Mullah, Cabbage, Dinero

Money (read: mullah, cabbage, dinero) is total enslavement. Money is the "system." Money is the cause of greed, corruption, inequality, and injustice. Just thinking about it makes me want to drop back the entire "40-dog" of King Cobra® malt liquor. "Don't let the smooth taste fool ya!"

Money (That's What I Want) - Flying Lizards The best things in life are free But you can give them to the birds and bees I want money That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want You love gives me such a thrill But your love won't pay my bills I want money That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want Money don't get everything it's true But what it don't get I can't use I want money That's what I want That's what I want That's what I want I want money I want lots of money In fact I want so much money Give me your money Just give me money (See the original music video on VEVO)

Yeah, that Flying Lizards cut was one of all-time favorites and a big hit about 25 years ago. Who knew that it would become every empire zombie's theme song?

I really don't want to worry about money anymore. Money is an artificial determinant of worth, while holding no intrinsic value of its own. The sad part is that money, lots of it, is about all that can buy freedom. Very tragic.

I don't know why, but I decided to walk to Ross® after my workout at the gym in town. Lo and behold, I found a really nice hooded windbreaker for $25 and some change. I could have waited until Tuesday to take advantage of the senior citizen discount, but it probably would be long gone by then. Another day, another dollar ... gone.

Clothes, Laundry, and Entombment

Clothes and the dreaded laundry chores go hand-in-hand. My latest project attempts to "kill two birds with one stone," as the old adage goes. I am looking at reducing the amount of clothes on hand. That, in turn, will reduce my laundry and increase the period between washes.

Typical Clothed Hottie
Thus, I am now looking for tank tops made of synthetic fabrics. Along with my board shorts, I can then wash my gym attire entirely by hand. Theoretically, the dreaded laundry chores could be stretched out beyond a week's time. Currently, I am wearing all cotton tank tops. They are rapidly wearing out, and they also have discolorations from the ointment that I am using for skin problems. Once the tank tops are completely worn out and discolored, I will terminate the application of the ointment. The cotton tank tops will be discarded and replaced with the synthetic fabric alternative.

I mentioned previously that I am looking for a hooded windbreaker to replace both my hooded sweatshirt (i.e., "hoodie") and umbrella. When I was walking around the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala last night, I happened to find the elusive hooded windbreaker at Macy's® for $68 or so. Ouch! Well, I'll keep looking.

The reduction of my inventory of clothes will also increase my mobility. If the option of homelessness becomes inevitable, then I will be prepared. As it stands, I only have a fraction of the volume of crap that the majority of homeless people possess.

So, what's with the compulsive need to divest everything? The empire's deploymant of draconian and totalitarian measures, along with the predation and bloodlust of the zombie masses, have forced people to seek refuge in their "living" spaces. The "living" space becomes a self-sufficient fortress, which looks eerily like an ancient Egyptian tomb or mausoleum. I do not need all kinds of material junk to welcome me to a fictional afterlife.

With that said, I always dread returning to my "living" space (i.e., my squalid room at the rental housing dump known as Slob Manor). It's more like "dead" space or a mausoleum with walking cadavers populating its burial chambers. Those conditions are not conducive to freedom.

Incidentally, we're now looking at the last of my scheduled expenditures. I have nothing more that I need to purchase. Yeah, I should have never splurged on the HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker (and AC charger). So, that's it. I have all that I need for the rest of my life. I'm only looking at replacement costs in the future. I am totally emancipated from the so-called "ownership society." Another exodus roadmap milestone has been achieved!

Addressing Technoslavery

The Net is another form of enslavement. Sure, there is access to the truth, but only after wading through endless propaganda, misinformation, embellishments, and general "quackery." So much time can be spent and lost on Net-related activities. When I had to rely upon dial-up networking over phone land lines, Net addiction or enslavement was not a problem. Time was simply wasted while waiting for data to trickle in. However, when high speed Net connections became available, I eagerly volunteered myself for technoslavery. Early postings to the "blog" are testimony to that fact.

I've gone through a lot of computers, too. In the end, my focus was to deprecate and downsize, which is why I am currently deploying a tablet computer. The rationale was that a smaller device would wean me from constant usage. Wrong-O! I was able to deploy the tablet computer in the same way as something much larger and supposedly more powerful. So, weaning myself of computers can only be accomplished through an entirely self-disciplinary approach.

So, I have entombed, mummified, or "disappeared" most of my on-line accounts. I have reduced my Web bookmarks to only a handful of sites. I have significantly curbed the downloading of HD hurdy-gurdy videos. I have also deleted about half of the puny hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL) on the tablet computer. I no longer tediously parse through articles concerning current events (what is the truth anyway?). That only leaves the "blog."

Some changes in the "blog" have already been initiated. I am moving away from redundant daily summaries, preferring to cover relevant topics instead. The inclusion of the usual irritating cast members will only be merited if such individuals have made drastic changes in behavior or suffered an untimely end. Otherwise, let's assume that they are up to the same ol' shit. Topic-oriented "blog" postings will also expedite the transition away from a rigid daily format. I already understand that I must move away from the daily format in order to emancipate myself from yet another form of slavery.

Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms suffered from the "dizzy head" syndrome on Wednesday. I restored a few of the previously disabled "apps" on the Nexus 7 tablet computer. Why? I don't know. Speaking of tablet computers, BlackBerry® reneged on its earlier promise to upgrade the PlayBook® tablet computer to the newest operating system. It's now officially a doorstop. The result? Lots of irate people. I'm glad that I cut my losses and divested both of the ones that I owned. Nothing else to report.

Chimpo Sapiens Revisited

I am finding that I am less inclined to do anything "productive" as time goes on. I have expended all of my efforts to drastically reduce the amount of "busy work" backlog. After all, most of our activities are essentially trivial. My goal is to streamline the entire operation, not to optimize leisure time, but rather to eliminate mundane foolishness or benign forms of slavery. My observations of other humans allows me to identify, isolate, and eliminate the latter and former.

Typical Evolutionary Hottie
The real problem, of course, is that humans are just a strata or two above the common chimpanzee. Most of the humans whom I encounter on a daily basis are probably just slightly higher in cognitive capacity than a chimp. Only a small percentage of humanity is at near-maximum evolutionary distance from a chimp. The latter minority has been responsible for the advances that have allowed all of humanity to flourish. So, what I am saying is that most of humanity is composed of mental midgets.

