't know.

Nonetheless, I completed my usual workout at 12:30pm. Obviously, I had plenty of time on my hands. I walked back to Ala Moana Center. Then, I purchased a pint of ice cream at Foodland for a treat. I have been purchasing ice cream every Sunday now. Ice cream is my favorite food, by the way. I usually sit outside facing the parking area by the Sears® store, adjacent to the dreadful Automotive Center and eat the ice cream. Nothing like the smell of old tires to whet one's appetite, eh?

Because of the sheer filth in Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have picked up a few eccentric traits. For example, I must wash my hands almost every two minutes, usually after touching something not of my ownership. Walls, doorknobs, fridge handle, and so forth are most likely contaminated. Yeah, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). Yet another negative attribution to Slob Manor.

Perhaps OCD is the reason why I have an ever-increasing and massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). What else could explain such a phenomenon? I am now completely determined to fill my entire portable hard drive with the best hurdy-gurdy video clips. If anything, the vast HGVL will be my claim to fame. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Redrum

The day started off wrong when the Route 1 bus was twelve minutes late this morning. I had to slightly modify my urban nomad itinerary because I missed my connection to the Route 6 bus.

When I finally arrived at the library at 9:30am, I noticed a babe in a bright red dress dress standing outside. She appeared to be reading a small book. Later, I happened to notice that she was walking back and forth very slowly past the columns that line the entrance of the library. In addition to the red dress, she wore red, albeit faded, canvas shoes and red lipstick. The color red really stood out against her near-black hair. Baby was also somewhat attractive. Strangely, she was still walking back and forth extremely slowly when I exited to eat my lunch in the Capitol district at noon. She was still reading what appeared to be the Unholy Scriptures. Baby entered the library a couple of times and disappeared. Out of curiosity, I walked around and discovered her meandering about on the second floor. In no time, she was back outside at the entrance, slowly pacing back and forth, book in hand. When I finally departed at 1:30pm, baby was still at it.

I also managed to chat briefly with my homeless buddy. As usual, we discussed the homeless situation. He mentioned that the homeless shelter in Kaka'ako is 90 percent Micronesian in demographic. That's why a lot of locals don't want to stay there, he told me. He also informed me that many of the parks contain homogeneous populations of gays, drug users, and so forth. Choosing the right park to be homeless is an important consideration. My homeless buddy also said that the food banks are beginning to crack down on non-needy people looking for free food.

At the gym, I discovered that the showers would be unavailable all weekend due to scheduled repairs. Thus, I cut the cardio portion of my workout down to 15 minutes in order to facilitate a sweat-free workout. What a joke! During the return trip on the bus, I decided to head out to Hawai'i Kai and complete a real cardio workout at the gym there. Without any aerobic exercise, I usually feel sluggish and nauseous. So be it. I did not arrive back at Slob Manor (rental housing) until 6pm. At the least, I felt much better.

Later, I was still perplexed by the babe in the red dress. I had noticed that a small lunch container was sitting at one end of the entrance to the library. I assumed that it belonged to baby since she was the only one loitering outside for an extended period of time. All in all, baby apparently planned the strange excursion. Why was she wearing all red? What was she doing? She certainly wasn't poised to proselytize to the "sinners." In fact, she only read silently from the Unholy Scriptures. Was she a member of a "Christian" cult? I believe so. Could she have been praying for fire and brimstone to rain down and destroy the heretic books? Redrum? Did she not know that the religion section is probably the largest in the library? Strange things.

Post No. 1,874

Usual Hawai'i Kai routine. Foodland in Koko Marina will be closing for good on July 10th. Apparently, lease negotiations broke down in the eleventh hour. Foodland has always been there as long as I can remember, or at least when my family first moved to Hawai'i Kai 45 years ago. Moms and I have gotten to know a few of Foodland personnel over the years. Now, they will all be relocated. I suppose that moms and I will be shopping at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai. Obviously, I can always stop off at Foodland Farms in the Aina Haina Shopping Center on the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). However, I am not particularly keen about the idea.

Well, as foolish as it may seem, I am thinking about optimizing my gym bag. My current gym bag is very dilapidated, so it needs to be replaced soon. I would like an even smaller gym bag. The current one can actually fit nicely in my lap, ideal for riding the bus. However, a reduction in payload is definitely in order. I carry my gym attire, gym shoes, socks, shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush, towel, and assorted other "stuff." I can reduce the payload by not packing up my gym shoes. Thus, I plan to purchase a pair of canvas shoes, which I will wear near full-time in place of the usual slippers (read: slippahs). I will still carry a pair of slippers for showering purposes. Wearing shoes will also reduce the need to grind down the callouses on the soles of my feet with the pumice stone. And, a canvas shoe would be ideal to wear in the gym as well. So, my gym shoes can be retired, too. Fortunately for me, I qualify for the senior citizen discount at Ross®. Wheee!

