Scum

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms apparently misplaced my birth certificate, although she had shown it to me about a month ago. It is supposed to be in the same box with all of the family photos and documents. Sad to say, the disposition of the entire archive is now in question. That's our entire family history (on moms' side). Moms is uncertain whether my bro would want to be the curator. That, of course, only leaves me. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, the marathon dragging around of furniture continued unabated. In discussing Tom, the drunkard, with the "chef," I learned about a couple of incidents that occurred during my absence. Apparently, Tom's alcoholic buddy, Pat, is married to a possessive Asian chick. So far, she has come by Slob Manor to forcibly retrieve her good-for-nothing husband at least twice, both of which resulted in near violent altercations with Tom. She obviously blames Tom for everything. So, Pat is not even allowed to visit, at least according to the landlord. However, I am certain that he was here on Wednesday night. In fact, Alan confirmed it.

And, here's the clincher. According to the "chef," the landlord has allowed Tom, the drunkard, to reside at Slob Manor for a significant discount because she feels sorry for him. Apparently, the landlord's ex-husband was also a good-for-nothing drunkard. Never mind that the landlord is simply functioning as an enabler of Tom's alcoholism at the expense of all of the other tenants. Sick, sick, sick.

More sickness. The visiting 16-year-old hyperactive daughter of Tom, the drunkard, stays upstairs day and night like a caged rat. Her shiftless father is likely passed out in an alcoholic stupor. So, the daughter has nothing else better to do except drag the furniture around. Sometimes, they step out briefly to a fast food joint. More than likely, they simply dine in on cheap, frozen meals that scumbag Tom can probably prepare well enough with a microwave oven while inebriated.

My evening outing was extended to 10pm in order to minimize my exposure to the stupidity at the dump. I am now spending between five and ten dollars per evening on dinner and dessert, just to keep myself from collapsing in sorrow. Society is rapidly breaking down into its raw animal components.

By the way, a certain gay homeless guy is an ex-convict. He apparently served time in the State prison at Halawa for theft after being found guilty in a trial-by-jury. I believe that he has also been in and out of the City jail for minor infractions.

Glock 9mm
As you may have guessed, I am now seriously entertaining the idea of acquiring a 9mm semi-automatic weapon. For all intents and purposes, I no longer reside in a society. I am in a concrete and asphalt wilderness with rabid humans running amuck. How long before I am confronted with a true life-or-death situation? How long before any and all of the psychopaths whom I just mentioned will beg me to kill them? How long before my patience runs out and I revert to cleansing the earth of such scum?

Day of Deviance

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night, all was quiet. I decided to see whether Alan had actually reset the wireless router and cable modem properly. Just as I suspected, he did not. So, I went through the usual protocol and confirmed the "handshaking" between the two devices. The Net was operational again.

Morning coffee was ruined by the intrusion of my homeless buddy. He only seeks me out when he needs something. He had just viewed the available apartment in Makiki, but it wasn't a low-income listing. Turns out, it's senior citizen housing. The rent for a one-bedroom unit is $700 per month. My homeless buddy, the con man, wanted me to immediately commit to sharing the apartment. Naturally, I would be included on the lease and be held liable for the rent. When I would not commit, he quickly departed, no doubt to search for another victim. His "game" is getting weak. In the end, my homeless buddy will end up truly homeless and truly penniless.

Then, a senior citizen in a wheelchair kept telling me about how "Jack," the clown who represents the fast food joint that we were patronizing, was extremely rich. Yeah, he was talking about the clown personage as if the latter was the actual owner of the fast food conglomerate.

The situation with a certain gay homeless guy is worsening, just as I expected. The stalking is increasing, but he been making each incident appear ambiguous. So, he was standing at the bus stop this morning when I alighted the bus in town at 9am. Then, he was at the public library. He left with another homeless guy before noon. When he returned, he alighted the bus coincidentally at the very same time and at the same bus stop where I was waiting to transport myself to the gym. He now checks in at the gym at 3:15pm, about the same time that I am usually in the shower. However, I staggered shower time by 15 minutes to thwart any further voyeurism attempts. So, he makes sure that he is either conspicuously roaming the aisles or pretending to work out on a machine along the main aisle.

By the way, stalkers are very mentally ill. They cannot and will not stop their deviant behavior without police intervention. This will not end well.

So, a nice day ruined by a con man and a gay stalker, both homeless, both "gaming the system," both living off of your tax dollars. My evening outing in Kahala was a welcome relief.

Anita Toro
Webcam girl Anita Toro from Colombia has followed in the footsteps of Farrah Abraham. Baby is now a hurdy-gurdy star. And, I can assure you, baby has many talents. Whew!

Anita Toro
Hard to get enough of Colombian hottie Anita Toro, eh? It really makes you wonder why a guy, like a certain gay homeless guy, would prefer "dick," eh? Also why would a guy want to "fudgepack" another guy? Sick, sick, sick.

Monk Behaving Badly

Last night, I loitered at the bookstore at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala until 9:30pm. That's over an hour later than usual, just to avoid the insanity of the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Of course, I was able to complete all of my Net-related activities (e.g., the "blog," e-mail, etc.) in a leisurely fashion.

Oddly, when I finally arrived back at the dump, no lights were on. All was quiet. With no Net connection, no one had any reason to stay awake and make all kinds of noise. I am sure that Alan had persuaded the other residents that the problem rests with the cable service provider. Of course, I know better. Let them all wait for a few days until a technician is available to troubleshoot the problem. Yeah, a simple reset of the hardware and a $100 service bill for the landlord. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Usual routine again, although only minimal contact with the homeless. A certain gay homeless guy seems to be keeping his distance. A wise move on his part. My homeless buddy will be checking out an available low-income rental tomorrow morning. So, he may be exiting the homeless shelter soon.

