Day of Samhain 2013

Yesterday, my homeless buddy suggested that I apply for housing in Chinatown, specifically a place called the "crack house." Room only for $300 per month with shared kitchen and bathrooms, much like a dormitory. Parking for an automobile runs another $100 per month. Turns out, he rented a unit there for seven years. I have seen the building once long ago, subsequent to reading an advertisement in the newspaper about vacancies. Obviously, lots of derelicts reside there. How much worse can it be than Slob Manor (read: rental housing)?

Last night at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, I shopped for fleece outerwear (read: "hoodie") at Macy's®. Whoa! When I tried on a few of the available styles for size, I was shocked by what I saw in the mirror. I looked like an old geezer wearing clothes made for a teenager. The color was dark gray, but it did not look right at all. I should have kept the thick generic one that I donated to charity. At least it didn't make me look foolish.

What am I to make of that? Game over! I need to "throw in the towel" already. Insofar as clothes are concerned, I must observe what other old geezers are wearing. Yeah, old geezer fashions (term used loosely). And, babes ... no hope. Molech, have mercy!

Typical Thursday Hottie
The Day of Samhain is upon us. A nuisance, really. Everything is a nuisance to an "old fart," though. Old age just brings out the worst in us. Ghosts, goblins, skeletons ... all prancing about makes a mockery of death. And, death is all that's left for old codgers.

Typical Bonus Thursday Hottie
There will be lots of Day of Samhain celebrations this evening, even at the den of consumerism in Kahala. I'll do everything possible to avoid the nonsense. Sheesh!

More Hotties!

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the "chef" was apparently unable to sleep. So, he was piddling around and making noise until 1 am this morning. Then, he was up at 4:30am noisily piddling around in the kitchen. The fool has some "issues." He has not spent any time with his "squeeze" in over two weeks. Could that be the problem?

Or maybe the "chef" is worried about his need for a more secure wage slave job. Heck, my homeless buddy can assist him, albeit fraudulently, in living the rest of his life for absolutely free ... err, "on your dime." How could the "chef" go wrong?

Typical Wednesday Hottie
A wasted day. I accompanied my homeless buddy on one of his shopping expeditions at Costco®. So boring. Observing myriad fools loading oversized shopping carts with everything in sight was also quite sickening. Incidentally, my homeless buddy has about $1,000 in completely disposable income every month. He has no debt, and all of his expenses are fully subsidized. Do you have $1,000 every month that you can spend on a whim?

Typical Bonus Wednesday Hottie
Well, not much else to report. No clarity was attained due to the usual stupidity. So, why not display more typical hotties in the "blog"? Soon, I may dispense with any text and just post babe pictures. Yeah!

Post No. 2,739

I am taking divestiture to a whole new level. I have pretty much cleared out my small luggage. It now contains one Aloha shirt, a pair of unused glasses, and what's left of my important paperwork. I am cleaning out the Nexus 7 tablet computer, removing useless "apps" and data. There are now only two HD hurdy-gurdy video clips residing on it. And, what should I do about Skype®?

Typical Tuesday Hottie
My homeless buddy has indicated that the Next Step homeless shelter is currently full. He also provided me with a summary of his financial benefits thanks to a dubious disability. He's pretty much set for life (i.e., income, food, housing, medical insurance, bus pass). All free! I am far worse off than him.

KitKat®

The official closing date for the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala is December 31st, not the 1st as previously reported. Only two more months left. Then, what?

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan told me that a law student hottie has moved into the attached two-bedroom unit at the rear of the dump. The Chinaman family, allegedly relatives of the landlord, was only staying there temporarily. So, now there are two hotties residing at Slob Manor. Who cares?

Typical Monday Hottie
I was quite fatigued because of the testosterone surge that I experienced when I espied the hottie gym trainer yesterday. An old codger like myself should not be privy to see such an incredible sight.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. I procured a bag of KitKat® candies in an early celebration of the upcoming Android® 4.4 release of the same name. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Sheesh!

The number of mentally ill individuals out roaming the street is far greater than imagined. A larger percentage of the empire's populace is on one or more prescription psychotropic medication. Add to that illicit drugs and cheap booze for nearly a homogeneous demographic of zombies. As I've stated many times, the brain is significantly altered when soaked with various chemicals. Dependency is a given. Any lapse in dosage cause withdrawal symptoms along with an amplified form of the original pathology.

Well, I have a strategy for my next encounter with a psychotic derelict on the bus. Instead of playing along with his script, I will change the plot. Raising my voice, I will say, "What? You want my money? I don't have any money. I'm a 59-year old senior citizen. Why are you trying to rob a defenseless old man?" Then, turning toward the other passengers, I will ask frantically, "Will someone call 9-1-1?" Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Typical Sunday Hottie
When I walked into the gym this morning, I espied the hottie gym trainer as usual. Baby was looking mighty fine. I was surprised to see that baby was still there when I exited the gym for the first part of Junk Food Sunday festivities at the fast food joint. Afterward, I strolled past the gym on my way to Ross®. I didn't realize that baby was walking behind me until she entered the store through the door adjacent to the one that I walked in.

Baby was wearing black workout tights along with a form-fitting green blouse. Baby is such a hottie! She could put most 20-year-old hotties to shame. I saw her several different times in the store. She finally settled in at the housewares department. I am also certain that I saw her at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala one evening during a "sidewalk sale" event. She was perusing framed artwork. Baby appears to be quite single, which is somewhat astounding. Oh well.