Wasteland (Yet Again)

Last night, I just realized why I cannot get rid of my truck (read: 6,000-pound motorized chair). Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is in the tsunami flood zone. I have all of my earthly possessions in my squalid room, including all important paperwork and my useless computers. If and when a tsunami strikes, I must be able to evacuate both myself and whatever I deem to be valuable or important. Enter my Nissan® Frontier truck. The bogus "American Dream" interlocks all aspects of one's life. There is simply no way to remove just a small portion. It's always all or nothing.

Speaking of important paperwork, I continuously glance over at the one stack that is sitting on the squalid loveseat in my squalid room. Some people have many file cabinets worth of paperwork. I only have a three-inch stack all placed in manila folders, which is stuffed in a plastic shopping bag. Almost all of the rubbish is related to the detestable "condotel" unit. I'd like to discard the entire stack, but I must keep it for tax purposes. Once I rid myself of all of my useless possessions and property, I will have about three sheets of paper that may be of importance. That, my friends, is freedom.

I neglected to mention that I had a long chat yesterday with the Slob Manor landlord. Slob Manor is being refinanced at a lower interest rate. Curiously, the landlord mentioned that the bank required her daughter to be a cosigner to the loan. Evidently, the combined income of the landlord and her husband was not enough to approve the loan. Of course, the landlord makes more than enough to cover the mortgage from rental income. Yet, I have to wonder whether Slob Manor will end up in foreclosure because of poor financial management.

At the library, I have been reading the book, "The Winter of Our Disconnect: How Three Totally Wired Teenagers (and a Mother Who Slept with Her iPhone) Pulled the Plug on Their Technology and Lived to Tell the Tale," by Susan Maushart. Quite a long title for a small paperback, eh? I wasn't taking the book too seriously. The "disconnect" was simply Maushart turning the electricity off in her suburban home in Perth for six months. Although the book is humorous, I did not not put much faith in a temporary "disconnect." However, when I read the chapter about boredom, my entire viewpoint of the book changed. Maushart now has me captivated.

I have often felt that I have been the victim of long-term boredom, particularly within the framework of the urban nomad routine. Yet, I have to wonder? Am I really afflicted by boredom or by rote? I am seriously constrained by my finances, but I am not altogether sure whether I am chronically bored. For example, I have yet to tire of my daily trips to the library. I sit in the inner courtyard. Whether I read a book or lapse in and out of a coma, I not discontented. From a winner's point of view, the latter activity could easily be construed as boring. I am, however, not a winner. I'll leave it at that for now.

Angry Monks

Although I lamented about being sick and tired of the urban nomad routine, there are no other options. I don't own any pairs of "power" shoes. Thus, I cannot return to the insatiable quest for the empire's so-called "American Dream." I had a moment of weakness yesterday when I realized that I am fighting a steep uphill battle alone. I am surrounded by dreamers, people (or fools) who believe that they are going to strike it rich at any time. Even the homeless envision the day that they will return to the so-called "mainstream." Is there no end to the madness?

I neglected to mention that the table computer has been been a $500 disappointment. That's why it is currently deprecated. Hawked as the "first professional tablet," the BlackBerry® PlayBook® has little to offer since its introduction two months ago. My main complaint is the pathetic spreadsheet "app." It's totally useless. There's no way to increase the column width, for one thing. The exact same spreadsheet "app" on my old Palm® TX was way better. So, what happened? The only advancement so far is a Facebook® "app." What good is that? I can't even access Hulu® on the damned thing. The popular complaint from users is that the tablet computer does not have native e-mail, PIM "apps," and Angry Birds. What a crock of shit! What we have here is an angry monk. Sheesh!

Homeless Homeys

At the library, I ran into my homeless buddy. I haven't seen him in a week or so. He told me that the homeless population has exploded. In Honolulu proper, there are now 8,000 homeless. Just before he left on his trip to Asia, there were 5,000 homeless in the city. One year prior, there were only 3,000 homeless. That's why I have seen so many new faces on the street. Mind you, we are only talking about the city itself. My homeless buddy also mentioned that the law banning the feeding of the homeless has passed. Yeah, it's against the law to feed the impoverished. The local powers-that-be have stated that the purpose of the law is to force the homeless to go to designated shelters. Yet, there's not enough room in the shelters as it is.

So, what's really going on? I believe that the Honolulu homeless population is being intentionally and literally starved into criminality. Theft will obviously be on the rise. Thus, a large number of the homeless will end up incarcerated. Since there is a shortage of prison cells, the homeless convicts will then be shipped off to contract prisons on the mainland. When they are eventually released, they will be stranded in Arkansas or some other dump. Out of sight, out of mind.

The increasing hostility toward the homeless could not have come at a worst time since I still consider homelessness a viable option. However, when the food handouts disappear, life on the streets is going to take a turn for the worse. The local powers-that-be, all wearing their "power" shoes, have been beating down the destitute and homeless incessantly. The economically disenfranchised group has nothing to lose at this point. I would not be surprised if an urban war breaks out in the near future.

