After another early morning slammin' soirée, courtesy the "chef", at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I embarked on my usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My bro is still laid off from work. My nephew is still retired. Otherwise, nada to report.
Upon return to Slob Manor, I decided to wash my Nissan® Frontier truck. Lo and behold, I discovered some major rust development. The worst is on the roof of the cab in the channels where the optional roof racks would have been mounted. The use of cheap filler is the problem. The filler is cracking under the paint. And, water has seeped in. The repair will be costly, unless I perform my own "Mickey Mouse" remedy. The rust damage has only appeared since the last time I washed the truck several months ago.
Well, the netbook appears to be functioning properly. Most likely, it was never malfunctioning. This afternoon, I monitored packet losses at nine percent over a period of time. Web sites were loading properly, although still slightly slow. Downloading of large files was still impossible because of random disconnections. Did I "jump the gun" by purchasing Tablet Computer No. 2? Certainly looks like it, eh?
Speaking of Tablet Computer No. 2 ... upgrade completed. I was able to clone the device with my BlackBerry® PIN code. Even the same "apps" were in the installation list. Of course, I placed it back and into the original packaging until the next upgrade.
As for the netbook, the time for its divestiture has arrived. The hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) has been mummified. The final purge of the remaining hurdy-gurdy video files is in progress. Anyway, I just don't feel like wasting any more time searching for new video clips and downloading them. Even more so because only HD (minimum 720p) videos are acceptable. So, the netbook will be fully decommissioned soon.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Homemade Juice & Smoothie Bozo
Last night at 9:45pm, the clueless "chef" decided to engage in another ridiculous slammin' soirée in the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) kitchen, including a long grinding session with his noisy electric blender. No doubt, another puke-like smoothie was the product of his innovation. Yuck!
During all of the noise, I was conducting yet another ping test using both the netbook and the tablet computer. Wireless Net access was slow. I registered between 12 and 60 percent packet loss with the netbook over a period of time. And, I was pinging the wireless router! The tablet computer indicated zero percent, but it only sends out four packets per instance. By the way, I had already reset the Slob Manor wireless router to a fixed channel from its automatic setting. I also shut down the weaker 5GHz band.
I am now shifting the blame to channel interference. There are other wireless routers appearing on the reception list of both computers. One stands out because its signal is nearly as strong as the Slob Manor wireless router. And, it originates way across the six-lane highway that divides us. Obviously, some kind of range extender is being utilized. The netbook may be more susceptible to interference because its radio is much more sensitive than the one in the tablet computer.
Typical Juice-Loving Hottie
Coffee time and tube-watching session for the landlord and cohort commenced at 5am this morning. I was up and around by 6:15pm. The "chef" was already engaged in another slammin' soirée at 6:50am. A nauseous concoction was prepared in his pathetic electric juicer. The clown generates so much food waste that he fills one-third of the huge "green" (i.e., lawn and garden waste) recycling bin in less than two weeks. That's about 20 cubic feet of organic fruit and vegetable waste! What's worse is that garbage is not supposed to be deposited in the "green" bin.
Same ol' shit. We all know the drill. After I returned to the dreadful Slob Manor at 4pm, I finally unboxed Tablet Computer No. 2 and charged its battery. I really wanted to wait until the next operating system upgrade before completing the final setup. However, only Molech knows when that will be. So, I initiated the current upgrade. As you may recall, Tablet Computer No. 1 actually has the latest upgrade, the one that was mysteriously pulled after one day due to unknown problems. The download was so slow that I had to leave the tablet computer unattended while I embarked on my evening outing. I'll finish up when I return to the dump. I will probably be privy to another late night slammin' soirée. Oh brother.
During all of the noise, I was conducting yet another ping test using both the netbook and the tablet computer. Wireless Net access was slow. I registered between 12 and 60 percent packet loss with the netbook over a period of time. And, I was pinging the wireless router! The tablet computer indicated zero percent, but it only sends out four packets per instance. By the way, I had already reset the Slob Manor wireless router to a fixed channel from its automatic setting. I also shut down the weaker 5GHz band.
I am now shifting the blame to channel interference. There are other wireless routers appearing on the reception list of both computers. One stands out because its signal is nearly as strong as the Slob Manor wireless router. And, it originates way across the six-lane highway that divides us. Obviously, some kind of range extender is being utilized. The netbook may be more susceptible to interference because its radio is much more sensitive than the one in the tablet computer.
Same ol' shit. We all know the drill. After I returned to the dreadful Slob Manor at 4pm, I finally unboxed Tablet Computer No. 2 and charged its battery. I really wanted to wait until the next operating system upgrade before completing the final setup. However, only Molech knows when that will be. So, I initiated the current upgrade. As you may recall, Tablet Computer No. 1 actually has the latest upgrade, the one that was mysteriously pulled after one day due to unknown problems. The download was so slow that I had to leave the tablet computer unattended while I embarked on my evening outing. I'll finish up when I return to the dump. I will probably be privy to another late night slammin' soirée. Oh brother.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Full Moon (Reprise)
Well, I completed the cleaning of the portable hard drive this morning at 7am in the confines of my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Between last night and this morning, at least five hours of time was required to remove just a handful of files. The portable hard drive was unmounting itself every few seconds. I had to repeatedly disconnect and reconnect the device. There was one hidden file left. The netbook was unmounting the external hard drive so quickly by then, that I could not even click on the file to delete it.
At the library, I relinquished the portable hard drive to my "homeless" buddy. I verified that the device was fully operational using my "homeless" buddy's computer. I was also able to easily delete the hidden file. He immediately began transferring video files to it. Incidentally, he now has eight portable hard drives. The rest of the day? Same ol' shit.
I was back at Slob Manor by 4pm. There wasn't much for me to do. After all, the hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) is now mummified. Downloading new files is impossible on the wireless-crippled netbook. I will say that my prognosis of the problems is that Linux is the culprit. I was beginning to suspect the hardware, but that was ruled out. The netbook uses a System on Chip (SoC) processor. Any hardware problem would have "bricked" the entire computer. What really unnerves me is that the netbook integrates the trouble-free Atheros wireless chipset. The Linux device drivers have always worked extremely well with the latter. Why the regression now?
I should be thankful, though. The netbook wireless problem and the never-ending woes with the portable hard drive have mummified the HGVL. Speaking of which, the remaining HGVL has 171 files tipping at 72GBytes. Most of the files were already residing on the computer. After another purge, there will be very few left. The end of an era, a useless one at that.
When I arrived at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala at dusk, I espied a full moon in the sky. Once again, a reminder that there's more going on in the universe than the usual entropic human stupidity.
At the library, I relinquished the portable hard drive to my "homeless" buddy. I verified that the device was fully operational using my "homeless" buddy's computer. I was also able to easily delete the hidden file. He immediately began transferring video files to it. Incidentally, he now has eight portable hard drives. The rest of the day? Same ol' shit.
I was back at Slob Manor by 4pm. There wasn't much for me to do. After all, the hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) is now mummified. Downloading new files is impossible on the wireless-crippled netbook. I will say that my prognosis of the problems is that Linux is the culprit. I was beginning to suspect the hardware, but that was ruled out. The netbook uses a System on Chip (SoC) processor. Any hardware problem would have "bricked" the entire computer. What really unnerves me is that the netbook integrates the trouble-free Atheros wireless chipset. The Linux device drivers have always worked extremely well with the latter. Why the regression now?
I should be thankful, though. The netbook wireless problem and the never-ending woes with the portable hard drive have mummified the HGVL. Speaking of which, the remaining HGVL has 171 files tipping at 72GBytes. Most of the files were already residing on the computer. After another purge, there will be very few left. The end of an era, a useless one at that.
When I arrived at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala at dusk, I espied a full moon in the sky. Once again, a reminder that there's more going on in the universe than the usual entropic human stupidity.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Computers and Other Stuff
Same ol' day and evening shit. I was fatigued all day because of a late night with the decommissioned netbook. By the way, the portable hard drive is nearly "wiped." The process, which should have taken less than hour, has entered its second day. Linux just does not seem to interface well with NTFS hard drives. Worst case scenario, the external hard drive will be entirely cleaned by tomorrow morning. As for the massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) ... it's now puny. Where did all of the files go? Sacrificed to Molech. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
I ran into my "homeless" buddy again at the library again. He had just purchased a new flash drive and a new portable hard drive. He will officially return to homelessness on September 15th.
What will I do with the time formerly allocated to the HGVL? I don't know. I am also attempting to decrease my reliance on computers as well as usage time. The latter statement sounds ludicrous given that I now have two tablet computers and a decommissioned netbook at my disposal. Well, I still have not unboxed the newest tablet computer, if that's any indication. Sheesh!
I ran into my "homeless" buddy again at the library again. He had just purchased a new flash drive and a new portable hard drive. He will officially return to homelessness on September 15th.
What will I do with the time formerly allocated to the HGVL? I don't know. I am also attempting to decrease my reliance on computers as well as usage time. The latter statement sounds ludicrous given that I now have two tablet computers and a decommissioned netbook at my disposal. Well, I still have not unboxed the newest tablet computer, if that's any indication. Sheesh!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Post No. 2,311 - RIP
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Still suffering from lack of sleep, though. All my time at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) has been spent foolishly. I have been attempting to retrieve select hurdy-gurdy video files from the portable hard drive. What a nightmare! Because of the multiple failures, a single small file could take up to an hour to retrieve. Obviously, with over 500 files on the portable hard drive, the process could stretch into years. I've given myself until Wednesday morning to complete the task. So, most of the files will simply be deleted. Sacrificed. All that time and effort to build the foolish collection ... wasted.
Why not just keep the portable hard drive? Well, it can't interface with the tablet computer. Even when the host mode is eventually activated in the operating system, there probably is not enough power from the battery to run the portable hard drive. So, a flash drive is a safer bet. I will acquire a 64GByte flash drive soon. All of the salvaged files must fit on one flash drive only. Obviously, the infamous hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) has finally been mummified.
RIP HGVL
Can't the tablet computer resurrect the HGVL? Not really. Both of my tablet computers have only 16GBytes of storage. And, there currently is no way to transfer the files for archival, unless a regular computer is available. Since I no longer am interested in anything else but the one specific brand of tablet computer, the fate of the HGVL is sealed. Praise Molech!
Why not just keep the portable hard drive? Well, it can't interface with the tablet computer. Even when the host mode is eventually activated in the operating system, there probably is not enough power from the battery to run the portable hard drive. So, a flash drive is a safer bet. I will acquire a 64GByte flash drive soon. All of the salvaged files must fit on one flash drive only. Obviously, the infamous hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) has finally been mummified.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Rearranging Deck Chairs (Reprise)
Same ol' Sunday shit. Again, lack of sleep due to no shortage of noise. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 3pm. I commenced the task of decommissioning the netbook, a long and laborious process. First, I uploaded revised versions of relevant documents to the "cloud." I have also begun to wipe all personal files. Then, the final purge of hurdy-gurdy video files from the portable hard drive was initiated.
