Confiscation (Reprise)

Tom, the drunkard, returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from the hospital with his buddy at 10pm last night. Serious injury or not, nothing can stop Tom from guzzling cheap booze. Lots of noise until midnight with the two drunkards carrying on. I assume that Tom was given an acetaminophen-based pain killer. Let's hope that he washed down the medication with lots of cheap booze. He may end up killing himself after all.

Another wasted day. Still waiting. Still "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." My only social contacts have been my homeless buddy and Kevin, the burly homeless guy. As I stated previously, there's not much difference between the homeless and so-called "regular" people. I am beginning to look forward to the day that I have no social contacts. Sheesh!

I ate dinner and dessert, delicious sandwich and an ice cream cone at the usual outlets in Kahala, at the start of my evening outing. I have vowed to only patronize establishments that provide good service and quality products. Then, I was off to the bookstore.

Well, there have recently been a lot of articles about bank depositor confiscation (read: "bail in"). It's quite an interesting concept. Yet, few people realize that, if such a scenario were to transpire, even fewer people will be left unscathed. Pension funds, money market funds, insurance annuities, credit unions, and local banks are all unsecured depositors of the infamous "too big to fail" zombie banks. When the "shit hits the fan," those deposits will be confiscated.

Typical Confiscation Hottie
In the confiscation scenario, we will not have to worry about hyperinflation. Money will simply vanish, but not into thin air. Instead, there will be an instantaneous upward transfer of wealth to the "one percent." What is even more stupefying is that the localized aggregate economies will remain somewhat stable. Sure, the rank-and-file peons will be suffering. However, for those people who have money left, it will be business as usual. Stupefying. How can we, as peons, circumvent the crisis? Gold bullion, my friends.

Cash (i.e., fiat currency) would also suffice, given that there is no hyperinflation. Keeping cash on hand when deposits are being confiscated is seemingly prudent. Obviously, the disadvantage would be the requirements for safe storage and protection. In any case, my guess is that there will be adequate warning before the crisis erupts.

That brings me to "condotel" post-divestiture period. Once I have reconciled the transaction, then I will seriously consider the purchase and storage of gold bullion as well as a cache of cash. The procurement of a quality safe and a 9mm semi-automatic are other considerations. So, there we go, more distractions to impede the exodus.

On a side note, both my homeless buddy and Kevin are continually trying to persuade me to apply for residency at the Next Step homeless shelter. I have been coached on exactly what must and must not be said (or documented) in order to assure my matriculation into true homelessness. For now, the homeless question remains unanswered.

Waiting Ad Nauseam

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. We've been experiencing a heat wave for a couple of weeks now. No trade winds. Lots of vog, too. And, lots of idiots. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan returned from Arizona yesterday. Tom, the drunkard, was drunk on cheap booze again this afternoon. He cut open his big toe doing who-knows-what. Blood was everywhere. Alan persuaded him to seek medical attention. As I stated, lots of idiots.

I received a copy of the closing statement by e-mail for the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit that I will be officially signing on Thursday. Apparently, everyone will be "getting a piece of the pie" except for me. Yeah, it was almost laughable until I realized that I am the "butt of the joke." Oh well. The important point is that I knew when to cut my losses and run.

I remain unconvinced that there is a "recovery" in progress. The unadulterated data suggest otherwise. I don't expect a crash until the global central banks "pull the plug" on lax monetary policy. Of course, the game could theoretically go on forever. However, eventually the so-called "fundamentals" must come into play.

Cutting my losses means knowing when to quit a rigged game. I don't want to still be playing the game when the "fundamentals" kick in. There are so many "bubbles" inflating concurrently right now. Something has got to give. Anyway, I still waiting.

Doorstops "R" Us Redux

Same ol' Sunday shit. Still waiting. The days are passing so slowly as we anticipate the May 9th emancipation event. Nothing else to report except that I almost reduced the Nexus 7 tablet computer to doorstop status this afternoon. I was attempting to clean the system cache at the time. Instead, I completely locked the device's bootloader. I was finally able to make it boot up by holding the power button down for the longest time. I was almost certain that I would have to make an emergency purchase of another tablet computer this evening. What a maroon!

As always, my evening outing to Kahala was my refuge. I ate dinner at the same Subway® franchise as last night. Great sandwich. Free cookie, too. An ice cream cone from Mickey Dee's® was also in order. Then, I was off to the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). I ordered a big-ass cookie there last night, but I was privy to horrid service. I can only patronize the café when the young, albeit highly proficient, hottie is on duty.

So, the day ended satisfactorily. The tablet computer is not a doorstop. I had a nice time during my evening outing. I'm still following the exodus roadmap. What more can I ask for?

No Clarity

Once again, I have been reduced to waiting. Two more weeks before the detestable "condotel" unit, the heavy financial anchor, is jettisoned. Two more weeks of "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." What shall we do in the meantime? Continue to follow the exodus roadmap!

My homeless buddy met up with me in town this morning at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." He had obtained a bus pass for me at a 33 percent discount. As usual, he shared more stories from the homeless world. Otherwise, same itinerary.

I should mention that there is really no difference between the homeless and "regular" people except the former have no declared residence. There's the same stupidity, same pettiness, same banality, same ol' shit. Thus, I must now conclude that the core of the exodus is meaningless unless I can completely isolate myself from people ... all people. The nonsense is well beyond what I can reasonably tolerate.