On a side note, I was able to locate a torrent for one of the formerly archived HD Natasha Vega hurdy-gurdy video clips. So, I installed a bit torrent client on the Nexus 7 tablet computer to acquire the file. Afterward, I uninstalled the "app." There are still only three hurdy-gurdy video clips on the tablet computer. That's it. What more can I ask for since you-know-who is not going to come around? Sheesh!

Geriatric Reality Show (Reprise)

The geriatric reality is a rude awakening. Any pretense of youth is long gone. Only a withered walking cadaver remains. Goals, dreams, ambitions are gone, too. All that's left is death. The "mainstream" certainly reinforces all of that and more. Denial of one's geriatric reality is akin to the denial of death. Obviously, no one wants to grow old and decrepit.

I am deep in denial, but the truth has a way of making itself known. Little hints keep pointing to my advanced age, which have been chronicled in the "blog." Oh sure, we know that there are a few options that senior citizens can exercise. However, those options are really offered out of pity by the masses of youngsters. "Aww, give gramps a chance," they say.

For the most part, though, senior citizens are treated like nuisances. They just get in everyone's way. That's why senior citizens, the healthy ones, are sequestered away in retirement homes. The sickly ones are entombed in mausoleums ... err, intensive care hospital wings. What a sad ending.

Typical Saturday Hotties
Well, as I mentioned yesterday, the seven hurdy-gurdy video clips that resided on the unaccessible flash drive have been deleted. That includes four hard-to-find HD video clips of my all-time favorite hurdy-gurdy starlet, Natasha Vega. What a hottie!

Natasha Vega
What's the sense in archiving hurdy-gurdy video clips with hottie's like Natasha Vega. No babe like that would be interested in a decrepit senior citizen unless lots of money were involved. Actually, no babe would be interested in a decrepit senior citizen. That's the geriatric reality.

The highlight of the day? Another run-in with a psychotic passenger on the bus this morning. Police intervention was necessary. Long story short, the psychopath confronted me because I was standing next to the seat that he was sitting in. He believed that I posed a threat to him. He is allegedly able to read minds and interpret body language, he said, because he completed a course on the subject while in "treatment," the same class that is offered to police departments. The insane fool is obviously suffering from paranoia and schizophrenia, perhaps neglecting to dose his brain with prescription medication earlier. Do you see why I am carrying pepper spray?

My homeless buddy arrived late at the public library. He said that he apprehended the guy who assaulted him. He was riding his bike through the Capitol district on Wednesday when he espied the suspect sitting under a tree. He took the fool from behind and called the police. My homeless buddy is also the new owner of the flash drive that once archived many hurdy-gurdy video clips.

When I boarded the bus in the afternoon, I was surprised to see a bus driver buddy from a while back. He's been driving different routes. I told him about the incident with the psychopath. We enjoyed a good laugh.

Late News: Rumor has it that the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala is closing permanently on December 1st. Shit, that's only one month away!

Make or Break

There was no major economic correction in October coincident with my last prediction. I am assuming that the debt ceiling theatrics of empire created a significant enough distraction to offset the correction. Reading between the lines, though, there seems to be a strong implication that a significant increase in "quantitative easing" (read: money "printing") by the Fed is coming soon. The ramifications are quite clear. Although, who really gives a shit? What's the difference anyway for the rank-and-file peons?

Typical "Make or Break" Hottie
My situation is now at the "make or break" point. The upcoming closing of the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala has severely affected me. I am at a loss. There's absolutely nothing to do at the mall without the bookstore. And, the mall is the only venue available for loitering in the evenings. Everywhere else, I would be trespassing on private property.

Moms has proven that longevity is in her favor. My current estimate is that moms will live to be at least 100 years old and remain ambulatory, provided there are no accidental falls. That's at least more eight years. Unfortunately, I cannot remain at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) for even another year. I am simply wasting my money, and I have no tolerance for dickheads who further decrease the value of my time.

Overall, there is no reason for me to continue to subsist in this manner. I don't have to maintain any kind of status quo because I am an old codger. I've already been "put out to pasture." The only reason that I am procrastinating is that I have apparently not accepted my geriatric reality yet. Like the empire's economy, I am past the point of no return.

With that said, I have taken the initiative to prematurely destroy all of the "condotel" paperwork. I have also cleared the flash drive archive of the remaining seven hurdy-gurdy video clips. Yeah, I am divesting as much as I can now. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit.

Dickheads

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 10pm after my evening outing, I was privy to listen to Tom, the drunkard, and one of his anonymous drinking buddies carrying on upstairs above my squalid room. Apparently, my note to the fucktard was ignored. So, I wrote out a note to the landlord chronicling the last two incidents. I also mentioned the sale of the "condotel" unit and the financial loss incurred as an ambiguous precursor to an official "intent to vacate" notification.

The arrogant "chef" has been at the dump more often than not. He's had many days off from work as well. However, lack of wage slave hours has not affected his lifestyle. He's fully stocked with organic foods. And, he now has a full complement of expensive organic supplements and vitamins. Oddly, he purchased a big slab of farmed salmon filet, easily identified by the sickly artificial orange color. The "chef" apparently has got a lot of money. He's up and piddling around in the kitchen at 5:30am regardless. I assume that he's napping during the day to catch up on sleep.