In the general scheme of things, though, we are all chimps. Yeah, stupid monkeys trying to find a banana. We collectively believe that we are intelligent or exceptional. Is that really so? Or, are we simply animals who have forgotten our roots? Is that why the "inner animal" often breaks through its forced sublimation?

Disturbing to me is the fact that we are born into slavery (i.e., forced sublimation), are trained and educated as slaves, deployed as slaves, respond in Pavlovian fashion as slaves, and die as slaves. "Civilization" has not brought us freedom. "Civilization" is slavery. Effective controls must be imposed on the masses in order to suppress the animalistic tendencies which lie just below the surface of our superficial personas. We do not know anything else other than enslavement. That is why freedom is so elusive and difficult to achieve. How can we crave what we do not know?

Have you perused Robert Arthur's book, "You Will Die: The Burden of Modern Taboos," yet? I highly recommend it, especially the last chapter. Although brief, the last chapter is the only one that discusses the topic of death. I found Arthur's thoughts to be inspirational. Ernest Becker would probably agree.

Onward We Go

I was able to retrieve the final rental income documents for the detestable "condotel" unit this morning. So, after an uneventful day, I returned to the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing) and completed the GET forms for subsequent mailing (with a $275 check). I destroyed any irrelevant documents, placed the remaining important ones in a plastic freezer bag, and stored it in my one-and-only carry-on luggage. The staging area (i.e., the decrepit desk in my squalid room) for divestitures is slowly disappearing.

I happened to see Waldo ... err, my homeless buddy ... at the public library. He was busy fiddling with his new $70 tablet computer. Thus, I did not have to interact with him. Thank Molech.

The evening outings in Kahala will remain the same until the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) shutters its doors at the end of the year. I am still consuming way too many greasy "value menu" items at the fast food joint. I really don't seem to care about much anymore except for the freedom that seems to always elude me.

Over a month has elapsed since I was emancipated from debt slavery. Unfortunately, I have not made much progress with the exodus since then. I certainly don't have much time left before I am emancipated from life. Well, anyway, a month should be enough time to recover from the shock of financial loss. I have had enough time to pamper my wounds. So, onward we go.

Where's Waldo?

Researchers in South Korea have ascertained that excessive long-term use of "smartphones" can cause early dementia. Too late! Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! There's already a massive epidemic.

And, what of Edward Snowden, the alleged NSA "leaker"? The "mainstream" media circus has turned Snowden's flight to freedom into a cheesy remake of "Where's Waldo?" And, the citizens of empire could care less since they are all suffering from early "smartphone" dementia. They are still feverishly playing with the devices even though their every move is being tracked and all of their conversations, e-mail, text messages, Web browsing habits, and social networking are being stored for later use.

At the public library, I perused a very interesting book titled, "You Will Die: The Burden of Modern Taboos," by Robert Arthur. It's definitely worthy of reading because Arthur covers quite a few of the failed paradigms of "civilization." He also provides a compelling history of the latter foolishness, much of which will surprise the modern fool.

Incidentally, my homeless buddy interrupted my morning coffee ritual at the fast food joint in town. I was not in a good way afterward. He has purchased yet another tablet computer, a cheap $70 unknown brand. I remained aloof, which hastened his departure. I am tempted to give him the nickname, "Waldo."

Effect

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report, which is good. After following my usual itinerary, I stopped off at Foodland Farms in the Aina Haina Shopping Center. I purchased a big-ass bottle of King Cobra® malt liquor. "Don't let the smooth taste fool ya!" Remember that slogan? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Believe it or not, that's the only supermarket where I could find the classic "40-dog" bottle of the cheap booze.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I wedged the bottle of King Cobra® into my shelf space with the label clearly visible. No, I'm not going to guzzle the booze, even though the idea is tempting. It's only there for "effect," if you know what I mean. Yeah, "effect."

Alan appears to have weaned himself of his "pr0n" addiction. He's even sleeping in his squalid room again. He has been working on stacks of paperwork on the dining room table. He apparently is launching some kind of lawsuit. No details yet.

By the way, I have stopped disclosing any personal information to anyone, and that includes my immediate family. The actual invocation of that privacy policy goes back several months, although I had slipped up every now and then. As of now, I plan to tighten up those policies. The "blog" itself has too much personal information, although nothing really useful. As the direction of the "blog" changes, there will be little need to disclose anything confidential anyway.

On a side note, I have now resorted to disabling many of the system "apps" on the Nexus 7 tablet computer. The "apps" cannot be removed, though. Disabling the "apps" does keep them from performing rogue activities (a common occurrence). Of course, I could disable nearly all of the "apps" since I only use less than a handful. Sheesh!

Zero-Sum Reality

Same ol' Sunday shit. Well, same ol' shit no matter what day it is. Itinerary, agenda, aberrant behavior of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) tenants, general stupidity ... same ol' shit. From this point forward, there's little need to reiterate the foolishness. In the off chance that something actually changes for the better, then I will report the developments. Fat chance, though.

As I mentioned previously, the cycle of life is rather simple. First, we are born. Then, we waste a lot of time engaging in zero-sum games. Some people live extravagant lives. The majority only experience pain and suffering. Then, death greets us all with "open arms."

Typical "Game of Life" Hottie
By the way, I perused an interesting book at the public library titled, "What I Learned Losing a Million Dollars," by Jim Paul and Brendan Moynihan. Many of the concepts discussed in the book are applicable to what we call "life" (or what some people refer to as the "game of life"). First, when reading the book, there is a need to ignore the focus on business and finance. Then, expand the discussion and analysis to include all aspects of life. Pay particular attention to the definition of "game."

The zero-sum games, the "game of life," whatever else we want to call it, amounts to nothing. The sum total of all human endeavors equals zero. Nothing is permanent, not even the earth. There are no deities to offer redemption, salvation, resurrection, or eternal life. A global catastrophe could destroy the entire legacy of humans or humanity itself. If all humans and all other lifeforms were destroyed, there is nothing to restore them. Even the "blog" would be gone.

Post No. 2,610

Another day of ... I don't know. Lots of socializing, mostly with people whom I know from either the gym or riding the bus. Most notable was Professor Darwin, formerly of the Diploma Mill, now with Leeward Community College. Of course, socializing with people is not my forté. I'd rather not be bothered. However, for some reason, I enjoyed chatting with people today.