I could not achieve any clarity at the public library because of the noise. No clarity at the gym either. Kevin, the burly homeless guy, kept coming by and chatting. And, obviously no clarity at the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

My only salvation? The evening outing, of course. I ate dinner at the sandwich shop franchise in Kahala that is a half-block away from the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). That was the best sandwich so far out of all of the locations including the one in the mall itself. Then, I was off to the bookstore.

Sadly, no clarity at bookstore either. I was sitting near a guy who continually snorted his mucus back into his sinuses rather than simply blowing his nose and a chick who was eating a candy bar while constantly crinkling the plastic wrapper. I wanted to "homicide" both of them. Yeah, I need to be far, far away from people.

No One to Impress

Beautiful full moon against a clear sky last night. Red star reminder, of course. As I have stated before, the universe is a strange place. And, even stranger is quantum physics. Later, I will have a few comments about quantum physics, specifically beginning with the Higgs boson and the Higgs field. Long story short, although I am getting ahead of myself, is that reality is not what it seems to be.

Typical Quantum Hottie
Yesterday, I mentioned that I have finally reduced my worldly possessions to a handful of items worth $500 or less. I am rather pleased. I don't know why I spent so many decades accumulating crap repeatedly, then subsequently divesting them. Perhaps I, not unlike other guys, was hoping to impress the babes. What a waste of time! I am an "old fart" now. There are no babes to impress. Perhaps that is why I am finally comfortable being a mendicant monk.

I also intentionally stated that I have even less than most of the homeless. The homeless question, though, has not gone away. Even with the detestable "condotel" unit out of the way, I will still be blazing through my savings in order to subsist in a substandard rental housing environment. I can continue to pay $700 per month to coexist with three asswipes, or I can pay $60 per month and coexist with 200 asswipes. Believe me, the numbers don't matter. Just one asswipe is one asswipe too many. As far as becoming homeless, dignity is not an issue. I am an "old fart." I have no one to impress.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My nephew is still retired. My bro is still laid off from work. Moms has reported some friction as a result. Otherwise, nothing to report. Same ol' shit.

Tentative End Game

Another day of ... same ol' shit. Details are not necessary. My homeless buddy always updates me about the homeless life. Believe me, the same kind of stupidity is homogeneous across all class lines. Human stupidity is really wearing me out.

Yeah, speaking of stupidity, the puppets of empire are once again "banging the war drums," this time with Syria (and Iran later) in the crosshairs. The same formulaic accusations are popping up (i.e., think Iraq and Libya). Apparently the machinations to collapse the price of gold failed, so now global thermonuclear war with Russia and China is the only remaining option to save "Western" economies. Can it get more stupid?

Well, as you probably already know, I have reduced my worldly possessions down to nothing. There is nothing left to part with except my Nissan® Frontier truck. And, the latter could be divested later this year. I will truly have even less stuff than most of the homeless. I estimate that my worldly possessions (i.e., Nexus 7 tablet computer, wardrobe of tattered clothes, and miscellany) total about $500 in value. So, what's next?

If all goes well, May 9th will be the day that I finally jettison the financial anchor known as the detestable "condotel" unit. That milestone will emancipate me from debt slavery once and for all, a significant step on the exodus roadmap (refer to the "blog" of March 27th). And, it was imperative to divest the dump well before moms passes on.

I am scheduled to sign the closing documents next Thursday morning. Then, I will have several loose ends to tie up. The property insurance and GET license will be mummified. Paperwork will be sorted and unneeded documents destroyed. There will be some money coming back to me as well. I will most likely provide a general financial summary.

The "blog" will continue in the interim, serving the purpose of chronicling the exodus end game. There's a lot more work to be done. I also want the "blog" to be the sounding board for my closing thoughts about my life and life in general. So, that's where we're heading.

Clarity

Once again, my homeless buddy and I met up this morning at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." Over a cup of coffee and free tacos, I passed the remaining BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer to him. In return, I received $50 in cash (for a $120 realized loss).

True to my word, I have emancipated myself from technoslavery. And, as usual, the cost of freedom was high. I have learned my lesson. And, I will no longer require any backup computers. If the Nexus 7 tablet computer fails, I can easily and quickly replace it. At $250 or so, the device is expendable. Soon, I may not even need it. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

On a side note, my homeless buddy mentioned that several people, some homeless, have asked whether I was homeless. He told them all that I was indeed homeless. No wonder I can't get any respect. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

I was able to actually attain a moment of clarity in the inner courtyard of the public library. That, despite the sheer number of homeless present. They were actually on good behavior today. However, the cacophony that is the gym destroyed my sense of clarity.

For the brief moment that I attained clarity, I was at peace with myself. I had peace of mind. I felt totally relaxed. And, I became keenly aware of my existence in the now. Did I finally learn the meaning of "living"?

Exodus: Restored

My homeless buddy met up with me again at Jack in the Box® in town this morning. We were supposed to visit two low-income housing projects, but the field trip was postponed. I was interested in applying for a rental unit, but I was dubious after my homeless buddy informed me of the level of deceit that I would need to stoop to. For one thing, I would have to claim to be homeless already and also penniless. "You look more homeless than me," my homeless buddy said. Anyway, we mutually agreed that the Next Step homeless shelter was probably the more favorable objective.