On a side note, I can safely say that I am sick and tired of the urban nomad routine. I literally feel like a zombie. And, my mind is beginning to turn to mush. On the other hand, I do not want to return to the so-called "mainstream" life-style. I do not want to chase the elusive "American Dream" ever again. That's a game for winners, not losers. Unfortunately, being a pariah has little in the way of social benefits. I am an outcast. I have absolutely nothing pressing to do. I have no friends and few acquaintances. I have no social life. I have no hobbies, no interests, no religion, no recognized political affiliation (i.e., socialist). My life sadly revolves around my netbook (i.e., composing the "blog," watching "Firefly" and "Hawai'i Five-O" on Hulu®, downloading hurdy-gurdy flicks, listening to Deep House). And, I am growing old rapidly. Very rapidly.

Enmity

Usual Hawai'i Kai routine. According to moms and my sister-in-law, my bro just purchased a brand new Toyota® Prerunner truck, fully loaded with all of the amenities. He'll be using it as a "work" truck on construction sites. I just hope that he's emotionally prepared for when the new truck gets its first scratch or dent.

Toyota® Tacoma Prerunner

Since I am tying up loose ends, I should briefly discuss the "family" situation. Although I have had more exposure to my bro's family, I do not believe that much has changed. There is still enmity between my bro and I. Nothing will ever change that. Since I no longer concern myself with the logistics of familial discord, I will not even venture to guess where the problems lie. We are in a "plane of coexistence," which is the best that any of us can ask for. My only decision even remotely related to the matter deals with the period after moms' passing. I want to quickly settle any business. Then, I will move on to wherever I have hopefully decided by then. I do not expect to maintain contact with any of my relatives. My "disappearance" will be the best option for me. That will be the final phase of the exodus as I foresee it.

Well, another episode of my favoorite tube series, "Firefly," should be released tonight on Hulu®. That's my only comfort in a vastly uncomfortable world. Sheesh!

Wasteland Redux

Same ol' shit, just like yesterday. Yet, time keeps passing by rapidly. Surreal, isn't it? Am I emotionally moved to make relevant changes? Not really.

By official count, the number of "blog" readers has dropped down to about two per day, if even that. I have been waiting for this moment with bated breath. Since nothing ever changes, a brief synopsis is in order. I will continue:

• Visiting moms in Hawai'i Kai twice per week, usually on Monday and Friday. If a holiday occurs on one of those days, then the visit will be moved up to Wednesday. The routine will always be the same.
• Restoring my extreme monk haircut every 21 days.

All other days, same ol' shit. Previous "blog" post can provide rote details, just in case I no longer delineate on the latter.

While I am tying up all loose ends, I should also provide the current Slob Manor (read: rental housing) cast profiles. The new babe moved in the attached studio yesterday. Baby is actually a hottie from what I could see of her. She doesn't look like she's a 45 years old divorcée. She's definitely a haole, mainland-style. Her friends have all been visiting her, definitely mainland haoles as well. Kyle is a local, of mixed ancestry. He is twenty-something and an avid surfer. He obviously does not fit into the Slob Manor mold. Joker, whose profile is already well established, is a local Asian. He's also my age. Alan, whose profile is known, is a 58-year-old transplanted haole from the Midwest. Slob Manor, a vast wasteland.

Wasteland (Reprise)

Same ol' shit ... errr, not exactly. Almost the same ol' shit. I followed the urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday" routine because I just couldn't fathom the thought of hanging around Kahala Mall. Essentially the day was wasted. My sole purpose in leaving my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is to perform my usual workout at the gym. My morning coffee is also important. However, most of my time is wasted either waiting for or riding the bus.

While in town, I happened to stumble through the homeless food line in the little park across from Chinatown Gateway Plaza. No, I did not partake of the food. I happened to notice that a large number of library "patrons" were in line. I also noticed that the entire serving staff consisted of gorgeous young hotties. Strange things. Frankly, I contemplated participation in the food free-for-all, not because of the young hotties. Rather, I am rapidly approaching the point of insolvency. I need all the help that I can get. Sheesh!

Speaking of insolvency, I have noticed that the detestable "condotel" management, Aqua Resorts, has been engaged in cryptic accounting practices as of late. More and more deductions, seemingly undocumented, are being made. There are no invoices, no statements, no addendums to the monthly report. All I see is the same mysterious "FFE deduction" for $100 each month. Aqua is also committed to spending more of the "condotel" owners' money to refurbish the units, even though the hotel rental rates are way below the rates for a sleazy roadside motel on the mainland. Right now, my monthly revenue stream is less than one-third of the mortgage and condo maintenance fee. By the end of the year, I am expecting the revenue stream to dip below $200 per month. That's right. The situation in Waikiki is so bad that anyone can get a room for $15 or less night right now. That's why I will be standing in the homeless food line very soon.

Since I tying up loose ends, I should mention that I will not be posting any more pictures of young hotties once the current crop is depleted. It's too much trouble for nothing. And, even with the pictures of young hotties, the number of visitors to the "blog" has still dropped significantly.