Typical Bookstore Hottie
With the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala closing permanently in a little over two months, I am finding little reason to remain at Slob Manor. I may as well apply for admission to the Next Step homeless shelter. I'll put up with more dickheads, but I will only have to pay $60 per month (first two months free). Is there really much to deliberate?

Post No. 2,773

I am continuing to read Charles Eisenstein's book, "The Scent of Humanity." I have come to realize that my whole life experience can be summarized by his book. The "blog" is, in fact, a circumlocution of the same journey.

Last night, I happened to visit the take-out food section of the alleged natural and organic food supermarket in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. My mission was to determine another source for my dinner. The whole place was packed with people. The take-out food bar was busy. The pricing was uniform: $9 per pound. I observed that customers were only partially filling their take-out boxes, which meant that they were very aware of the cost. Yet, status anxiety forces them to shop there.

Typical Non-Violent Hottie
Incidentally, my new take on the increasing breakdown of society (i.e., failed "civilization" paradigm) also involves money. "Tight" money has forced people to cut down the dosage of their anti-depressant medication or forgo the latter completely. No anti-depressants, no fake self-esteem, no fake confidence, no fake happy feeling. Hence, the increase in violence and aggression. Damned fools!

Download Embargo

Last night, I uninstalled the popular third-party Web browser from the Nexus 7 tablet computer. Its only purpose was to download choice hurdy-gurdy video files. In fact, it's the only browser with a download manager that can do so. What does that tell you?

Typical Embedded Hottie
I have been religiously reading the book, "The Ascent of Humanity," by Charles Eisenstein both at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala and on-line. Frankly, it is hard to put down. I strongly urge everyone to do the same.

My homeless buddy made a rare appearance at the fast food joint in town this morning. He's going to be moving into his new place at the low income senior citizen housing in Wahi'awa next year. Otherwise, he's still downloading hundreds of flicks daily. Why, I don't know.

There will be nothing new or exciting to report in the "blog" for an indefinite period of time. My goal is to simply embed pictures of young hotties in the entries until the repository is exhausted, whenever that may be. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Food Revisited

Yesterday was Junk Food Sunday, which is now rapidly becoming a tradition. Junk food (read: "value menu" items) for lunch at the fast food joint in town. Junk food for dinner at the fast food joint in Kahala. Junk food dinners have also become more common, but sporadic and depending on my overall mood. A salad side dish is often the only healthy option. I am, however, continuing to eat two or three whole fruits per day along with a moderate dosage of decent quality granola.

Typical Well-Nourished Hottie
I have been entertaining the idea of preparing or cooking my own food again, although the thought of doing so in the filthy Slob Manor (read: rental housing) kitchen is appalling. My appetite would quickly be extinguished. I would also have to purchase cookware, utensils, and other accessories. No, thanks. So, I will continue to dine out, even though food prices are continually moving upward. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit.

Digital Deprecation

The new Mace® pepper spray is now standard equipment for me. No matter where I go, Mace® will be ready for quick deployment. Even at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the spray canister will always be within quick reach.

Typical Digital World Hottie
With the gradual deprecation of the transient hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL), the Nexus 7 tablet computer becomes less and less indispensable. I still must rely upon it for most of my various, albeit minimal, personal and financial transactions. However, aside from the "blog," there is little need for daily deployment. Is an exodus from the digital world even possible? And, is a new Nexus 7 necessary?

Have you been reading Charles Eisenstein's book, "The Ascent of Humanity"? I have been deferring the "New Age" content until later. However, the non-"New Age" material is really quite sobering. The chapter titled, "Money and Property," is haunting and may cause several sleepless nights. Yet, that's our reality, whether we like it or not.

Unchecked Reality

The "blog" has been plagued daily by numerous errors injected by the automatic word substitution feature of Android®. Even more stupid is the now non-functioning spell check feature. Very annoying. Often, hours will have elapsed before I notice the ridiculous results of technology gone awry. The problem has made me even more eager to mummify the "blog."

My old codger "reality check" of the past few days has given rise to morbid forms of anxiety. I can no longer deny my mortality. I cannot live the "vital lie." Death is already "at my doorstep." Heck, I may be gone before the exodus is complete. Or, let's put it this way, I may realize the final exodus prematurely. Oh, the irony!

Typical "Reality Check" Hottie
The "reality check" has caused an immediate internal review of my foolish ways. First, the small, transient hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). The archived library on the non-accessible flash drive has been reduced to seven video clips. There are only three video clips on the tablet computer, which will probably be reduced to zero soon. There's no need for the HGVL. There's no further need to "test" the Vienna Sausage. The Vienna Sausage must be allowed to atrophy gracefully and rapidly. Old codgers have no use for libido. Babes are not attracted to "shriveled up old prunes" with truncated torsos.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was not able to get to sleep last night because Tom, the drunkard, and one of his anonymous drinking buddies commenced singing off-key loudly and strumming an untuned guitar at 11:30pm. They were having a good ol' time right above my squalid room, dropping beer bottles on the floor and dragging the furniture around. I left a note for Tom, the drunkard, and informed him that I will report the incident to the landlord. I also took the liberty to chastise and advise him that it would be quicker to kill himself with a gun rather than slow death by cheap booze. In other words, "reality check."