I neglected to mention that I had formalized my immediate tasks just a few days ago. Events had moved so rapidly that I failed to list the latter in the "blog." Here's the list:
Typical Tablet Computing Hottie
My evening outing sufficed as a much needed break. Tablet Computer No. 1 accompanied me. It is now the primary computer. Tablet Computer No. 2 is still in its box. I haven't even broken the seal. Incidentally, I am finished with Linux. And, I will most likely never use anything else but a tablet computer from now on. I don't need any more deck chairs to rearrange on the Titanic.
I neglected to mention that I had formalized my immediate tasks just a few days ago. Events had moved so rapidly that I failed to list the latter in the "blog." Here's the list:
- Divest all useless possessions
- Mummify hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL)
- Restrict reliance on computers
- Stop drinking coffee
Saturday, August 25, 2012
An Honorable Guy
Non-stop noise at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from 5:15am, courtesy the landlord and cohorts. I could not sleep well anyway. I finally departed the dump at 7:45am. I don't want to belabor the point about my journey to town. The synopsis is that I transferred to Ala Moana Center after much deliberation. Coffee time on the run, then I rode the bus to Office Depot® in Kaka'ako. I purchased another 16GByte BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer for $170 on sale. Yeah, that's the same as the one I paid $500 about 1.5 years ago. Dollar cost averaging now yields $335 each, a pathetic justification. I really wanted the 64GByte model, but it was sold out. That's what happens when the decision to purchase was made on the last day of the sales event. Oh well.
I finally arrived at the library at 10am. My "homeless" buddy was outside. We ended up chatting in the inner courtyard until after 11am. I discovered that my "homeless" buddy is kind and honorable man. Aside from all of the time that he has spent as a volunteer to cook and feed the homeless, he is also very generous with what little money and possessions that he has. He told me that he always has a variety of new computers because he ends up giving them away to the needy. He also helps out with money, too. However, he does not donate anything to charitable organizations. Too much corruption, he said.
At the point, I decided that I will clean up the portable hard drive and give it to him. So, there's going to be a major purge of the remaining hurdy-gurdy video files. I will be transferring all of the HD-quality ones to the netbook. The rest will be deleted. Then, I will make the decision to save the remnant on high-capacity flash drives or not.
The netbook itself is no longer the primary computer. I had thought about downgrading the Linux kernel, but that's not even possible without a reliable wireless Net connection. The kernel files are huge, and any drop in the Net connection will abort the download. Unless I can connect the netbook via Ethernet cable to the router, there's no ready solution.
The rest of the day? Same ol' shit. Workout at the gym, dinner at Subway®, return to the dump with my new tablet computer. Why a new tablet computer? Well, I need a backup in case something happens to the one that I am using now. So, I will set up the new tablet computer and pretty much store it until the upgrades for the operating system become available. Exciting, eh?
After the discussion with my "homeless" buddy, I contemplated my enslaved views about money. I keep worrying about money much in the same fruitless fashion that I fret about my useless possessions and the frivolous hurdy-gurdy video files on the portable hard drive. That's the pinnacle of "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." With respect to a corrupt and crumbling society, it's all meaningless.
I finally arrived at the library at 10am. My "homeless" buddy was outside. We ended up chatting in the inner courtyard until after 11am. I discovered that my "homeless" buddy is kind and honorable man. Aside from all of the time that he has spent as a volunteer to cook and feed the homeless, he is also very generous with what little money and possessions that he has. He told me that he always has a variety of new computers because he ends up giving them away to the needy. He also helps out with money, too. However, he does not donate anything to charitable organizations. Too much corruption, he said.
At the point, I decided that I will clean up the portable hard drive and give it to him. So, there's going to be a major purge of the remaining hurdy-gurdy video files. I will be transferring all of the HD-quality ones to the netbook. The rest will be deleted. Then, I will make the decision to save the remnant on high-capacity flash drives or not.
The netbook itself is no longer the primary computer. I had thought about downgrading the Linux kernel, but that's not even possible without a reliable wireless Net connection. The kernel files are huge, and any drop in the Net connection will abort the download. Unless I can connect the netbook via Ethernet cable to the router, there's no ready solution.
The rest of the day? Same ol' shit. Workout at the gym, dinner at Subway®, return to the dump with my new tablet computer. Why a new tablet computer? Well, I need a backup in case something happens to the one that I am using now. So, I will set up the new tablet computer and pretty much store it until the upgrades for the operating system become available. Exciting, eh?
After the discussion with my "homeless" buddy, I contemplated my enslaved views about money. I keep worrying about money much in the same fruitless fashion that I fret about my useless possessions and the frivolous hurdy-gurdy video files on the portable hard drive. That's the pinnacle of "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." With respect to a corrupt and crumbling society, it's all meaningless.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Netbook Doorstop (Reprise)
Well, I discovered that the Net connection problem at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) has nothing to do with the wireless router or the cable modem. The problem is the netbook, or more specifically, Linux. I suspect that the last Linux kernel upgrade caused a major regression insofar as the wireless driver is concerned. I have already removed the previous kernel, so there's nothing that can be done until the next kernel revision. I may attempt a manual downgrade, but that could "brick" the netbook.
In the meantime, the netbook is nearly unusable. The doorstop ... errr, netbook ... remains connected to the wireless router, but the actual Net connection itself is intermittent. Every few minutes, there is a "black hole." Web pages won't load, downloads stop, and error messages pop up stating that the Web address cannot be found. Last night, I performed similar activities on the tablet computer. No problemo. The tell-tale sign, though, was when I attempted several times, albeit unsuccessfully, to initiate a wireless file transfer from the tablet computer to the netbook.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms seemed to be doing much better. Otherwise, nada to report. After my usual workout at the gym, I sat outside facing the Koko Marina parking structure for the longest time. I really did not want to return to Slob Manor. Rather, I wanted to abandon everything and flee. I also pondered my dislike for the Hawai'i Kai branch of the gym. Sadly, I found myself back in my squalid room.
Later in the afternoon, I set about to clear more hurdy-gurdy video files from the portable hard drive. I quickly became confused. I had mapped out the exact blocks of hurdy-gurdy files to delete, but I just couldn't delete all of them. In complete disgust, I contemplated formatting the entire hard drive. I froze. I could not click the "Delete" button. Why can't I get rid of that crap? Then, I tried to compromise with myself. I would reduce the number of files to a bare minimum in order to transfer to small flash drives. At that point, I felt as though I had lost my mind. Sadly, if I don't clear the hard drive, then I won't be able to divest both the netbook and the portable hard drive. Sheesh!
I was happy to be on my usual evening outing. When I am in Slob Manor, I feel trapped. I am suffocating in that dump. Worse yet, my mind is probably turning into mush just by being in proximity of so many mental midgets. The insane antics of both Alan and the "chef" are probably bringing me much closer to insanity than I could possibly imagine. Not even Molech can save me now.
In the meantime, the netbook is nearly unusable. The doorstop ... errr, netbook ... remains connected to the wireless router, but the actual Net connection itself is intermittent. Every few minutes, there is a "black hole." Web pages won't load, downloads stop, and error messages pop up stating that the Web address cannot be found. Last night, I performed similar activities on the tablet computer. No problemo. The tell-tale sign, though, was when I attempted several times, albeit unsuccessfully, to initiate a wireless file transfer from the tablet computer to the netbook.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms seemed to be doing much better. Otherwise, nada to report. After my usual workout at the gym, I sat outside facing the Koko Marina parking structure for the longest time. I really did not want to return to Slob Manor. Rather, I wanted to abandon everything and flee. I also pondered my dislike for the Hawai'i Kai branch of the gym. Sadly, I found myself back in my squalid room.
Later in the afternoon, I set about to clear more hurdy-gurdy video files from the portable hard drive. I quickly became confused. I had mapped out the exact blocks of hurdy-gurdy files to delete, but I just couldn't delete all of them. In complete disgust, I contemplated formatting the entire hard drive. I froze. I could not click the "Delete" button. Why can't I get rid of that crap? Then, I tried to compromise with myself. I would reduce the number of files to a bare minimum in order to transfer to small flash drives. At that point, I felt as though I had lost my mind. Sadly, if I don't clear the hard drive, then I won't be able to divest both the netbook and the portable hard drive. Sheesh!
I was happy to be on my usual evening outing. When I am in Slob Manor, I feel trapped. I am suffocating in that dump. Worse yet, my mind is probably turning into mush just by being in proximity of so many mental midgets. The insane antics of both Alan and the "chef" are probably bringing me much closer to insanity than I could possibly imagine. Not even Molech can save me now.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Ultimate Zero-Sum Game
At the library, I completed reading the book, "The Other Side of Normal: How Biology Is Providing the Clues to Unlock the Secrets of Normal and Abnormal Behavior," by Jordan Smoller. Did you ever wonder why book titles are getting longer and longer? Anyway, very interesting and thought-provoking book. The issues of consciousness and "free will" come to the forefront once again.
I also ran into my "homeless" buddy again. He has now downloaded (via torrent) a total of 5,000 HD movies (mainstream, not hurdy-gurdy videos) and 120,000 songs. He told me that he has to purchase yet another portable hard drive to store more of the files. What is the point? He really couldn't answer that question.
After a marginal workout at the gym, I had to rush to Subway® to pick up a sandwich. While I stood in line, two slightly chubby Diploma Mill chicks came in. If they weren't thick, they could be hotties. Nevertheless, they had the typical "American" hottie attitude. Surprising, considering that they were European. At one point, one of them was standing next to me, waving her hand inches in front of my face. "Get your hand out of my face, stupid rude bitch," I politely advised her. They also tried to get in front of me to pay for their food first. I mummified their plan immediately. Unbelievable!
Another crowded bus ride home. More rude people. High entropy and massive stupidity. When people are forced into cattle-like situations, they act like ... well, cattle. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) ... noise and more noise.
The buses running back toward town were running 30 minutes late, so I commenced my evening outing on a crowded bus. I was surprised to see Donald driving. So, I stood up and chatted with him until I alighted at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Naturally, I had to calm my nerves with a delicious smoothie from the bookstore's café. A great outing after all.
So, the earth has just about 5 billion years before the sun goes red star. When that happens, the sun will increase in size and eventually consume the earth. Our solar system will cease to exist. I don't expect humans to be around then. If by some slim chance that we, as a species, do survive, our society will look nothing like what we see today. The population will have gone through a "Great Die-off," and all of the finite natural resources will have been either depleted or diluted beyond recovery. My own personal opinion is that most of the earth will be destroyed within 200 years anyway. The chain of events will probably follow the pattern: extreme global climate change, famine, resource depletion, regional wars, and finally global war of the "mutually assured destruction" kind.
As I have stated many times in the "blog," science already has accumulated enough knowledge to verify our near and distant future scenarios. Nothing will stop the inevitable unless God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam) intervenes. Very unlikely. We may as well wait on Molech. Sheesh!