King Kamehameha Day 2011

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I followed the usual itinerary. My bro was home for the holiday. Not much said, which was probably all for the better. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Burger King® Kamehameha

I am assuming that the holiday was observed today, and not to be confused with Burger King® Kamehameha (refer to the "blog" of November 24, 2006). Oddly, the library will be closed tomorrow. So, I will be left to my own devices.

Well, I am starting to tie up the last of the loose ends insofar as the "blog" is concerned. I have discussed the most relevant issues. As you may know, I moved to Hawai'i many moons ago in order to be close to my parents in their last years. Pops passed on about ten years ago. Moms is still going strong, but anything can happen from this point forward. In eight months, moms will be 90 years old.

My goal was to put all of my affairs in order in the meantime. All of my useless possessions and property were to be divested in a timely fashion, including my truck and the detestable "condotel" unit. Obviously, I have not met my objectives. As long as moms remains ambulatory, I vowed to have a vehicle on hand. As it goes, moms may soon not be able to hoist herself up into the raised cab of my truck. However, I really do not want to purchase another vehicle, especially since I have zero income. As for the "condotel" unit, I may eventually have to sell it at a loss of $70,000 or more.

Where will I go from here? I don't really know. I've been pondering the problem now for several years. Clearly, I have the option of moving to one of the many depressed areas on the mainland. I could certainly live cheaply in places like Detroit. However, crime would be a major concern. There are many other hard hit places like Las Vegas, which has a sizable population of expatriates from Hawai'i. I've also thought of moving abroad and becoming a real expatriate myself. Yet, where would I go? Suggestions are always welcome, although please try to avoid mentioning places such as the non-existent "hell." Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

So, that's pretty much where I stand right now. And, you are standing right here with me. I am certain that many people would disagree with my policies and procedures. A few may even question my sanity. I can assure everyone that I have done everything in my power to accomplish my objectives as well as deconstruct the ridiculous life-style that I had made for myself based on false beliefs. Taking the long road to search for the elusive truth was necessary. I don't regret it.

All in all, I should have purchased a Whopper® (my way, of course) at Burger King® to properly celebrate the holiday. Unfortunately, the lowly hamburger is now worth a fortune. In preparing for the exodus, I have impoverished myself. And, even harder times lie ahead. To be perfectly honest, the longer that I remain in Hawai'i, the more likely that I will end up homeless. After listening to Ann about her ordeals, I have come to realize that my options are very limited. I've been unemployed for over four years. I am close to sixty years of age. Returning to wage slavery my not be possible. In other words, I may be on a steeper downhill slide than I had imagined. Ho boy!

Lamp-Baked Tidbits

Same ol' shit. What more can I say? Nothing, I'm afraid. I have, at the least, decided to discontinue the on-going list of books that I have read (see catalog). I will also no longer mention any of the books that I have completed from this point forward. My reading has slowed down tremendously anyway. After all, knowledge only increases mental anguish. Sheesh!

I've been trying to figure out what to do about the antiquated LoserNet site. I had contemplated the mummification of the entire site, but I did not want to deal with bad hyperlinks. I thought of deleting portions of the site as a ridiculous alternative. Instead, I will most likely remove the indexed links, thus making navigation more difficult. That should solve the problem temporarily, even though there have been zero visitors to the site.

By the way, the recent update for the tablet computer installed a couple of new "apps" and shortcuts that just cannot be removed or uninstalled (with the exception of installed games). I must admit that I became quite perturbed. With only 16Gbytes of storage, there is very little room for crap. Even Ubuntu Linux has the same kind of problem. Too many useless applications are intricately tied to the operating system. Fortunately, I am still able to remove most of the offending applications, although some residual files just cannot be mummified. Kubuntu was a nightmare in that respect. The bloat problem with all computer operating systems is eventually going to push me away completely. Then, I will divest all of my computers for good.

Lifeforce (Reprise)

Same ol' shit. Yeah, same ol' shit. No surprise, eh? Only deviation was my usual visit to the Institute of Hair Design. So, I'm rapidly approaching the zero content threshold for the "blog." With that said, the daily format of the "blog" may quickly become a thing of the past. I'll try to tie up a few loose ends first, provided that I am not unpleasantly distracted by the likes of Joker or any other fool.

I've been thinking about the "soul" again. Previously, I finally conceded that the "soul" was mortal, just like our physical bodies. I had also argued that all biological life have an extinguishable "lifeforce," an undefined source of our biological individuality. The brain, I argued, provides the necessary resources to make the "lifeforce" who we are. The conundrum, of course is: Who exactly are we?

There are no repositories for the "soul" and "lifeforce." Both are temporary and extinguishable, if they even exist. Each of us could simply be a function of the myriad synaptic reactions in our brains. However, I know that I exist. I am fully conscious of my being. I am right here in my squalid room at the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing) typing away on my netbook. I am living my life, albeit marginally. I know that I am right here.