A sudden downpour in town nearly left me stranded there this afternoon. I managed to board the appropriate bus with minimal exposure to the rain. And, of course, still no Net connection back at the dump, or so I was told. No surprise, the hyperactive teenage daughter of Tom, the drunkard, was dragging around the furniture above my squalid room for about an hour until I finally departed again on my evening outing.

Just as I was leaving the dump, Alan informed me that he had called the landlord on my behalf. I had erupted in rage just a few minutes earlier. Even the "chef" was sympathetic. In fact, he urged me to call the landlord, even offering the use of his phone, because reasoning with Tom, the drunkard, had proven fruitless time and again. Anyway, Alan explained the situation to the landlord. I will follow up with a written note to the landlord.

While riding the bus to Kahala, I had time to reflect on my own foolishness concerning my dealings with the other Slob Manor residents (and people in general). In my quest to become socially autonomous (read: a hermit), I became extremely intolerant and obstinate, call it self-righteousness ... in other words, I became a dickhead myself. My huge financial loss and the potential gay homeless stalker only exacerbated my misanthropy, but they are simply excuses for bad behavior in the end.

I am not altogether certain that my misanthropy can be cured. I have dealt with so much stupidity and treachery that I have become completely cynical when dealing with people. Do I really need other people for anything? That's the burning question.

Immediate Concerns

The daily routine was uneventful until after I completed my workout at the gym. When I walked into the locker room, I noticed a stack of shirts lying on the bench facing the row of lockers where I usually stow my stuff. I recognized the shirts immediately, the owner being a certain gay homeless guy. After my shower, I noticed the stack of shirts was replaced by a large black gym bag, the owner being a certain homeless guy. Oddly, the buffoon was nowhere in sight. He was also at the public library this morning, but he located himself way in the back somewhere, according to my homeless buddy. Strange behavior? No doubt.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the Net was disconnected yet again. I did not bother to assist in the matter as Alan said that he had reset both the wireless router and cable modem. I am certain that he did not reset the equipment properly. Maybe someone else will figure it out. Tom, the drunkard, has his hyperactive 16-year-old daughter visiting yet again. That means endless hours of dropping heavy objects and dragging furniture around right above my squalid room. I'd like to strangle both of them.

Well, after a moment of clarity, I decided to destroy some of my tax-related documents. Why do I need to archive them when it has been clearly stated that the data was electronically transmitted to the IRS? Thus, only select items pertaining to the "condotel" unit will be kept, if even that.

My time at Slob Manor needs to come to an end. Yet, I keep procrastinating. Why don't I brush up on fibbing and get myself admitted to a homeless shelter immediately? I am wasting far too much time and money, only to end up frustrated.

Moms recently mentioned something about living to be 100 years old. That's not an impossibility. I have observed that moms has changed very little in the last twenty years. One would be hard-pressed to believe that moms is any older than 70 years rather than being 91-years-old. There is just no way that I can survive another nine years at the dump. I am not implying that I want moms to pass on soon. However, the current situation cannot continue much longer.

No Time For Holidays IX

Holiday? No time. I finally gave my Nissan® Fontier truck a much needed washing early this morning. The truck is the last of my costly possessions. Thus, I am obligated (read: enslaved) to maintain it. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.

I previously disparaged the Nexus 7 tablet computer, but it is actually an ideal device for me. Since I am weaning myself of technology, I can make do with a mediocre device. Aside from the "blog" and occasional financial transactions, I don't need any kind of computer. News and current affairs reporting is too tainted for me to take seriously. Entertainment has become too vain. I can do without it. Games? Forget about it. So, what's left?

My grief over the recent and tiresome financial loss has finally been mummified. I am "picking up the pieces" and moving on. We're entering pure Ernest Becker territory now. Of course, there's still a lot of ambient noise (i.e., deck chairs on the Titanic) to deal with. The noise must be filtered and the true task of experiencing freedom (what is possible) must remain at the forefront. With that said, I ordered a big-ass smoothie from the fast food joint in Kahala at the start of my evening outing, and I enjoyed it to the last drop.

Geriatrics & Farrah

Back to the usual Sunday routine ... morning coffee at the coffee shop next to the gym in town, workout at the gym with no sighting of a certain gay homeless guy, ride the bus (full of obese Micronesians and "kooks") back to Slob Manor (read: rental: housing) ... who could ask for more?

Dinner and dessert was courtesy the fast food joint in Kahala at the start of the evening outing. Yeah, greasy "value menu" junk. After recently reading that chicken (organic included) may be saturated with detectable levels of arsenic, I "threw in the towel." Why even bother to try to eat healthy?

Farrah Abraham
How about that Farrah Abraham, eh? What a hottie! Baby was formerly featured in the MTV® "Teen Mom" series. Well, she has graduated to a whole new level of stardom.

"Farrah Superstar" DVD Cover
Baby is now a hurdy-gurdy star. Have you seen the video yet? Baby is so hot! Man, that's enough to bring the geriatric Vienna Sausage back to life. Sheesh!

Of Senility & Stalking

Long holiday weekend, but no time for holidays. Coffee time this morning was at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Oddly, I happened to observe a certain gay homeless guy sitting in the "New Age" section. What was he doing there? Coincidence?

Typical Holiday Hottie
Then, my Nissan® truck and were off to Kalihi for a complimentary oil change (usually $50), courtesy the Nissan® dealership. Driving is becoming a harrowing experience for me. The lanes are extremely narrow and I concentrate mainly on navigating around the huge potholes or poorly filled ones. Other drivers are recklessly swerving in and out of various lanes, and I can barely avoid them. I am now a hapless senior citizen who should surrender his driver's license immediately.

