Old Man Illusions

Last night, first Blogger® experienced intermittent outages, then the power went out for a few seconds at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Cable access to the Net, however, was down for several hours afterwards. Simply absurd. Same ol' shit.

At the library, I perused a couple of books worthy of mention: "The Joy of Not Working: A Book for the Retired, Unemployed and Overworked - 21st Century Edition" by Ernie Zelinski and "The Myth of Monogamy: Fidelity and Infidelity in Animals and People" by David Barash and Judith Lipton. Rather than read them completely, I concentrated on a few select chapters. Thus, I may (or may not) comment on either book in the delirious "blog."

I was running behind schedule again for some reason, so I opted to remain locked in my squalid room all evening. Good news, though. Myriad new hurdy-gurdy video clips were available for immediate download. Sometimes I wonder if I am always running behind schedule on purpose. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Victoria White

Speaking of hurdy-gurdy videos, I must pay homage again to one of my favorite hurdy-gurdy hotties, Victoria White. Is baby just too fine, or what? After an uneventful Ol' Lavahead Day, I only want to think about all of my favorite hurdy-gurdy hotties. It keeps my mind off of senior citizen "stuff." Sheesh!

Ol' Lavahead Day 2011

Same ol' shit. No celebration. Nothing. Nada. And, once again, I spent the entire evening locked away in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). You know the drill.

Dayna Vendetta

Well, Blogger® is apparently ready to go into meltdown again, so there's no need to discuss much else. Except for ... hurdy-gurdy hottie Dayna Vendetta. Actually, there's nothing to discuss about baby. A picture is worth a thousand words, ten thousand in her case. Check out her portfolio at the FreeOnes® site for more.

Post No. 2,038

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. I was prepared to make the dash to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. At the last minute, however, I changed my mind. Instead, I will spend all night locked in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Again? Yes, again.

I did my best to not do any thinking or ruminating. How else can I live the illusion? So, I listened to the latest Deep House Cat mix, which I really recommend. Look for the "Christaux Mix" on the site. I also downloaded many more hurdy-gurdy video clips, all the while waiting for the latest episode of "Hawai'i Five-O" to appear on-line.

Esperanza Gomez

Zero readership continues unabated, thank goodness. So, I should just mention another of my favorite hurdy-gurdy hotties, Esperanza Gomez. After a brief hiatus, the Colombian hottie is back to display her ample wares and showcase her many talents. You can see all of her in the latest installment of "American Daydreams" from Naughty America®. Yowza!

Lamp-Baked Illusion II

Same ol' Sunday shit, complete with an extended perusal of the hottie gym trainer at the gym. Whew! Baby is so fine. I was hoping to ride the 1pm Route 23 bus from Ala Moana Center. However, I had to purchase something to eat for dinner at Foodland. I was hampered by the crowds. Long story short, I missed the bus by two minutes.

I stood at the bus stop dumbfounded. I was quickly become irritated. Actually, I was already perturbed because of several encounters with rude morons. A bus bound for Waikiki stopped. One of the passengers alighting the bus was Les. He stopped to chat with me, mainly about his church. He also invited me to attend services. I'm not going to make derogatory comments about Les. He appears to be a good "Christian," for what that's worth. He also seems to have quite a bit of faith in his religion. Out of respect for him, I made no attempt to argue the fallacy of a non-existent deity. All during the conversation, though, I wondered about how Les was able to fully believe that he was destined for "Heaven."

I walked back to Foodland, mainly because there was nothing else to do for an hour. I was fortunate to find a nice slice of pie at the reduced price of a dollar. I sat on the same wooden bench facing the street level parking lot like I always do. The pie was delicious. I finally arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 3pm. I performed the dreaded laundry chores, ate my crappy dinner, and braced myself to spend the entire evening locked in my squalid room.

April O'Neil

So, what will I do in my squalid room? Search for and download choice hurdy-gurdy video clips, of course. That brings me to the latest "blog" topic, my favorite hurdy-gurdy hotties. How about April O'Neil? Baby is quite fine. She's also unbelievably talented. Might I suggest a perusal of her portfolio at the FreeOnes® site?

On a sad note, I have finally come around to regretting the purchase of the BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer. The price has dropped $300 since its introduction. To add insult to injury, the latest update to the operating system allegedly has caused problems with the wireless transceiver. Obviously, without wireless connectivity, the tablet computer is a door stop. I was under the faulty impression that the parent corporation was strongly enterprise-driven and produced top-notch products. Apparently, I was completely wrong.

Change of Venue?

Itinerary? Same ol' shit. Because of impending rain, I decided to lock myself in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) for the evening again. Obviously, there was not much else to do but download more choice hurdy-gurdy video clips. My massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) now has over 700 clips of varying quality. Is that a worthy accomplishment, or what?

Nikki Monroe

Perhaps I should just dispense with the repetitive diatribe of the "blog" and replace the latter with discussions about hurdy-gurdy videos. I could, of course, showcase hotties like Nikki Monroe, who starred in the Jules Jordan Video production, "Oil Overload." The screen capture is from the video. A very hot scene indeed. El Diablo hot!

On a side note, there has been a recent operating system update, albeit minor, for my BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer. Unfortunately, I have duly noted complaints in the CrackBerry Forums about subsequent problems with the internal wireless transceiver. Thus, I will not install the update.

Black Voodoo Friday 2011

Same ol' shit. I only need mention that the Saturnalia shopping craze was totally out of control. When I arrived at Ala Moana Center this morning at 8:40am, the entire complex was completely packed with shopping fools. The Route 23 bus driver said that, during his first run at 6am, he saw myriad people lined up everywhere with huge widescreen LCD tubes. One of the cashiers at Foodland said that the store was full of people at 4:30am. And, apparently, there were a few stores that had opened at midnight.