The highlight of the day was a "wild goose chase" to procure a canister of pepper spray. Long story short, I found one at the right price and right size at Sports Authority®. My day-to-day encounters with asswipes and dickheads is increasing exponentially. I expect numerous confrontations to occur, so I need to be prepared. That's another "reality check."

Hallucinations

In a brief moment of clarity yesterday, I realized that the only acquaintances that I have made at the gym and elsewhere are guys that are about my age (plus or minus four years). Obviously, they know that I am one of them. In other words, I look like I am 60 years old. Simply put ... game over!

What exactly am I seeing when I look in the mirror? My facial features must show significant aging, far more than my perception allows me. My physique is probably flabby and sagging with skeletal distortions. I may even have a huge pear-shaped gut. I don't see any of that, but I could be in such total denial that I am plagued by visual hallucinations. In any case, I am a hideous "old fart."

Since I cannot trust my own vision, I must accept the painful fact that I am probably an out-of-shape, decrepit, and deformed old codger. My face is most likely severely creased with wrinkles. Large bags no doubt droop below my eyes. I assume that I walk with a crooked gait, and my legs are bowed outward due to osteoporosis. Spinal collapse has shortened my torso, which is why my board shorts come up to my chest. And, my hair is completely gray. I don't see any of that, but perhaps I have cataracts, extreme astigmatism, or chronic dementia. Woe is me!

Typical Mirage Hottie
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. I sat at Zippy's and sipped on coffee while moms was at the dentist office. Lots of obese tourists and locals were in the vicinity. I was not able to achieve clarity of mind. Nothing else to report.

Dumbfounded Stupor

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that my homeless buddy believes that he has been accepted to rent a unit in a low-income senior citizen housing complex. He is eligible because anyone on disability entitlements also qualifies. The unit is located in Wahi'awa, though, which is quite a distance (exacerbated by bad traffic problems) from town. My homeless buddy also discovered that the waiting list for subsidized housing of any kind has over 10,000 families and individuals. And, I also neglected to mention that I restored my extreme monk haircut.

Low-income senior citizen housing can best be described as a "Roach Motel." You can check in, but you can't check out. Well, there's only one way out: death. What a sad ending, eh? That's how we treat senior citizens in empire, especially if they have little in the way of money. Sequester them away in a dungy mausoleum ... err, senior citizen housing ... until they "kick the bucket," then rent out the newly vacant tomb ... err, apartment.

Typical Rational Hottie
Another absurd day. I found myself locked in thought about the complete absurdity of everything. Thus, I spent the day in a dumbfounded stupor. In other words, clarity eluded me. There's no telling when I'll snap out of it. Sheesh!

Cesspool

If the theatrics of empire was not enough, then the theater of the absurd at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) can certainly augment the latter. The "chef" has outdone himself by upping his audacity quotient. He has finally invited his squeeze to the dump. First, I am certain that his babe was dying of curiosity to see the three resident losers that she most likely has heard all about. Unfortunately, I was not around during the ceremonious event. Secondly, I am certain that he wanted to show off his "squeeze," hoping to generate extreme envy amongst the same losers. His squeeze apparently has a pet dog and drives a new Fiat® mini-coupe.

Typical "Eleventh-Hour" Hottie
Anyone bothering to monitor the theatrics of empire may have observed that an "eleventh-hour" deal is likely to pop up out of nowhere. The whole purpose of the current charade is to scare the rank-and-file peons into further submission to the moneychangers and powers-that-be. And, it's working. There's never going to be a default by empire. Just more money "printing" and eternal zero percent interest rate policy (ZIRP). As I stated previously, we're way past the point of no return. Only when the real fundamentals kick in will we see any change.

If what I observe on a daily basis is indicative of empire-at-large, the citizens of empire are brain dead. They are so intertwined with their electronic gadgets that they no longer function within the fails "civilization" paradigm. That's why civil society is now history. Bad behavior, stupidity, ignorance, rudeness, and narcissism go hand-in-hand. In any case, the toilet is flushing, and the turds are swirling around the vortex of water. Very soon the turds will disappear into the cesspool of history.

Choice & Bliss

Last night at the café in the bookstore in the den of consumerism in Kahala, I ordered an exquisite dessert called Oreo® Stack. Tiny as it was, it probably was about 1,200 calories of decadent indulgence. Of course, I sat at a table by myself and enjoyed the dessert. I made sure that I wasn't distracted by perusing a magazine or playing with the tablet computer. That was as close to bliss for me as possible.

Typical Blissful Hottie
I have devoted absolutely no space in the "blog" to delineate any of my future plans. After all, I am already keenly aware of my mortality. Yet, I am apparently only searching for pictures of young hotties to embed in the entries. Surely, there must be a plan. Well, no, there is no plan. I am living in the moment, the microsecond span of reality of which I actually exist. The past and the future are mostly irrelevant. What has brought me to this juncture? Might I suggest reading Charles Eisenstein's book, "The Ascent of Humanity," as a starting point.

To the casual onlooker, I seem to be wasting a lot of time in a miserable existence. Yet, such an evaluation requires some kind of reference standard. Most of us have been heavily indoctrinated with culture, religion, politics, ethics, morality, and what-have-you ... components of human superiority and dominion over the planet. Unfortunately, there is no equality amongst humans either. There is clearly a slave hierarchy residing below the masters. Thus, I have simply decided that freedom is really all that I want for now.