I arrived an hour earlier than my appointment, but the work was done immediately. I ended up at the dreadful Ala Moana Center way before noon. I found shaded parking easily. While walking to the bus stop, I tripped over an unpainted bolt-on speed bump. After tumbling around on the asphalt a few times, I noticed that there were a few scrapes, abrasions, and bruises. As I stated, I am a hapless senior citizen.

I rode the bus to town just to workout at the gym. At about 2pm, a certain gay homeless guy arrived, just like clockwork. Fortunately, my workout was nearly complete as I was ahead of schedule. I quickly showered and departed. I ended up back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 4pm.

One odd characteristic of old fudgepackers is their skewed sense of their attractiveness. They love to show off their physiques, whether worthy of display or not. For example, a certain gay homeless guy always wears tight tank tops and extremely short, tight shorts. The shorts are a giveaway since nearly all non-fudgepackin' guys wear baggy shorts that cover their kneecaps nowadays.

Well, my evening outing was the best part of the day. Another great sandwich for dinner. I purchased a smoothie at the fast food joint in Kahala. Expensive, but I also used it to I've down the swelling on the back of my thumb (another injury from earlier). Then, back to the bookstore in the den of consumerism. That's today's tale of "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

Complete Waste of Time

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My nephew has now graduated to the ranks of wage slavery with his very first job. Otherwise, nothing to report.

The latest Android® regressions on the Nexus 7 tablet computer nearly forced me to relinquish the "blog." The Blogger® "app" was useless. I quickly mummified it. I also investigated whether I could substitute Google+ for the "blog" as part of an exit strategy. What a sad joke! Well, what did I expect? It's a social network, for Molech's sake. Sheesh!

So, I finally came up with a simple solution to circumvent the regressions. Conclusion? Avoid Android® devices completely. They are cheap, fragmented, of poor quality, and quickly outdated. Android® itself is bloated, laggy, and totally out of control. Sad to say, the Apple® iPad is the best and only option.

Oh, I don't know. The Nexus 7 suits my needs, I suppose. It is my transition out of technoslavery. The device was supposed to suffice until I mummified the "blog" and terminated my on-line accounts. What am I waiting for?

Many More Regressions

Again, nothing to report. My homeless buddy and I are apparently back on good terms. I informed him about the antics of a certain gay homeless guy. I happened to run into Mark on the bus this afternoon. We chatted for the duration of the trip in true senior citizen fashion.

Jodi Arias
The jury for the Jodi Arias trial could not decide unanimously on the verdict during the penalty phase, which means that the trial will be reinstated with an entirely new jury. I am not surprised as there has been more than reasonable doubt concerning what had actually transpired on that fateful day. Am I siding with baby? Not really. As my buddy, Bud, warned me many moons ago, "[Babes] are dangerous. Stay away from them."

Well, every new update for the Nexus 7 tablet computer causes more and more regressions. This time, the Chrome browser was severely affected. In fact, it is barely functional with the Blogger® site. What a joke! So, I installed the Blogger® "app." Very pathetic. So, let's call it a day now, shall we?

Paper Slave

Nothing to report, except extreme monk haircut restoration. No incidents either as a certain gay homeless guy kept his distance. Let's hope that he "fades into the woodwork." I really enjoyed dinner during my evening either, by the way. That was the highlight of the day.

Typical "Paperless" Hottie
With the divestiture of useless possessions completed, I am now looking toward reducing the backlog of paperwork. Enslavement to paperwork was not listed as an emancipation objective in the exodus roadmap (refer to the "blog" of March 27th), obviously a foolish oversight.

I have moved the small decrepit end table and desk lamp out of my tomb ... errr, squalid room ... at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). All of daily necessities and consumables have been laid out in the staging area (i.e., decrepit desk). My tattered everyday clothes are lying on the chair adjacent to the staging area. What exactly is the purpose of the ridiculous folly? More "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic"?

I am also reconsidering the homeless option. With the upcoming closure of the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, there is no diversion remaining to ease the pain of living in a dungy mausoleum with moronic cadavers. The thought of spending any more time in my tomb ... well, I may as well be dead. Sheesh!

Quantum Reduction

I am not a Pauline-Christian, Islamist, Hindi, Confucianist, Buddhist, or "New Age" convert. I am a quantum physicist. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! If you skimmed through the diatribe of yesterday, you will have gleaned one important piece of information: the entire universe is not real. Rather it is a "virtual reality."

Subatomic "particles" are "virtual" constituents that, when coalesced and congealed into atomic structures, produce all matter and non-matter. If the "particles" are aberrations or vibrations in an omnipresent field, then it is not real. If the subatomic constituents are not real, then anything constructed with them (i.e., atoms) cannot be real.

What do I mean by "real"? Something tangible. Something solid. A basic "building block" that cannot be reduced any further. Is there anything tangible about field quanta?

Back to "reality." I chatted with my homeless buddy this morning at the public library. Yes, I assume that we're buddies again. He has just completed eye surgery on both eyes over a two week spam for cataracts. He now claims that he can see well without glasses. Then, lunch with Shirley. Delicious greasy pizza was in order to celebrate the huge financial associated with the sale of the "condotel" unit. No contact with a certain gay homeless guy. I also followed up on my last discussion with the gym manager this afternoon.

Dinner was at the fast food joint in Kahala at the beginning of my evening outing. I was able to enjoy a delicious smoothie for only a dollar. What a deal! Why not enjoy "virtual reality" for what it is, eh?

Quantum Disillusionment

I had previously mentioned that I wanted to discuss the ramifications of the Higgs boson in detail, but I now have second thoughts. What's the point? The real topic is reality, or rather, our perception of reality. A while back, I described the mind-boggling construct of atoms. That is, atoms are almost entirely free space. What we perceive to be rather solid matter is simply a bunch of "particles" floating around in free space at the atomic level.