At the library, I was awakened from a stupor by Ralph, a dean at HCC. I only chatted with him briefly. I ran into Mark while I was walking to the bus stop at 12:40pm. I missed the bus by a few seconds, so I ended up walking with Mark to the central business district.

At the gym, I discovered that one of my gym shoes was literally falling apart. I had no choice but to purchase a pair of cheap, albeit somewhat hideous, gym shoes from Payless®. I could have waited until tomorrow to shop for shoes, but I just could not fathom the idea of dealing with the swarms of Saturnalia shoppers. So, I will just have to live with the hideous pair of gym shoes for now.

On the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) on the bus, I noticed that the parking lot at Kahala Mall was completely full. Actually, it was full at 8:15am this morning. Needless to say, I reluctantly decided to remain locked in my squalid room all evening. As a devout misanthrope, I sure couldn't see myself engaged in a crowd of moronic mental midgets at the bookstore. Sheesh!

No-Holiday Holiday 2011

Another unobserved holiday for the ol' lavahead. If I was really living the illusion, then I would be engaged in holiday ritual. What does that tell you? No rest for the losers, though. I washed my truck this morning at 8am. Technically, it also simultaneously received a wax job since I was using an all-in-one product. Rather than waste time drying off the truck by hand with a towel, I decided that I would depart for Ala Moana Center immediately and spend the day there. The drive would provide "air drying" of the truck, I reasoned. Once I arrived at my destination, I noticed that, while not exactly shiny, the end result was perfectly satisfactory. No more hand-drying nonsense.

Only three stores were open in the entire complex, but there was a steady stream of potential shoppers. Don't the fools have anything else better to do? I procured a cup of coffee and sat on a wooden bench in my usual location facing the parking lot on the street level. I observed a few of the homeless and many losers like the ol' lavahead, all of them loitering because there were no other options.

I rode the bus to town, performed the usual workout at the gym, and then returned to Ala Moana Center. I purchased an ice cream treat to reward myself for absolutely nothing. Then, I loitered around until 3pm, sitting on various wooden benches in the same location as this morning.

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was delighted to discover than absolutely no one else was around. I took advantage of time to perform a few chores: vacuum out the truck (first time in two years), do laundry chores, clean the vacuum cleaner, and throw out more crap. And, since there was nowhere to go this evening, I locked myself in my squalid room. Yeah, more hurdy-gurdy video downloading. Can it get any dumber?

Stalemate

Usual visit to Hawai'i Kai, obviously a couple of days earlier because of the upcoming holiday weekend. Otherwise, nothing new. I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. A decaffeinated beverage was in order, only because I did not want to feel guilty as I perused a few computer periodicals.

I had much difficulty living the illusion today. I am probably well beyond the point that I could accept such a malignant fate. I am essentially sitting on my ass and waiting for the proverbial ax to fall, not so much on my own head. Rather, there is increasing evidence that the "system" is nearing collapse. I now stand corrected in that the empire seems to be planning an incursion into Syria and possibly Iran. In addition, the empire and all of its "Western" alliances appear to be prodding both China and Russia. With the ever-increasing chance of the disintegration of the Eurozone, more regional wars will erupt. The crumbling of the Eurozone is symbolic of the end of "Western civilization," a scenario worthy of being called the secular Apocalypse.

Well, I am now at a full stalemate concerning the divestiture of my useless possessions. I am down to three items that can be divested, two being my truck and the detestable "condotel" unit. My tablet computer, netbook, portable hard drive, and cheap cell phone are essentially worthless. So, there's nothing left. For now, I'm done. Isn't that amazing?

Lamp-Baked Illusion I

Just to show how much I have embraced living the illusion, I have been watching every episode of "Hawai'i Five-O" on my netbook computer right as soon as it is released on Monday evenings. The Wo Fat character appeared again, much to my chagrin. As I lamented prior, the ol' lavahead would have been a perfect fit for the part. Woe is the ol' lavahead!

As always, nothing accomplished. Another day, another dollar ... short. Well, I restored my monk haircut a day earlier than usual. With another useless holiday coming up, I am forced to change the routine. I finally found myself back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Same ol' shit, though.

I had a few long bursts of anxiety during the day. I'm probably more susceptible because of sleep deprivation. My displeasure with Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is probably at the root of my insomnia. Perhaps I am not fully living the illusion. The real problem is that I don't have a tube to watch useless programming day and night.

By the way, Kyle told me about a strange incident. He had just parked his vehicle on the the rock pile next to Joker's vehicle. All of a sudden faggot's car alarm went off. Since Kyle neither touched the offending vehicle, nor was he close enough to activate a proximity sensor, he concluded (correctly) that the gay blade had pushed the "panic button" on his alarm fob from upstairs. That's exactly what I mean when I state that the fudgepacker becomes really ornery at times. Joker needs a solid ass kickin' session.

Lastly, I have become somewhat concerned about my diet after doing more research. The first problem is my heavy reliance on carbohydrates. The second problem is malnutrition. I have tried my best to stay completely clear of poisonous food and junk food. However, that doesn't leave much leftover. I will clarify when I have more details.

Plum Tuckered Out (Yet Again)

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Moms and I followed the usual shopping routine, what with Saturnalia and all. However, shopping is becoming a brutal activity. I was "plum tuckered out" after the ordeal. Needless to say, I did not make an outing to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. To further add to my grief, the left lower molar that has already been subjected to a root canal is experiencing pain. Has the feeble tooth come back to life?