Most people appear to be pretty happy with the "system." They've cut a niche for themselves within the constraints of the various indoctrinations previously mentioned. If people are satisfied with the status quo, then whom am I to argue? By the same token, there should be no disagreement with my chosen path. We all make choices that we must live with, which is the "bottom line."

Holiday, What Holiday?

I have been eating "value menu" items at either of the two favorite (term used loosely) fast food joints since last Tuesday. I don't know. Is that junk food really that bad? Heck, I might just make the "value menu" items my permanent meal choice.

The situation at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) can be summarized in one phrase ... same ol' shit. The "chef" appears to have shelved his plans to move out. As long as he can get "laid" a couple times per week with his babe, then he can simply put off any commitment. Where does he get the money to live so extravagantly and still pay off his $50,000 student loan? A part-time substitute teacher just doesn't earn very much. As for Alan, he continues make concessions to further subjugate himself to the "chef". I am dumbfounded. Has Alan's testosterone level been completely exhausted?

Typical Divested Hottie
No time for holidays. Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. So far, I have retired two tank tops and a T-shirt to moms' rag bag. My wardrobe is down to nothing. Divestiture is going as planned, although the homeless question remains undecided. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Perishable

Last night, after an exciting meal at the fast food joint in Kahala, I followed my usual itinerary through the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) and ended up at the bookstore as usual. I ran into Wendel. We chatted for almost an hour. Then, I ran into Mike, former Asylum faculty. Quite out of the ordinary.

At the fast food joint in town this morning, my homeless buddy informed me that he was physically assaulted at the public library on Friday. Apparently, the suspect snuck up behind my homeless buddy and punched him in the back. Then, he fled the scene. The police are now looking for the suspect. My homeless buddy said that he doesn't even know the assailant, but I really doubt that the crime was random.

Typical Groomed Hottie
In my continued reading of Charles Eisenstein's book, "The Ascent of Humanity," I have discovered that the theme of the book resonates with my on-going thesis about the chimpo sapiens separation from the animal world. As we already deduced, the whole of the failed "civilization" paradigm purposefully increased the rift between human and animals, developed technology and culture to eradicate animal appearances and behavior, and pathologically increased dominion over all lifeforms on the planet.

I only need to assess how much time I must spend on personal hygiene and grooming to realize what is required to maintain the overall "human" appearance. Nearly all of our normal bodily functions, noises, and odors must be voluntarily suppressed while in public, a societal constriction that seems to foster abberant psychological side effects.

Ultimately, we humans have become too self-conscious. We are fixated with a superficial human construct that has artificially elevated humans to the top of the food chain. Our deluded perceptions have also wreaked havoc with our concept of mortality. We have exagerated our self-worth in our own eyes. We invented the "soul" to justify our importance. Yet, in the end, we simply perish. What are we to make of that?

Geriatric Reality Show

Another heatwave with no tradewinds, and another sleepless night. Thank goodness for the Nexus 7 tablet computer, eh? Naturally, the heatwave persisted all day. Fortunately, the ensuing vog radically reduced the photon emissions.

Typical Youthful Hottie
I am spending the time to read Charles Eisenstein's book, "The Ascent of Humanity." Eisenstein covers many crucial issues, ones that have made me lose my direction and focus. My path has been clear since I was forced out of wage slavery. Good fortune emancipated me, but I keep looking back to see what I am missing. If I was thirty years younger, yes, there could be way to return to the foolishness. However, I am an old codger now.

That's been the difficult part ... accepting the fact that I am a senior citizen. Denial keeps getting in the way. I should be able to look in the mirror and face the geriatric reality. The truth just doesn't sink in. I can't return to the "mainstream." Nor can I seek out youthful goals. The exodus is the only path for an old codger because death is all that's left. Well, there will be a few annoying years of decrepitude in the interim. That's it, though.

I am not officially retired yet, although I am past the desirable age for wage slavery. There are no other venues that I care to devote my time since the latter supports the crumbling "system." I am not saying that we should spend every waking moment in contemplation of death. That would be totally debilitating. Rather, the finality of life should serve as a compass and point us toward objectives we are comfortable with pursuing. We must complete those objectives to experience satisfaction. Otherwise, we go to our graves with unfinished business.

Personally, I don't have much more to accomplish. My legacy is somewhat meaningless, much like the "blog." No babes. No more ownership of property. No status. No money. Well, that's the old age reality show.

Books & Food

During my evening outings at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala, I have been perusing the shelves for interesting reading material. I discovered the book, "Homo Mysterious: Evolutionary Puzzles of Human Nature," by David Barash. Unfortunately, it's not available at the public library. So, I may break my rules again and read it piecemeal at the bookstore.

I also found, "The Ascent of Humanity," by Charles Eisenstein. Very interesting reading, although the author sometimes deviates to a "New Age" agenda. The entire manuscript is available on-line, by the way. I am sure that the topics may resonate with the handful of readers of the "blog."

Typical Literary Hottie
Incidentally, I have spent the last few days subsisting on a diet of granola and junk food at the fast food joint in Kahala. What about the sandwich shop? Fail! Big disappointment because the size of the sandwiches has been steadily decreasing. Thus, the junk food binge. Actually, it's not that bad. At the fast food joint, I order a couple greasy chicken sandwiches sans mayonnaise and a couple of side salads. Total cost: less than five dollars. With an ice cream cone for dessert: about six dollars.