Quantum physics is yet another mind-boggling subject that is sure to test one's ability to define reality. What's worse, though, is quantum field theory (QFT). I only happened to step into the quagmire while I was casually reading about the Higgs boson.

Typical Quantum Field Hotties
First, we should at least state that the Higgs boson is the mystery subatomic "particle" that is supposed give other subatomic "particles" the characteristic of mass. Yeah, that's right, other subatomic "particle" would be massless according to the Standard Model.

The real eerie revelation is that the Higgs boson exists in something called the Higgs field. It is a small aberration or vibration in the field. That quickly brings us to QFT. What we formerly called "particles" are, according to QFT, in actuality, small aberrations or vibrations within different fields. Thus, "particles" are not even physical entities by our definition. That obviously explains why "particles" exist perpetually. They draw energy from their respective fields. Heck, even gravity may be the result of a graviton "particle."

If "particles" are not physical entities, then electrons, protons, neutrons, and so forth, are not physical entities either. Did you get that? Everything that we see is constructed of different types of aberrations or vibrations in operating within various concurrent omnipresent fields. Therefore, nothing actually exists, at least not in the form that we like to define existence.

My summaries may be too generalized or oversimplified, but I am certain that you can grasp the gist of it. Now, imagine our entire universe, our solar system, our planet and the lifeforms that reside on its surface. Can you even fathom the resulting cognitive dissonance?

Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My bro apparently spent some time divesting a lot of useless possessions over the weekend. Strange things. Nothing else to report.

On a side note, the latest rumor is that the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala will be replaced with a Ross® store. My stomach churns at the thought. Of course, I'll be able take advantage of the senior citizen discount every Tuesday. No consolation, eh?

Micro-Hoarding: Mummified

Same ol' Sunday shit, but no complications from any annoying personalities. Sadly, when I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I was privy to listen to another orgy of cheap booze upstairs, courtesy Tom, the drunkard. Thank goodness for my evening outings!

I am attempting to enjoy life now, for what it's worth. I spend more money than previously, albeit not much more, mostly on food. I eat dinner out every night, although I am not frequenting any fine restaurants. I am still somewhat careful about what food I eat, but I no longer subscribe to health fanaticism.

I don't spend money on much else anymore. I don't need nice clothes or fancy gadgets. Actually, I find that I need nothing. The new small luggage bag is only half full, if that's an indication. Clothes and consumables are lying out in the open. I will use them up with no intention of replacing anything except on a "just-in-time" (JIT) basis.

Typical Micro-Hoarding Hottie
With that said, the divestiture stalemate has ended. In one stroke (i.e., donation to charity), I cleared the staging area, that is, the decrepit desk in my squalid room. My problem is that, as I stated before, I am a micro-hoarder. Seems to run in the family. My bro and sister-in-law are general purpose hoarders, whereas moms is to a lesser degree. We purchase things and never use them. The crap piles up and takes up space. Of course, as a micro-hoarder, I only have a handful of items that have never been used or have been stored for ages. Now, they are all gone. Even my beloved yo-yo. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Downsizing Dead End (Reprise)

At the public library this morning, I discussed the odd situation concerning a certain gay homeless guy with one of the security staff. Turns out, the situation is not that odd. Apparently, the strange behavior of Kevin, the burly homeless guy, is not unknown to everyone. In fact, Kevin attempted to "hook up" with one of the male security guards. I was told that Kevin tends to be more "friendly" when he is inebriated on cheap booze. "He's probably pretty lonely," was the general assessment offered. I will be clarifying the situation with Dayna, the gym manager, as soon as possible.

I did not see either my homeless (former) buddy or a certain gay homeless guy, which made for a more satisfying day. Thus, I followed my usual routine without any annoyances. Thank goodness.

The upcoming closure of the bookstore at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala is now a real "thorn in my side." And, the event may determine the ultimate course of the exodus. The bookstore is my evening safe haven. Loitering in the main part of the mall is no substitute. What will I do?

Well, I am now moving forward with the divestiture of my remaining useless possessions in an expedited fashion. There's nothing worthy of keeping. And, I seriously need to entertain the idea of moving out of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) soon, even if it means that I must become homeless.

I'll be honest, though. I have had difficulty parting with a few ridiculously worthless crap. I am too embarrassed to list them. There's not even any sentimental value. Perhaps I am just as mentally ill as some of the homeless.

Life in a Mausoleum

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. At least I was given a reprieve from the homeless "reality show." Sheesh!

Typical Bookstore Hottie
Well, the Barnes & Noble® bookstore in Kahala Mall is slated to be closed by the end of the year. There are numerous rumors concerning the closure, so the real facts are just not available right now. Obviously, I can now understand why the employees did not seem too happy starting about a week ago. Heck, I'm not happy about the closure either.

So, what will I do when the bookstore shuts down for good? I don't know. There will be no other "hangouts," that is, unless I want to pay for overpriced desserts or beverages. I am not prepared to spend $10 and up every evening just to loiter somewhere. I am totally flabbergasted.

I suppose that I could purchase a huge LCD widescreen tube and place it on the decrepit desk in my squalid room in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) like some kind of pathetic shrine. Then, I could worship it all night long along with all the other zombies of empire. Yeah, life in a mausoleum.

On a side note, is anyone actually realizing huge capital gains in the current stock market (fake) rally? I have checked some net asset values (NAVs) of select mutual funds and have observed that NAVs are no higher than the peak of the last "bubble." I can only assume that holders of actual equities are getting wealthier. The rest are simply making up for the last loss. Bonds appear to be in stasis. And, gold is dropping in value. What are we to make of that?

Psychotic Homeless Stalker

When I alighted the bus in town this morning, the first person whom I happened to see was Kevin, the burly homeless guy, as he was crossing the street. He was also at the public library, although he kept his distance.