Acquaintances and extremely small talk are fine with me. There's very little personal information exchanged. I do not become involved in another person's life in any way, and vice versa. Conversations are also pleasant and cordial. Once the small talk barrier is crossed, there are unspoken obligations which come into play. That's when the trouble starts up. No thanks.

Well, I "disappeared" the new "blog." So, either this one will continue with new policies, or it will simply be mummified and archived. That's my one-and-only decision for the day.

Who Really Cares?

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My bro appears to have returned to wage slavery. Otherwise, nothing to report. The rest of the day and evening? Same ol' shit.

I am still waiting for the arrival of the last bit of residual income and associated paperwork for the "condotel" unit, both due next Thursday. Then, I will be able to file the final GET (read: tax) return and mummify the GET license. Oh, but it's not over yet. I won't receive all of the related tax documents until next year, when I must file the empire's tax return. Only then will I finally be free of the detestable "condotel" unit.

By the way, I've been using the HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker to listen to House Music for the past couple of days. I have to admit that I really like the little device. Bass is almost nonexistent, but the sound is actually very well balanced. I have run it at full sound volume only once to test its capabilities. In normal use, I have it set very low. And, I place it about a foot away from me. So, I think that it is a "keeper."

As for the Nexus 7 tablet computer and Android®, I still have mixed feelings. I have taken to disabling as many of the "services" as possible. Location tracking (i.e., GPS) is probably the most cryptic and most difficult to fully suppress. The settings are all over the place.

Yeah, very innocuous nonsense today. I am still contemplating the fate of the "blog." Although it most likely will not be mummified, there is a pressing need to modify the content. At the least, the repetitive daily nonsense needs to go. I should focus on relevant issues, at the least pertaining to a Beckerian focus on the denial of death (direct as well as obtuse). Ridiculous recurring events can be grouped into one, albeit sporadic, summary posting.

I am no longer inclined to redirect to a new "blog." Seems to be note trouble than it's worth. A new "blog" has already been set up, but it will most likely be "disappeared." The changes could happen at any time. Although, who really cares?

Insane, Just Insane

While I was loitering in the bookstore at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) during my evening outing last night, I decided to treat myself to a delicious smoothie in the café. So, along with the huge sandwich for dinner, the total cost was $11 upward. That's an expensive outing for me. Alas, I may as well enjoy my remaining days on earth. Who knows what could happen?

The number of clinically insane who are walking the streets of Honolulu is increasing exponentially. I see them everywhere. Remember the grubby local psycho on the bus yesterday? For the most part, the demographics for insanity are skewed toward the economically disenfranchised. The poorer the person, the chances of insanity are greater. Even within the ranks of the economically viable, there are increasing numbers of "psychologically challenged" individuals. Take a look at the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) tenants, for example.

Obviously, there just cannot be that many insane zombies due to natural causes. Illicit drugs are the primary source for the exploding epidemic of mental illness. The drugs literally fry the brain. Alcohol abuse, on the other hand, only kills off brain cells and increases the stupidity of the drunkard. Acute personality changes do occur and can be mistaken for insanity. The difference, however, is that personality changes in alcoholics is episodic rather than steady state.

Well the stock market is reacting adversely to the hint of less "free" money by Ben "Handjob" Bernanke of the Fed. There's no way the "free" money is going to stop. There is no exit plan. And, who is going to purchase trillions of dollars of dodgy assets? Only someone insane.

I have placed $30,000 in my local bank account, specifically for the purchase of gold bars. The money has been there for over a month. Aside from the security issues of taking physical possession of gold bars, there is the nagging feeling that the price of gold has yet to bottom out. I'm thinking ... $800 per ounce. So, the wait continues.

On a side note, divestiture of my worldly possessions is still the top priority. Very little is left. I have now taken to covering the remaining crap in the staging area (i.e., decrepit desk in my squalid room at the dump) with a trash bag. Perhaps I should just put everything in the trash bag and dispose of it. Sheesh!

Gauntlet

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I noticed that Alan was still sitting in front of his notebook computer in the dining area. Apparently, he had taken another night off from wage slavery to engage in "pr0n" viewing. At 11pm, I invoked MAC address filtering. Done deal.

Nothing can stop a 60-year-old codger from viewing hurdy-gurdy videos, though. Alan was up at it again at 4:30am. I released his computer from the filtering to allow him to indulge in his uncontrollable desires. Oddly, the "chef" has said nothing to Alan, even though Alan has been camped out in the first floor common area for over a month. I would have thought that the stench of Alan's sweaty Polyester® clothes would have triggered some kind of reaction, as well as the random old man noises generated by the geriatric fool.

Alan was still glued to the screen of his computer when I departed at 8am. Moments earlier, while I was taking a piece of fruit out of the fridge, I looked over and noticed that Alan had a file explorer window open over another larger obscured window. He was scribbling notes on a notepad, or should I say, he was feigning the latter. Clearly, he was in the middle of another "pr0n" session.

Typical Young Hottie
After another unexciting day, I returned to the dump to find Alan napping on the couch, sweaty Polyester® outfit and all. A few minutes later, he was back on the computer. The "pr0n" gauntlet has him completely ensnared. Here's a 60-year-old codger, now able to watch gorgeous young hotties doing the unthinkable in every way possible. There's even a genre that caters to "old farts" and features hideous, fossilized guys copulating with gorgeous babes. What does Alan think about when he sees the action? I am almost certain the he has very limited experience with babes, which further exacerbates the situation.

I really have to wonder if Alan is taking testosterone replacement or erectile dysfunction drugs. Molech help us if he ventures into gay "pr0n." His unchecked libido will experience a transfer of gender attraction. As I stated previously, many of the old fudgepackers are not really gay. They just need a warm body, any warm body, with one or two available a orifices to jam the Vienna Sausage into. That's it.

Let this serve as a warning sign to any old codgers who wish to "play with fire." Alan gave up his social life (i.e., occasional "New Age" seances and Tarot card readings). He no longer walks to the Aina Haina Shopping Center (in his Polyester® outfit, of course) for exercise. He does his wage slave time and returns to Slob Manor where he camps out in the first floor common area. On his days off, he goes nowhere. Nap on the couch, view "pr0n" on the computer, snack in the kitchen, repeat ad infinitum.