I was forced to purchase a new pair of slippers (read: slippahs) because the previous three pairs wore out fairly quickly. The quality of the fake rubber has gone downhill. I can only expect, maybe, a month or so of usage. Foolishly, I purchased a pair that were a half-size larger than what I normally wear. So, I now look as if I am donning snowshoes.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the landlord departed for China today and will be gone for two weeks. Details are unimportant, but Slob Manor residents will be left to their own devices. Kyle attempted to call a meeting with the residents and the landlord in order to air certain problems with a certain fudgepacker. The "meeting" lasted all of a minute with nothing accomplished. I could sense the uneasiness of the landlord during the brief interval. The verdict? Lost cause.

I've been going through the remainder of my useless possessions and pruning more junk. Most are consumables, so I am diverting the crap to the recycle bin. Stuff that really needs to go ... still here. I just keep finding more and more ways to accomplish nothing important. Time, however, is not waiting for me.

Old Man Ailments

Typical Sunday, complete with "Cartesian theater" enhancements. Really? No, not really. Of course, that means nada to report. A microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer is hardly a noteworthy event. I ran a little late this afternoon while I was indulging in an ice cream treat at Ala Moana Center, so I missed the Route 23 bus. So, I had to finagle an alternative to return to the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing) through a number of different bus routes. That's almost reminiscent of last weekend, eh?

No outing again this evening. I was running way behind schedule. I chatted with fellow Slob Manor residents, Kyle and Alan, for about an hour. Then, I spent the rest of the time searching for and downloading choice hurdy-gurdy video clips. Way too stupid, I know. However, I am living the illusion now.

At this point, there's not much to discuss in the "blog" because I have already discussed the issues that are swirling around in the cavernous oversized cranium. In addition, as I stated, I am supposed to be living the illusion. All I can say is that I still haven't been sleeping well. Last night, I was forced to listen to two feral cats in heat yowling outside. I seem to have a pinched nerve that is causing intermittent pain along my left shoulder, neck, and cranium. I also have a boil on my right shoulder blade. Old man ailments abound. Sheesh!

Post No. 2,029

After I alighted the bus at the Beretania Street transfer point, I sat on one of the metal "homeless-proof" benches under the shelter. However, behind me was a homeless guy laying on the sidewalk inside a makeshift sleeping bag. No one else came within ten feet of the homeless guy. A few minutes later, I noticed two bare feet sticking out from the bottom of the makeshift sleeping bag. Both of his feet were coated with a black sludge. I looked at my own feet, both very clean with the soles honed just yesterday using a pumice stone. So, what exactly do I know about suffering?

At the library, I noticed that a few of the homeless that I have not seen for well over six months are now back. Where have they been? Perhaps they had been incarcerated, as my "homeless" buddy once explained.

I ran a little behind schedule this afternoon, not that I have anything pressing. Nonetheless, I did not make the trek to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. I was not exactly excited about sitting in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Fortunately, Joker was not upstairs in his filthy hovel. The fudgepacker actually has some kind of limited social life, believe it or not. He is gone between two and four days per week after 4pm for about six hours. I assume that he's been visiting his ex-"partner." After Joker gets "laid" (i.e., Lucky Piérre), he does appear to be less defiant. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Living the Illusion

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. I the found myself at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, mainly because Joker was being ornery again at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The damned faggot appears to be "on the rag," believe it or not. I have to wonder whether the gay blade is overdosing on female hormone lozenges. I mean, what else could the problem be? In any case, Joker is one sick fuck.

So, I have decided to try to live the illusion, "Cartesian theater" and all, at least for the interim. Life will be much easier, I suppose. However, I maintain that I will still have moments of lucid thought. With zero readership of the "blog," the point is moot anyway.

I have been noticing that there are hella people out and about from early in the morning until late in the evening just like the ol' lavahead. I see them everywhere, often in the same places that I happen to frequent. A few are homeless, but the majority apparently are not. Obviously, none of them are wage slaves. How do they survive? Homeless or not, they all dress like derelicts. Well, so do I. An unnamed source told me that a lot of the people whom I equate with dereliction are actually living off of trust funds. Could that really be so? Or, maybe they have a fraudulent source of income like Joker.

Since I am living the illusion, I must continue the same benign routine with minimal excursions into extreme lucidity. I'm back to dealing with losers, morons, dolts, and faggots. Yeah, that's the crux of humanity. And, with the Saturnalia shopping craze in full force, we can expect illusionary delusions and gut-retching moments to hit a fever pitch soon.

I took my time returning to Slob Manor, making a stop at Aina Haina. I have not been doing any lat night grocery shopping for a couple of weeks now. I ended up purchasing a pint of frozen yogurt at the grocery store. Delicious! Upon arriving at the dump at 8:45pm, I noticed that no one else was around except for Joker. The fudgepacker was watching the tube as usual. Now, there's a mental midget who really knows how to live the illusion.

Cartesian Theater

At the library, I completed reading the book, "Why Everyone (Else) Is a Hypocrite: Evolution and the Modular Mind," by Robert Kurzban. I also happened to peruse the Asian hottie who works there. Baby was looking mighty fine. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

I'm not certain about what to discuss in the "blog" anymore, considering that my thoughts may simply be the ramblings of a predetermined "self." Fortunately, zero readership allows me not to care. I can ramble on in a predetermined fashion infinitely because the servers hosting the "blog" appear to be unlimited as well.

If anything, though, I suppose that I have already crossed the threshold of the exodus, at least philosophically. I am not even sure if any additional knowledge need be acquired. What would be the point? Of course, I have offered similar lamentations before, yet I still soldier on.

The revelations of the past few days continue to gnaw at me. We have all been too used to viewing the human mind through the lens of what Daniel Dennet calls the "Cartesian theater." Heck, morality, ethics, and laws have been structured to accommodate the "Cartesian theater." The most pertinent question is: does the "conscience" really exist innately? Or, is it acquired by indoctrination? I believe that we already know the answer. A "conscience" goes against the tenets of the "inner animal."