Then, Kevin appeared at the gym, "coincidentally" at the same time that I was there. The "coincidence" has been regular for a couple of months now, although he always kept his distance. This afternoon, he just happened to be working out right in front of me. Coincidence? When I moved on, he commenced walking around and hovering in my vicinity. Oddly, he was already taking a shower when I went in for my shower. Coincidence? He seemed to be waiting (for what?). As I commenced washing, he walked out to the sink area. When I turned to rinse off my back, I could see his reflection in the mirror of the sink area. He was standing in the only section that was not blocked by a wall. If I could see him, then ... That, of course, was the "final straw." I moved to another shower stall and quickly washed up.

When I walked back to the lockers, Kevin was gone. Or, so I thought. After hastily dressing and making my way to the main staircase, I saw Kevin standing to the side waiting (for what?). I ignored him and walked upstairs. At the front desk, I asked to speak with the manager. Kevin walked by, exited, and sat outside, apparently waiting (for what?).

I detailed the situation to Dayna, the club manager. I also mentioned the various odd things that Kevin has said (which essentially were just veiled forms of stating that he wants some "dick"). I have been advised that I must confront Kevin first and indicate to him that he has crossed the line. Then, he must be told to "cease and desist" his perverted behavior. Otherwise, there won't be any legal recourse. I will do so, and also inform the public library's security staff.

I also briefly chatted with my homeless (former) buddy. The conversation was awkward. However, I am not too concerned. Instead, I will keep my distance, not that he has caused me any duress (unlike a certain gay homeless guy). I don't need any more problems from the homeless.

Sad to say, the recent idiotic events have served to distract me and waste a lot of time. I have more important issues to contend with than, say, a certain gay homeless guy's lack of "dick control."

Secular End Times?

Well, I spoke too soon. Kevin, the burly homeless guy, has crossed the line into what appears to be stalking behavior. I'm not certain about whether he is bisexual or completely gay. However, it's clear that he wants some "dick" (i.e., Vienna Sausage). He's also got that crazed "fudgepacker" look now, an indication that he has loss all sense of "dick control." These perverted mofos, like Ariel Castro, are terrorizing the public, which is accelerating the empire's descent into a totally militarized police state.

As I have stated on numerous occasions, as a society, we're too far gone. The "inner animal" can no longer be sublimated. Raw animal forces are being unleashed. "Dick control" has faded into foggy history. Can you imagine sucking a big slob's "cock" (read: "dick")? Or vice versa? Or, how about his "cock" up your ass (i.e., rectum)? Sickening, isn't it? Yet, these perverted mofos salivate at the thought of perpetrating such acts on non-consenting victims.

My homeless (former) buddy is still keeping his distance. No longer am I disturbed during my sacred morning coffee ritual. No longer do I have to second guess his real motives. I am unaffected by his sleazy activities as I have only considered him an acquaintance at best.

My daily observations have indicated that people, at least in empire, are extremely needy. Their relationships with other people are demanding, with extremely high expectations and implicit obligations. People become objects. And, objects are meant to be owned. That, of course, is the main indicator of societal collapse. Friends, there's no need to wait. The end is here.

Grief & Resignation

Same ol' shit, less any contact with the homeless. I neglected to mention that I became wary of my homeless buddy's intentions a couple of weeks ago. My suspicions were really aroused when he told me, "I'm a very good liar." I began to notice that he could not keep track of his own lies. His stories kept changing. He is, in effect, an amateur con man. His main objective is to lock people into an unwitting barter contract with him. The idea is to scale up the value of the reciprocation. When I did not reciprocate to his expectations, he made himself scarce.

As for Kevin, the burly homeless guy, he is simply looking for a male "companion." Odd, considering that he was once married and has a daughter from that marriage. Of course, in his interactions with other homeless, he is in full barter mode as well. I can't say that I entirely blame the homeless for their fraudulent behavior. The "system" itself promotes it.

I really don't need to barter for any goods or services. Nor do I want favors. I don't require a "sounding board," nor do I desire to serve as one. And, I am definitely not in need of friendship or companionship. I remain autonomous.

I ran into Ann this afternoon when I was walking to the gym. She's still employed. She also found an attached studio for rent in Hawai'i Kai at $1,050 per month. Ouch! She will be moving in this weekend. We chatted about a few topics of mutual interest. Nothing worthy of mention.

Well, I am still going through a few stages of grief since the sale of the "condotel" unit and the resultant $52,000 loss. Disbelief (or denial) was brief since the entire transaction consisted of "paper shuffling." Had I still been residing in the unit, then extended disbelief may have occurred. I'm in the anger stage now, which has been drawn out because my hand was essentially forced. I look forward to the next stage, acceptance or resignation. That's when I can move on and cast the whole affair to distant memory.

Downsizing Dead End

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I browsed Ross® while moms was at the bank. I found and purchased a small carry-on piece of luggage for $18 to replace the big-ass small gym bag that is currently holding all of my worldly possessions. Turns out, it is only a couple of inches less in width than the big-ass small gym bag. Otherwise, same height, same length. Yeah, I am wasting a lot of time and money on my maniacal drive to downsize.

Obviously, not everything could fit in the new carry-on bag. So, I will be forced to divest the excess. That's called "forced downsizing." I have set up the decrepit desk in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) as a staging area for outgoing junk.

Although I dropped off moms' donation this evening at the charity drop box at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, I did not donate the big-ass small gym bag or anything else. Strange things, eh? Not to worry, though. We'll be streamlined and ready for homelessness ... oops!

Olivia Sprauer: Bikini Hottie
Lots of nonsense transpiring in empire: shootings at a parade in New Orleans, a high school kid arrested for posting home-brewed rap lyrics on a social networking site, a high school English teacher Olivia Sprauer fired for bikini modeling ... everything's "going to hell in a hand basket." Of course, I no longer offer commentary on such matters. We're already past the point of no return. So, let's sit back and watch the "shit hit the fan," shall we?