When I departed on my evening outing, Alan was still sitting at the computer in the dining area. I boarded a Route 23 bus because I thought I would arrive in Kahala earlier than usual. Was I ever wrong! Once I seated myself at the back of the bus, a psychotic local guy sitting a couple seats away began hassling me. He claimed that I was "making faces" at him and bothering him. "What the hell are you talking about, man? I wasn't even looking at you," I told the fool. He began babbling to himself and looking even more psychotic. I was concerned that the would "lose it," so I walked up the front of the bus to notify the driver. The psychotic fool joined us and became confrontational. I asked the driver to call the police.

So, we had to wait for about 15 minutes. The other passengers were obviously getting restless. I chatted with the bus driver, who is also a buddy since I used to ride on his bus daily. When the police arrived, they talked with both of us separately. They were actually beginning to side with the psychopath until the bus driver clarified who was actually insane. Sheesh!

The evening outing was essentially ruined. I ate a delicious sandwich, but I was really too perturbed to enjoy it. The whole world is going "nuts." Anyone who can't see that is most likely clinically insane as well. I also realized that Alan would be up all night viewing "pr0n" again. Can you say, "MAC address filtering"?

No Purpose Served

My homeless buddy stopped in the fast food joint in town while I was enjoying my morning coffee. He purchased a new top-of-the-line Apple® iPad for $800 for some reason. He also mentioned that he plans to remain in the Next Step homeless shelter until his two-year tenure is up. Then, he will visit Vietnam for six months. Upon return to Hawai'i, he is certain that he will live in his mini-van. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

Dinner consisted of greasy "value menu" items at the fast food joint in Kahala. During my evening outing, I pondered the fate of the "blog." It serves no purpose. And, it continually degenerates to a summary of repetitive, albeit extremely boring, daily events. The only highlight is my focus on myriad "brain dead fucks." My goal was to phase out the current "blog" in December when the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) closes for good. I may not be able to wait that long.

Banality Party

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 9pm last night, I noticed that Alan had not left for wage slavery. He was sequestered in his squalid room. The "chef" was asleep. When the "chef" is "in da house," Alan behaves himself by being really quiet. However, he apparently has no respect for me. The "chef", of course, doesn't "give a shit" about anyone except for himself.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I arrived back at Slob Manor at 3pm, I observed that the washer and dryer were in use. As a matter of fact, it always in use on the exact same days and time that I usually do my laundry chores. Coincidence? I think not. Someone (who might that be?) has also discovered a way to disable the washer. So, when it's not in use by anyone, I am still unable to use it. I must use the washer and dryer outside, which is coin-operated. The situation is rather tiring.

I have resumed downsizing operations beginning with the detestable paperwork archive. Important documents now fit neatly in the small side pocket of my one-and-only small luggage. I am also replacing the plastic box that holds most of my necessities with a meshed pouch. Yeah, "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

Let me just interrupt the banality party to mention the I was quite moved by the recent article that appeared on the [deleted] site about whistleblower Edward Snowden. There have been many attempts to discredit him, but I am convinced that he is legitimate. "Obama's campaign promises and election gave me faith that he would lead us toward fixing the problems he outlined in his quest for votes," Snowden stated. "Many Americans felt similarly. Unfortunately, shortly after assuming power, he closed the door on investigating systemic violations of law, deepened and expanded several abusive programs, and refused to spend the political capital to end the kind of human rights violations like we see in Guantanamo, where men still sit without charge."

Without a doubt, Snowden, along with Bradley Manning and Julian Assange, are true contemporary heroes. And, they have succeeded in attaining deep purpose and meaning in their lives by sacrificing everything to deliver the truth. My life is totally worthless in comparison, not to mention that of others like the "brain dead fucks" at Slob Manor.

The truth that the heroic trio bring to us certainly casts light on the futility of human endeavors which ultimately only serve to enslave the masses at the whim of a select few. I really don't understand why, with the knowledge of quantum physics and cosmology, we don't grasp the fact that our own solar system and the universe will end in due time. Why do we continue on a self-destructive course? Why enslave and destroy all lifeforms before their time? Too many stupid people, you think?

Last Resort

Insanity knows no bounds at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Alan woke up from his nap on the couch at 1am and immediately commenced his berserk "pr0n" vigil. Lots of noise ensued. I had no choice but to invoke the proverbial last resort: MAC address filtering on the wireless router. I had set up the option right after I returned from my evening outing. All I had to do was enable it. So, that's exactly what I did.

Within ten minutes, Alan took his carcass into his squalid room. Let's face it, I did him a favor. He needs more quality sleep so he can regain his sanity. I did not hear a sound out of him until 6:30am this morning. That's when he walked around back to reset the wireless router and cable modem.

Speaking of insanity, all of the tenants of Slob Manor exhibit some form of psychopathology. The "chef" still suffers from narcissism and various obsessive-compulsive disorders (OCDs). Tom, the drunkard exhibits symptoms of alcohol psychosis. Yeah, psychos, all of them.

Usual Sunday day and evening routine (i.e., same ol' shit). I was fatigued, though. I was so giddy with excitement about invoking the last resort that I failed to get any sleep myself. And, of course, I have already set up the same MAC address filtering in anticipation of next weekend's follies.

Dinner consisted of greasy "value menu" items at the fast food joint in Kahala, although I treated myself to a delicious smoothie in the café at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). What will I do when the bookstore is gone? It's my home away from homeless (read: Slob Manor).

By the way, I probably won't be patronizing the coffee shop in town anymore. When the hired help cannot put my credit card and receipt in my outstretched hand, then I must be too lowly to even be there. Sayonara, Starbucks®!

Insanity Unleashed!

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my evening outing yesterday, I noticed that Alan was still napping on the couch. Strange things. Later, I uninstalled the dreadful Pandora® "app" and sent an e-mail request to mummify the account. Sadly, I knew better. Why must I always second guess myself? The "app" (like so many others) refuses to shut down completely. There are apparently permanent background processes that consume battery power. Unacceptable.

Unbelievable as it may seem, Alan continued napping until 7am this morning. Then, back to the computer for, I assume, more "pr0n" viewing. After a mundane day (i.e., same ol' shit), I returned to Slob Manor to find Alan gone. Could it be that he realized the folly of his ways? No, he just stepped out briefly to procure junk food for dinner. Alan went right back to his hurdy-gurdy video vigil immediately afterward. As I departed for my evening outing, I observed him napping on the couch again.