While we were chatting, I happened to see Shirley walking toward the rear entrance where we were sitting. She came in and chatted briefly before ordering a "power breakfast." Then, she said good-bye and departed for work.

Another ridiculous day at the public library with all of the homeless. I have not found any good books to read lately. I have only been checking the new arrivals on the bookshelves in the lobby. The selection has been sparse. So, I simply attempt to enjoy my time in the inner courtyard.

I also chatted with Kevin, the burly homeless guy, at the library as well as the gym. He, too, has been trying to persuade me to seek residence at Next Step. Of course, I would still have to deceive my way in. I can somehow rationalize the deception in that case.

When I checked my e-mail late this afternoon, I learned that closing for the detestable "condotel" unit is still set for May 9th. Debbie, my realtor, is pressing for this week insofar as signing the seller's documents. So, the exodus is still on track.

Subsumed by Google®

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I stopped off at Costco® after my workout at the gym. I purchased two big-ass chicken salad packs ($4 each) at the outdoor concession that is open to the public. The serving is fairly generous, so I may have found a dinner alternative.

Upon return to the horrid Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was privy to listen to more fun facts about Tom, the drunkard, courtesy the "chef." Tom was, of course, hammered on cheap booze upstairs with another alcoholic buddy. They were dragging furniture around and stumbling about in a drunken stupor. I am still prepared to offer an acetaminophen-laced alcoholic beverage to him. I wouldn't lose any sleep if Tom were to "keel over" because of liver failure as a result.

I commenced my evening outing with an ice cream cone from the fast food joint adjacent to Kahala Mall. Then, I wasted a few minutes in the only computer store in the mall. That's where I read up on the latest "tech" news every day except Sunday. And, of course, my final stop was the bookstore, where I put the finishing touches on the daily "blog" post.

My diet has still not returned to normal. I have probably gained about three pounds at the least in just a couple of weeks. Fast (read: cheap, greasy) food works its magic very quickly. I am apparently indifferent. I am an "old fart." What, am I going to impress chicks at this age? Heck no!

On a side note, I installed the new Yahoo! Mail "app," obviously because that's my sole e-mail provider. Much better than the Web site. I will most likely terminate the account within a year, that is, if I give in and open a Gmail account. Heck, since the purchase of the Nexus 7 tablet computer, I have been totally subsumed by Google® because a Blogger® account is a universal Google® account.

As much as I don't particularly care for the Android operating system, I am quite impressed with what I can do with the Nexus 7 device. I don't need a conventional computer anymore. And, I really don't need a different tablet computer. Yeah, as much as I don't care for Google®, I am sold on it. I may even utilize more of the available services. Sheesh!

Simple

Last night on my usual evening outing, I ate a "value menu" dinner at the fast food joint adjacent to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. One greasy chicken sandwich and an ice cream cone. Oh, the ice cream cone was the best part of the meal. As you can imagine, one of my current goals is to enjoy extremely simple pleasures. Simplicity, not the Paleocene version, is the key to true "living."

Typical Simple Hottie
I decided to depart from the mall an hour later than usual (actually much longer because the bus was 40 minutes late). I sat in the "New Age" section of the bookstore, which is right next to the children's section. As I observed numerous people perusing books that purport to offer "New Age" spirituality, I could hear a few children interacting with each other and their parents. If you've spent time observing or engaging with children, you have probably noticed their homogeneity in speech, coordination, behavior, and so forth. I can't even imagine that I was the same when I was their age. Yeah, I cannot relive the simplicity.

Once again, my homeless buddy and I met up at fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack" at circa 9am. I learned more information about the homeless life-style. At the gym, I ran into Kevin, the burly homeless guy. He is going to provide me with his own tips about how to get accepted for residency in a homeless shelter. Most of what he's told me so far has already been discussed by my homeless buddy. Then, I procured an ice cream cone from the fast food joint in town.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I came to discover that Tom, the drunkard, was the culprit who put the box of greens on my shelf in the fridge. Of course, Tom didn't tell anyone that it was gift of sorts. The greens were discarded for obvious reasons. At this point, I will confess that I was in the wrong on a couple of points about the pseudo-crisis. Mea culpa.

I departed on my evening outing one hour earlier than usual because I had planned to eat dinner at the sandwich shop franchise in the den of consumerism in Kahala. There is a big difference in customer service as compared to the Filipino-staffed franchise in town. Otherwise, another typical evening at the bookstore with my Nexus 7 tablet computer.

Sheen

My homeless buddy met up with me this morning at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." He was on his way to his storage unit. He planned spend most of the day organizing all of his worldly possessions. I told him of my plans to divest the old tablet computer. He said that he would take it off my hands for the same amount as the trade in at Best Buy®. Not a great deal, but divestiture is more important.

Later, after my workout at the gym, I chatted with Kevin, the burly homeless guy. He was also at the gym working out. I told him of my tentative plans to move into a homeless shelter. He shared a few interesting tidbits. Kevin then departed to his "residence" for the evening, one of the government buildings just about a block away. He planned to do some reading before going to sleep.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Tom was busy guzzling cheap brewskis upstairs with one his numerous alcoholic buddies. The big box of organic lettuce and greens is still sitting on my shelf in the fridge. The "chef" has yet to move it. The lettuce is looking fairly wilted. I have to admit that I unintentionally manhandled the box when I retrieved my food from behind it. Well, at least I attempted to "freshen" the contents with some tire "sheen," the stuff that's sprayed on automobile tires for a glossy appearance. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Stupidity, day in and day out. Endless stupid human tricks, or "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." I don't want to be involved, but I am often sucked in by the vortex of stupidity. That's the reason why the exodus was imperative.