My problem with food is that there is nothing that isn't poisonous within my budget. I would like to cut back or eliminate any kind of animal meat (i.e., poultry, fish, beef, or pork) from my diet. Processed food needs to go as well. The horror stories about what's in our food does little to alleviate the situation. Otherwise, usual Hawai'i Kai visit.

Scapegoat

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this morning, the "chef" said that either Alan moves out of the dump or he will. I had actually walked in during a mild confrontation between the two of them yesterday afternoon. Then, at 2am this morning, Alan was apparently sleeping on the couch in the living room when the "chef" returned. Another timid confrontation ensued.

Oddly, Alan has spent very little time in the common area ever since the "chef" had lodged a complaint with the landlord. And, I have not noticed any increase in the odor emanating from Alan. So, what's really going on?

Unrelated as it may seem on face value, I observed that the romance between the "chef" and his "squeeze" seemed to have tapered off. After the first hiatus, he stayed at her place every night for a week. Then, he was back at Slob Manor for a week. This past week, he spent only two partial evenings at her place.

I surmise that the "chef" wants to continue the relationship, but on his terms only. Staying at or moving in to her place would be unacceptable. She would be "calling the shots." He could attempt to persuade her to compromise and have them both find a new place together. However, he probably doesn't want to appear too sappy or too eager. That's why the "crisis" with Alan has come up.

The "chef" will henceforth take full control of the "crisis" situation making it appear as though Alan has forced his hand to hastily move out of Slob Manor. He and his babe will have to find a "love nest" under feigned duress. The "chef" will somehow appear as a "knight in shining armor," or that's the convoluted impression that he will convey to his babe. Alan is just a scapegoat.

In any case, the "chef" needs to "man up" and move on. He's 30 years old now. It's time for him to graduate to the next phase of life. Rotting in Slob Manor with two old codgers and a drunkard is doing him no good. Of course, he needs to find a real wage slave job first. On second thought, maybe he isn't ready for the "big leagues."

My homeless buddy has continued to provide me with the sordid details of the homeless life-style. Theft is, of course, the major drawback. He recently purchased five compact can openers because that's a "hot ticket" item. He also had his toothbrush stolen recently. The homeless can afford cigarettes and cheap booze but not toothbrushes? Also, many homeless chicks are on the prowl to "hook up," most likely looking for a "meal ticket" from a homeless guy for what that's worth.

Typical Indulgent Hottie
As to be expected, I have grown fatigued with everything. In a few days, I will only be checking e-mail once per month. My fear was that the filters would discard legitimate e-mail. Who cares? Regular mail is only checked once per month as well. There's only junk mail, so I am really wasting money on the rental. More of my tattered clothes are going into moms' rag bag. I'll be down to only a handful of clothes, all of which will be worn daily. I am rapidly moving toward the fringe of existence.

On Empire

The theatrics and histrionics concerning the empire's budget and debt ceiling continues unabated. My view is that the government shutdown should continue and the debt ceiling should be put on hold. Let the empire default on its debt already. A global correction is necessary to undo the misallocations that have resulted from the last seven years of rampant greed and corruption, but default by empire probably won't trigger it.

Typical Debt Ceiling Hottie
If the debt ceiling is raised again, the precedent will be set. In a short period of time, the empire's generated tax revenues will not be sufficient to even pay the interest on its outstanding debt (at the current zero percent). That's right, once the debt ceiling is raised again and again, there can never be an end to zero interest rate policy (ZIRP) or money "printing." Then, when the fundamentals kick in, the forced correction will be catastrophic. There will be no control over interest rates, which may parallel the (Paul) Volcker years at the Fed.

That's really how humans have handled a variety of problems in the course of their legacy. A good example is trash and garbage. We dump both in obscure locations. We don't see or smell any of it. So, our habitable spaces seem pristine, even picturesque. The garbage dump (i.e., landfill), though, get larger and larger. The garbage itself never decomposes, and toxic chemicals leach into the environment. Soon, the garbage dump reaches capacity. Another dump must be established.

Garbage and trash, nuclear power spent fuel rods, outdated munitions, human waste ... all dumped in obscure locations. Out of sight, out of mind, but not gone. Heck, we store human carcasses and ashes in graves and dungy mausoleums while they await a resurrection that will never come.

The debt problem? Same ol' shit. The toxic and useless "paper" has been absorbed into the global central banks' balance sheet. Out of sight, out of mind. So, what's the big deal about the empire's default? No debt holder is going to call in the entire balance. No collection agency will be employed. The empire will simply defer the interest payments and possibly add in a gratuitous "late fee." That's it.

Vienna Sausage: DOA

Dead on arrival (DOA). Well, not quite yet. The Vienna Sausage is definitely atrophying, though. A recent "test" indicated very sluggish performance, even for its primary purpose. I am, after all, an old codger by age. My testosterone level is steadily diminishing, so my male traits will become increasingly gracile. There's nothing that I can do short of hormone replacement therapy.