Well, let's change the subject now, shall we? I was back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) at Kahala this evening. As I sat in one of the ridiculously uncomfortable armchairs in the bookstore, I espied a new book on the shelf directly in front of me titled, "The Joker: A Visual History of the Clown Prince of Crime." The cartoon picture on the cover is hilarious, by the way. Never mind. Let's call it a night now, shall we?

Fallacy of Self

My thoughts have been extremely confused since yesterday. Perhaps the "modules" in my brain have ceased any kind of coordination. Anyway, how do we reconcile the non-existent "self"? I really don't know. Actually, the fallacy of "self" should have been obvious even to a common dunce.

Take, for example, gender traits, which have been passed down to each of genetically. Gender traits affect personality, temperament, and disposition. To no surprise, I share a lot of common traits with other guys, and not all of those traits are due to "socialization." Hence, there is no reason to not believe that other non-gender traits may also be hereditary.

It becomes increasingly possible that nearly our entire persona is already predetermined for us at birth. Fortunately, we do have a narrow margin of "free will" to make compensation. Other factors such as disease, substance abuse, and physical damage can also alter the ingrained programming, sometimes severely. Yes, I have chosen to use the word "programming" because it essentially describes how we came to be.

I don't mean to imply that we are automatons, though. Our consciousness certainly allows us to experience a rich lifetime. We are simply restricted by our programming. And, our consciousness is often not even fully aware of other processes occurring in the brain. We are only given the final result of all of the possible permutations of dominant "modules" at any given time. If we were fully conscious, we would be aware of all those processes. That's why we often cannot explain our actions.

Well, we've already disproved the existence of the "soul." Now, we have visited the fallacy of the "self." Truly, things are not what they seem to be. We are not who we think we are. Instead, we have been given a grand illusion. We are made to believe that we are born essentially a blank slate, brought up by our parents who "train" us, and then we blossom into autonomous adults who live full lives through "free will."

Once we investigate our consciousness and scrutinize our "self," something just doesn't seem right. Why do we do the things we do? Why are we always struggling with the "inner animal"? As we've already learned, there are only a few absolute truths. Beyond that, nothing is relevant. If I was to offer advice, which I detest doing, I would say that the best course of action is to live the illusion (also refer to the summary of "Core of Reality"). Forget about everything else. Live like you command your "soul." Express your "free will." Don't even think about the contradictions.

As for the ol' lavahead, he has ventured too far into the unknown. He can't feign ignorance anymore. Frankly, I believe that the ol' lavahead's work is completed. Yes, his job on the planet is done. Fini.

I need to seek out the simple life, even simpler than the one I have now. In the past few months, I have learned that I derive extreme pleasure from activities that everyone else would consider boring or insane. I really love to walk on grass as opposed to sidewalks. I enjoy looking at trees and plants. Today, I purchased a loaf of bread (mainly because I am bordering on starvation), and I could not get enough of its sweet aroma. Although the bread was a cheap generic brand, it was something very precious to me at the moment. So, let's call it day for now, shall we?

Core of Self

Same ol' shit (SOS). Yeah, I'm about as tired of SOS as you are. However, unlike you, I have no money, no cabbage, no mullah. So, I'm stuck in a rut. With each passing day, I am moving closer to homelessness. Frankly, I don't even care. How much worse can homelessness be than Slob Manor (read: rental housing)? Heck, I won't have to pay rent when I am homeless. How good is that?

At the library, I commenced reading another book about the human brain. Like the last few books that I started, it will probably disappear soon. No problemo. I'll eventually complete them all. Anyway, reading about the human brain is probably even more disconcerting than reading about the cosmos. I will state explicitly that I have now surpassed disillusionment.

Valid studies have essentially proven that the brain is made up of various "modules." The physical brain itself is not compartmentalized in such a way. But different sections of the brain perform different functions. Oddly, the "modules" often do not communicate with each other. Hence, we humans often exhibit peculiar or puzzling behavior.

I have already postulated that our preferences, tastes, personality, and disposition could very well be genetically passed down to us. Now, add to that the thesis that our minds are made up of "modules" that are processing data independently, often in conflict with each other, and aggregating that data with often no interactive communication. Seemingly, the latter process is what produces "human" traits, what religious fanatics often refer to as "imperfection." Needless to say, confusion, stupidity, "sin," and every other human trait can now be easily explained.

Lt. Commander Data

What really becomes disconcerting is that there may be no "self." While the verdict is still not in about actual consciousness, there is a problem with who we truly are. I am not certain if we can ever find the root of consciousness. I know that I am me. I know that I exist in real time, I am aware of my experiences. However, the person that I am, the traits that I exhibit, the thoughts that I conjure up, may all be the product of the way the "modules" in my brain operate at any given point in time.

Well, if that's the case, then none of us have "free will." We live in an illusion created by our basic consciousness. Beyond that, we are simply animated by the dominance of specific brain "modules." We believe that we are consciously directing our lives, but we are not. Can we even fathom such a concept?

Avenues of Strange Fortune

"Avenues of good fortune are ahead for you." -- Panda Express® fortune cookie

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My sister-in-law mentioned that another one of her sisters has passed on as well as a former client when she was still employed by an unnamed caregiver agency. Mortality rears its ugly head again.

While attempting to reverse out of a parking stall with my truck at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center, I observed a white sedan pass behind me. From my side mirror, I noticed the passenger staring at the rear fender of my truck, right where the large scratch perpetrated by a vandal is located. I immediately recognized the clown. He works at Zippy's in Koko Marina and is also a member of the gym. I also recollected that I experienced a minor incident with the fool many moons ago. I ended up calling him a "dumb ass." The moron is now my prime suspect. I have noted the license plate and description of the vehicle he was riding in. A homely trollop was driving the suspect vehicle.