Frugality

So far, nothing has changed. The daily itinerary remains stagnant. Same ol' shit, except for Monday and Friday (usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Then, every three weeks, usually on Wednesday, I restore my extreme monk haircut. Of course, every evening, I make the trek to Kahala for dinner, dessert, and loitering fun. That's essentially what entails "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

The routine is unlikely to change while I continue to reside in Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Yet, even if I were to move into another rental situation, I cannot see myself spending more time in a mausoleum-like environment. And, I cannot find justification to find a place of my own to rent. Too much money for nothing.

The exodus thus far has produced little satisfaction. I am still a partial member of the "ownership society," and I am still enslaved by the "system." So, the on-going anxiety has not abated. Worst still, I have reduced my life to a single cash value. Call it "net worth" or whatever, but I have nothing else to my name now except for fiat money.

Typical Frugal Hottie
I don't really desire any new or extravagant possessions. I am an "old fart." What enjoyment could I derive from stuff designed for young people? Right now, I only spend money on food. And, even then, we're talking frugal. What then is the point of living in a totally consumerist society? I don't really know.

Money and possessions ... is that all there is to living? That's why greed and corruption are rampant. Nothing is free. All that's certain, as the old cliché goes, is death and taxes. The sad part is that no true enjoyment of life can be found without the extreme wealth privy to the "one percent." The rest of us are doomed to a penny's worth of value for a dollar's wage from enslavement.

So, as I inch toward freedom via the exodus, I find that there's nothing for me to do. There's nothing worthy that I can afford. There's no place to go. A pauper's freedom is really imprisonment.

Talk is Cheap

An uneventful day. Same routine, but I went out of my way to avoid any contact with any homeless acquaintances. What is there to discuss with them, or anyone else for that matter? It's always the same petty "bullshit." Right now, I need a lot of solitary time to clear my head. I have made a major move outside of the so-called "mainstream" at considerable cost.

Talk is cheap, as the old adage goes. What everyone seems to talk about is essentially about how they are "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." Useless, meaningless, trivial, and banal. Why don't they just talk to the voice assistant on their crappy "smartphones"?

I'll just briefly mention that I have had my suspicions about the motives of my homeless contacts. No details necessary. Keeping my distance is the best solution.

Well, the fate of the "blog" is still unknown. I have already been reduced to useless banter. And, as we already know, talk is cheap. A decision will come soon.

On a side note, I have commenced a complete divestiture program. I am now planning to rid myself of nearly everything. My goal is to reduce my worldly possessions to the equivalent volume of a small shoebox.

Castro Castration

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. My stress level has yet to subside. I suppose that the full effect of debt slave emancipation has not taken hold yet. It's going to take a few more days of psychological adjustment.

I ate the last of the big-ass pizza prior to departing on my evening outing. To wind down the pathetic emancipation celebration, I procured an ice cream cone at the fast food joint in Kahala. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

I made a rough calculation of my net worth, which comes to $460,000 and some change. Mostly liquid assets, but also includes my Nissan® Frontier truck, the excess equity from the sale of the "condotel" unit, and the residual rental income from the unit. Yeah, I am a poverty-stricken fool. Oh well.

Reviewing the exodus roadmap (refer to the "blog" of March 27th), I can also claim to be free of credit score incarceration. My credit score will suffer anyway because I am not a wage slave, have no income, and have no outstanding loans. Who cares? I am done with credit crap, except for my one-and-only credit card.

Ariel "Hog" Castro
The more I read about that scumbag pervert, Ariel Castro, the more riled I get. Look at that sniveling weasel. Somebody take the greasy mofo outside and "fuck him up real good" already. As I stated the other day, blow his "dick" and "nuts" off with a 9mm pistol. Heck, I'll do it for free. Anyway, when he ends up in prison, some of the other convicts will make him repeatedly "squeal like a pig," if you know what I mean. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Emancipation Proclamation Redux

A very uneventful day considering that I have been emancipated from debt slavery, finally divested the "condotel" unit, made significant progress in exiting the "ownership society," and incurred a $52,000 loss at the same time. I have heard nothing else about the "condotel" unit, so I am assuming that it has been successfully transferred to its new owner. The wait is officially over. I am now completely debt-free.

Same ol' shit. Again, no interaction with any homeless contacts. I was actually able to realize a moment of clarity while I sat in the inner courtyard of the public library. I ran into Kevin, the burly homeless guy, at the gym. We only exchanged greetings. Later, I had a few encounters with stupid or clueless people, but details are not necessary.

Same ol' evening outing. More encounters with stupidity, but enjoyable anyway. I will be destroying the remaining "condotel" documents (except tax-related ones) later in the evening. During my moment of clarity earlier, I realized that I have to whittle my useless possessions down to nothing. Divestiture will be in full swing.

On a side note, my desire to acquire a 9mm semi-automatic weapon has been quelled by the myriad required paperwork. Fingerprint records will also be required. The paper trail would be well beyond my comfort level. It would be more prudent to seek out a "black market" source.

Guilty!

"Death is the ultimate freedom." -- Jodi Arias

Slight detour this morning because I had to stop off at my insurance provider and terminate the property insurance for the "condotel" unit. Exodus on schedule.

So, coffee time at the fast fast joint represented by a clown named "Jack" in town was also late. I caught a preview of the verdict in the infamous Jodi Arias trial on the tube above the ordering counter. Later, I dropped off my gym bag at the gym. I was able to view the actual verdict on the LCD tube in the locker room.

Then, I was off to the public library. Absolutely no contact with any of the homeless again, even though the place was jam-packed with them. Even the homeless have disassociated from the ol' lavahead. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Rest of the day? Same ol' shit. My evening outing, however, was very enjoyable.