Post No. 2,546

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I discovered that the "chef" brazenly took over my one-and-only shelf in the fridge. All my food was haphazardly shoved way in the back. He had plenty of room on his shelf. So, I placed my food into the small drawer that is still mine to use, which is the only space I have left. Yeah, I let the prick have his way. He has also taken the liberty of putting all of Alan's dishes and kitchen utensils that were in the dish rack into one of drawers. He apparently wants exclusive use of the dish rack in Alan's absence. Never mind that Alan owns the dish rack.

I purchased a small plastic container at Price Busters for my various "odds and ends." I am very pleased with the container because it now provides some order inside the small gym bag that holds nearly all of my worldly possessions. Yeah, I am downsizing in style.

On a side note, I discovered that I can trade in the old, albeit unused, tablet computer at Best Buy® and receive a $50 gift card in return. Big loss, I know. At least I can get some pseudo-cash for it and not play any foolish haggling games in attempting to sell it. And, I need to divest the device as part of the process to emancipate myself from technoslavery.

Food Conundrum

The public library in town is now the official daytime homeless shelter. That includes the adjacent grassy area outside, as well as the Capitol district. The number of new homeless is skyrocketing. Every day there are dozens of new faces. The demographic is skewing toward the twenty-something age group. Many of them are living on the streets, according to my homeless buddy.

Well, I have placed a moratorium on patronizing the Subway® sandwich shop along Fort Street Mall. There is another franchise close by, so I may visit that location soon. Otherwise, no loss. I have become less convinced that most of the menu items are not even marginally healthy.

By the way, the Jack in the Box® in town is also staffed primarily with Filipino employees. The are also unfriendly and indifferent. However, I have never had any problems with my orders. How can an order for a cup of coffee (and free greasy tacos) go wrong anyway?

At the start of my evening outing, I opted to purchase a couple of greasy "value menu" items at Mickey Dee's® for dinner in Kahala. The employees, mostly Micronesians, are far better acquainted with customer service protocol than their Filipino counterparts in town. The meal, however, made my stomach feel queasy. No surprise there, eh?

Obviously, I need to rethink my diet. The recent "deregulation" (by inspection agency funding cuts) of the poultry industry will lead to more even more unhealthy poultry products, not that there isn't enough antibiotics and other chemicals already. More diet details later.

Tipping Point (Reprise)

My homeless buddy was at the public library again this morning. His tablet computer was malfunctioning, so I had to perform a "security wipe" on it. He mentioned that he destroyed his minivan just after he paid $700 to have it repaired. His primary care physician has refused to lift the full restriction on his driver's license. Without the latter, my homeless buddy cannot obtain automobile insurance or register the vehicle. Thus, out of frustration, he completely vandalized the minivan and abandoned it.

I was quite taken aback by the drastic remedy invoked by my homeless buddy. Yet, I have seen the same potential for destruction and violence in my own behavior. These are trying times, my friends. As tempted as I am, I will refrain from commenting on the increasingly volatile state of current affairs.

Incidentally, there is now a conspiratorial twist to the fall of the price of gold. Regardless of the true reason, there has been a massive buy-up of gold as a result. So much so that many precious metals dealers have depleted retail stocks. One has to wonder about the economic "recovery" propaganda in empire. By official counts, there are over 100 million "working age" slaves who are unemployed as of now. That's one-third of the entire population of empire (including children, senior citizens, and prison inmates). So, who is actually working?

On a side note, I am now in a quandary about patronizing the Subway® near the Diploma Mill. Almost the entire afternoon staff is comprised of Filipino chicks (term used loosely). Half of them are indifferent and totally ignorant of customer service protocols (unless the customer happens to be Filipino). However, on Tuesday, the one named Rubi accepted my payment, but did not complete my order or even thank me. Rather, the old ho' just walked away to serve another customer in line. I actually had to ask another employee to complete my order. Normally, I just ignore the bad attitudes if my order meets a satisfactory level. However, Rubi crossed the line. I reported the incident on-line. I don't believe that I can patronize that particular franchise in good faith. As I stated, these are trying times.

Technoslavery

My homeless buddy was at the public library when I arrived there late this morning. He had checked out the supposed rental in Palolo Valley. Pathetic story. The 45-year-old chick who rents the whole apartment is recently widowed. Upon inspection of the premises, my homeless buddy discovered a "crack" pipe in a plastic bag hidden behind the microwave oven. "No good," he told me. Even he would not rent the room, no matter how inexpensive.

The HealthTap "app" was not for me. So, I uninstalled it and submitted a request for account deletion. HeathTap has been described as a "social networking" site for doctors and patients. I found that I could glean very little useful information from the collage of feeds and tidbits, most likely because I am an "old fart." I find the resources at the Mayo Clinic site to be more preferable to my tastes.

I don't know why I keep looking for new "apps" to install on the Nexus 7 tablet computer. I must seek to emancipate myself from technoslavery, not embrace it. I have already wasted far too much of my short lifespan with computers. Yeah, I have spent thousands of hours staring at a useless backlit screen. And, for what? I am really glad that I never got hooked by the "smartphone" craze.