How can a blob of nerve cells create an emulation of a sentient being? I cannot be a biological algorithm. I am not an automaton. And, how exactly did I appear out of nowhere? I never existed before I was born. Although I appeared out of nothing, I have no idea about what "nothing" is. How can I appear out of nothing and will soon disappear into nothing?

What I have just cryptically discussed is the basis of my inability to wholeheartedly accept the theories of evolution and spontaneous generation. Why would consciousness and self-awareness simply evolve? On what basis would a living creature develop the latter characteristics when it never knew what it was missing? And, let's face it, the "soul" is way beyond the synergistic permutations of billions of brain cells.

Another conundrum: Where did intelligence come from? How did it originate? We take intelligence for granted, believing that it slowly "evolved" like everything else. Doesn't intelligence require intelligence of some sort to begin with? An entity must have the capability to learn, then reason, in order to be intelligent. How would a non-intelligent entity figure out how to learn without ever learning before? Evolutionists love to state that early life forms had developed infinite numbers of permutations and only certain ones survived. I really can't buy into that. The earth is 4.5 billion years old. Lifeforms have existed for only a fraction of that time. The slow, infinite permutations thesis doesn't make sense given the time frame. There really is more to life than we know (or guess).

Idiot Savant

Last night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I actually powered up my tablet computer, the first time in days. I learned of a software update through the CrackBerry Forums, so I was excited to install it. So far, so good.

The moron Joker was on good behavior for two whole days before reverting back to his ornery ways. I suspect that he just couldn't stay away from the "Ice" (read: methamphetamine). Yeah, he was "tweaking" again last night. The crazy fool was playing his favorite sixties-style arcade video game on his bulbous desktop computer with the twin LCD monitors until the wee hours of the morning. Every few minutes, he alternatively played "fetch" with his scrawny rodent-like dog. By the way, I discovered that he plays the same antiquated arcade video game when he had left the audio turned up full blast one day a few weeks ago. The cheesy bleeping (i.e., sound effects) would be enough to drive anyone crazy. However, for a simpleton like Joker, that's endless entertainment.

Why is a decrepit loser like Joker "tweaking" on "Ice"? After all, he's damned near sixty years old. Amphetamines or "uppers" can provide a sure energy boost (or a cardiac event), but it can also temporarily cure chronic depression. At the peak of its efficacy, the drug can create a feeling of power. I suspect that Joker's antidepressants weren't working for him. He talks to his dog, sometimes for a couple of hours straight, but the mangy mutt can't help him. Nobody can help Joker. He has no "free will." He was born a loser, the genetic coding of which was passed down to him from his parents and ancestors.

Joker's world is already coming apart at the seams. Just two days ago, he scraped the rear bumper of his piece of shit 4,000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile), no doubt while "tweaking." His Ford® Mustang was his pride and joy. He washed it every day. Never mind that he lives in a garbage dump. Now, his pride and joy is permanently marred, just like him. I giggled my ass off when I saw the damage. I am still anxiously awaiting the day that the coroner's van gives Joker his last ride out of Slob Manor. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Needless to say, I was groggy the entire day due to sleep deprivation. What I've discovered is that Joker does not sleep for about three days straight. Then, he returns to normal sleep habits for one day. Three days on "Ice," one day off. Over and over again. A guy his age and in his poor condition should be a corpse already. There is the possibility that he is using cocaine instead. The side effects would not be as detrimental.

I have one other fun tidbit about Joker to share. As feeble as my long-term memory has been, I was able to ascertain that I have seen the maniacal clown before, a long time ago. It seems that Joker and I attended the same high school. In fact, we were in the same graduating class. I recall that he was a goofball back then, only not so bloated and hideous as he is now. And, yes, I ran a Web search to verify my hunch. Unfortunately, Joke was not considered an honored alumnus.

As I said, a wasted day. I was so tired that I was not able to exercise "free will" myself. I was constrained by physical fatigue, which made me very irritable. Back at Slob Manor, the moron that is Joker was obviously still "tweaking." He had been upstairs in his personal garbage dump all day watching his widescreen LCD tube. At 6pm, he prepared one of his usual microwavable meals. Then, he was in front of his bulbous computer with the side-by-side LCD monitors by 7pm. Did you guess that he was playing the same sixties-style arcade game? Did you also guess that he was playing fetch with his rodent-like dog? And, did you guess that he'll be doing that until 7am tomorrow morning?

"Free Will" Revisited

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I followed the usual itinerary. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Well, I should revisit the religious and philosophical concept of "free will," perhaps for the last time. As you are well aware, I have made no attempt to appear to be an expert on any subject. Neither have I engaged in proper academic-style "review of the literature." Nor have I reverted to any kind of intellectual discourse. I'm just "talking through my hat," while I complete any unfinished business. A couple of days ago, I informally discussed a portion of the "human story." All in all, humans have been around a lot longer than religion or philosophy. Thus, the concept of "free will" has not been around for very long.