I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, mainly to get away from the eternally depressing Slob Manor (read: rental housing). As always, the tablet computer accompanies me while the netbook remains in my squalid room downloading several hurdy-gurdy video clips for later perusal. Sadly, the Vienna Sausage remains ambivalent.

On an interesting note, I discovered that the only coverage of the pathetic APEC bomb buffoonery was provided by a person named Sarah Jane, as she calls herself. She reported the farce to CNN® and provided the pictures as well. She also covered the incident of November 12th in her "blog" titled "sjupandaway." There is an aerial shot which has a green tour bus as well an articulated city bus in it. I was in the bus (not visible) right behind the one in the picture. From the window, I could see the green tour bus. The "bomb" (read: homeless guy's luggage) was at the bus stop right across the street. Be sure to check out the picture of the alleged "bomb" for laughs. Lots of interesting local pictures as well.

Well, after being forced to update to the "new" Yahoo! Mail, I was unpleasantly surprised to find the interface to be extremely sluggish (as opposed to propaganda stating the opposite). I launched my own investigation and discovered that the problem is the overuse of JavaScript. Needless to say, almost every site on the Net abuses JavaScript. Thus, the lag in my browser is not the fault of the netbook. My tablet computer's browser is much faster, but that's beside the point. I may have to abandon my current e-mail account. At least for the time being, I will resort to checking e-mail very sporadically. Any other account plagued by the same problem will be handled in a similar fashion. Really, do I need to purchase a computer with a quad-core CPU just to check e-mail? Sheesh!

Post No. 2,023

Same ol' modified Sunday shit, just like yesterday, thanks to the APEC summit. I was able to avoid any nonsense, although there was a minor setback when Ala Moana Boulevard was closed for about an hour at 8:30am this morning. The entire APEC delegation was sped down toward somewhere in West O'ahu. Sadly, only a brief glimpse of the hottie gym trainer at the gym, but enough to supplement my paltry workout. I avoided a return bus trip through Waikiki, so there were no misadventures to report.

I reluctantly decided to make the trek to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, but I must have missed the bus. Either that, or it was really late. I did not wait around long enough to find out. So, I ended up sequestering myself in my painfully squalid room in the despicable Slob Manor (read: rental housing). More hurdy-gurdy video downloading, I suppose.

APEC Bomb Buffoonery

The extended holiday weekend left me no choice but to follow the Sunday itinerary. Yes, I know that today is Saturday. Thus, I was at the gym by 10:30am this morning. Once I exited the gym at 12:30pm, the APEC nightmare (i.e., buffoonery) commenced.

Rather than follow the usual Sunday bus route back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I decided to walk to Hotel Street to wait for the bus there. Thirty minutes later, the Route 1 bus arrived. I boarded and rode it past only three consecutive bus stops. The moronic passengers on the crowded bus were too much for my patience. I alighted, then boarded another bus destined for Ala Moana Center, knowing full well that I would have to travel through security checkpoints and numerous detours in Waikiki. At the time, I thought that I would only suffer from a few minutes delay. Little did I know, I should have remained on the first bus with all of the morons.

I had to transfer to a Route 8 bus because both the Route 23 and 24 buses were being diverted to a turnaround point in Waikiki. I let the first two Route 8 buses pass for reasons unknown. Then, I boarded the third one. The bus had to make a detour onto Kalakau'a Avenue because of the APEC summit at the Hawai'i Convention Center. Then, the bus stopped. We did not move from that point for about an hour. Finally, the bus driver informed us that Waikiki was in complete lockdown because of possible bomb placed at the bus stop right across the street where we were all sitting in traffic. With all of the police and military personnel in the vicinity, one has to wonder why we were not informed any earlier. And, why were we not evacuated from the potential bomb site immediately?

Site of APEC Buffoonery

I alighted the bus with several other passengers. Instead of walking into Waikiki (and passing the bomb site), I decided to walk to Kapi'olani Boulevard. Traffic was completely backed up, but a Route 3 bus finally came by. I boarded that bus. Then, just as the bus was about to turn onto Date Street a few blocks up, I noticed that the traffic was backed up on that road as well. Obviously, motorists were attempting to enter Waikiki via Kapahulu Avenue. I alighted the bus, only to realize that the sign indicated that only the Route 3 bus stopped there. So, I had to walk back one block to another bus stop. Within a few minutes, a Route 9 bus arrived. I boarded the bus and alighted at the Palolo Valley bus stop in Kaimuki. Once again, I had to walk back a block to another bus stop. Finally, I boarded a Route 1 bus which transported me back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Arrival time: 4pm. Yeah, that's right. Six different bus routes and 3.5 hours of time.

Obviously, the bomb never exploded. The perpetrator, being a moron, did not realize that no one at the APEC summit was inconvenienced in the slightest. Only the poor rank-and-file peons like myself were left to suffer the consequences. In addition, with all the police and military presence, one would have assumed that a high level of crisis management coordination would have been implemented. Instead, there was lots of buffoonery, plain and simple.

Now, here's the punchline. What we passengers on the bus were told is that a strange box was conspicuously left at the bus stop across the street and, subsequently, the perpetrator had called the police about the bomb. Later, I discovered the real truth. The strange box ended up being some luggage belonging to an anonymous homeless guy. I bet that he left it there deliberately. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Well, I was so far behind schedule and so fatigued that I decided to forgo my nightly excursion to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Yeah, I just sat in my squalid room at Slob Manor and downloaded hurdy-gurdy video clips all night long for my massive hurdy-gurdy video library. (HGVL). Sheesh!