Jodi Arias
So, Jodi Arias has been found guilty of first-degree murder. Sentencing occurs in a few days. I am still not convinced of any premeditation on baby's part. She would have had plenty of time to check whether Arizona has a death penalty in murder cases. That should have been a deterrent. She would have also had time to meticulously plan the crime. As it stands, the crime scene screamed, "Crime of passion!" Subsequent events appeared to be haphazard and frantic reactions at best.

As for that scumbag, Ariel Castro (who kidnapped, raped, and imprisoned three teenage girls in his ghetto home for ten years), he's guilty. No trial necessary. Just take him outside and blow his "dick" (i.e., Vienna Sausage) and "nuts" (i.e., gonads) off with a 9mm semi-automatic weapon. Sheesh!

Exodus: On Schedule

Sleep deprivation continues to be an on-going issue at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Last night, the Chinaman house next door hosted another party commencing at 10pm, just when I wanted to go to sleep. By midnight, the party was in full swing with everyone yelling in Chinkspeak. I had no choice but to remain awake. Even with earplugs rated at 29db of noise suppression, I could hear the drunken fools loud and clear. Every slurred word, even though I could not comprehend any of it, was clearly distinguishable. The party, which ended at 1am, may as well have been in my squalid room. Fucking Chinks!

The night before, the chick who lives in the attached studio returned with her new boytoy at 2:30am, talking quite loudly. I was obviously awakened and couldn't get back to sleep. I only have a brief window of sleep since the "chef" wakes me up every weekday morning at 5:30am with the noise he makes in the kitchen.

Same ol' shit, although no contact with the homeless. My homeless buddy was at the public library, but he kept his distance. Strange things. I'm not complaining, mind you. As I stated previously, I am not in the market for friendships of any kind. Friendships cause too many problems, probably because most people often mistake the latter for ownership.

I ate leftover cold pizza for dinner before embarking on my evening outing. An ice cream cone from the fast food joint in Kahala was in order. I felt really bloated after that. The pizza was probably expanding in my stomach. Sheesh!

E-mail notification arrived this afternoon stating that the buyer's funds were received in escrow. Closing for the detestable "condotel" unit is right on schedule for May 9th. I suppose that procuring the greasy pizza could be considered an early celebration of the end of my debt slavery. Molech knows, I paid $52,000 for my freedom. Anyway, I will be returning to a healthier diet as early as Friday.

My priority right now is to deal with all aspects of the "condotel" unit divestiture. When that is completed, then I will return to the general issues of the exodus. No decision on the disposition of the "blog" yet. We will continue to plod along until then.

Bare Necessities

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. A very hot and humid day, though. After my workout in the extremely stuffy gym, I felt like my head was ready to explode from the heat. So, I gave in to temptation and purchased a big-ass Icee® beverage. Was that ever good!

Feeling empowered, I then stopped off at Costco® and procured a big-ass greasy pizza. Yeah, I'm on a junk food roll! Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan was pretty impressed with the huge $10 pizza. I ended up devouring three slices because I couldn't help myself. I also procured an I've cream cone at the fast food joint in Kahala at the beginning of my evening outing. I was, of course, completely stuffed. I haven't eaten like a slob in a long time. Sheesh!

Typical "Bare Necessities" Hottie
I've been thinking real hard (hard to imagine, eh?) about what needs to be purchased or acquired soon. We're talking about bare necessities here. My current list includes:

• Gold bullion ($25,000 up)
• 9mm semi-automatic weapon ($500)
• Passport ($60)

Well, what do you think? Impressive, eh?

I have also been thinking in terms of homelessness. Thus, I am inclined to believe that I need even less possessions than what is currently stuffed in a small gym bag. There should be no need for rental storage. Obviously, if I were to purchase the aforementioned bare necessities, I would need secure storage. That's the conundrum. What exactly is a necessity?

One More Week

An attempt to revise the same ol' Sunday shit was aborted. Heavy rain offered an opportunity to detour to Ala Moana Center this morning. However, at the café in the bookstore, people (term used loosely) were scurrying around like roaches in an attempt to reserve tables and procure cups of coffee ahead of everyone else. Not at all conducive to relaxation. Instead, I visited the coffee shop downtown before working out at the gym. Fortunately, I did not run into any of the usual homeless contacts.

Arrival at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) was at 3pm. To my surprise, absolutely no commotion was detected. I piddled around peacefully until the usual departure time for my evening outing. Dinner (i.e., three "value menu" items) was courtesy the fast food joint in Kahala. Yeah, I have been eating a lot of junk food lately. No dessert. Then, I was off to the bookstore.

Well, we're still waiting. Krunk! Another week to go before the detestable "condotel" unit fades into distant memory, that is, if the buyer remembers to wire transfer the funds to escrow in time. Truthfully, I am getting a little antsy. I want the transaction to be done already. I want to realize the huge financial loss and move on, which is probably why I have felt the urge to dump all of my remaining worldly possessions in the trash can.

I am also in immediate want of lessening my dependence on the tablet computer and the Net. Once the detestable "condotel" unit is forgotten, I won't have a pressing need for either. I will have fewer on-line money transactions, which only leaves the "blog" and the ridiculous hurdy-gurdy video downloads. The "blog" can obviously be voluntarily curbed. How about the hurdy-gurdy videos? Heck, the Vienna Sausage is already barely functional. So, why are occasional downloads still occurring? Why won't the Vienna Sausage just "peter out" already? Die, Vienna Sausage, die!

Clarity Restored

Same ol' shit, but I was able to enjoy a fairly quiet day in town. Absolutely none of the homeless chatted with me. I don't mind being acquaintances with people (homeless included), but friendship is out of the question. Well, at least I was actually able to attain clarity again.