Barista

I received my paltry $135 tax refund yesterday. So, while at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala last night, I procured a delicious coffee drink in the café. I only order something from the café when a certain barista, a young hottie, is on duty. She is the only one who makes the tasty beverage perfectly.

Typical Barista Hottie
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was privy to another drunken orgy of stupidity, courtesy Tom and his favorite alcoholic buddy. My evening outings are the only refuge from the latter.

Well, the spot price of gold has plummeted far lower than I expected. There seems to have been an initial suspicious catalyst that caused the subsequent sell-off. Sadly, I have no funds readily available. However, I will remain vigilant. The sell-off will eventually bottom out at a relatively stable price.

I have been looking for useful free "apps" for the Nexus 7 tablet computer. Nothing exciting so far. Most are riddled with advertisements. The only "app" with advertising that I have kept is a video player. I am currently trying out HealthTap on-line. The "app" was not functioning properly. Unfortunately, I had to go against my own policy and set up a new account to use the service. Am I really that bored?

Exiting the Exodus

Same ol' Sunday shit. We knew that already, didn't we? By the way, I have been taking full advantage of all free offers as they come my way. Thus, I receive a free cookie every time I purchase a sandwich. And, I am able to enjoy two free, albeit greasy, tacos with my discounted cup of coffee every morning. I have to complete an on-line survey each time, but it's worth it. Well, hey! I'm an impoverished loser.

I made a somewhat obtuse reference to economic collapse a few days ago. I often refer to a collapse of empire or collapse of the "system." Yet, all forms of collapse are not the same. Previously, I opined that we are already in a state of collapse, a rolling collapse that is absorbing its victims upward from the masses at the bottom. If I haven't mentioned it prior, I must assert that the uppermost "one percent" (i.e., the moneychangers and powers-that-be) will be totally immune from the carnage. Thus, collapse will only have meaning amongst the rank-and-file peons.

With that said, I believe that we (excluding the "one percent") will be brutally victimized by the next economic collapse through yet another systemic banking failure and subsequent depositor confiscation (i.e., "bail-in"), "Obamacare," bursting "bubbles," forced austerity by means of the "sequester" fraud, and the latest currency war. In any case, we can expect to be robbed blind. Hyperinflation will be the least of our problems. So, for the time being, I can only foresee the procurement of gold bullion as a real hedge against catastrophe.

Incidentally, I am not a "prepper" or survivalist. I am not expecting extreme catastrophic failure, essentially a complete collapse of "civilization," just yet. That could happen in due time, but it is unlikely in the early stages. So, I will not be making any reference in the near future to hoarding and storage of food and supplies. Our immediate goal is to circumvent the theft of any wealth that can insure our survival (an important side objective of the exodus).

Subordination

This morning, I was able to pay my mortgage and avoid all penalties. There actually was a branch of the nefarious bank open in Chinatown. So, I subordinated myself to the "system" once again.

I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library. He has a lead for me on a room for rent in an apartment in Palolo Valley. At this point in time, I am more inclined to find a place of my own. Although, any interim alternative to the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing) may be desirable.

Well, even though I am still a slave, there can be no doubt that I am moving further and further away from the "mainstream." Obviously, that's why the "blog" is read by only a handful of people. I have moved away from past topics of global concern to the localized microcosm of my pitiful existence. My goal, however, is not to resort to narcissism.

The global situation, I'm afraid, is totally out of control. We may be able to effect small positive changes, but the latter is negated in the "big picture." There really is only one concept that we are universally concerned about: our death. Hence, our modes of "living" are profoundly inspired by the impending termination of being.

The exodus is (or was) about freedom. "Living" is freedom, and vice versa. I am not a Paleo-fanatic. Thus, I am not advocating that we humans return to a "caveman" life-style. Although, the "caveman" seemingly enjoyed much more freedom than his modern counterparts. And, I am further inclined to assert that, as humans progressively organized their societies, they continually diminished their freedom.

There's no sense in belaboring the point about freedom. I am still nowhere near true emancipation from slavery, which begs the question: Can there truly be an exodus?

Failure Tidbits

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms is being increasingly inconvenienced for her "old fashioned" ways and for being a senior citizen. It's happening to me as well, but the impact is far greater on moms. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Prior to working out at the gym, I stopped by the bank that services the mortgage for the detestable "condotel" unit. I had been there on Monday to provide the date of closing in order to stop the automatic monthly debits in a timely fashion. The botched sale changed everything. Long story short, I came to discover that the automatic payment plan was already terminated. Thus, the mortgage payment for April was not made. Late fees and a blemish on my credit score are my rewards for being diligent. Do you understand why I will now seek freedom at any cost?

Well, the plastic mattress cover is another failure. I didn't realize how well plastic reflects body heat. Since I only have one thin sheet and a blanket, both sufficing as bedding, there is no way to avoid the reflected heat. Thus, I have been experiencing traumatic night sweating. The old sleeping bag, by the way, has been donated to charity. No money, no solution.

The new huge gym bag is an extreme failure. It is too big and, because of its floppiness, is useless. The carrying handles and shoulder strap are wide and constantly get in the way or tangled up, too. The new pair of Vans® shoes are okay, but the gargoyle-like athletic shoes would have been better. No money, no solution.