Folly of Humanity

Holiday or not, there's no rest for the losers. I brought my truck into the Nissan® dealership this morning for an oil change and tire rotation. Total cost? A whopping $110 and some change. On top of that, I waited nearly two hours for the work to be completed. Fortunately, I have extended my service interval to one year.

I ended up driving my truck to Ala Moana Center. After procuring a cup of coffee, I rode the bus to town to work out at the gym. Then, I rode the bus back to Ala Moana Center, retrieved my truck, stopped at Safeway® on Beretania Street, then finally returned to the despicable Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

I briefly ran into my "homeless" buddy at Ala Moana this afternoon. He was boarding the bus that I had just alighted. Traffic was terrible, mostly because of the security checkpoints all over the place. There were police and military personnel stationed as far as the eye could see. Emergency and military vehicles were also conspicuously scattered about. That's as close to a police state as can be imagined. I was glad to get out of there.

I did not enjoy driving my truck around. Actually, I never do. The traffic is always horrendous. And, almost all of the motorists drive as if they are playing some kind of video game. Yeah, nothing like careening around recklessly in a 4,000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile). The bus, even with all of the obnoxious and odoriferous passengers, is a better option.

As fatigued as I was, I returned to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Same ol' shit. Later, I'll be downloading more choice hurdy-gurdy video clips in the privacy of my dungy and squalid room in the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Oh, the sheer foolishness!

Incidentally, I won't be honoring the empire's (or those of any nation) soldiers who perished in war. Damn it! Why do we still have wars? The moronic activity has been going on since the beginning of humanity. So, the question just begs itself: what is wrong with humans? What happened to the "civilization" paradigm?

Humans suffer from some kind of blind sense of "exceptionalism." Yet, there is nothing exceptional about us. We've got major problems with the "inner animal." And, unless we address those problems, there will be no end to human folly. Yet, one has to wonder, are humans really capable of being "civilized"? Or, is the "inner animal" just being forcibly repressed, only to manifest itself in even stronger and more violent outbursts?

I believe that we already know the answers. I am really only expressing my continued disillusionment. After all, we have been constantly indoctrinated by secular or religious means to believe in a vast separation between humans and animals. We have been told over and over again that we are not animals. Actually, we are worst than animals. Intelligence has not tamed the beast. Rather, intelligence has made us more crafty, more wily, more sinister than any other life form. Then, we have the gall to raise memorials for the casualties of extreme human folly. Is there just no end to the stupidity and the hypocrisy? Oh, the sheer foolishness!

General Dullness XV

Well, what can I say? The day commenced with a long two-hour journey to town. Buses were nowhere to be seen, so I spent most of that time standing around (like a moron) at various bus stops. Turns out, the security gauntlet for the ridiculous APEC summit resulted in a temporary police state. Traffic detours caused all kinds of bottlenecks around the island. And, most of the buses were caught up in traffic.

At the library, I ran into the "homeless" buddy again. He said that the excursion from Mano'a to Chinatown and the library took all of three hours. We both lamented about the extreme waste of time. There were a lot of the homeless at the library this morning, by the way.

During the bus ride back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I observed an endless line of tents along the sidewalk for the entire length of Honolulu Stadium Park in Mo'ili'ili. The homeless, who usually pitch tents and camp on the park's grounds, were displaying their defiance to the local powers-that-be. There were also few large condescending cardboard signs about APEC. I giggled my ass off. I am firmly on the side of the homeless. If only the real revolution was coming, I thought.

Even with the intermittent rain and gusty winds, I found myself back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. I neglected to mention that the Asian hottie who works at the library was in the bookstore last night. Baby was looking mighty fine. I also saw baby shopping for groceries in Aina Haina one night a few weeks ago. She also rides the bus to work, as I have seen her board near Aina Haina. Yeah, I know. Babes everywhere.

Otherwise, same ol' shit. No progress with the exodus. Still downloading mucho hurdy-gurdy video clips. Vienna Sausage still not in the mood. No new divestitures. Still kickin' the can.

Lamp-Baked Life X

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit, stepped up to compensate for another holiday. Nada to report anyway. Moms had a doctor's appointment in Kuapa Kai, so that occupied the time for most of the morning. Otherwise, we followed the usual routine.

I am still spending the early evening at the bookstore in the den of consumerism in (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I have not stopped off in Aina Haina to shop for groceries since last Friday. Instead, I have been returning to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) about an hour earlier. I was getting into the habit of purchasing extremely fattening cakes and pies for dessert. How could I resist the reduced price of $1 for each item? Needless to say, the desserts weren't doing me any good, what with my high cholesterol problem and all. Sheesh!

Lots of nonsense transpiring in both the so-called "mainstream" and alternative news. I am tempted to comment, but I have already vowed not to do so. After all, I pretty much covered everything in my "Core" discussions a couple of weeks ago in the "blog." I may have other "Core" discussions to include as issues come up. However, avoiding redundancy is high priority.

Lots of nonsense occurring in the world of computers as well. I am becoming quite sick of computers, by the way. One of the netbook operating systems (i.e., Meego®) that I ran as a trial for a while has been mummified and consolidated into yet another project. A certain mobile version of a popular Web browser plug-in (i.e., Adobe® Flash) is being abandoned, which may affect my tablet computer. On and on. Way too stupid. My only need for a computer is the downloading of massive amounts of hurdy-gurdy video clips. And, that's even when the Vienna Sausage is not in the mood. Pathetic, very pathetic.

Uncertainty

A few years ago, I caught sight of a guy on the bus who looked just like Alan from back in Convalescent City in Cali. Actually, I saw him on several occasions, but I did not attempt to make contact. I thought that I mentioned the incidents in "blog," but I can find no trace of the event in the endless babble. I know for a fact that I was residing in the detestable "condotel" unit in Waikiki at the time. Turns out, the same guy boarded the bus that I was on this morning as it passed through Waikiki. He sat on an adjacent seat. He remembered my name and queried if I was who he thought I was. Sure enough, that was Alan. He divorced from his wife about eight years ago and moved to Hawai'i. Alan is originally from Convalescent City. He served time in the military and was stationed at Schofield Barracks. So, he apparently enjoyed the islands enough to move here. He also mentioned that Jill, an old partner in crime, was back in Convalescent City.