Typical Satiated Hottie
Ah, the Vienna Sausage ... where to begin? Trusted friend, loyal partner. Not exactly, although the Vienna Sausage has served me well. When babes actually came around, the Vienna Sausage performed admirably for up to four or five times per day for months on end. Oh, those were the days! Too bad you-know-who doesn't want to come around, eh? Needless to say, the Vienna Sausage and I were extremely elated. Perhaps the lack of real-life deployment is what has brought on gradual dysfunction. After all, how real is a hurdy-gurdy video clip?

What will I do when the Vienna Sausage finally "peters out"? I shudder to think about it. I'll just be an androgynous old eunuch. Death will be right around the corner. Sheesh!

Yesterday, I neglected to mention the usual Hawai'i Kai visit. We knew that already, didn't we? Moms mentioned that Aunty Maria sustained some injuries from falling down. Moms also knows of two parties who are interested in purchasing my Nissan® Frontier truck.

Brevity of Life

Did you read Lucius Annaeus Seneca's treatise, "On the Shortness of Life"? Yeah, that was written about 2,000 years ago, but the work has as much relevance even now. How much time are we wasting instead of enjoying our lives? How much more slavery can we endure? How much more ignorance can we tolerate?

The same issues keep popping up. The unhealthy diet, the homeless decision, the divestiture of possessions, the slow death of the Vienna Sausage, the hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL), and so forth. What would Seneca say? Well, let me quote him at length:

You live as if you were destined to live forever, no thought of your frailty ever enters your head, of how much time has already gone by you take no heed. You squander time as if you drew from a full and abundant supply, though all the while that day which you bestow on some person or thing is perhaps your last. You have all the fears of mortals and all the desires of immortals. You will hear many men saying: "After my fiftieth year I shall retire into leisure, my sixtieth year shall release me from public duties." And what guarantee, pray, have you that your life will last longer? Who will suffer your course to be just as you plan it? Are you not ashamed to reserve for yourself only the remnant of life, and to set apart for wisdom only that time which cannot be devoted to any business? How late it is to begin to live just when we must cease to live! What foolish forgetfulness of mortality to postpone wholesome plans to the fiftieth and sixtieth year, and to intend to begin life at a point to which few have attained!

Can you say, "Rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic"? Or, how about, "Hamster wheel"? What Seneca may also be referencing is what Ernest Becker calls the "vital lie." Yet, how many people can actually face the reality of death without the hope of an afterlife or resurrection?

Typical Distracted Hottie
Seneca discussed the pursuit of leisure, the review of one's past, and the embrace of philosophy as essential elements of living a full life. Distractions are not necessary. What do you think?

My daily observations have indicated that the life-style of the pariah or "loser" is in some ways a prison as well. Freedom from the status quo is extremely confining. Not to mention, people don't treat the nonconforming "loser" very well. On the other hand, the "mainstream" people seem to do quite well, enjoying life, at least that is the impression that they convey. The paraiah or "loser" is a loner, eats alone, sleeps alone, thinks alone, with every functional aspect of life only engaged in the mind. Externally, the paraiah or "loser is a walking cadaver, essentially a dead man.

I can now easily understand why freedom is so elusive. The pariah seeks freedom, but he only ends up a "loser" in other people's eyes. There is nowhere to go in "mainstream" society upon accomplishing the exodus. Thus, he must move downward into dereliction in order find movement and purpose. Survival becomes meaning.

Seneca

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the new tenants have moved into the attached two-bedroom unit at the rear of the house. A Chinaman family with one young child and the grandmother, most likely relatives of the landlord. The grandmother and child both appear to have loads of fun continuously walking up and down the trail and stairs from the unit to the front of the house. The trail, of course, runs right next to my squalid room as well as the attached studio that the babe is renting. Naturally, the psychotic activity of the Chinaman family can go on for hours.

Tom, the drunkard, is still heavily inebriated on cheap booze daily. I was under the mistaken impression that he was close to Alan's and my age. However, upon realizing that Tom's hyperactive daughter is 16 years old, there is no way that Tom could be any older than 35 years of age. Tom looks like he's in his sixties. He walks like an old codger, too. Well, that's the effect of a steady diet of cheap booze. He's allegedly up for a huge monetary inheritance. I'm sure that he'll be dead long before then.

Typical Translational Hottie
Last night, I discovered an interesting book titled, "Seneca: On the Shortness of Life," while at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. Later, I located the manuscript, albeit by a different translator, on the Net. Very interesting and highly recommended reading. I even stored a copy in the "cloud." And, much to no one's relief, the homeless guy has returned from who-knows-where.

At the gym this morning, I was privy to an extended perusal of the hottie gym trainer while I chatted with Travis, the service manager, at the front desk. Baby was looking mighty fine. Why is baby such a hottie? Now that's a good philosophical question! Otherwise, same ol' shit.

Post No. 2,715

Everyone here will die, I thought to myself last night, as I observed the absurd spectacle laid out before me. Another evening of loitering in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I was sitting on one of the many wooden benches, wearing my usual tattered 12-year-old t-shirt and outdated boardshorts. There's a sidewalk sale event going on all weekend, so the main promenade was packed with chimpo sapiens, all engaged in the most malignant of worldly activities. Shopping. What would Søren Kirkegaard say?

Incidentally, the homeless guy who also loiters at the bookstore every evening has disappeared. The last time that I saw him was on Tuesday night. Oddly, he departed an hour earlier than usual. And, that was it. Obviously, no one else noticed his absence.