Lots of paperwork and a few miscellaneous useless possessions remain in the queue for disposal or divestiture. Unfortunately, the botched sale of the detestable "condotel" unit has mummified the entire process, another major failure and stalemate. I could, if I was courageous enough, default on the mortgage immediately. Of course, I would have to redeem all of my investment and retirement accounts into cash within a week. Gold is plummeting in price, so an immediate purchase would be necessary. Has the time to act arrived?

Freedom At Any Cost

Another uneventful day in town. Nothing to report. At the disgusting Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Tom and his buddy, both perpetually sloppy-ass drunk, are still in the process of moving back to the second floor. One has to wonder, why isn't Tom lying in a morgue somewhere?

Typical Safe Hottie
I have been looking at safes on-line, just to get an idea of the size, weight, and cost. We're talking about a safe to lock away fiat money and gold bullion. Yeah, I am now planning the unconventional exodus, one that circumvents the exodus roadmap (refer to the "blog" of March 27th). I am not going to be "taken to the cleaners" again. Neither am I going to lose everything to a bank "bail-in" (i.e., depositor confiscation scheme). Freedom must be pursued now at any cost.

Tom Foolery Redux

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my evening outing last night, I was informed by the resident culinary artist that Tom, the drunkard, is moving back to the second floor. And, a family is apparently moving into the two-bedroom attached unit at the back of the house. Of course, if Tom is moving upstairs, then so is his drinking buddy.

The Slob Manor landlord conveniently neglected to tell any of us about the changes. The resident culinary artist only learned of the new developments through Tom himself. Alan has gone on vacation to spend time in his "McMansion" in Arizona. So, he'll be in for a surprise when he returns. Yeah, we're back to the same intolerable nonsense again. All I could say was, "Goddammit!"

Same ol' shit, with the exception that I restored my extreme monk haircut. I was in a bad way all day because of the latest news concerning the botched sale of the "condotel" unit. Then, the continuing Slob Manor fiasco. Can it get dumber? Sure, the global economy could collapse before I can acquire a cache of gold bullion. Sheesh!

Exodus: Canceled

Same ol' shit. I ran into my homeless buddy at the gym this afternoon, which was unusual. When I checked my e-mail this afternoon, I received a document request for an extension to the closing date for the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit. The new date is May 9th, but I believe the buyer is going to renege at the last minute. There is no reason to extend the closing since it is allegedly a cash sale. The exodus is officially canceled.

My friends, there is no way to exit the "system" through conventional means. The exodus roadmap was entirely conventional and only worked to further lock me into slavery. Thus, I have no choice but to seek out unconventional means. The situation is imperative because next year the "Obamacare" farce will go into effect. In addition, the so-called "sequester" funding cuts will exacerbate and compound the problems for the rank-and-file peons in empire. Then, there is the conundrum of the Fed’s endless "quantitative easing," now at several trillion dollars of mostly dodgy assets. Imagine if the Fed attempted to "unwind" that much in worthless "paper." There is another major economic collapse in the making.

My only contingency plan for escape from the ensuing madness would be a stepped redemption and transfer of all liquid assets (including retirement accounts) in which I take physical possession of the latter. A portion of the cash would be used to purchase and physically store gold bullion. The remaining cash would also be locally stored. All debt obligations would be subject to immediate default. Then, I will disappear into the world of homelessness. Frankly, I see no other way out.

The majority of slaves will remain loyal to the "system" until the unraveling reaches its breaking point. By then, obviously, it will be too late to salvage anything of worth. Societal breakdown would be expedited. Of course, very few slaves believe that collapse of empire is even possible. We are immune because we are "exceptional," they will say. In all honesty, no one will be immune when "the shit hits the fan." More later.

Lollygagging Lamentations

The resident culinary artist, inconsiderate fucktard bastard that he is, woke me up at 5:30am as usual with 30 minutes of banging around in the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) kitchen as he prepared one of his myriad "tastes like shit" concoctions. So, I have adapted, since I obviously cannot go back to sleep. Upon the fool's departure, I performed a few rudimentary chores: while running a load of laundry at 6:15am, I "baked" my sleeping bag in the clothes dryer and fumigated my squalid room.

At one point, though, I became so sickened by the ridiculous bedbug routine that I decided that the sleeping bag would have to go immediately (i.e., mummified). Let's face it, I am wasting far too much time on the damned bedbugs. From now on ... when in doubt, mummify!

Usual Hawa'i Kai visit. My bro embarked on a project to clear the plugged drain in the shower. Within a couple of hours, he had removed a portion of the outside wall and cut through a portion of the concrete foundation. Otherwise, nothing to report.

I procured a plastic mattress cover and borrowed a blanket from moms. So, when I returned to Slob Manor, I rolled up the sleeping bag and threw it in the bed of my truck. I then encapsulated the mattress with the plastic cover. All that remains are a sheet, two pillows, and a blanket.

Anyway, the waiting game continues with more "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic" activities. As one who is intimately acquainted with Ernest Becker's book, "The Denial of Death," I am sure lollygagging away the time.

Bedbugs for Bonzo (Reprise)

The past few days have exemplified the frenetic mindset accompanying the chain of misery which was initiated by the bedbug crisis. The pace and sequence of remedies were compressed to the point of pure absurdity. The proforma exodus schedule did not specify any initiation point prior to the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit (circa April 19th). Hence the confusion and multiple failures.