Do we really have "free will"? As I answered prior, we have a limited amount of "free will." Unfortunately, we are captured within a biological shell. Therefore, we are limited in scope insofar as "free will" is concerned. Yet, I really have to wonder. Perhaps our "free will" is even more limited than previously imagined. Science and pseudoscience have both been trying to provide a genetic basis for human disposition and personality. There's been talk of such ridiculous nonsense as the "alcohol" gene, that is, a code in the human genome that increases the propensity to become an alcoholic. Obviously, humans did not have any cheap booze available over 100,000 years ago. What makes more sense is that there are genetic codes which increase or decrease an individual's propensity for one kind of behavior over another.

Not to belabor the point since no one reads the "blog" anyway, I would postulate that pretty much all of our personality traits, our disposition, and our behavior has been genetically handed down to us. We are not who we think we are. In fact, if I may be so bold, we are the living product of our ancestors. We have some control over our being, but most of who we are has already been determined before birth. Mind you, a few years ago, I would have considered the latter idea as insane. Let's look at a relatively simple example concerning my bro and I. When I was a toddler, I was very sedate. According to moms, I could sit and play by myself quietly for hours. My bro, however, was very hyperactive. I was ten years old when he was born, so I witnessed his behavior firsthand. Obviously, at such a young age, neither my bro or I possessed enough consciousness and self-awareness to forge our respective personalities. We were born that way.

If we inherit much of our physical characteristics from our parents and familial ancestors, then we could also inherit other traits that affect personality, disposition, and so forth. The thesis if, of course, far reaching. Could so-called "criminal" behavior be inherited? A few years ago, I would have disagreed. Now, I am not so sure. We do not have immortal souls that will live on and answer to a fictitious deity. We are simply another form of animal. There is nothing special about humans. We follow the same life cycle as all other living entities on the planet. There is no justice either, because we will not live on to either redeem ourselves or achieve absolution.

So-called "crime," killing and maiming, and other deplorable acts are just part of human nature. It lurks deep within as the "inner animal." Those traits are probably passed on in code through the human genome. We can dispense justice. The non-"criminal" element can kill, maim, or otherwise punish the "criminal." Yet, the prescribed justice is equally barbaric and goes against "free will." Strange things.

On a side note, I discovered that Hulu® cycles episodes of "Firefly." So, fortunately for me, a previously unseen episode has been made available this evening. I am "happy as a clam," as they say (whoever "they" are). If only I had some popcorn.

Wasteland

Same ol' "urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday" shit. Say, didn't I utter the same thing last week? Does it matter? Not really.

Knowledge can be quite dreadful. That's essentially the realization that I have arrived at after embarking on assorted research. I suppose that the scariest discovery that I have made so far is the fact that we humans have no idea about our origin. We do not know what purpose we serve. For that matter, we cannot even explain life in an unexplainable universe. Heck, I am not even certain about who I am, or what I am. And, don't get me started on mutants like Joker. I'll probably revisit the topic when I am not so spooked by it.

Well, I can safely say that I am going through "Firefly" withdrawal. I'm cannot even explain why I am drawn to the series. As it turns out, there are only 14 episodes. The series was terminated abruptly after a very short run. There is also one full-length movie. Right now, I am contemplating the one-week free trial membership at Hulu® just to view the remaining nine episodes. I really could not find anything else worthy in the archives. Tube programming, sad to say, is a vast wasteland.

Neanderthal Netherworld

At the library, I ran into Ann. We chatted briefly. Ann has changed her job strategy. She has decided that she will apply for multiple part-time jobs. I suspect that her situation is degenerating rapidly since her unemployment benefits will expire in a couple of months. I couldn't even possibly imagine what that's like, at least not for the moment. In due time, I will face the same dilemma.

I haven't really been doing much concentrated reading at the library. Most of the time, I am lapsing in and out of a coma. If anything, I read several books concurrently because I can never know when one will disappear. I had one chapter left in the book, "The Complete Ice Age: How Climate Change Shaped the World," edited by Brian Fagan, before it disappeared. Excellent book. The short section about the "human story" was quite intriguing.

As you may know, I am not an hardcore evolutionist. However, I must come to grips with some scientific evidence (not to be confused with the religion of pseudoscience). I have already come around to admitting that I agree with the evidence that humans have been around for a long time, at least 100,000 years ago for behaviorally- and anatomically-modern humans. I was somewhat skeptical of the Neanderthal lineage, most likely falling for the idiocy expounded by religious propaganda. There can be no doubt that the Neanderthals existed, although I am still skeptical about the chimp-like facial reconstructions. No doubt, the high brow cranium is oddly reminiscent of non-human primates. The striking resemblance to Joker's hideous cranium is also uncanny.