In the meantime, I am observing the gradual crumbling of society, essentially the failure of the "civilization" paradigm. Because of false hope and even more false beliefs, humans just cannot seem to comprehend that life on this planet is the ultimate zero-sum game. The earth and all life upon it will cease to exist in 5 billion years, no matter what. There will be no notable accomplishments remembered, no "ownership," no collective consciousness, no history, nothing. Nada. Zilch. What we are doing now, individually and collectively, is meaningless. Unless that fact finally sinks in, humans will never learn to "live life" for what it is.
I also ran into my "homeless" buddy again. He has now downloaded (via torrent) a total of 5,000 HD movies (mainstream, not hurdy-gurdy videos) and 120,000 songs. He told me that he has to purchase yet another portable hard drive to store more of the files. What is the point? He really couldn't answer that question.
After a marginal workout at the gym, I had to rush to Subway® to pick up a sandwich. While I stood in line, two slightly chubby Diploma Mill chicks came in. If they weren't thick, they could be hotties. Nevertheless, they had the typical "American" hottie attitude. Surprising, considering that they were European. At one point, one of them was standing next to me, waving her hand inches in front of my face. "Get your hand out of my face, stupid rude bitch," I politely advised her. They also tried to get in front of me to pay for their food first. I mummified their plan immediately. Unbelievable!
Another crowded bus ride home. More rude people. High entropy and massive stupidity. When people are forced into cattle-like situations, they act like ... well, cattle. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) ... noise and more noise.
The buses running back toward town were running 30 minutes late, so I commenced my evening outing on a crowded bus. I was surprised to see Donald driving. So, I stood up and chatted with him until I alighted at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Naturally, I had to calm my nerves with a delicious smoothie from the bookstore's café. A great outing after all.
So, the earth has just about 5 billion years before the sun goes red star. When that happens, the sun will increase in size and eventually consume the earth. Our solar system will cease to exist. I don't expect humans to be around then. If by some slim chance that we, as a species, do survive, our society will look nothing like what we see today. The population will have gone through a "Great Die-off," and all of the finite natural resources will have been either depleted or diluted beyond recovery. My own personal opinion is that most of the earth will be destroyed within 200 years anyway. The chain of events will probably follow the pattern: extreme global climate change, famine, resource depletion, regional wars, and finally global war of the "mutually assured destruction" kind.
As I have stated many times in the "blog," science already has accumulated enough knowledge to verify our near and distant future scenarios. Nothing will stop the inevitable unless God of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam) intervenes. Very unlikely. We may as well wait on Molech. Sheesh!
In the meantime, I am observing the gradual crumbling of society, essentially the failure of the "civilization" paradigm. Because of false hope and even more false beliefs, humans just cannot seem to comprehend that life on this planet is the ultimate zero-sum game. The earth and all life upon it will cease to exist in 5 billion years, no matter what. There will be no notable accomplishments remembered, no "ownership," no collective consciousness, no history, nothing. Nada. Zilch. What we are doing now, individually and collectively, is meaningless. Unless that fact finally sinks in, humans will never learn to "live life" for what it is.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Foolishness
Same ol' shit. High entropy everywhere. Ran into my "homeless" buddy again at the library. Restored my extreme monk haircut. More slammin' soirées. As I stated, same ol' shit. Same ol' foolishness.
The slammin' soirées ... I spend very little time at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Aside from sleep time, my total waking hours in the dump probably amounts to about five hours. Of those five hours, three are taken up by the fucktard's slammin' soirées. I may have two hours of relative peace. Everything is foolishness.
By the way, I am gradually cleaning up the vast hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). What I mean by "cleaning up" is that I am divesting video files in bulk, but in a gradual fashion to avoid shock. Yeah, I should have simply reformatted the portable hard drive. That would have been the end of it. There are still over 500 files in the HGVL, but I now have 363GBytes out of 640GBytes free. Everything is foolishness.
The HGVL is really a ludicrous situation, eh? I am a decrepit senior citizen. The Vienna Sausage is nearly dysfunctional. People my age are grandparents, for Molech's sake. Babes are a moot point. So, why collect hurdy-gurdy videos? Everything is foolishness.
I am finally comfortable with the idea of the "cloud." All of my important files are stored on Box, although some of them reside on the netbook as well. I am easily able to access and download them on the tablet computer. In fact, I opted to keep the nearly useless Box "app." Incidentally, I could only qualify for the 50Gbyte storage upgrade by signing up through the "app" itself. Normally, only 5Gbytes are available for free accounts. Everything is foolishness.
Net access at Slob Manor is still slow and intermittent. There's no way to download any hurdy-gurdy video clips because the downloads are constantly being terminated prematurely. Right now, the culprit appears to be the cable modem. Everything is foolishness.
The slammin' soirées ... I spend very little time at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Aside from sleep time, my total waking hours in the dump probably amounts to about five hours. Of those five hours, three are taken up by the fucktard's slammin' soirées. I may have two hours of relative peace. Everything is foolishness.
By the way, I am gradually cleaning up the vast hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). What I mean by "cleaning up" is that I am divesting video files in bulk, but in a gradual fashion to avoid shock. Yeah, I should have simply reformatted the portable hard drive. That would have been the end of it. There are still over 500 files in the HGVL, but I now have 363GBytes out of 640GBytes free. Everything is foolishness.
The HGVL is really a ludicrous situation, eh? I am a decrepit senior citizen. The Vienna Sausage is nearly dysfunctional. People my age are grandparents, for Molech's sake. Babes are a moot point. So, why collect hurdy-gurdy videos? Everything is foolishness.
I am finally comfortable with the idea of the "cloud." All of my important files are stored on Box, although some of them reside on the netbook as well. I am easily able to access and download them on the tablet computer. In fact, I opted to keep the nearly useless Box "app." Incidentally, I could only qualify for the 50Gbyte storage upgrade by signing up through the "app" itself. Normally, only 5Gbytes are available for free accounts. Everything is foolishness.
Net access at Slob Manor is still slow and intermittent. There's no way to download any hurdy-gurdy video clips because the downloads are constantly being terminated prematurely. Right now, the culprit appears to be the cable modem. Everything is foolishness.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
High Entropy (Reprise)
When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 8:45pm last night, the "chef" was already flailing about in the kitchen. He was frantically slamming the drawers and cupboard doors for reasons unknown. After all, he was simply making another putrid soup of organic ingredients in his electric juicer. Over an hour of thrashing about just to make a cup or two of his "tastes like shit" elixir. Is his concoction any healthier than the delicious Banana and Strawberry Smoothie that I procured at the Barnes & Noble® Café? I seriously doubt it.
Coffee time for the landlord was at 6am this morning. The "chef" decided to commence his laundry a few minutes later, knowing full well that the machine makes a lot of noise for at least an hour. He had plenty of time to perform his laundry chores yesterday, since he was at the dump in the afternoon and evening. I remembered how upset he was when Brian (formerly known as Joker) was doing laundry early in the morning. Seems obvious to me that the "chef" is playing some kind of mind game. At 6:52am, the putz departed, most likely to the beach, leaving his laundry in the washer. His "tastes like shit" elixir is affecting his mental stability. Is the "chef" mentally ill? You be the judge.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. I gave him one of my USB flash drives, the one that once stored the important documents that now exist in the "cloud." My "homeless" buddy has been urging me to apply for a special bus pass for disabled people. He gave me a general idea of the process, but it involves low-level fraud on my part. Saving $700 per year is tempting, but I really cannot risk being discovered in a lie. I will, however, glean as much information from him as possible about going homeless. My "homeless" buddy admitted that he learned his homeless knowledge from all of the other "street smart" homeless guys.
Entropy was extremely high today. After a modest workout at the gym, I walked to the Subway® along Fort Street Mall. The place was packed. There was an old guy in line ahead of me. He gave the staff a difficult time, more than they deserved. Mind you, I am not partial to the Filipina crew, as they are often impersonal. The old guy, though was way out of line. And, I was in a bit of a hurry as the bus schedule had changed. The crew members were making sandwiches in assembly line fashion, but the old guy wanted exclusive personal attention. "I was in line first! Make my sandwich now" he bellowed. Unable to control myself, I yelled, "It's an assembly line, fool!"
I barely arrived at the bus stop in time. As of Sunday, the second phase of the schedule and route changes took effect. All I can say is ... pure pandemonium. The Route 1L bus that I ride in the afternoon now arrives about ten minutes earlier. It ends up being completely full all the way to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. And, I arrive back at Slob Manor at exactly the same time as before. As I said, pure pandemonium.
The Net has been extremely slow (i.e., slightly better than dial-up speed) at Slob Manor. At first, I suspected that the "chef" may have using a torrent client at full throttle all day and night. However, that was not the case. The wireless router appears to be functioning fine. The problem could be the cable modem itself, or router channel interference. I ran a couple of on-line Net speed tests. The results? Download: 0.8Mbps to 2.65Mbps Upload: 0.18Mbps to 0.29Mbps. Very pathetic. Otherwise, nada to report.
Coffee time for the landlord was at 6am this morning. The "chef" decided to commence his laundry a few minutes later, knowing full well that the machine makes a lot of noise for at least an hour. He had plenty of time to perform his laundry chores yesterday, since he was at the dump in the afternoon and evening. I remembered how upset he was when Brian (formerly known as Joker) was doing laundry early in the morning. Seems obvious to me that the "chef" is playing some kind of mind game. At 6:52am, the putz departed, most likely to the beach, leaving his laundry in the washer. His "tastes like shit" elixir is affecting his mental stability. Is the "chef" mentally ill? You be the judge.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. I gave him one of my USB flash drives, the one that once stored the important documents that now exist in the "cloud." My "homeless" buddy has been urging me to apply for a special bus pass for disabled people. He gave me a general idea of the process, but it involves low-level fraud on my part. Saving $700 per year is tempting, but I really cannot risk being discovered in a lie. I will, however, glean as much information from him as possible about going homeless. My "homeless" buddy admitted that he learned his homeless knowledge from all of the other "street smart" homeless guys.
Entropy was extremely high today. After a modest workout at the gym, I walked to the Subway® along Fort Street Mall. The place was packed. There was an old guy in line ahead of me. He gave the staff a difficult time, more than they deserved. Mind you, I am not partial to the Filipina crew, as they are often impersonal. The old guy, though was way out of line. And, I was in a bit of a hurry as the bus schedule had changed. The crew members were making sandwiches in assembly line fashion, but the old guy wanted exclusive personal attention. "I was in line first! Make my sandwich now" he bellowed. Unable to control myself, I yelled, "It's an assembly line, fool!"
I barely arrived at the bus stop in time. As of Sunday, the second phase of the schedule and route changes took effect. All I can say is ... pure pandemonium. The Route 1L bus that I ride in the afternoon now arrives about ten minutes earlier. It ends up being completely full all the way to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. And, I arrive back at Slob Manor at exactly the same time as before. As I said, pure pandemonium.