This morning, I met up with my homeless buddy in town again at the usual spot, the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." He always updates me about the homeless life. Not a pretty picture, I might add. Many of the homeless, even the ones in the Next Step homeless shelter, subsist like wild animals.

Otherwise, same ol' Sunday shit. No air conditioning at the gym, by the way. So, I donated my decrepit gym shoes to the locker room. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! And, I ate an extremely early dinner at my favorite sandwich shop before returning to the disgusting Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

Before embarking upon my evening outing, I discovered three small in-line bites on my right shoulder. Bedbugs! Thus, I will be throwing out stuff and fumigating my squalid room again tomorrow morning. I was immediately cast into an extremely bad mood. So, I purchased a cheap, greasy "value menu" item at the fast food joint adjacent to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Then, I was off to the bookstore, my refuge from the bedbug-infested dump.

Vans® Salvation

This morning, I met up with my homeless buddy in town at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." I passed the big-ass "small" gym bag to him as a gift.

After coffee time, we rode the bus out to Costco® in Iwilei. I looked for the elusive wide-sized shoes. Nada. Then, my homeless buddy bought a big-ass pizza for us to feast upon. We both could not finish the whole thing. I had originally planned to celebrate (term used loosely) the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit with a pizza feast of my own, but I believe that I had my fill of the greasy entrée for at least a year.

Otherwise, same ol' shit. No need for dinner, though. I was still full by late afternoon. The new gym bag is, sadly, an even bigger failure than the last one. It is a "piece of shit." And, it is too huge to maneuver with on the bus. It does not fit properly in the gym locker either. The whole series of substitutions of my useless junk as a result of the bedbug infestation has led to a chain of misery.

My first stop during my evening outing to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala was the Macy's® store. Without hesitation, I purchased a pair of Vans® canvas shoes ($55 not on sale), the very ones that I had been eyeing for months. Although there were no wide sizes available, the shoes were very comfortable.

Originally, my plan was to find a good general purpose pair of shoes that I could wear anytime as well as in the gym. Most of the athletic shoes have become hideous, almost gargoyle-like in design. Ultimately, I wanted to transition from wearing slippers (read: slippahs) all the time to only a couple of days per week at most. Obviously, that would also minimize the amount of time required to grind down the callouses on the soles of my feet with the trusty pumice stone. Well, the Vans® canvas shoes meets the objective perfectly.

Since money was literally flowing like water out of my pocket, I decided to treat myself to an expensive fruit smoothie at the bookstore's café as a dinner substitute. I only have one life to live (with very little remaining time), so I may as well enjoy it while I can. And, I must compensate for the dismal existence at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Molech, have mercy!

Reconnected Ad Nauseam V

Last night, I treated myself to a nice coffee drink while at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I was more than pleased to patronize the establishment since its free wireless Net service had saved the day (i.e., funds electronically transferred to local bank).

Well, as of now, there are two weeks left before the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit is completed. I have not heard otherwise from Debbie, my realtor, so I am assuming that there are no problems. Everything is at a standstill until then.

I am, however, continuing to perform minor divestitures in order to streamline my operation, whatever that means. There's no telling where I will end up after following the exodus roadmap. Incidentally, my homeless buddy has been extremely helpful in providing me with tips to increase my mobility.

I neglected to mention that Shirley had told that she is still interested in purchasing my truck, possibly toward the end of the year. I would be extremely pleased with such an arrangement because it would save me the hassle of selling it in the conventional manner. The conundrum, of course, is whether I would need another vehicle for one reason or another (e.g., homeless mobile home).

Of minor interest, I have been using a small note-taking "app," Google® Keep, to compose the "blog" offline when necessary (e.g., Net disconnection at a certain dump). In two weeks, I will essentially only need the Nexus 7 tablet computer for the "blog" anyway. And, maybe a couple of choice downloaded hurdy-gurdy video clips. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I purchased yet another gym bag at Ross®. It's even bigger than the big-ass "small" gym bag. I give up already! Then, I discovered that the cheap Payless® gym shoes that I purchased as an emergency replacement last year is literally coming apart at the seams. The "piece of shit" will probably not make it through the weekend. I'm running out of money and idiotic expenses keep piling up.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I was asked by Alan to troubleshoot the wireless Net. I had it up and running in a couple of minutes. So, the dump is reconnected again.

I spent the first hour of my evening outing in search of new gym shoes at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) at Kahala. There are only two stores that carry shoes. Neither carried any wide sizes. I know that I am not the only slob with wide feet. What the fuck? Even Payless® carries wide sizes. Sheesh!

That's really the whole problem with being poor and destitute. I must settle for Third-World options. Crappy gym bags. Constricting gym shoes, or ones that fall apart in a few months. I am constantly reminded of my low social status, essentially the slave class. What a joke!

Disconnected Ad Nauseum VIII

The implementation of the cheap reusable shopping bag as a gym bag replacement was, as to be expected, an utter failure. I just have too much stuff, even though the aforementioned stuff can barely fill half of the huge "small" gym bag. I will be giving the huge "small" gym bag to my homeless buddy nonetheless.