Religious propaganda, of course, attempted to discredit any anthropological and archaeological findings beyond the 6,000-year "Genesis" time frame. Thus, skeletal remains and dating methods were considered questionable. I regret that I once bought into the propaganda. That was many moons ago when findings were scarce and dating methods were much more crude. Strictly speaking, though, there is no way that any ape or chimp population could have dispersed into the areas thought to be populated by Neanderthals. Non-human primates could not survive under such conditions. And, the dispersion is far too wide to be a series of pranks (i.e., placing a chimp cranium with a human skeleton).

The ramifications are even more important. We humans really have no idea about our origin. We make pretty good guesses about evolution, I suppose, but we really do not know the truth. Religion, particularly the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam) suffers the most from ignorance. The "Genesis" account, the creation of life by "God," is completely discredited. As you may be aware, I am still a creationist, but I have no a clue about the creator itself. It is certainly not a deity, nor can it be personified. It is an entity that can severely stretch the metaphysical imagination. I am also not about to discard the Atlantis thesis, even though it really is moot.

I've tried to imagine what human life was like over 100,000 years ago or even just 50,000 years ago. I am not overly concerned about the hunter-gatherer existence per se. Instead, I wonder about what their societal and familial systems were like. We often assume a tribal format. How can we really know? There was a time when human life was tabula rasa. Square zero. No formal structure. No rules. What was it like?

Well, I have put my tablet computer on ice, so to speak. No, it's not "tweaking" on "Ice" (read: methamphetamine) like the grotesque Joker. I have simply relegated all computing tasks to the primary computer, my netbook. As I said before, everything has changed. The "blog" has changed. My computing needs have changed. I have changed. Shit happens.

Collapse, Lamp-Baked Style

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I followed the usual itinerary. 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), Kyle has moved in. He seems to be a likable guy. He's also quiet and considerate, unlike a few other fools whom we know of. The guy in the studio is moving out in two weeks. A 45-year-old babe is moving in, according to the landlord. Baby is divorced and has a daughter. I may have caught a glimpse of her yesterday. Baby might be a hottie. Perhaps Alan and Joker will fight over her. Who knows? Who cares?

I'm not really certain at all about what is happening in the so-called "globalized" economy. However, I have reluctantly decided to agree with the deflation camp at least insofar as the empire is concerned. We are observing deflationary effects in two key areas: wages and housing prices. Wages are deflating because of massive unemployment and outsourcing of jobs. Home prices are deflating because of the collapse of the "housing bubble." The money supply is apparently shrinking even though the Fed has attempted every trick in the book to trigger inflation. The money supply is also shrinking because there is rampant cash hoarding. Banks are also not lending, the latter being the only way money is "created." Cash hoarding (including rerouting to the commodities market) appears to be responsible for the inflationary prices for food and petrol, both of which are not used in computing "core" inflation. The situation is at critical mass. I do not expect a return to the status quo ever again.

The Eurozone is presenting another set of problems. The situation in Greece, Ireland, Spain, and Iceland is only the "tip of the iceberg." Apparently, many of the commercial banks in those nations decided to play the same game as the empire's banks, again with the full blessing of their respective central banks. When one "bubble" popped, then the rest all started popping. No matter how much useless money gets pumped into the "system," there's little hope for resolution. I have a feeling that the Euro is "on its last leg." The demise of the Euro may be beneficial to the empire and its worthless currency, the effects of which remain to be seen.

I am not an economist, but my guess is as good as any of the other fools out there. Common sense should dictate that injecting infinite amounts of money into the "system" is eventually going to fail. Japan has regained some relative stability after the Fukushima meltdown only by injecting massive amounts of money into its "system." Europe is doing the same. The empire is doing the same. They are all poised, of course, to reverse course in the face of exponential hyperinflation. Or, so they say.

Frankly, I really don't see any central bank reversing course. Raising interest rates, even slightly, will trigger a domino-effect "globalized" collapse. Unfortunately, once a trend appears to be semi-permanent, then it will likely become permanent. That is why I said that I do not expect to see interest rates rise above zero percent in my lifetime. Zero percent interest reflects the true value of money anyway. Money that is rented out (i.e., usury) creates more money as a function of the lending institutions' reserve ratio. Thus, debt is somewhat inflationary, and it is pure rentier capitalism.

Systems, of course, all follow systems modeling. Money, massive amounts of money, sloshing around in the global economy has a lot of mass and a lot of inertia. No matter which direction that it is heading, it will tend to overshoot its boundary because of its girth. Kind of like a tsunami. As far as I can tell, that's where we're heading.

Incidentally, my immediate goal for the "blog" is to cover as much unfinished business as possible. I have not returned to my comfortable rut. Everything has changed since the Blogger® outage. The "blog" has changed. I have changed. Shit happens.

Joker Day 2011

Welcome to Joker Day, the annual celebration of the ugliest mofo in the existence of all humanity. As usual, an obligatory facsimile of his likeness must be presented. I am still in awe at the uncanny resemblance to Cesar Romero's character in the campy "Batman" series of the early sixties. Joker of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) was definitely old enough to remember the original airings. Perhaps he has always aspired to be Joker.