The Net has been extremely slow (i.e., slightly better than dial-up speed) at Slob Manor. At first, I suspected that the "chef" may have using a torrent client at full throttle all day and night. However, that was not the case. The wireless router appears to be functioning fine. The problem could be the cable modem itself, or router channel interference. I ran a couple of on-line Net speed tests. The results? Download: 0.8Mbps to 2.65Mbps Upload: 0.18Mbps to 0.29Mbps. Very pathetic. Otherwise, nada to report.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Hawai'i Kai Tidbits
"You are an adventurer - Traveling on the highway of life." -- Panda Express® fortune cookieNot more than five minutes after I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night at 8:45pm from my evening outing, the "chef" commenced yet another slammin' soirée in the kitchen. Coincidence has been eliminated. This time the monkey made some kind of organic smoothie in his extremely noisy electric blender. Knowing his previous culinary creations, I can easily assume that it falls under the category of "tastes like shit."
Coffee time this morning was 5am. That is, the landlord's father's widow made the coffee. The landlord didn't drop by until 6:30am. The "chef" was slamming things around in the kitchen at 6:45am. When I heard him fire up the electric juicer, I knew immediately that he was creating another putrid organic masterpiece. By the way, I neglected to mention that the "chef" had told me a week ago that he had purchased organic deodorant and organic toothpaste.
Since I had nothing better to do at such an early hour, I set up a Box account. Since I possess a BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer, I qualified for 50GBytes of space. Yes, I finally gave in to the apparent appeal of "cloud" computing. More later.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. After moms and I returned from the usual itinerary, somehow moms ended up twisting her back. So, I helped moms complete a few chores before departing. Sometimes I forget that moms is 90 years old. It always seems as though moms, my bro, my sister-in-law, my nephew, and I are going to be around indefinitely, even though we are obviously getting older. Only when adverse incidents occur do we shock ourselves back into recognition of our mortality.
I ordered a Banana and Strawberry Smoothie in the café at the bookstore during my evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. At first, I felt guilty for spending $4.50 on the beverage. That's half the price of a big-ass container of Odwalla® SuperFood, for Molech's sake. Yet, all I do is save the money, only to be ripped off by the moneychangers. The smoothie was delicious, by the way.
Well, I temporarily powered up my pathetic cell phone. Sadly, if anything happened to moms, my bro's family will not be able to contact me. No one knows the phone number except for moms. Sheesh!
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Post No. 2,303
Same ol' Sunday shit. I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 3pm. Oddly, just a few minutes later, the "chef" commenced another drawn out culinary project (i.e., slammin' soirée) with his electric juicer. Coincidence? Hardly likely, or the moron is flailing about in the kitchen every couple of hours. What a maroon!
Sadly, I have been engaged full-time in combating human entropic stupidity. Thus, there is no progress to report concerning the exodus. Everything remains in a stale stasis. In other words, I am still "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic." Sheesh!
Melina Mason
Wouldn't it be nice if the housemates at Slob Manor looked more like hurdy-gurdy hottie, Melina Mason? Praise Molech! Babes like that would never find themselves in such a bottomless pit of poverty and despair. Oh well. Be sure to peruse her portfolio on the FreeOnes® site.
Sadly, I have been engaged full-time in combating human entropic stupidity. Thus, there is no progress to report concerning the exodus. Everything remains in a stale stasis. In other words, I am still "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic." Sheesh!
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Incarceration
Last night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I attempted to go to sleep at 10:15pm. I endured a fitful sleep until 12:45am. Then, I was wide awake. My skin was cold and clammy, and I was suffering from "night sweats." I most likely woke up because my mind is now programmed to anticipate the return of the "chef" in an inebriated state. The fool, however, was not back until 2am. Not that it mattered at that point in time.
I powered up my netbook at 3am and left it running, just in case I felt like composing the "blog." I attempted to sleep, but to no avail. Coffee time for the landlord, 5:50am. I finally was up and around at 6:45am ... the start of another day of the same ol' shit. Oddly, Alan was sorting out his drawer of silverware in the kitchen just a few minutes later. Then, he commenced his laundry. I assumed that Alan disturbed the "chef," but who really cares? Slob Manor is full of extremely strange chimpo sapiens, to say the least.
I ate a delicious orange and a cup full of granola for breakfast, all the while doing my leg stretches. Yeah, my right thigh is still going numb on me. Then, I packed my gym bag and was on my way to town on the bus at 7:45am. Just another Saturday.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. He has decided to cancel his vacation to Vietnam. Instead, he will be preparing for his return to homelessness. I lapsed in and out of a coma, but there just wasn't any way to make up for lost sleep. Thus, I experienced a sluggish workout at the gym.
When I returned to Slob Manor at 5pm, the crazy "chef" was in the middle of another slammin' soirée, just like a rabid monkey. He was concocting another "tastes like shit" creation with his electric juicer. I surmise that the brain donor must eat between four or five times per day just to meet the minimum recommended daily caloric intake. That's five hours per day in the kitchen, slamming away like a fool. Unfortunately, the bulk of his organic ingredients ends up in the trash along with most of the nutrients.
If I am correct, the "chef" is seriously malnourished, lacking in protein, calcium, vitamin B12, and iodine amongst others. I suspect that he only feels rejuvenated because of the placebo effect. He is effectively a slave to his flawed beliefs. Once again, the "chef" departed at 5:30pm for another night on the town. Another sleepless night for the ol' lavahead, I suppose.
Well, after I discovered that I am ineligible to become legally homeless, I realized the truly elusive nature of freedom. I was willing to follow the rules, even paying the modest rental fee for shelter, but I do not qualify. My only recourse is to live on the streets, which is a crime. Upon carefully pondering the previous two statements, the horror of a true prison society unfolds. There is no freedom. Period.
Yes, homelessness (on the streets) is illegal. In the "ownership society," a rank-and-file peon is forced into a rental or mortgage prison. The implications of such an absurd concept is apparently not understood by the simple mind of chimpo sapiens. The whole "ownership society" concept is flawed. Nothing is permanent enough to be "owned." Let me sum it up: "ownership" is slavery.
I powered up my netbook at 3am and left it running, just in case I felt like composing the "blog." I attempted to sleep, but to no avail. Coffee time for the landlord, 5:50am. I finally was up and around at 6:45am ... the start of another day of the same ol' shit. Oddly, Alan was sorting out his drawer of silverware in the kitchen just a few minutes later. Then, he commenced his laundry. I assumed that Alan disturbed the "chef," but who really cares? Slob Manor is full of extremely strange chimpo sapiens, to say the least.
I ate a delicious orange and a cup full of granola for breakfast, all the while doing my leg stretches. Yeah, my right thigh is still going numb on me. Then, I packed my gym bag and was on my way to town on the bus at 7:45am. Just another Saturday.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. He has decided to cancel his vacation to Vietnam. Instead, he will be preparing for his return to homelessness. I lapsed in and out of a coma, but there just wasn't any way to make up for lost sleep. Thus, I experienced a sluggish workout at the gym.
When I returned to Slob Manor at 5pm, the crazy "chef" was in the middle of another slammin' soirée, just like a rabid monkey. He was concocting another "tastes like shit" creation with his electric juicer. I surmise that the brain donor must eat between four or five times per day just to meet the minimum recommended daily caloric intake. That's five hours per day in the kitchen, slamming away like a fool. Unfortunately, the bulk of his organic ingredients ends up in the trash along with most of the nutrients.
If I am correct, the "chef" is seriously malnourished, lacking in protein, calcium, vitamin B12, and iodine amongst others. I suspect that he only feels rejuvenated because of the placebo effect. He is effectively a slave to his flawed beliefs. Once again, the "chef" departed at 5:30pm for another night on the town. Another sleepless night for the ol' lavahead, I suppose.
Well, after I discovered that I am ineligible to become legally homeless, I realized the truly elusive nature of freedom. I was willing to follow the rules, even paying the modest rental fee for shelter, but I do not qualify. My only recourse is to live on the streets, which is a crime. Upon carefully pondering the previous two statements, the horror of a true prison society unfolds. There is no freedom. Period.
Yes, homelessness (on the streets) is illegal. In the "ownership society," a rank-and-file peon is forced into a rental or mortgage prison. The implications of such an absurd concept is apparently not understood by the simple mind of chimpo sapiens. The whole "ownership society" concept is flawed. Nothing is permanent enough to be "owned." Let me sum it up: "ownership" is slavery.
Friday, August 17, 2012
No Time For Holidays IV
When I departed Slob Manor (read: rental housing) for my evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala at 6:45pm, I espied the "chef" flailing about the kitchen like crazed monkey, slamming drawers and cupboard doors, readying himself for another organic culinary creation. Two hours later, upon my return, the "chef" was still in the kitchen. Yeah, flailing about like a crazed monkey. Doubting his sanity would be an understatement.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Same itinerary. Holiday (i.e., Admissions Day) ignored. Nada to report. I returned to Slob Manor, only to discover that the "chef" parked his 4000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile) further to left in order to force me to move my truck over. This is, of course, the same game that Brian (formerly known as Joker) used to play. The "control freak" doesn't realize that I need the extra space to maneuver out onto the driveway since the landlord now has two vehicles parked directly behind across the driveway. The "chef" departed the dump at 5:30pm, no doubt for another night on the town. I can expect to be rudely awakened later between 1am and 3am in the morning by the inebriated fool. Molech, have mercy!
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Same itinerary. Holiday (i.e., Admissions Day) ignored. Nada to report. I returned to Slob Manor, only to discover that the "chef" parked his 4000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile) further to left in order to force me to move my truck over. This is, of course, the same game that Brian (formerly known as Joker) used to play. The "control freak" doesn't realize that I need the extra space to maneuver out onto the driveway since the landlord now has two vehicles parked directly behind across the driveway. The "chef" departed the dump at 5:30pm, no doubt for another night on the town. I can expect to be rudely awakened later between 1am and 3am in the morning by the inebriated fool. Molech, have mercy!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Homeless & Insane
Not more than five minutes elapsed upon my arrival at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 9pm before another 30-minute slammin' soirée commenced. Yeah, the "chef" was at it again, flailing about the kitchen like a crazed monkey. Is the clown clinically insane? Is Molech great?
I mentioned that there were quite a few clinically insane people at the sanitarium ... errr, library ... yesterday. One person really stood out. The "patient" was dressed in a colorful smock, like a caretaker for senior citizens. She also wore sunglasses and a huge sun visor. She had a large purse and an even larger piece of rolling luggage (usually a sign of homelessness). The "patient" placed plastic liners on the table and seat. Then, she pulled out a roll of paper towels. She emptied the purse of its contents and began cleaning it with multiple sheets of paper towels. The contents were also wiped clean, then individually wrapped in plastic bags. Everything was in plastic bags, even the plastic liners. All the while, the "patient" was talking to herself. I stopped my observation when the process was becoming extremely redundant. However, after about 15 minutes, I could smell something sweet in the air. On the table, and this was in the inner courtyard, was a whole pineapple that she had just skinned. Both the pineapple and its crown were sitting on small plastic liners on the table. A few minutes later, one of the library staff approached the "patient" and advised her to leave. In a few years, that could easily be the "chef."