Well, there's no doubt that Alan is clinically insane. What could have caused the onslaught of psychopathology? Poor diet. Caffeine-induced sleep deprivation. Lack of exercise. Senility. I don't know. He just "flipped his wig" one day.

Typical "Value Menu" Hottie
I opted for greasy "value menu" items at the fast food joint in Kahala for dinner. Then, the usual evening outing routine. I was not in the mood for much since I already knew that I would be up all night as clinically insane Alan alternates between napping on the couch and chokin' da chicken while viewing "pr0n" on his computer in the dining area.

Of course, there is an option of last resort available. I can set up MAC address filtering on the wireless router and exclude his computer from accessing the Net. I can activate that option later this evening. Then, I can release the MAC address in the morning. Or, I can leave it. If Alan were to ask me about the problem, I can simply tell him that he probably has malware. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Net Bondage & Cheap Crap

Prior to departing for Hawai'i Kai early this morning, I noticed that Alan had returned from wage slavery and immediately set up his notebook computer on the dining room table. When I returned at 3:30pm, he was napping on the couch in his usual Polyester® outfit. I am expecting a 48-hour marathon of napping on the couch and sitting at the computer until the fool returns to wage slavery on Sunday evening. By my estimation, he has not slept in his squalid room for well over a month.

I remember spending many, many hours per day on the Net, sometimes nearly all of my waking hours. Look at the old journal and earlier portions of the "blog." Even now, I have nothing to do once I return to the despicable Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my evening outing. So, I waste precious time on the Net. Of course, Alan has "taken it up a notch" with his near-sleepless "pr0n" addiction.

And, everywhere I go, I see myriad fools fiddling with their "smartphones." Yeah, they are on the Net doing who-knows-what. So, what will they say at the end of their lives? "Gee, I wasted my whole life playing with my cellphone." Fools!

I decided to divest the large gym bag two days earlier than planned. I ended up giving it my bus driver buddy, Donald, when I boarded the bus heading to Kahala this evening. I spent a little time walking through a few stores in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). I looked for the elusive hooded windbreaker.

During the course of my browsing, I realized that I have wasted a lot of time and money by always looking for the cheapest possible deal. I come away with a compromise "piece of shit," one that I end up discarding shortly afterward. I also realized that I can actually afford to purchase everything that I need, even if the latter is not on sale. I am only constrained to "bargain basement" stores in my mind. Of course, I won't be embarking on a wild shopping spree anytime soon.

As you may have guessed, I am still aiming toward downsizing to near nothing. The things that I require just aren't available in discount stores. So, why am I essentially preparing for homelessness? Right now, I don't have an answer. I have been locked into that mode of thinking for so long, so I do not know anything else.

On a side note, I broke my own rules and signed up for a Pandora® account after I installed the pathetic "app." A few days ago, I was able to access the full Pandora® site, but now I am given an error message about a missing plug-in. Apparently, a lot of Web sites provide a fully functioning HTML5 alternative for the Apple® iPad, but other tablet computer platforms are locked out. Very pathetic.

Old Codger's Addiction

Pretty much my entire itinerary has been in upheaval ever since my encounters with the homeless went awry. The situation has stabilized somewhat, but I am no longer confident that I can maintain the same daily routine. The public library is now simply a transit depot to me. I don't even bother to read any books. I relax, if possible, then move on.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have confirmed that Alan has been swept up by the gauntlet of Net "pr0n." This morning, I happened to glance over from the kitchen while he was sitting at his notebook computer in the dining area. He had a window open over his Web browser to obscure its view. A few days earlier, I espied him staring at a blank desktop. Most likely, the Web browser was minimized. He now immediately sets up his notebook computer on the dining table when arrives back from wage slavery. He then alternates between napping on the couch and sitting at his computer until he departs for wage slavery at 8:30pm. When does the fool actually sleep? Genealogical research is not impetus enough to drive a 60-year-old codger to follow such an obsessive routine. Only hurdy-gurdy hotties can provide enough incentive.

In retrospect, though, Alan has been engaged in the malignant activity for at least three weeks prior to his one-week marathon "pr0n" vacation. I just didn't notice. Now I understand why the wireless router malfunctioned last time (as well as this afternoon). Alan is streaming HD hurdy-gurdy videos, which is overloading the router's buffers. Unfortunately, "pr0n" addiction only continues to grow until some kind of tragedy ensues (or the Vienna Sausage is rendered dysfunctional).

Well, I was in a bad way for most of the day. No explanation necessary. So, I ate greasy "value menu" items for dinner at the fast food joint in Kahala at the start of my evening outing. Alas, the ice cream cone was the best part of the meal.

Underwhelmed

An absolutely uneventful day, thank Molech. I managed to restore my extreme monk haircut, too. No one bothered me. I was essentially invisible. Just the way I like it.

A few days ago, I mentioned that I had grown bored with the HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker. Well, I was joshing. In fact, I deploy the device daily, usually upon return from my evening outing. My earbuds provide a much fuller sound, but the cord just gets in the way when used with the Nexus 7 tablet computer.

Sometimes, I just have to laugh. Many moons ago, I spent (read: wasted) a lot of money on state-of-the-art component audio equipment. Thousands of fiat dollars ... gone. Then, I downsized to the costly Bose® Acoustic Wave®. Now, I have the tiny HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker. No stereo. No bass. Who could ask for anything more? It is so mendicant!

Well, I uninstalled the Yahoo! Mail "app" from the Nexus 7 tablet computer because I no longer expect to receive any important e-mail. I am, however, seeing over 200 pieces of junk e-mail arriving daily. So, e-mail is now another useless medium to me.

As anyone can easily observe, I have been underwhelmed by the mundane and mediocre. I am timidly fighting for my freedom, all the while still enslaved by various aspects of empire. My life is rapidly dwindling down to non-existence. I have removed any sense of purpose. So, I am living day-to-day in limbo. Human life is really pointless and meaningless. We are born. We waste a lot of time. Then, we die. There's no resurrection, no redemption, and no legacy. Humanity has squandered a lot of collective time in attempting to make something of itself. There is nothing more than the moment, the microsecond slice of consciousness in the now, the actual time that we are alive and aware of it. No matter what anyone says, there's nothing more.