Typical Reference Hottie
I completed reading de Botton's book, "Status Anxiety," at the public library without incident. I may acquire my own copy of the book for reference purposes. My increasingly violent reaction toward people treating me like a loser (i.e., a status problem) is a good argument for the purchase. In any case, another highly recommended addition to anyone's reading list.

Confusion

My visits to Hawai'i Kai are always uneventful. Moms and I always follow the same itinerary. Nothing wrong with that. Uneventful is fine with me. Lately, anything eventful has been chaotic and oftentimes edging toward violence.

Last night, I chatted with Wendel, one of the regulars at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. He, too, was wondering where to hang out once the bookstore closes for good. He's retired and divorced, by the way. He also gave me a brief summary of his life. I was shocked to learn that he had suffered a heart attack a few years ago.

I really don't know what to do after the bookstore finally shutters its doors. There's no place else to loiter in the mall. I certainly don't want to spend any more time than necessary at the detestable Slob Manor (read: rental housing). And, to be honest, the bookstore conundrum is a criterion for the homeleees decision.

Of course, the rampant crime and other stupidity perpetrated by the derelicts at the Next Step homeless shelter are major disadvantages. My homeless buddy has reported that even cheap pairs of sunglasses are subject to theft. Essentially, nothing of value, even decent clothes, can be stored at the shelter safely.

Typical Decisive Hottie
Well, there is some time left, about three months, before some kind of decision must be made. Frankly, I haven't been this confused in a long time. And, let's face it, the crux of the matter has nothing to do with homelessness or the bookstore. The issue is, and always has been, freedom.

Once I achieved a moderate level of freedom, I became very intolerant of any attempt to bring me into slavery or bondage again. Moderate freedom has opened my eyes. I see how the moneychangers and powers-that-be are rapidly draping the gauntlet of oppression upon the rank-and-file peons. There's just no end. And, with the surveillance state in full swing, there can be no escape without adequate subterfuge. Going underground, "flying beneath the radar," are what comes to mind. What other choice is there?

No Respect

At the public library, I had a run-in with a psychotic fool in the restroom. Rather than walk around me to the sink area, the clown attempted to squeeze through the small gap between me, standing and waiting for him, and the wall. He bumped into me. "You need to watch where you're going," I admonished. After claiming that it was I who had bumped into him and giving me more "lip," he deliberately splashed water on me. I pursued him out into reading room and confronted him. The spectacle caused an alert to the security guards.

The other day on the bus, a hideous middle-age chick decided to use my leg as a footstool. The bitch actually put her dirty shoe on my thigh. People step on my feet almost daily and won't even say one simple word: sorry. But, the minute they sit down, they cannot stop talking on their "smart phones." Fat slobs often try to squeeze into the seat next to me, even though half of their blubber is flowing over me. Then, they start sweating profusely. I often open Lou's School of Etiquette for immediate matriculation. Yet, does it even make a difference?

Typical Courteous Hottie
Civility and common courtesy are on the wane. Is the cause stupidity, snobbery, or mental illness? Every morning, I note that the tables and chairs in the fast joint in town are filthy, covered with food scraps and grease. Often, trays with trash are left on the table as well. Restrooms are filthy nearly everywhere. Urine (read: piss) is all over the toilet seats. At the gym, the showers are essentially a trash bin. Sinks are full of beard hair and crap that the perpetrators could not even take time to rinse away. Buses are effectively large garbage dumpsters. Obviously, "civilization" is just a figment of the imagination. What we have is a mega-zoo with only one pathetic animal species, chimpo sapiens. Sad, but true.

Respect

Status. Big arms, big chest, big bank, big house, big car. Money, power, fame, recognition ... all about status. People are more concerned about how they can impress others and develop a fan base. Even small-time punks want to be idolized. At the very least, we want some semblance of respect.

Typical Respectful Hottie
Like the late comedian Rodney Dangerfield, though, I get "no respect" wherever I am. I don't command respect. I don't look like I should be respected. And, by all appearances, I don't have a lot to offer. I am the proverbial loser.

Coincidentally, I happened to stumble upon the book, "Status Anxiety," by Alain de Botton. Highly recommended. The author's dry wit had me bursting out in laughter. Seriously, de Botton has meticulously described the disgusting plague that affects modern (failed) "civilization." If I may be so bold, I definitely consider the quest for status to be part and parcel of Ernest Becker's existential "vital lie." Of course, what isn't a lie these days?

Hamster Wheel

Empire shutdown! Wait a minute, Ben "Handjob" Bernanke and the entire Fed staff are still on payroll. Fiat money is still being "printed." The shutdown is just more theatrics, more histrionics, more "smoke and mirrors." And, ObamaScare is still in effect. What a crock of shit!

Typical Sequestration Hottie
While working out at the gym this afternoon, I paused several times to ponder the absurdity around me. Then, I realized that status and "bragging rights" are the focal points of everyday life, especially in empire. A meaningless and endless pursuit, much the same as a hamster wheel. Yet, what is the worth of our status upon death?

The majority of chimpo sapiens are too stupid to realize the folly of the hamster wheel .. the wasted energy and zero net displacement. Yet, they continue to run faster and harder, striving to outdo all of the other chimps. They acquire more "toys," property, and who-knows-what else just to elevate their status. Fucking hamster wheel.