I ran into the "homeless" buddy at the library today. He apparently will not be moving to the Vietnamese Pagoda in Kalihi because the conditions were too demanding. He would be required to convert to a church disciple (read: stooge). So, he has petitioned to stay at the Next Step shelter in Kaka'ako. Later, he accompanied me to the gym. He is now a member. He joined under my membership in order to avoid paying the enrollment fee. I was assured that I would not liable if he is delinquent in payments.
As for my tentative plans to go homeless, that seems to have been foiled. According to my "homeless" buddy, lots of documentation are required. A candidate must provide proof of being financially broke, but must also still be able to pay the rent of $60 per month. Say what? I would never qualify for the shelter because one quick check will reveal both my investment accounts and the detestable "condotel" unit. There's also a full background and criminal check, as well as a psychological assessment. If I elected to become homeless, I would have to literally live on the street. Sheesh!
On a side note, Adobe® has apparently discontinued Flash® for Linux. The news comes just after the announcement that the mobile version was mummified. Only the desktop version for Apple® and Microsoft® operating systems will be supported. Fortunately, the plug-in will be independently supported on the BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer. It will be the only mobile version remaining.
I mentioned that there were quite a few clinically insane people at the sanitarium ... errr, library ... yesterday. One person really stood out. The "patient" was dressed in a colorful smock, like a caretaker for senior citizens. She also wore sunglasses and a huge sun visor. She had a large purse and an even larger piece of rolling luggage (usually a sign of homelessness). The "patient" placed plastic liners on the table and seat. Then, she pulled out a roll of paper towels. She emptied the purse of its contents and began cleaning it with multiple sheets of paper towels. The contents were also wiped clean, then individually wrapped in plastic bags. Everything was in plastic bags, even the plastic liners. All the while, the "patient" was talking to herself. I stopped my observation when the process was becoming extremely redundant. However, after about 15 minutes, I could smell something sweet in the air. On the table, and this was in the inner courtyard, was a whole pineapple that she had just skinned. Both the pineapple and its crown were sitting on small plastic liners on the table. A few minutes later, one of the library staff approached the "patient" and advised her to leave. In a few years, that could easily be the "chef."
I ran into the "homeless" buddy at the library today. He apparently will not be moving to the Vietnamese Pagoda in Kalihi because the conditions were too demanding. He would be required to convert to a church disciple (read: stooge). So, he has petitioned to stay at the Next Step shelter in Kaka'ako. Later, he accompanied me to the gym. He is now a member. He joined under my membership in order to avoid paying the enrollment fee. I was assured that I would not liable if he is delinquent in payments.
As for my tentative plans to go homeless, that seems to have been foiled. According to my "homeless" buddy, lots of documentation are required. A candidate must provide proof of being financially broke, but must also still be able to pay the rent of $60 per month. Say what? I would never qualify for the shelter because one quick check will reveal both my investment accounts and the detestable "condotel" unit. There's also a full background and criminal check, as well as a psychological assessment. If I elected to become homeless, I would have to literally live on the street. Sheesh!
On a side note, Adobe® has apparently discontinued Flash® for Linux. The news comes just after the announcement that the mobile version was mummified. Only the desktop version for Apple® and Microsoft® operating systems will be supported. Fortunately, the plug-in will be independently supported on the BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer. It will be the only mobile version remaining.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Poison
Lots of noise at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), commencing at 5am this morning. Non-stop noise, culminating with the landlord, the "chef," and Alan talking loudly in the common area at 6:45am. The "chef," of course, was simultaneously flailing about in the kitchen like a crazed monkey, concocting yet another culinary monstrosity in his electric juicer. Obviously, the "chef" makes the most noise and for the longest duration of time (i.e., over one hour straight).
How about the ol' lavahead? Is he as batty as the other tenants of Slob Manor? Not really. Aside from the ludicrous hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL), there isn't much that is strange about the ol' lavahead. He's a senior citizen, but he's not yet senile. He lives a quiet, mendicant life-style. The ol' lavahead is, for all intents and purposes, invisible. Monk. Urban nomad. "Homeless" guy.
The library was packed with mentally insane people, many of them homeless. Many of those people need institutional care. Why are they out on the streets? The library is rapidly becoming a marginal destination. My "homeless" buddy had mentioned that there are drug-dealing transactions also occurring on the premises. I expect some kind of police state crackdown soon. Loiterers will probably be dispersed as well.
After a mediocre workout at the gym, I rode the bus back to Slob Manor. Nearly the entire bus was populated by Micronesians, gold teeth and all. They work at the fast food places in Aina Haina and Hawai'i Kai, minimum wage jobs that no one else seems to want to fill. Upon arrival at the dump, I was privy to listen to the "chef" engaged in yet another one-hour slammin' soirée, this time preparing one of his putrid organic smoothies in his new electric blender.
No doubt, I will be privy to yet another one-hour slammin' soirée when I return this evening from my usual outing to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Last night, the "chef" appeared to have waited until I returned at 9pm to commence his one-hour culinary debacle to create his "tastes like shit" (i.e., "life-giving") elixir in his electric juicer. I only waste my time writing about the pathetic monkey in the "blog." His efforts are really fruitless.
There really is no way to avoid being slowly poisoned, especially by plastics. It doesn't even matter whether a plastic product touts, "BPA Free," because BPA (Bisphenol-A) is only one type of plasticizer. If BPA is not used, then another type will be. Any food in contact with plastic will absorb the plasticizer. There is no shield at the molecular level. I have discussed the matter previously in the "blog" (refer to the July 15, 2011 entry). Have you noticed that all water filtering devices are made of plastic? How about electric appliances like juicers and blenders? How about the plastic bags that organic produce is wrapped in?
Incidentally, there is also a huge black mold farm right along the back of the kitchen faucet in Slob Manor. The "chef" apparently hasn't noticed. I don't understand why since it covers an area of about ten square-inches. Black mold can cause severe illness. That's why I have to regularly spray a diluted chlorine bleach solution on all the bathroom fixtures in my squalid room. I don't bother with the kitchen, though, since I never use the facilities.
More stupidity. The "chef" spends four hours or more daily in the ocean under the hot sun. No sunscreen offers adequate protection in water. In fact, I no longer expose myself to direct sunlight because I had noticed how easily I became sunburned. I was born and raised in Hawai'i, so I knew that something had changed in the atmosphere to make the sun's radiation more deadly. That's probably why I have so many black "old man" spots on my shoulders and back. The "chef" spends hours in the kitchen, disturbing the peace, to produce his "life-giving" elixirs. One day, he's going to wonder, "Why do I have malignant melanoma after spending all that time and money on putrid organic concoctions with immense healing powers?"
Slob Manor is situated right next to a busy six-lane highway. The amount of toxic crap in the air, mainly from the exhaust of all the 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) going to and fro, is probably well beyond safe levels. We're breathing in unburned hydrocarbons, carbon monoxide, sulfur, and other noxious gases. Why doesn't the "chef" invest in a gas mask?
I could go on and on about the topic, but why bother? The fight to minimize the ingestion and absorption of toxins is a lost cause. That's why I have reverted to a moderate prevention plan. I will attempt to minimize my exposure, but there's a point when there will be diminishing returns. The "chef," for example, has been operating in the region of negative returns. Moderate prevention and sheer luck, that's the "bottom line" for rank-and-file peons. Only the extremely affluent class can afford the countermeasures to circumvent our poisonous environment.
Well, if I am privy to a decent night of sleep, then I will cover more relevant topics such as war, empire, truth, Ernest Becker, and so forth in my usual manner and style. Tying up loose ends. That's all I can do now.
How about the ol' lavahead? Is he as batty as the other tenants of Slob Manor? Not really. Aside from the ludicrous hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL), there isn't much that is strange about the ol' lavahead. He's a senior citizen, but he's not yet senile. He lives a quiet, mendicant life-style. The ol' lavahead is, for all intents and purposes, invisible. Monk. Urban nomad. "Homeless" guy.
The library was packed with mentally insane people, many of them homeless. Many of those people need institutional care. Why are they out on the streets? The library is rapidly becoming a marginal destination. My "homeless" buddy had mentioned that there are drug-dealing transactions also occurring on the premises. I expect some kind of police state crackdown soon. Loiterers will probably be dispersed as well.
After a mediocre workout at the gym, I rode the bus back to Slob Manor. Nearly the entire bus was populated by Micronesians, gold teeth and all. They work at the fast food places in Aina Haina and Hawai'i Kai, minimum wage jobs that no one else seems to want to fill. Upon arrival at the dump, I was privy to listen to the "chef" engaged in yet another one-hour slammin' soirée, this time preparing one of his putrid organic smoothies in his new electric blender.
No doubt, I will be privy to yet another one-hour slammin' soirée when I return this evening from my usual outing to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Last night, the "chef" appeared to have waited until I returned at 9pm to commence his one-hour culinary debacle to create his "tastes like shit" (i.e., "life-giving") elixir in his electric juicer. I only waste my time writing about the pathetic monkey in the "blog." His efforts are really fruitless.
There really is no way to avoid being slowly poisoned, especially by plastics. It doesn't even matter whether a plastic product touts, "BPA Free," because BPA (Bisphenol-A) is only one type of plasticizer. If BPA is not used, then another type will be. Any food in contact with plastic will absorb the plasticizer. There is no shield at the molecular level. I have discussed the matter previously in the "blog" (refer to the July 15, 2011 entry). Have you noticed that all water filtering devices are made of plastic? How about electric appliances like juicers and blenders? How about the plastic bags that organic produce is wrapped in?
Incidentally, there is also a huge black mold farm right along the back of the kitchen faucet in Slob Manor. The "chef" apparently hasn't noticed. I don't understand why since it covers an area of about ten square-inches. Black mold can cause severe illness. That's why I have to regularly spray a diluted chlorine bleach solution on all the bathroom fixtures in my squalid room. I don't bother with the kitchen, though, since I never use the facilities.
More stupidity. The "chef" spends four hours or more daily in the ocean under the hot sun. No sunscreen offers adequate protection in water. In fact, I no longer expose myself to direct sunlight because I had noticed how easily I became sunburned. I was born and raised in Hawai'i, so I knew that something had changed in the atmosphere to make the sun's radiation more deadly. That's probably why I have so many black "old man" spots on my shoulders and back. The "chef" spends hours in the kitchen, disturbing the peace, to produce his "life-giving" elixirs. One day, he's going to wonder, "Why do I have malignant melanoma after spending all that time and money on putrid organic concoctions with immense healing powers?"
Slob Manor is situated right next to a busy six-lane highway. The amount of toxic crap in the air, mainly from the exhaust of all the 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) going to and fro, is probably well beyond safe levels. We're breathing in unburned hydrocarbons, carbon monoxide, sulfur, and other noxious gases. Why doesn't the "chef" invest in a gas mask?
I could go on and on about the topic, but why bother? The fight to minimize the ingestion and absorption of toxins is a lost cause. That's why I have reverted to a moderate prevention plan. I will attempt to minimize my exposure, but there's a point when there will be diminishing returns. The "chef," for example, has been operating in the region of negative returns. Moderate prevention and sheer luck, that's the "bottom line" for rank-and-file peons. Only the extremely affluent class can afford the countermeasures to circumvent our poisonous environment.