King Kamehameha Day 2013

No time for holidays. First, coffee time at the fast food joint in town this morning. Then, I was off to the Sports Authority® store in Kaka'ako. I was looking for a light, hooded windbreaker. Whoa! $100 was way too much. So, I purchased a small gym bag, exactly what I have been looking for. Although, I really don't mind the large gym bag that I am currently deploying now. The rest of the day? Same old' shit.

The evening outing? I really enjoy dining out, even though I am not patronizing any fine restaurants. Obviously, I could prepare better and less expensive meals in the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) kitchen. Unfortunately, the stench and filth are just not conducive to pleasurable dining. My meal would also be ruined just my the mere presence of any of the other tenants. Sheesh!

As you can probably guess, I have now increased the number and volume of useless possessions in one week's time. All the agonizing over downsizing has been in vain. Does it really matter in the grand scheme? I am a senior citizen. I don't have much time left. I may as do whatever it is that I feel like doing, even if I countermand myself. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

There's not much for me to comment on concerning the Orwellian state-of-affairs in empire. The empire's citizens are just too insouciant to care. As long as they can afford to purchase a "smartphone," they are "happy as a clam." Little do they know that the "smartphone" is being nefariously used to track their every move. Stupidity begets stupidity. Incidentally, that is why I no longer possess a cell phone. I have only one e-mail account under a pseudonym. And, I have terminated as many accounts, on-line and otherwise, as possible.

On a side note, the new Apple® iOS 7 sure looks a lot like Android®, eh? Frankly, I was not impressed with the Android® "flat" styling at first, but the latter was apparently a trendsetting design. Who knew?

Hurdy-Gurdy Hijinks

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my evening outing at 9pm last night, I discovered that Alan was nowhere in sight. His vacation, if we can call it that, was over. What a relief! Had he continued with the psychotic activity for another week, I might have ended up going berserk as well.

However, as soon as Alan returned from wage slavery this morning, he immediately set up his notebook computer in the dining area. Incidentally, the "chef" had confirmed Alan's ridiculous genealogical research, but he also mentioned that he had observed Alan viewing hurdy-gurdy videos. "Why is Alan watching porn in the dining area?" he asked, rhetorically. Good question.

Destiny Dixon
So, that explains everything. Alan has discovered the ease of acquiring hurdy-gurdy videos on the Net. Now he's caught up in the gauntlet of "pr0n." Of course, how could anyone not want to view a hurdy-gurdy video starring hottie Destiny Dixon?

Alan had better be careful, or he'll awaken the "sleeping midget" (i.e., Vienna Sausage). Then, when he realizes that young hotties are not interested in old codgers, he will have to seek an alternative to quell his desires. He could end up becoming an old prowling fudgepacker, just like a few other perverts whom we know of.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. When I arrived back at Slob Manor, Alan was still in front of his computer. Sleep is secondary when there are thousands of hurdy-gurdy videos to download. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Well, how about the ol' lavahead's foray into the world of "pr0n"? Remember the massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL)? Over 800 video clips, mostly lower resolution. That's water under the bridge now. I was only able to salvage about twenty HD hurdy-gurdy video clips which are now stored on a flash drive of which I have no access. How about the Nexus 7 tablet computer? It currently stores just twelve HD hurdy-gurdy video clip, only deployed scientifically to test whether the Vienna Sausage is still functional. Nothing more, nothing less.

Although I slept well last night, I was tired and irritable all day. I became keenly aware of my mental state during the usual evening outing. I was primarily dismayed because I realized how I have gotten caught up in "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic" again. Valuable time has been wasted, and my life is now that much shorter. What the fuck am I doing?

Old Fudgepackers & Weirdos

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night, I espied Alan in the kitchen wearing the same Polyester® outfit. He had just finished eating a meal of sorts. I slipped into my squalid room. A few minutes later, silence. The putz was obviously taking another nap. Yeah, he sleeps in his Polyester® outfit, too. At 11pm, Alan was back on the computer. So, the psychotic cycle is breaking into the seventh day unabated. Frankly, I believe that Alan has "flipped his wig." Too weird.

Well, what better time to test the battery life of the new HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker? So, that's what I did. I watched a movie on the Crackle® site. Then, I listened to a DeepHouseCat mix. No sign of low power even after three hours at a fairly high output. Not bad. However, I have already grown bored with the wireless speaker.

Same ol' Sunday shit. Unfortunately, my homeless buddy spotted me sitting outside the coffee shop right around the corner from the gym. So, I chatted with him until my usual workout time. I was extremely fatigued thanks to the stupidity at Slob Manor. I could barely make it through my usual regimen.

When I arrived back at the dump at 3pm, Alan was sitting in front of the computer, Polyester® outfit and all. No surprise, eh? Yeah, it was 80 degrees outside, and he was still wearing the same Polyester® outfit from one week ago. When I departed for my evening outing, he was still sitting in front of his computer, all the while frantically taking notes (about what?).

No sign of a certain gay homeless guy, thank Molech. He has simply vanished. I really shouldn't use the descriptor, "gay," in describing him. That's disrespectful to legitimate gays. I have known several gay guys, and they conduct themselves quite well. Old fudgepackers like Kevin, the burly homeless guy, are not really gay. Rather, they are desperate predators. Their libido is unchecked, but they are no longer attractive to babes, not even in their age group. They become obsessed with ideas that rapidly degenerate into perversion. Eventually, they just want to ram the Vienna Sausage into anything, as long as it's alive. If there were more free-roaming barnyard animals around, we would hear frequent accounts of bestiality by those old fudgepackers. Sheesh!

On a side note, I received the final paperwork for the mortgage on the "condotel" unit. There was also a refund check for the unused portion of the property tax escrow account. That is the last of my dealings with Bank of Hawai'i.

DNA for Dummies

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 8:45pm last night, Alan was asleep on the couch. About 15 minutes later, he woke up to commence another vigil in the dining area on his laptop computer. Every few minutes, I could hear the synthesized voice announce, "You got mail!" Naturally, he has the volume up full blast since he is hard of hearing. Two or three hours on the computer, a short nap, repeat over and over again (i.e., 24/7).

The psychotic nonsense has been going for six days (144 hours and counting) straight now. Six fucking days! He hasn't left the dump. He hasn't taken a shower. He hasn't changed his clothes (i.e., Polyester® long-sleeve shirt, Polyester® slacks, and dress shoes). He does prepare a snack for himself every few hours, though.