I met Alan And his ex-wife over 25 years ago. He was the head coach for the private Convalescent City swim club. I used to swim with the team before our age group formed its own club. Eventually, I became an assistant coach as well. Jill was also an assistant coach. And, both Jill and I worked as pool maintenance workers for a while. Lots of crazy stories and misadventures, far too much for the "blog." Definitely, though, we were partners in crime. Petty crime. Jill eventually joined the military. I assume that she's retired now.

In retrospect, I wasn't certain whether the guy that I had spotted was indeed Alan. He was always out and about by himself. I never thought that Alan and Barbara would divorce. And, why would Alan be in the islands over 25 years later? So, I dismissed the sighting as someone who looked like Alan. Uncertainty. Strange things.

At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. His passport apparently expired, so he has not been able to secure tickets for his getaway to Singapore and Malaysia.

Well, I have been reading another cosmology book, although I am not certain whether I will complete it. The book is incredibly interesting. However, there is a "dark side" to such knowledge. The universe is a beautiful work of art, but is also a cold and deeply impersonal void. I cannot blame people for desperately holding on to the various religious myths and legends about the origin of the universe and life itself. At one time, I so wanted to believe in some kind of cosmic deity, one that would offer humans a chance to gain immortality. There is some comfort in those beliefs, I suppose.

Sadly, my quest for knowledge led to my discovery that we are alone in a finite universe. Yes, the universe has a finite dimension and possibly a finite lifespan of its own. Obviously, there's very little comfort derived from the latter. To say that I have been affected by that discovery would be a severe understatement. That's why everything is at a standstill.

I really don't know. Perhaps I have approached the idea of a strategic plan erroneously. Perhaps I am still too influenced by idiotic "mainstream" thinking, or I continue to subconsciously hold onto various myths and legends. Or, perhaps the knowledge (or uncertainty) is just too overwhelming for my pea-sized brain.

Post No. 2,017

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. I spent a bit of time in my favorite chair while I waited for moms. I contemplated my non-existent strategic plan. Is that ludicrous, or what?

Last week, moms told me that Uncle T (moms' brother) had called. He said that he just wanted to hear moms' voice. Uncle T is 86 years old. My uncle is probably ruminating about his mortality. Will either my bro or I do the same in the future?

Well, I renewed my prepaid cell phone account for another year, a marginal last minute decision at best. In the meantime, I will be changing my phone number on record to that of my free RingCentral® voicemail. I plan to abandon the prepaid cell phone account next year. A year should be enough time for me to mummify any "need" for a dedicated phone, right?

On a final note, I am becoming a little concerned about the fate of my BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer. Since the announcement of the delay of the operating system upgrade for another four months, there has been increasing talk that the entire project may be abandoned with little notice. Even the major on-line bookstores are introducing fairly powerful tablet computers under the guise of branded "eReaders" at half the price or less. Unfortunately, I do not care for any of the other tablet computers on the market. I chose the PlayBook® for a variety of legitimate reasons, security being a priority. Yet, what will I do with a $500 doorstop?

Kickin' the Can Again

Same ol' Sunday shit. Highlight of the day? Extended perusal of the hottie gym trainer. Was baby looking mighty fine? We all know the answer already, don't we?

As fatigued as I was, I found myself at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. I really cannot sit in my squalid room in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) for an extended period of time even though I have a backlog of tasks. Fortunately, the bookstore's free Net access appeared to be functioning with only a slight lag. No expensive beverages tonight, though.

The tablet computer has become indispensable because of its sheer portability. As I mentioned before, all or most of the "blog" is composed on it. I have become quite proficient at editing without any kind of cursor control. I have also tested a workaround in case there is no Net access. I can compose the "blog" in the minimalist word processing "app," then copy and paste the text later for upload. The solution sounds ridiculously moronic. However, copy and paste functions on tablet computers remains a tedious task, if the feature is even implemented.

Well, the Saturnalia shopping craze has already commenced. Can you believe it? Since I spend much time in dens of consumerism, I was able to witness the nonsense firsthand. If I had to spend the kind of money on Saturnalia that most people (formerly known as satanic gargoyles) do, then I would have been broke and homeless years ago. I am simply dumbfounded.

Obviously, there has been little progress with anything. I renewed the insurance policy for my truck at the last minute. No decision about continuing my current cell phone service. No divestitures have been made. The situation continues on a downhill slide, but I am not compelled to do anything. I'm just kickin' the can.

Memories Revisited

After another day of the same ol' shit (SOS), I found myself at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening for another round of SOS. I was able to secure a spot in the bookstore's café and enjoyed a costly decaffeinated beverage.

I've been ruminating about the past, not for any particular reason. Senior citizens just love to ruminate. I won't go into details. After all, who really cares? Suffice to say, I tried to imagine a few scenarios had I made a set of different decisions at different points in time. What would have happened if I did not move to Cali when I was 17 years old? What would have transpired had I returned to Hawa'i ten or fifteen years earlier? Obviously, I cannot alternative life patterns, so my questions are rhetorical. I suppose that I am wondering if I would have been better off in the long run. I seriously doubt that I would have ended a broken down derelict living in squalor in a dump like Slob Manor (read: rental housing) as I am now.