Well, if I am privy to a decent night of sleep, then I will cover more relevant topics such as war, empire, truth, Ernest Becker, and so forth in my usual manner and style. Tying up loose ends. That's all I can do now.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Redefinition (Reprise)
Nada to report. When I say "nada," I mean zilch. Well, I have adjusted my sleep times as best as possible in order to capitalize on the small window from 10pm to 5am. I am still getting up before 6am and completing whatever personal chores that are in the queue.
For the most part, I have been trying to focus more on simple pleasures while ignoring the frenzied antics of the myriad chimpo sapiens as best as possible. Simple pleasures like my morning coffee or a delicious mini-loaf of banana bread (on sale for $2 at Foodland) are priceless. Walking on the grass instead of the concrete pathway in the Capitol district is very relaxing and almost "spiritual." I like to peruse the plants and trees, too. My time on the planet is limited, so I must concentrate on quality experiences, preferably simple, rather than on materialistic or trivial pursuits.
Regardless of the idiotic chimpo sapiens, I enjoy the evening outings at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Where else can I loiter without repercussions from the empire's police state? Fortunately, free wireless Net access at the bookstore was restored. Simple pleasures.
Rilynn Rae
Well, with nothing more to discuss, how about a peek at hurdy-gurdy hottie Rilynn Rae (formerly Vivian Vista)? Be sure to check out her portfolio on the FreeOnes® site.
For the most part, I have been trying to focus more on simple pleasures while ignoring the frenzied antics of the myriad chimpo sapiens as best as possible. Simple pleasures like my morning coffee or a delicious mini-loaf of banana bread (on sale for $2 at Foodland) are priceless. Walking on the grass instead of the concrete pathway in the Capitol district is very relaxing and almost "spiritual." I like to peruse the plants and trees, too. My time on the planet is limited, so I must concentrate on quality experiences, preferably simple, rather than on materialistic or trivial pursuits.
Regardless of the idiotic chimpo sapiens, I enjoy the evening outings at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Where else can I loiter without repercussions from the empire's police state? Fortunately, free wireless Net access at the bookstore was restored. Simple pleasures.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Post No. 2,297
"Soon you will be sitting on top of the world." -- Panda Express® fortune cookieMorning at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) commenced at 5am with the typical coffee time, courtesy the landlord. Then, the bogus "chef" was flailing about the kitchen like a crazed monkey at 7am with his electric juicer.
I am surprised that the "chef" can continue spending hours in the kitchen concocting culinary grotesqueries with the $35 worth of organic vegetables and fruits that he purchases weekly. Unsurprisingly, I have now discovered that he takes a minimum of three showers per day. The "chef" is the pinnacle of the fear of mortality. The deep-seated fear has overcome his common sense and developed into a true obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). It's natural to understand why he's a "control freak." Oddly, though, I admire his conviction.
Alan, on the other hand, is relatively "normal." Sure, he is a "New Age" disciple, what with his triangulated computer force field in his squalid room and all. However, his minor quirkiness is limited. He is a slob, typical of old bachelors. Alan could care less about germs. And, most importantly, he is not trying to tightly control his environment or the people around him.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. The nephew ... no high school diploma, no driver's license, no job, apparently retired. If he doesn't get his act together, he will be following in the footsteps of Uncle Lavahead. Sheesh! Aunty Eva (in Cali) was recently treated for cancer. Unfortunately, none of the relatives know what kind of cancer she had contracted, at least according to moms. Otherwise, nada to report.
Upon return to Slob Manor, I ended up chatting with the "chef." We discussed food, working out, and a few other innocuous topics. Then, I was off to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala at 7pm. Upon arrival at the bookstore, I discovered that the wireless Net access was not operational. So, I meandered down to the main section of the mall. My tablet computer was able to connect, albeit marginally, to another free service.
I put the tablet computer on standby mode after a spell. I observed the water fountain and noted the people milling about. Perhaps I experienced a minor "epiphany," but I felt strange. I really need to divest the trivial distractions, I thought to myself. I have to transcend the "bullshit" (for lack of a better term) in order to move to a higher plane of consciousness. Otherwise, all of my time and effort to get to this point will have been in vain. What is my next move? Only Molech knows.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Mortal Noise (Continued)
Noise? What noise? The "chef" returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 2am this morning after another night on the town. Fortunately, he only rinsed out his water bottles, then took yet another shower to wash off the germs of the outside world.
Alan was up at 3:15am for a Coke® beverage break. Actually, that's the only liquid he consumes. He uses a small, albeit filthy, Styrofoam cup. He only fills the cup with about a sip or two. So, he must constantly open and slam the fridge door shut in order to retrieve his beverage container, pour out another tiny portion, then replace the container in the fridge. The benign process is repeated at the insane frequency of every 20 seconds over the duration of ten minutes or so, just like some kind of religious ritual. Then, he disappears into his squalid room for another extended session in the middle of his "New Age" triangulated computer force field. Sheesh!
Coffee time upstairs usually commences at 5am. Actually, the landlord's father's widow is staying upstairs. She is a recent immigrant from China (less than a year). The widow makes the coffee. The landlord emerges from the dwelling at the back of the house at 6am. Then, coffee time is in full swing, with tube-watching and loud conversation in Chinkspeak. Little wonder why the moneychangers and powers-that-be are literally getting away with murder, all the while the crazed chimpo sapiens are blindly engaged in useless rituals.
Groggy as I was, I soldiered on nonetheless. Same ol' Sunday shit. Another mediocre workout at the gym. Then, I was off to the Kaimuki branch of the library, the only location open on Sunday. Hot, stuffy, crowded, and poor selection of books. My "homeless" buddy usually loiters there on Sunday, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I rode the bus back to the detestable Slob Manor.
Same ol' evening shit. I was tired, cranky, and suffering from aches and pains all over. My coordination was way off, too. I was rapidly losing my patience with all of the monkeys around me. Sleep deprivation. And, when I return from my evening outing, I will most certainly be privy to a slammin' soirée, courtesy the "chef." Am I better off homeless?
Alan was up at 3:15am for a Coke® beverage break. Actually, that's the only liquid he consumes. He uses a small, albeit filthy, Styrofoam cup. He only fills the cup with about a sip or two. So, he must constantly open and slam the fridge door shut in order to retrieve his beverage container, pour out another tiny portion, then replace the container in the fridge. The benign process is repeated at the insane frequency of every 20 seconds over the duration of ten minutes or so, just like some kind of religious ritual. Then, he disappears into his squalid room for another extended session in the middle of his "New Age" triangulated computer force field. Sheesh!
Coffee time upstairs usually commences at 5am. Actually, the landlord's father's widow is staying upstairs. She is a recent immigrant from China (less than a year). The widow makes the coffee. The landlord emerges from the dwelling at the back of the house at 6am. Then, coffee time is in full swing, with tube-watching and loud conversation in Chinkspeak. Little wonder why the moneychangers and powers-that-be are literally getting away with murder, all the while the crazed chimpo sapiens are blindly engaged in useless rituals.
Groggy as I was, I soldiered on nonetheless. Same ol' Sunday shit. Another mediocre workout at the gym. Then, I was off to the Kaimuki branch of the library, the only location open on Sunday. Hot, stuffy, crowded, and poor selection of books. My "homeless" buddy usually loiters there on Sunday, but he was nowhere to be found. So, I rode the bus back to the detestable Slob Manor.
Same ol' evening shit. I was tired, cranky, and suffering from aches and pains all over. My coordination was way off, too. I was rapidly losing my patience with all of the monkeys around me. Sleep deprivation. And, when I return from my evening outing, I will most certainly be privy to a slammin' soirée, courtesy the "chef." Am I better off homeless?
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Mortal Noise
As to be expected, I was rudely awakened at 12:30am this morning at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by the "chef". He returned from a night on the town, no doubt famished from cheap booze. Even at such a ridiculous hour, the "chef" cannot deviate from his strict life-giving diet of organic fruits and vegetables (both of which have to be laboriously sliced up). Can it get any dumber? Well, yes it always can. The "chef" also bottles his own filtered water (in glass bottles). He carries several of his trademarked self-bottled water with him no matter what. Yeah, even when he goes out on the town.
The landlord was up at 4:30am this morning, making coffee upstairs, watching the tube, then walking back and forth outside. Believe it or not, the stupidity occurs on Sunday as well. Sometimes the landlord does not leave for the now-defunct nursery until 8am. So, why is the landlord fooling around nearly four hours earlier?
As Ernest Becker so eloquently summarized, "The denial of death is the mainspring of all human activity." The impetus to cheat mortality is so powerful that it guides our every move, consciously or subconsciously. Unfortunately, chimpo sapiens do not know how to suffer in peace. They must make as much "noise" as possible to scare away the demons of mortality. Manufactured "noise" also confirms our being: we know that we made the "noise," so we exist.
On a grand scale, we produce "noise" to affirm our identity within the failed "civilization" paradigm. We seek recognition, sometimes seek worship from the myriad minions, sometimes canonization. On a grander scale, we make wars and destroy things. We are chimpo sapiens, a noisy half-breed monkey with a plagued consciousness.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. Seems that he will actually be homeless again. He's been residing in a room at a church in Mano'a. All of his worldly possessions are stored there, and his minivan is in the parking lot. That's the same church that he performs volunteer work to feed the homeless. Unfortunately, after his foot operation, my "homeless" buddy has obviously not been able to fulfill his obligations. So, the church issued him a notice to vacate the premises. My "homeless" buddy will have to relocate before he goes on vacation to Vietnam next month. He believes that he will be able to stay at a Vietnamese Pagoda Temple in Kalihi. He will be provided sleeping accommodations and will be allowed to park his vehicle on the premises, or so he told me.
With only about three hours of sleep, I was fairly groggy. I lapsed in and out of coma at the library, but nothing substitutes for real sleep. My workout at the gym also reflected my fatigue. I ran late all day because I just couldn't move any faster than the typical senior citizen pace. I stopped off at Subway® in Aina Haina for dinner. I was finally back at Slob Manor at 5:30pm. Then, I was on my way to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala about 80 minutes later. Will I enjoy another sleepless night? Probably.
The landlord was up at 4:30am this morning, making coffee upstairs, watching the tube, then walking back and forth outside. Believe it or not, the stupidity occurs on Sunday as well. Sometimes the landlord does not leave for the now-defunct nursery until 8am. So, why is the landlord fooling around nearly four hours earlier?
As Ernest Becker so eloquently summarized, "The denial of death is the mainspring of all human activity." The impetus to cheat mortality is so powerful that it guides our every move, consciously or subconsciously. Unfortunately, chimpo sapiens do not know how to suffer in peace. They must make as much "noise" as possible to scare away the demons of mortality. Manufactured "noise" also confirms our being: we know that we made the "noise," so we exist.On a grand scale, we produce "noise" to affirm our identity within the failed "civilization" paradigm. We seek recognition, sometimes seek worship from the myriad minions, sometimes canonization. On a grander scale, we make wars and destroy things. We are chimpo sapiens, a noisy half-breed monkey with a plagued consciousness.