Alan made a phone call at 9:30pm. He sounded fatigued and delirious, but I could hear him loud and clear. He was talking about the amateur genealogical research that he has been doing ever since he paid several thousand dollars for one of those bogus DNA genealogy reports. So, for six days and nights straight, he has been trying to fit himself into the legacy of Irish royalty that he believes is in his genes. And here I thought that, maybe, he was obsessing over a "soulmate" on the Match.com® site. What a fucking maroon!

Well, Alan is a bonafide "New Age" putz. He is deeply involved in astrology, psychic prognostications, Tarot card readings, channeling the "spirit" world, and so forth. That's why he has an alleged computer-triangulated "force field" set up in his room. I really wish that I simply fabricated the personalities profiled in the "blog," but that's not the case. I am dealing with masses of clinically insane people on a daily basis.

Personal beliefs, especially false ones, are the crux of human stupidity. The absolute truth is readily available to anyone who can obtain a copy of a good quantum physics book. One reading should set anyone straight concerning any bogus ideas or beliefs. Once we come to grips with the fact that our reality is not real, then we can begin to deal with the issues presented by Ernest Becker in his monumental work, "The Denial of Death."

Alan was at his computer when I departed Slob Manor this morning, and he was lying on the couch when I returned at 3pm. Otherwise, same ol' shit. My homeless buddy appeared out of nowhere during morning coffee at the fast food joint in town. Turns out, he wanted to use the free wireless Net to download more videos. After a few minutes, I left him there and went on my way. No sign of a certain gay homeless guy, thank Molech.

Once again, my evening outing was the only refuge from societal insanity. I just enjoy the time away from Slob Manor even though I am still dealing with myriad morons. The dread of returning to the dump causes instant melancholia. And, let's face it. The DNA of the Slob Manor residents clearly matches that of a common earthworm.

High Fidelity

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from my outing last night, I was surprised to see Alan, the "chef", and Tom, the drunkard, having a grand ol' time in the first floor common area. "Let bygones be bygones," I suppose. Oh, what fools! I had no part of the foolishness.

Typical High Fidelity Hottie
Instead, I sequestered myself in my squalid room to test out my new HMDX® Jam® wireless speaker by streaming a DeepHouseCat mix to it. Not bad. It does get loud, but the bass frequency spectrum is lacking. Can I complain for $30? Heck, no!

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report. I was very fatigued due to sleep deprivation. Aside from the pseudo-crisis yesterday, Alan has been camped out in the first floor common area at Slob Manor for five days. I assumed that he is on vacation, but no visit to his "McMansion" in Arizona this time. Instead, he has set up his notebook computer on the dining room table. He spends several hours doing who-knows-what. Then, he takes a nap on the filthy couch. He has been repeating the psychotic routine all day and all night. He is completely clueless that he is disturbing everyone.

As I have stated many times, my evening outing is my refuge, my only refuge. I wasted about $18 on a wall charger at Radio Shack® at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, essentially for my new wireless speaker. Why not just use the wall charger for the tablet computer as I had originally planned? Oh, I don't know. At least I will have a spare unit.

On a side note, the "smart" money is all going into the stock market. Frankly, anyone would be a fool not to dump every penny in equities. I am one of those fools. The indexes are pointing straight up and will continue to do as long as the world's central banks continue to pump money into the "system" like there's no tomorrow. Even mutual funds are now at ten percent gains per quarter. You'll conservatively double your money in less than three years. By the way, there's absolutely no sign that "quantitative easing" (QE) and zero percent interest rates are ever going to end. The reason is simple: we're past the point of no return.

With each passing day, the chances for a reversal of monetary policy decreases exponentially. Yet, can the party go on forever? Eventually, investors will begin to wonder whether stocks in their portfolios are really worth $500 per share. That's when the "fundamentals" will step in and provide a steep correction. Be sure to sell off before then. I will assume that an associated housing "bubble" will be in full swing as well. After all, they go hand-in-hand. History will repeat itself.

Fudgepackers "R" Us (Continued)

Lots of commotion in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 2am this morning. The "chef" called the landlord because Tom, the drunkard, was making noise upstairs. I suspect that Tom's drinking buddy, Pat, was the real culprit. From what I can tell, the landlord will not do anything about the situation. So, as mere tenants, we are helpless to do anything about the drunken fools.

I have other concerns anyway. At the public library, I sat at the front end of the opposite side of the inner courtyard where I usually sit. At 11:30am, I observed a certain gay homeless guy traversing the far end of the courtyard in what appeared to be a reconnaissance mission. A guy was standing up and fiddling with his backpack at the next table, so he obscured my presence. Close call!

Subsequently, I spoke with the senior security guard about the whole situation with the fudgepacker. I expect to have a witness present to verify any contact with the gay blade. He will be asked to cease and desist his perverted activities. If there is no compliance on the faggot's part, we will vigorously pursue police intervention.

Dinner was held at the fast food joint in Kahala. Greasy "value menu" items. Sleep deprivation deadened my taste buds anyway. The ice cream cone tasted real good, though. My days of loitering at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) are numbered, so I am attempting to savor every moment.

A few quick observations are in order:

• Most citizens of empire are stupid, fat, or insane (or a combination of each)
• Conspiracy theories that were ridiculed just a few years ago have come true in a big way
• A fool and his money are soon parted.

Incidentally, divestiture of useless crap and clutter is continuing, albeit at a slow pace. My document archive has been significantly reduced. Consumables are dwindling down to nothing. Necessities are being used until completely worn out, then discarded. Freedom is the only objective.

Fudgepackers "R" Us

After a relaxing cup of coffee this morning at the usual fast food joint, I restored my usual routine loitering at the public library. I was attempting to lapse into a coma when I heard someone talking to be. I opened my eyes slightly, only to see a certain gay homeless guy standing before me. He was wearing sweats instead of his usual short, tight shorts. And, the sick bastard was "sportin' a woody." I acted as though I was asleep. The crafty gay blade walked on, but he subsequently walked by a couple of times. I was still feigning sleep during his reconnaissance.