Joker, Formerly Known as "Meathead"

I have decided to dedicate the day to the grotesque moron because I was able to confirm my suspicions. Joker has been engaged in the mischief that I have chronicled in the "blog" as a means of retaliation. I confirmed that the landlord has indeed spoken to Joker about his inconsiderate ways. Unfortunately, he is as utterly self-righteous as he is aesthetically challenged. With all the money that he possesses, he could easily afford extensive cosmetic surgery. He could even de-Botox® his entire bloated face so that it would look halfway normal.

Sadly, Joker lives in a dream world of his own making. He doesn't realize that he's a walking freak show. If he did, the coroner's van would have been here a long time ago. Let's hope that we won't have celebrate Joker Day next year. Okay, enough of that shit. I really just wanted to post the fantastic picture of Joker. I had to add some text to make it relevant. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

I've been experiencing quite a few strange incidents lately. For example, this morning, my local bank was not going to let me make a deposit. That's right. According to one of the managers, the security flag that I had requested after my stuff was stolen at the gym does not allow deposits without valid identification. Funny, I have been making deposits without a problem all the way up until yesterday. Then, oddly, I was told that my personal profile needed to be updated as well. The bank personnel were acting very suspiciously, as if I were some kind of "terrorist."

At the gym, I had to take a "dump" moment in the middle of my workout. As I sat in the stall, the idiotic Filipino porter decided to hose down the filthy urinal and floor mat next to the stall. All of the piss-infested (read: urine-infested) water splashed up under the stall and all over me. When I exited the stall, I calmly told the moron, "You could have waited a couple of minutes instead of spraying me with water." He looked at me blankly, then turned away. No apology was offered. I intended to report him to the management, but what's the sense? I would probably end up having to update my gym profile amongst other "terrorist"-related nonsense.

I'm not certain if all of the nonsense is due to societal collapse or a full moon. We already know that economic collapse has already affected the rank-and-file peons of empire. Very few have been left unscathed. Even fewer will ever return to the status quo. However, societal collapse is mutually exclusive to economic collapse. Incivility and social disorder has been increasing exponentially for several decades. The problem, of course, is when both societal collapse and economic collapse converge at the same point in time. Your guess is as good mine insofar as how the whole scenario will play out.

I don't believe that most of the rank-and-file peons of empire understand just how bad the situation has become. There's always some kind of false hope hovering around, even while the fools are being swept into the "Black Hole" of despair. The empire itself is permanently downsizing, at least internally. It's never going to "recover," and I really don't think that the moneychangers and powers-that-be had intended otherwise. We are seeing the signs of decay, and it's best to heed them now. However, I digress. Let's enjoy Joker Day (for what it's worth) now, shall we?

Vegetable (Continued)

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai went well. Moms and I followed the usual itinerary. The rest of the day? The urban nomad fulfilled his usual benign functions and followed his routine itinerary as planned.

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that I ran into my homeless buddy while I was waiting for the bus. I had not seen him around in a week. He is "good people." He's always giving me interesting tips. He's also pointed out a lot of shady characters who hang out at the library. Nonetheless, I was relieved to see that he was alive and well.

Speaking of "good people," I also heard from Mr. Ray in Washington State. It's been a while since I last heard from him. What's strange is that, whenever I am close to wit's end, I manage to hear from him. Although I've never met Ray in person, I consider him a friend. As you may know, I rarely use the word "friend" in reference to people.

Ray seems to understand that I am locked in a "purgatory" of my own volition. The term of my residency in "purgatory" is dependent on moms' longevity or how long my sanity can hold out. Of course, I made matters worse for myself when I decided to pursue the elusive "America Dream," albeit half-heartedly. Here's an excerpt of what Mr. Ray had to say:

Indeed, the "liberation" you seem to seek is (apparently) already well at hand. But you ask, "Is this really all there is to it?" Yes. That's it. It's not super glamorous, but there it is.

Of course the other angle is that no matter where you go or how you live, you'll always be wanting to get away from "them". The truth is, the World is what it is, and it's up to each of us to accept that fact on our own terms. The World and the people in it are never going to change. Ever.

After reading your journals for what, at least a decade? I can't help but wonder what it is deep in your innermost Id that you're struggling with. Whatever it is, once you can finally unlock whatever daemon (or daemons) and let them out of you, the whole issue of needing to "escape" will dissolve.

I was somewhat surprised to note that Mr. Ray was entirely resonant in thought with my current plight and the dilemma that I will soon face. As I've mentioned before, I cannot seem to "collate" my thoughts. Nor can I identify what exactly I am struggling with. And, neither can I effectively articulate the confused mess. Well, perhaps I have just discovered a purpose for the "blog." Either I will find some answers, or I will become a vegetable. Sheesh!

Well, in my fragile mental state, I should probably spend the rest of the evening perusing what is available in the Hulu® archive in order to find something worthy of sedating the anxious mind. Or, I can download hella hurdy-gurdy videos clips to add to my vast hurdy-gurdy library. Decisions, decisions.