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. Seems that he will actually be homeless again. He's been residing in a room at a church in Mano'a. All of his worldly possessions are stored there, and his minivan is in the parking lot. That's the same church that he performs volunteer work to feed the homeless. Unfortunately, after his foot operation, my "homeless" buddy has obviously not been able to fulfill his obligations. So, the church issued him a notice to vacate the premises. My "homeless" buddy will have to relocate before he goes on vacation to Vietnam next month. He believes that he will be able to stay at a Vietnamese Pagoda Temple in Kalihi. He will be provided sleeping accommodations and will be allowed to park his vehicle on the premises, or so he told me.
With only about three hours of sleep, I was fairly groggy. I lapsed in and out of coma at the library, but nothing substitutes for real sleep. My workout at the gym also reflected my fatigue. I ran late all day because I just couldn't move any faster than the typical senior citizen pace. I stopped off at Subway® in Aina Haina for dinner. I was finally back at Slob Manor at 5:30pm. Then, I was on my way to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala about 80 minutes later. Will I enjoy another sleepless night? Probably.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Molech Mundanity VI
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My bro has been laid off from work again. Otherwise, nada to report. Same ol' itinerary. Same ol' chimpo sapiens. Same ol' Molech.
After a mediocre senior citizen workout at the gym, I loitered around Koko Marina for the longest time. I did not want to go anywhere, not that I had a destination in the first place. I pondered the usual nonsense. Yet, somehow I was at peace with myself. I really enjoyed just sitting there, looking out at the parking lot. Chimpo sapiens were coming and going in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles). Mindless, truly mindless.
Same ol' evening shit, too. I really had no thoughts for entire day. Well, my thoughts were very diffuse because of sleep deprivation, so essentially no thoughts. That's why staring out into the disgusting Koko Marina parking lot seemed so relaxing. Praise Molech!
After a mediocre senior citizen workout at the gym, I loitered around Koko Marina for the longest time. I did not want to go anywhere, not that I had a destination in the first place. I pondered the usual nonsense. Yet, somehow I was at peace with myself. I really enjoyed just sitting there, looking out at the parking lot. Chimpo sapiens were coming and going in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles). Mindless, truly mindless.
Same ol' evening shit, too. I really had no thoughts for entire day. Well, my thoughts were very diffuse because of sleep deprivation, so essentially no thoughts. That's why staring out into the disgusting Koko Marina parking lot seemed so relaxing. Praise Molech!
Thursday, August 09, 2012
Chimpo Sapiens
My concluding note about the noise at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is that there is only a brief window of relative quiet (not including the horrid traffic noise outside). That window is from 10pm to 5am. That's it, unless Alan or the "chef" breach it due to chimpo sapiens stupidity.
The "chef" was engaged in his usual morning slammin' soirée at 6:45am. Lots of noise, chopping up his organic fruits and vegetables, pulverizing them in his electric juicer. Sadly, the most nutritious part of his ingredients gets thrown out in the trash. Of course, in his search for the "Fountain of Youth" and the "Holy Grail," he has become blinded by his own foolishness. The "chef" wastes an enormous amount of water, too, fastidiously washing his ingredients as well as cleaning and disinfecting the culinary tools of trade. Not to mention the two or three showers that he takes daily to remain germ-free. His ecological footprint is huge. And, for what? Only to serve his vanity.
Typical Nature Hottie
Same ol' shit. Same ol' shit! Why? Another of nature's cruel jokes on chimpo sapiens, of course. With each generation, we (as a collective) keep repeating the same mistakes, the same ol' shit. As the chimpo population increases exponentially, the stupidity increases to toxic proportions by means of synergy. My continued, albeit nauseous, chronicle of stupidity serves as living testimony of the fact in the microcosm. Nothing more, nothing less.
Actually, I don't even know why I bother to chronicle the nonsense. The "blog" is essentially mummified. And, almost anyone can now predict the daily occurrences of stupidity as well as my time-worn itinerary. We have completely exploited the tired formula. I keep getting bogged down with trivial distractions, because that's what chimpo sapiens do best while attempting to avoid the issue of mortality.
Aside from that, I am simply waiting for the ax to fall, so to speak. Something is terribly wrong with the "system," and the truth about the latter is difficult to parse from the "noise." Have you found the truth yet?
The "chef" was engaged in his usual morning slammin' soirée at 6:45am. Lots of noise, chopping up his organic fruits and vegetables, pulverizing them in his electric juicer. Sadly, the most nutritious part of his ingredients gets thrown out in the trash. Of course, in his search for the "Fountain of Youth" and the "Holy Grail," he has become blinded by his own foolishness. The "chef" wastes an enormous amount of water, too, fastidiously washing his ingredients as well as cleaning and disinfecting the culinary tools of trade. Not to mention the two or three showers that he takes daily to remain germ-free. His ecological footprint is huge. And, for what? Only to serve his vanity.
Actually, I don't even know why I bother to chronicle the nonsense. The "blog" is essentially mummified. And, almost anyone can now predict the daily occurrences of stupidity as well as my time-worn itinerary. We have completely exploited the tired formula. I keep getting bogged down with trivial distractions, because that's what chimpo sapiens do best while attempting to avoid the issue of mortality.
Aside from that, I am simply waiting for the ax to fall, so to speak. Something is terribly wrong with the "system," and the truth about the latter is difficult to parse from the "noise." Have you found the truth yet?
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Noise, and More Noise
Non-stop noise. That's the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) story. Noise 24 hours a day, seven days per week. The landlord is up at 5am, the crack of dawn, making coffee upstairs right above my squalid room. The "chef," with his multiple slammin' soirées in his quest for immortality with his organic food concoctions. On and on. Tedious. Tiring. Chimpo sapiens. Stupid little chimpanzees.
I have now taken to simply getting up at 6am, whether I am groggy or not. I assume my daily chores, formerly taken up in the afternoon. I even commence the composition of the allegedly mummified "blog" at the ridiculously early hour.
The "chef" is up at 7am for his morning slammin' soirée, chopping up his organic fruits and vegetables for 40 minutes, a chore that he never seems to tire of. He has been cheating, though, opting for frozen breaded (read: deep-fried) organic chicken and organic sliced turkey (full of preservatives). I'm sure that he subconsciously craved the protein that was sorely absent from his "healthy" diet. The sight of the "chef" flailing around the kitchen like a frenzied chimp is ludicrous. He is enslaved by an obsession that brings him little joy. What a maroon!
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. We chatted for a spell. His foot is recovering without problems. Otherwise, same ol' shit. Sadly, I haven't been too "gung-ho" about my workouts at the gym. Too many chimpo sapiens, too few from the senior citizen age group. And, sometimes the ridiculous strutting around by the more delusional chimpo sapiens is just to much to bear.
On a side note, the tablet computer appears to have stabilized. Battery life seems normal now. The case still feels slightly warmer after the software update, but the device has yet to explode. The tablet computer is a rugged piece of computer gear. Praise Molech!
I have now taken to simply getting up at 6am, whether I am groggy or not. I assume my daily chores, formerly taken up in the afternoon. I even commence the composition of the allegedly mummified "blog" at the ridiculously early hour.
The "chef" is up at 7am for his morning slammin' soirée, chopping up his organic fruits and vegetables for 40 minutes, a chore that he never seems to tire of. He has been cheating, though, opting for frozen breaded (read: deep-fried) organic chicken and organic sliced turkey (full of preservatives). I'm sure that he subconsciously craved the protein that was sorely absent from his "healthy" diet. The sight of the "chef" flailing around the kitchen like a frenzied chimp is ludicrous. He is enslaved by an obsession that brings him little joy. What a maroon!
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. We chatted for a spell. His foot is recovering without problems. Otherwise, same ol' shit. Sadly, I haven't been too "gung-ho" about my workouts at the gym. Too many chimpo sapiens, too few from the senior citizen age group. And, sometimes the ridiculous strutting around by the more delusional chimpo sapiens is just to much to bear.
On a side note, the tablet computer appears to have stabilized. Battery life seems normal now. The case still feels slightly warmer after the software update, but the device has yet to explode. The tablet computer is a rugged piece of computer gear. Praise Molech!
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Praise Molech!
Last night after I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 8:45pm after my evening outing, I was treated to another noisefest, courtesy the "chef." Our favorite culinary artist has purchased an industrial-strength (read: very expensive) blender to purée his organic fruits and vegetables. Money is no object when one is obsessed with eating subjectively healthy, I suppose. Mortality issues, you think? What would Ernest Becker say about that?
Another sleepless night. I suffered from "night sweats," profusely perspiring all night for no apparent reason. No fever, though. As a senior citizen, I am becoming keenly aware that the decrepit body of a senior citizen tends to "act up" sporadically. Frankly, it's just another trigger for mortality anxiety, nature's cruel joke on humans.
I changed my morning routine slightly. I stopped off for coffee at Mickey Dee's® in Kahala. A small cup of coffee is only 99 cents, and it does taste better than the Foodland brew. I am still not certain whether I can wean myself off of coffee. Does it really matter at this point?
As groggy as I was, I managed to peruse the book, "Planet Dinosaur." Very interesting. It's almost hard to fathom that such creatures actually existed. Stranger though, is that dinosaurs, as large as they are, appeared so early in the so-called "evolutionary chain." Dinosaurs are not simple creatures. Their physical structures are engineering feats, to say the least.
Yeah, same ol' shit. Say what? Deck chairs? Titanic? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! I'm just out and about with the other chimps and baboons. Praise Molech!
Another sleepless night. I suffered from "night sweats," profusely perspiring all night for no apparent reason. No fever, though. As a senior citizen, I am becoming keenly aware that the decrepit body of a senior citizen tends to "act up" sporadically. Frankly, it's just another trigger for mortality anxiety, nature's cruel joke on humans.
I changed my morning routine slightly. I stopped off for coffee at Mickey Dee's® in Kahala. A small cup of coffee is only 99 cents, and it does taste better than the Foodland brew. I am still not certain whether I can wean myself off of coffee. Does it really matter at this point?
As groggy as I was, I managed to peruse the book, "Planet Dinosaur." Very interesting. It's almost hard to fathom that such creatures actually existed. Stranger though, is that dinosaurs, as large as they are, appeared so early in the so-called "evolutionary chain." Dinosaurs are not simple creatures. Their physical structures are engineering feats, to say the least.
Yeah, same ol' shit. Say what? Deck chairs? Titanic? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! I'm just out and about with the other chimps and baboons. Praise Molech!
Monday, August 06, 2012
Post No. 2,290 - RIP
"You have the ability to excel in untried areas." -- Panda Express® fortune cookieEver since I completed the reading of Ernest Becker's books, I have been less inclined to actively confront human stupidity (i.e., matriculation in Lou's School of Etiquette). I now view my fellow humans strictly as animals. Foolish little chimpanzees. Even with the "inner animal" suppressed, there will always be traces that rise to the surface. Nothing can be done about it. I, too am an animal, but my suppression techniques have been quite effective. Good slave training and good self-policing indoctrination, I suppose.
The BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer received an update a few days ago. Unfortunately, the update was pulled almost immediately. I have been monitoring the CrackBerry Forums. So far, the PlayBook® has been experiencing two problems: high heat dissipation and shorter battery life. The situation is quite disappointing since it was classified as a "simple maintenance update." There has been no fix offered. Users have been advised to use the desktop manager software to downgrade to the previous version. Sadly, there is no desktop manager for Linux. So, I am "shit out of luck" (SOL). We'll, if the tablet computer explodes, then I will have to switch to ... I don't even want to think about it.
What will happen to the "blog"? Oh, I'll probably continue to contribute to it. Perhaps it will just become a scratchpad of sorts. A place to park my mind. An oasis of thought. In other words, I will be mentally "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." Molech, have mercy!
Sunday, August 05, 2012
Operation Obscure
Same ol' Sunday shit. And, an extended perusal of the incredible hottie gym trainer at the gym. No, baby has not come around. Otherwise, nada to report. I ended up sitting at the bus stop adjacent to the Capitol district for nearly two hours. The view was fantastic and all of the buses were packed, so I was in no hurry to go anywhere. Why would I want to return to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) any earlier than necessary?
Well, "Operation Obscure" is nearly complete. That's right. The old journal has been entombed. The "blog" is nearly entirely immune to search engines. The ol' lavahead is rapidly slipping into obscurity. Feedjit® is reporting very few visits now. We're working our way toward total mummification. Praise Molech!
Well, "Operation Obscure" is nearly complete. That's right. The old journal has been entombed. The "blog" is nearly entirely immune to search engines. The ol' lavahead is rapidly slipping into obscurity. Feedjit® is reporting very few visits now. We're working our way toward total mummification. Praise Molech!
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Neurotic Chimpanzee
I was rudely awakened this morning at 12:45am by the "chef," when he returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), apparently inebriated. I was treated to a 30-minute slammin' soireé as the fucktard rejuvenated himself with organic fruits and vegetables. What better way to fight off the scourge of cheap booze? Thank Molech that the fool wasn't compelled to cleanse himself with a freshly-squeezed concoction of rancid juice. He then noisily took a shower, although I heard him in the shower when I arrived from my evening outing earlier at 9pm. He appears to take several showers daily. The chimp ... err, I mean "chef" ... appears to have some serious issues (i.e., phobias) with food and germs. No wonder he's a "control freak." Let's call in Ernest Becker again now, shall we?
When I returned to Slob manor at 8:30pm, both Alan and the "chef" were gone. However, Alan arrived back at the dump a few minutes later. All kinds of noise ensued. Perhaps Alan needs to put his head in the direct center of the triangulated computer force field that is set up in his squalid room. If I were Alan, I'd crank up the force field to "full blast." He should also invite the "chef" and the landlord to participate as well. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
But we can also see at once that there is no line between normal and neurotic, as we all lie and are all bound in some ways by the lies. Neurosis is, then, something we all share; it is universal. Or, putting it another way, normality is neurosis, and vice versa. We call a man "neurotic" when his lie begins to show damaging effects on him or on people around him and he seeks clinical help for it — or others seek it for him. Otherwise, we call the refusal of reality "normal" because it doesn't occasion any visible problems. It is really as simple as that. After all, if someone who lives alone wants to get out of bed a half-dozen times to see if the door is really locked, or another washes and dries his hands exactly three times every time or uses a half-roll of toilet tissue each time he relieves himself — there is really no human problem involved. These people are earning their safety in the face of the reality of creatureliness in relatively innocuous and untroublesome ways.At the library this morning, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. We chatted for a bit. As groggy as I was, I managed to complete the book, "Escape from Evil," by Ernest Becker. Yes, that's the second book in the series. Both of Becker's books have opened my eyes, so to speak. The rest of the day was accomplished at a leisurely pace. As usual, I picked up a sandwich at Subway® before returning to Slob Manor. Otherwise, same ol' day and evening shit.
When I returned to Slob manor at 8:30pm, both Alan and the "chef" were gone. However, Alan arrived back at the dump a few minutes later. All kinds of noise ensued. Perhaps Alan needs to put his head in the direct center of the triangulated computer force field that is set up in his squalid room. If I were Alan, I'd crank up the force field to "full blast." He should also invite the "chef" and the landlord to participate as well. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
Friday, August 03, 2012
Incongruence Redux
Last night, I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 8:45pm after my evening outing. The "chef" apparently still waits until I return before he commences the performance of his culinary arts. Over one hour of the slammin' soirée just to squeeze out a batch of his rancid juice. I can safely conclude that the guy is psychotic. All that time and effort, not to mention the expensive organic ingredients, to produce a concoction that he himself admits "tastes like shit." Makes absolutely no sense.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. When I returned to Slob Manor, I noticed that the "chef" had parked his car within inches of my spot. He is apparently attempting to force me to park closer to the landlord's junk pile. Being self-centered, he just doesn't realize that I need the extra space on the left to maneuver in reverse, thanks to the landlord's junk pile and the increased number of vehicles now parked in the main driveway. Then, another one-plus-hour juice-making slammin' soirée commencing at 5:30pm.
I was glad to leave for my evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. On the way out of the dump, I espied the "chef" still slammin' away in the kitchen like a frenzied chimpanzee. Of course, he was wearing his noise-canceling headphones. Psychosis and megalomania go hand-in-hand. What a maroon!
I really can no longer reside in proximity to other people. Look at what I am dealing with now. A psychotic pseudo-vegan who spends hours in the Slob Manor kitchen creating the most rancid concoctions to consume because he believes the latter will keep him healthy. And, a New Age neurotic who lies in the middle of his squalid room within a triangulated computer force field in order to experience the unknown. Ernest Becker observed that:
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. When I returned to Slob Manor, I noticed that the "chef" had parked his car within inches of my spot. He is apparently attempting to force me to park closer to the landlord's junk pile. Being self-centered, he just doesn't realize that I need the extra space on the left to maneuver in reverse, thanks to the landlord's junk pile and the increased number of vehicles now parked in the main driveway. Then, another one-plus-hour juice-making slammin' soirée commencing at 5:30pm.
I was glad to leave for my evening outing at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. On the way out of the dump, I espied the "chef" still slammin' away in the kitchen like a frenzied chimpanzee. Of course, he was wearing his noise-canceling headphones. Psychosis and megalomania go hand-in-hand. What a maroon!
I really can no longer reside in proximity to other people. Look at what I am dealing with now. A psychotic pseudo-vegan who spends hours in the Slob Manor kitchen creating the most rancid concoctions to consume because he believes the latter will keep him healthy. And, a New Age neurotic who lies in the middle of his squalid room within a triangulated computer force field in order to experience the unknown. Ernest Becker observed that:
... man is a robustly active creature; activity alone keeps him from going crazy. If he bogs down and begins to dwell on his situation, he risks releasing the neurotic fear repressed into his unconscious – that he is really impotent and will have no effect on the world. So he frantically drives himself to see his effects, to convince himself and others that he really counts ...Becker "hit the nail squarely on its head." What more can I say?
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Failure to Disconnect
Last night, after returning from my evening outing, I viewed, "Half Past Dead," on Crackle®. That's actually my favorite Steven Seagal flick. Can it compare to the reference standard flick, "So Close"? Close, but no cigar. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
At the library this morning, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. He finally went in for surgery on his foot yesterday. The operation took five hours. However, he did not want to remain in the hospital to recuperate. I was surprised to see him up and around, though. Of course, he didn't look too good. Otherwise, same ol' day and evening shit. Nada to report.
So, the title says it all. No, I am not alluding to a faulty wireless router. Rather, I am referring to a faulty paradigm ... the "disconnect" or the exodus. I have previously hinted that neither could be fully accomplished. Now, I will confirm the assertion. There is no way out, no escape. In other words, there is no feasible method to totally "disconnect." Society-at-large and the "civilization" paradigm are way too big (but not too big to fail) and way too pervasive.
Monks have attempted the feat, but the result has been recurring lapses into the "perversions." New Agers have attempted to return to our "primitive" roots, but a weekend retreat falls far short of a complete "disconnect." And, we really have only a vague idea about the "primitive" life-style and what filled their lives "spiritually" (for lack of a better term). Thus, the exodus can only be successful if there is something of substance that can be substituted for the myriad vacuous distractions and the strong, albeit subliminal, bonds of slavery instituted by the failed "civilization" paradigm.
At the library this morning, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. He finally went in for surgery on his foot yesterday. The operation took five hours. However, he did not want to remain in the hospital to recuperate. I was surprised to see him up and around, though. Of course, he didn't look too good. Otherwise, same ol' day and evening shit. Nada to report.
So, the title says it all. No, I am not alluding to a faulty wireless router. Rather, I am referring to a faulty paradigm ... the "disconnect" or the exodus. I have previously hinted that neither could be fully accomplished. Now, I will confirm the assertion. There is no way out, no escape. In other words, there is no feasible method to totally "disconnect." Society-at-large and the "civilization" paradigm are way too big (but not too big to fail) and way too pervasive.
Monks have attempted the feat, but the result has been recurring lapses into the "perversions." New Agers have attempted to return to our "primitive" roots, but a weekend retreat falls far short of a complete "disconnect." And, we really have only a vague idea about the "primitive" life-style and what filled their lives "spiritually" (for lack of a better term). Thus, the exodus can only be successful if there is something of substance that can be substituted for the myriad vacuous distractions and the strong, albeit subliminal, bonds of slavery instituted by the failed "civilization" paradigm.
Wednesday, August 01, 2012
Redefinition
So, where do we go from here? I really don't know. I am not going to spend time paraphrasing Ernest Becker's book. Anyone can find the book in a public library or purchase it. One statement of note: Becker distilled the works of many great thinkers, so the content is not of his own fabrication. One has to cast aside ingrained beliefs in order to fully benefit from the reading.
So, what about the "blog"? Again, I don't know. I could continue to chronicle the same ol' daily mundane shit. There is seemingly no point in waxing philosophical or waxing existential. There's really no need to post babe pictures because the "blog" is slowly being excluded from all search engines. Heck, there's nothing left. I'm done.
Well, the common cold has diminished. My extreme monk haircut was restored. Beautiful full moon this evening. I am always in awe of the moon. After considerable thought, I have tentatively decided that the "blog" will now primarily chronicle ... in excruciatingly painful detail, I might add ... my rapid decline into a decrepit senior citizen. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
So, what about the "blog"? Again, I don't know. I could continue to chronicle the same ol' daily mundane shit. There is seemingly no point in waxing philosophical or waxing existential. There's really no need to post babe pictures because the "blog" is slowly being excluded from all search engines. Heck, there's nothing left. I'm done.
Well, the common cold has diminished. My extreme monk haircut was restored. Beautiful full moon this evening. I am always in awe of the moon. After considerable thought, I have tentatively decided that the "blog" will now primarily chronicle ... in excruciatingly painful detail, I might add ... my rapid decline into a decrepit senior citizen. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!
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