I discussed the shady side of homelessness the other day, but the homeless perpetrators of petty fraud are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The moneychangers and powers-that-be have done much more damage. Yeah, everyone is "gaming the system." Frankly, I am sickened by it. I doubt that there is any place on the planet that is free of human corruption and greed.

Lots of stupidity in current events lately. Some people may construe the latter as real, others may perceive a conspiracy of sorts. I don't care anymore. I am too old to care about matters that are entirely in the hands of the moneychangers and powers-that-be. I am simply trying to survive by avoiding been robbed blind by the aforementioned mofos.

Jodi Arias
The Jodi Arias trial is now in the jury deliberation stage. I have not really been following the case, but it has certainly achieved a very popular tabloid-style appeal. From what little that I have read, the case is a sordid "can of worms." However, there seems to be more than "reasonable doubt" to actually convict baby on premeditated murder charges. Aside from that, I will restrict my comments until the verdict is in.

My evening outing was enjoyable. Dinner and dessert, courtesy the sandwich shop and fast food joint in Kahala. And, all for less than five fiat dollars. Afterwards, I was off to the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall).

Even Less Clarity

Still waiting. That's right, at least one more week of waiting before we can say, "Good riddance," to the detestable "condotel" unit. I am, of course, divesting the dump just as the tourist industry is making a miraculous comeback. Oh well.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I cut up a few of the non-essential "condotel" documents that were in the queue. I can honestly say that I felt totally refreshed during the process.

Tom, the drunkard, returned with two of his alcoholic buddies just a few minutes before I commenced my evening outing. Yeah, same ol' shit. It never ends. At the Next Step homeless shelter, drunk and disorderly residents are evicted. What does that tell you?

Modern life, as I am privy to observe, is grossly absurd. I can no longer function in society because society is dysfunctional. I can't return to the "mainstream" because I can't stand it. Sadly, when I was much younger, I was a willing participant in general stupidity. Perhaps that is why I have become so intolerant of stupidity now. I have matured enough to see through the crap and identify the absurd.

Shady Side of Homelessness

Documents were signed this morning at the title and escrow office in town, fulfilling my end of the sale of the detestable "condotel" unit. The buyer has also signed the appropriate documents. Unfortunately, the buyer has yet to wire transfer the funds. So, the actual closing may not take place on May 9th. My guess is that the buyer is attempting to squeeze out as much profit out of the current stock market "bubble" beforehand.

I should mention that I did not fit well in that particular office environment. Everyone, including clients, were well dressed. I was wearing my usual homeless-style garb. I can't say that I was treated with equal respect.

Otherwise, same ol' shit. I avoided contact with the homeless, although my homeless buddy did join me briefly at the fast food joint represented by a clown named "Jack." I also forgot to mention that I restored my extreme monk haircut yesterday.

My evening outing commenced with a brief meeting with the escrow officer from this morning. I did not bring any identification or a bank deposit slip to the earlier meeting. So, I had to bring them with me to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Due to time constraints, I ended up eating three "value menu" items for dinner at the fast food joint. My stomach was regretting the choice almost immediately afterward.

On a side note, there should be some clarification about the homeless. There are two classes of homeless. The most publicized and ostracized group are the ones "on the streets." They are mostly ex-convicts, alcoholics, drug addicts, or clinically insane. The remaining homeless are either marginally employed or are supported by entitlement programs (e.g., my homeless buddy and Kevin, the burly homeless guy). The latter are either on State-sponsored welfare or supported by Federal disability benefits. State-welfare recipients are, if qualified, quickly shifted to the Federal disability program (which has no time limit).

I have calculated that the subsidized homeless are receiving the equivalent of $1,800 per month (i.e., income, health insurance, and food subsidy). If you are a citizen and wage slave of empire, your taxes are paying each of the qualified homeless over $21,000 per year. So, in a way, you are adding to my homeless buddy's secret cash stash. And, you will be paying for Kevin's workout vacation in San Diego. That's the main reason why the subsidized homeless don't return to wage slavery. They would lose all the benefits. Once they segue to the Federal disability program, they are set for life. There are quite a few physicians who are willing to perpetually verify patient disabilities. It's a "cash cow" for everyone!

So, what happens if the ol' lavahead elected to become homeless? He would not qualify for any of the benefits. At most, he would save money on rent. That's it. Oh, on a final note, my loss projections for the detestable "condotel" unit were quite accurate (refer to the "blog" of March 19th).

Loner

Another day of loitering with the homeless. Frankly, I have grown weary of the homeless brethren, and I am tired of being mistaken for one of them. Incidentally, there really is no place to escape the homeless. They are everywhere (e.g., public library, shopping malls, beaches, parks, bus stops, gyms).

My homeless buddy revealed to me that he actually has over $65,000 in cash stuffed in his bank safe deposit box. I only learned of the fact when he mentioned that he wanted to purchase an apartment condominium in Las Vegas for use as a rental property until he possibly moves there.

Kevin, the burly homeless guy, wants to move to San Diego. He will remain homeless there while spending most of his time working out at a "hardcore" gym. He is also looking for a source of what he calls "the product," obviously a code name for steroids.

Upon arrival back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) late this afternoon, Alan told me that Tom, the drunkard, was fortunate that he did not lose two of his toes. Had the fool not sought medical assistance, amputation would have been required. Yet, the very next day, Alan espied him guzzling more cheap booze. Well, we already know that he was imbibing right after his return from the hospital.

My evening outing was a repeat of last night. I should mention that there are always between one and three homeless guys loitering at the bookstore every evening. As I stated, there is no escape from the homeless.

I am now in desperate need of a break from my homeless contacts. I see them too regularly. They are beginning to share too much information. I am not in need of new friendships, homeless or not. I have gone out of my way to remain aloof in order to prevent any kind of bonding, casual or otherwise. At this point in time, a social life is not a priority for me. I am a loner.