There just seems to be no end to the massive stupidity, eh? Every day, something even more stupid happens (e.g., bedbug infestation). My ability to circumnavigate those kinds of problems is apparently quite poor. My solutions, albeit simple, only seem to exacerbate the situation.

Of course, with a pressing need to transfer funds to my local bank (i.e., to make my last mortgage payment), I came to discover that the Net connection at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) was down again. Yeah, disconnected. So, I had to perform the transaction when I was able to connect to the Net at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. As I stated, every day something stupid happens. That's why we spend most of our lives "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." Sheesh!

Bedbug Boondoggle

My homeless buddy arrived rather late at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack" in town. I was just about ready to leave. He had just purchased a can of bedbug pesticide at Longs®. He confirmed that there are bedbugs in the lockers at the gym. He also mentioned that he has actually seen bedbugs attached to the clothing of passengers on the bus. I quickly realized why I am experiencing repeated bedbug infestations.

My homeless buddy also expressed extreme aggravation with the bureaucracy that is handling his request for permanent subsidized housing. He has been on the waiting list for 12 years. When he checked on his status yesterday, he was told that he would have to submit a new application.

My homeless buddy is also fed up with the Next Step homeless shelter. He has tentatively decided to move out. He plans to live out of his minivan, once it has been completely repaired. Of course, I am somewhat interested in that option as well.

I purchased a new pair of board shorts at Ross® and a $1 reusable shopping bag at Long® before working out at the gym. Once I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) late this afternoon, I emptied my new gym bag outside and shook out whatever residue was inside. I then closed it up and put inside the cab of my truck. I will let it bake for a couple of days in the hot sun. That should kill any bedbugs hiding inside. The cheap reusable shopping bag will now suffice as my latest gym bag. Yeah, I will truly look like a homeless guy. Who cares?

I will be replacing my gym shorts with board shorts, since the latter provides less hiding areas for bedbugs. I will be purchasing at least two more pairs of board shorts. I am also planning to replace my cheap gym shoes with a lighter canvas model. The idiotic bedbug situation has really "forced my hand." More remedial action is slated.

From what I can discern, there is a bedbug epidemic, at least on the island of O'ahu. Very little information about the problem is available, which I find suspect. I believe that the poverty of news is deliberate in order to not affect the tourist industry. If people are riding the bus with bedbugs all over them, there must be an epidemic.

Bedbug Bakery Redux

I discovered three small in-line bite marks along my right knee this morning at the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The bedbugs are back! Well, the offspring of the now-deceased bedbugs have apparently spawned a whole new generation of the hideous blood-sucking varmints. Thus, my whole day was spent in preoccupation with my next plan to eradicate the pests. Yeah, more pesticides, more baking of my minimal bedding in the clothes dryer. If the fumigation fails again, I will discard the mattress, box spring, sleeping bag, and pillows at the end of the month.

Only a couple of the myriad bedbug bites have actually healed. The rest have produced hideous scar tissue that form the all-too-familiar pattern of bites. Yes, the scars will be with me for the remainder of my life.

I am now suspecting that I have been inadvertently transporting bedbugs from the lockers in the gym. There are quite a few homeless guys who are members of the gym. Some are there to workout. Others are there for the showers. And, a few of them are residents at the Next Step homeless shelter, which is infested with bedbugs. When they put their stuff in the lockers, the bedbugs probably "jump ship." Of course, anyone could be transporting bedbugs. So, I purchased a can of bedbug pesticide (on sale) at Longs® this afternoon. The shelf stock was dwindling. What does that tell you?

On a side note, I completed select chapters from the book, "The Particle at the End of the Universe: How the Hunt for the Higgs Boson Leads Us to the Edge of a New World," by Sean Carroll while lounging at the public library. Oh, that quantum physics stuff is beginning to give me the willies. Of particular interest is the area of quantum field theory, which apparently was not around when I attended the university. It's quite spooky, even spookier than the current string and m-theory. If I were not so perturbed, I would delineate further. Alas, I'll leave that for another time.

April Fools Day 2013

There's no fool like an old fool. Does the ol' lavahead qualify? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. Lots of chores awaited me when I arrived back at the horrid Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Details unnecessary. I also ran the sleeping bag and pillows in the clothes dryer on high heat in the hope of seeing a few baked bedbugs. No dice.

I am now making small purchases of necessities and utilitarian items with self-sufficiency in mind. Before making any purchase, I ask myself, "Will this enhance or burden my homeless experience?" Although I have not made a commitment to homelessness yet, I have made the latter an important consideration in all of my current decisions.

How about a few tidbits while we play the waiting game? My homeless buddy has acquired another part-time job. He will be working in the afternoon on weekdays. The extra money will allow him to purchase more gadgetry. Of course, he gives most of the stuff away as gifts.

Kevin, the burly homeless guy, is planning to move back to the mainland to be closer to family. He alleges that he comes from a wealthy background, and that he is due for a sizable inheritance. He plans to purchase a large yacht and sail it to the the South of France. If his share of the wealth is not so generous, he will settle for a one-way airplane ticket to Thailand.

The myriad scab-like growths on my deltoids, which I initially believed was skin cancer, are still there. There might be a slight improvement, albeit nearly undetectable. I have been applying the prescribed ointment religiously and exfoliating like crazy. The ointment has been bleaching my shirts, too. Perhaps another visit to the clinic is in order. Okay, eighteen days left in the waiting game.