That's all I need to know. In retrospect, my decision to move away from Hawai' and subsequently return after nearly three decades was a big mistake. I did nothing to improve my lot while I was away. I wasted a tremendous amount of time of my more youthful years. I forfeited any opportunity to earn any income that would have offest my current impoverishment. What really bothers me is the nearly five years of time (between age 30 and 35 years of age) that I did absolutely nothing. Well, I was inebriated most of the time. I even went to team swim practice in a drunken stupor. What a maroon!

The old journal only commenced about 16 years ago. I had maintained an on-and-off written journal prior, but it was of very poor quality. The content? Lamentations about being a true loser, of course. I later destroyed the archives in some contrived event that I called, "The Festival of the Broken Chain," or something equally moronic. I can't remember. Anyway, that was one of my better decisions. Unfortunately, I have very little recollection about the time before the journal. I did manage to include some of the better highlights of the lost years in the journal (whatever I could recollect), for what that's worth.

As you can guess, I have become quite adverse about sitting in my squalid room at Slob Manor for any period of time. Let's face it. The dump is too depressing. I am now only there to eat my squalid dinner before departing again and to sleep. I download hurdy-gurdy video clips only because it gives me something to do between 9pm and midnight. I have barely reviewed any of them. The Vienna Sausage is just not in the mood. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Kickin' the Can

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Still no conclusive findings that could lead me to the stalking serial vandal. Vengeance is not yet mine. Sheesh!

With only three days left to renew my cell phone account, I remain bewildered. Do I want to waste another $10 to keep the account active for another year? I don't use the actual cell phone itself because, after several years, the account has only accumulated about 200 minutes of "talk time." So, basically, what I effectively have is a local voicemail service.

The ridiculous APEC summit is scheduled to commence on Monday and run all week in Waikiki. Lots of security precautions are in place, wreaking havoc amongst the rank-and-file peons. Sadly, the homeless population is suffering the most. There are on-going sweeps to clear the homeless from the view of the delegates. Thus, the homeless have been forcibly shuttled to various makeshift shelters around the island. I have seen very few of the regulars anywhere.

I am finally coming around to admit that I haven't been myself lately, not that I have been someone else. Well, we all know what I mean. I am dreadfully concerned about my future, especially given the fact that I've forsaken nearly all options. I have mummified all contact with the outside world, putting myself in absolute isolation. I have become an extreme misanthrope, an urban nomad. Don't get me wrong, though. I really enjoy being by myself. I have really never felt more free. Yet, there's a cold, cruel world out there, one that I can no longer confidently face.

I have zero ambition. I care not to chase any elusive dreams. Why am I repeating myself again? It's all in the "blog" already. I am simply biding my time until the next turn of events transpires. I've been making very little preparation for that time. Instead, I have been procrastinating. I need to be extreme mobile when the time comes. I am nowhere near that point. In the end, I will simply be caught by surprise, overwhelmed, and defeated.

General Dullness XIV

At the library, I completed reading the book, "When Gadgets Betray Us: The Dark Side of Our Infatuation with New Technologies," by Robert Vamosi. Somewhat of an interesting book. Aside from that, the day can be summarized by three letters: SOS.

The massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) continues to be updated, albeit much slower than before. There is absolutely no purpose in collecting more hurdy-gurdy video clips since ... why am I babbling about the same ol' shit? Actually, I got cut off from the bookstore's mediocre free Net service. The problem seems to be worsening. Yes, I was at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala again this evening despite the heavy rainfall.

Well, I was able to access my cheesy T-Mobile® account with my tablet computer. I should be able to renew my prepaid account for $10 for another year of service. I also discovered that RingCentral® no longer offers free voicemail accounts. I was fortunate to obtain an account many moons ago. Mundane? Yes. That's why I posted that foolish advisory yesterday.

Lamp-Baked Life IX

Another ho-hum kind-of-a-day (i.e., same ol' shit). Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Well, I restored my extreme monk haircut. Heck, that's not even close to exciting. If there are any readers left, I am posting an advisory here: no need to check the "blog" for the next few days weeks months ... well, a long time. I have officially run out of material since I have closed all recurring discussions (refer to "Core" posts). I have also abridged the redundancy in both itinerary and agenda. Frankly, there's not much else left.

Incidentally, I no longer endorse or even peruse the unnamed Qatar-based news agency because it was instrumental in promoting the "regime change" in Libya. I cannot even mention the name of the despicable news agency (referral hyperlink also deactivated). The only reliable source of news that remains is the [deleted] site.

Typical Ex Communicado Hottie

I attempted to access my T-Mobile® account on the Net in order to pay for another year of cell phone non-use. However, the site kept logging me out. I was using my netbook at the time. If I am unable to make the payment via my tablet computer, then I will probably mummify the service by default. I will then have to rely upon my free Ring Central® voicemail account (with a San Francisco phone number). In other words, I will be totally ex communicado. Does it really matter?

Post No. 2,011

Finally, a decent night's rest, although I was groggy for most of the day. I'd like to say that there is more to report, but I'd be embellishing the truth. Nothing from nothing equals nothing (read: same ol' shit). Is anyone surprised?

Yesterday, I neglected to mention a few more details that led to my composite profile of the stalking serial vandal. When I parked my truck on that fateful morning, I observed that nearly half of the parking spots were empty. No one was driving through or walking about. Moms and I were only gone for about 40 minutes maximum. When we returned to the truck, I noticed that there were nearly as many available spaces. Hence, the suspect could have parked virtually anywhere. Schools were in session as well, so the suspect was unlikely a random high school hoodlum.

I have been avoiding contact with all Slob Manor (read: rental housing) residents as of late. I am tired of the nonsense. Further involvement will only make me extra-misanthropic. I'm already dealing with too many idiots, meatheads, dickheads, and mental midgets on a daily basis as it is. And, since I am in my "twilight years," I really do not need to tolerate fools of any kind.