I departed the library much earlier than expected. As I stated previously, stalkers are mentally ill. A certain gay homeless guy kept his distance for only two weeks before he was compelled to act on his out-of-control libido. The rest of the day was ruined. I had to remain completely on-guard at the gym. If the fudgepacker attempted to communicate again, I would have to quickly locate any ranking staff member to act in the capacity of a witness on my behalf. Fortunately, the buffoon did not make an appearance. We already know that police intervention is a certainty. Yeah, the pervert would risk being arrested in the hope of getting his "dick" sucked.

My evening outing in Kahala was my only refuge from the insanity of the day. Again, I ate a delicious sandwich with a free cookie. Great meal. Yet, how long before I see a certain gay homeless guy skulking around the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in the evening?

As you may have guessed, a certain gay homeless guy has now affected my ability to enjoy my daily routine. He is so obsessed with ramming his "dick" in another guy's ass (i.e., rectum) that he has lost all sense of reality. He is ready to commit a heinous crime to get what he wants. He is willing to die for it. His death wish will be fulfilled.

Well, the HMDX® Jam® is now fully charged. And, I have paired it successfully with the Nexus 7 tablet computer. However, I have not streamed any audio to it yet.

Jammin' with the HMDX® Jam®

Not exactly the same ol' shit. Morning coffee in town at the usual fast food joint. I saw my homeless buddy, the con man, walking around outside. He didn't even look my way, no less bother me, thank Molech. He probably didn't have any new scams to promote.

HMDX® Jam®
No public library loitering either. Instead, I rode the bus to Kaka'ako and stopped by Office Depot®. I purchased a pair of small Fiskars® scissors to replace the large one that is slated for divestiture. And, I procured an HMDX® Jam® (made in China) wireless speaker (on sale for $30). Yeah, I know, very pathetic.

I ended up at the gym about an hour earlier than usual. So, I completed my workout and departed from town earlier as well. The evening outing in Kahala? I ate a "footlong" sandwich for dinner. Then, I was off to loiter at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall).

With all the hullabaloo about divesting my useless possessions, why did I waste time and money purchasing more useless junk? Because I can. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! I have only a handful of "good" years left. Then, I will be a decrepit senior citizen. After that, I'll be a non-entity. I may as well enjoy a few simple pleasures, even if I am contradicting myself.

The HMDX® Jam® does not include a battery charger, so I am using the one for the Nexus 7 tablet computer. That's why it's so cheap. Anyway, I will test it out once the battery is fully charged. If I am not satisfied with it, I can always give it to Shirley. Sheesh!

Transcendent Non-Entity

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Moms still could not locate my birth certificate. However, the envelope containing the remainder of my valuable personal artifacts has been deposited in the family archive. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have moved all of my remaining useless possessions to the divestiture staging area (i.e., decrepit desk in my squalid room). Nothing is immune from divestiture at this point in time.

As you may imagine, I have very few possessions left after the big purge (i.e. sale of the "condotel" unit). Once, I exited the so-called "ownership society," there's been no turning back. I am totally debt-free except for one credit card, which I pay off the balance each month. I pay for nearly everything with that card (excluding rent, monk haircut, and gym dues).

Westbound traffic was at a standstill when I departed on my evening outing. All of the buses were running late. I boarded the first one that came by. There was no way that I could miss it since 20 minutes had elapsed while it inched its way from my line-of-sight (about three blocks). Everyone sitting in traffic looked extremely frustrated. I simply sat back and daydreamed about divesting all of my worldly possessions. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! The traffic jam, by the way, was caused by the repair of a broken water main in Wailupe.

I was able to enjoy my evening outing, within limits. Lots of stupid fools out and about. I was irked until I realized that they are completely enslaved to the "system." They have many masters and gods to serve, whereas I have none. I am, of course, only free until my mortality subdues me.

Non-Existent Non-Entity

Same ol' Sunday shit, and I state the latter in a grateful way. No bizarre encounters with the homeless brethren, although I saw a certain gay homeless guy walking around town. Fortunately, I was standing at a bus stop about a block away. I couldn't get out of town quick enough.

Typical Dramatic Hottie
Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the idiotic drama continues. Tom, the drunkard, is really just a scapegoat for the other tenants to project their own stupidity and inconsiderate behavior. Heck, I'm in the process of exodus. I have no desire to participate in petty dramas of the sort.

I have gathered the remaining personal artifacts of importance. I will be packaging them in a large envelope and depositing the latter in the family archive that is currently in moms' possession. Subsequently, I will have nothing to describe my legacy. All I will have left are my driver's license and a credit card. There are no financial documents, no photographs, no written directives, no will (and testament). I will finally be at the fringe of existence.

Paperwork, residual income, refunds, and so forth for the "condotel" unit continue to trickle in. There is still much more to do before I am finally free of the dump.

By the way, the divestiture of my remaining personal artifacts is truly an Ernest Becker moment. Never have I come closer to realizing both my mortality and insignificance. I am a nobody ... Mr. Nobody ... a non-entity. Then, in a few short years, I will be a non-existent non-entity. Sheesh!

Post No. 2,589

An unexciting day, thank Molech! Coffee time in town this morning at the fast food joint represented by a clown named, "Jack," was interrupted by an unidentified homeless guy. I observed him rummaging through the trash receptacles outside in search of discarded food and beverages. A few minutes later, he was at the counter asking for hot water to be poured into his filthy paper cup. When he was refused, he went off on a near-violent tirade. Otherwise, no encounters with the usual troublesome homeless brethren.

Well, my observations throughout the day confirmed the large number of clinically insane who are roaming the streets, riding the bus, and performing other mundane tasks. I am not just speaking of the homeless or the halfway house refugees. A large number of seemingly "normal" people are mentally "out to lunch."

Usual evening outing. I ordered the monthly special "foot-long" oven-roasted chicken sandwich at the sandwich shop in Kahala. I decided to eat the sandwich in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall), though. With the free cookie, I enjoyed a superb and filling meal. I usually only eat a six-incher for a meal, but there was no way that I was going to carry the remaining half around for several hours. Then, I was off to the bookstore.

Incidentally, I tentatively set up another "blog" for possible use when this "blog" goes off of the daily format (whenever that may be). And, as I mentioned previously, I already have, by default,a Google+ account. However, there's no way for anyone to join a specific "circle" without sending out invitations. My plan was to use Google+ to initiate dialog since comments are not allowed on the original "blog." The newer "blog" will allow for commenting by readers. Yeah, I know that it's all a waste of time. Sheesh!