Life in the Slow Lane

I have tied up a few loose ends here and have updated the status of the most pertinent issues as established in the last few chapters of the journal. I am now running out of material to discuss. There are only a handful of readers. Daily entries are making less sense. Thus, there may be a period of a day or two between entries, if not more, from this point forward.

Preparing to move out of Chez Loser is next on the agenda. I will have to start divesting more of my useless possessions. I am thinking of purchasing a decent quality sleeping bag instead of an airbed. Then, I'll be sleeping on the floor. The airbed is much more comfortable, but it will get in the way. I will also have to rent a Post Office box for mail. Finally, I will have to gather everything that has just been sitting around for months and donate all of it to Goodwill or the Salvation Army.

I received e-mail from Shirley yesterday. She thanked me for the B-day e-card that I had sent over a month ago. Obviously, she has not been on-line much. She is still working at Daiei. She apparently tried for a job at a credit union, but she was given the run-around. She has also applied for a couple of jobs at Pearl Harbor. Shirley mentioned that her sister and father had stopped by Chez Loser to check it out with their realtor. So, that really was them. Shirley is planning to take the next week off, so we may end up getting together for lunch.

When I returned to Chez Loser, I ate my last can of beans for dinner. After dinner, I decided to change my routine. I cut some of the remaining scrap carpet into a long strip. I then laid it out on the living room floor. I put my Nalu Board on it. Then, I rode my Nalu Board while I watched the tube, mostly during the endless advertisements. I am getting better by the day. For the most part, my rides were much longer. However, I have a long way to go. I am still very unstable on the board. Well, hey! I'm a senior citizen!

This is the last day of the Spring term at the Diploma Mill. I will be on unpaid vacation until June 30th. What will I do with myself? I'll spend most of my time preparing for homelessness. I am not at all certain about what will happen next. I become quite fatigued when I ponder my future living arrangements. Oh, how I dread the thought of residing in another mausoleum. Wage slavery is another nuisance. My useless possessions are yet another nuisance.

I had nothing to do all day except to ponder my moronic plight. What I really need is some breathing space. I never seem to get any closer to exiting society. I keep going around in circles, just like all of the fools around me. I have really made zero progress. When I divest one useless possession, I replace it with another. When I make a commitment to exit one facet of this benign life-style, I then enter another. It makes no sense. All I really need is a safe and modest place to live. Nothing fancy. I want to continue surfing. I want to ride my Nalu Board. I want to visit with moms. And, I want to work out at the gym. That is what I consider to be "quality of life." I will work part-time, only to pay for my survival and to insure that I can collect Social Security. I need nothing else. Perhaps, if I ponder this matter long enough, my mind will snap. Then, I'll finally just wash my hands of everything.

I sat in the park near Chinatown this afternoon. I tried to make sense of the quagmire I have made for myself. However, I found myself dozing off because of how peaceful it was. Even the subdued noise of the traffic was calming. Homeless guys were occupying most of the benches. There's not much difference between them and I. My upcoming vacation will be quiet. Pseudo-professor Glenn is going on a cruise, as well as Pseudo-professor Mike. Everyone has someplace to go except for the ol' lavahead.

I have so many things to do, but it's really useless nonsense. For the most part, I'll spend my days in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Maybe I'll finally go to the dentist, although I'll be paying the total cost of the visit. My truck needs an oil change. I need to divest my useless crap. On and on. In the process, I become older and more decrepit. Yet, I am where I need to be, that is, aside from Costa Rica.

Another benign evening is ahead. I'll be riding my Nalu Board in front of the tube. Then, I'll probably take a jaunt over to Safeway® just before the sprinklers turn on. What a life I'm living!

March of the Wage Slave Penguins

Hawaii is leading the nation in obesity rates, especially among youth, with estimated costs of nearly $300 million a year for related illnesses." -- from Star-Bulletin

So, how does Hawai'i rank as one of the healthiest places in the nation? I debunked that myth in the journal a while back. Overall, the obesity trend is only the tip of the iceberg. Within the next 10 or 20 years, we are going to see a healthcare system needlessly burdened by obesity-related illnesses. These are illnesses that could have been avoided if the cattle would not stuff their faces with toxic junk food. I fully expect the whole healthcare system to collapse.

I had two Sake Martinis at Indigo Happy Hour yesterday. That broke my six-week sobriety. However, at this point in time, I do not feel the need to consume any "fire water." I need to keep my wits about myself. I also saw Robert meandering around outside Che Pasta as Lori and I were eating lunch. He looks a little chunkier. I suspect that he not gone to the gym ever since he abruptly stopped after two months. He is still dying his hair.

When I returned to Chez Loser, all was quiet. Chubs was home at 9pm. That's when the slammin' soirée commenced. The noise was all in the kitchen. When it comes to food, Chubs is all over it. Later, I discovered that Chub's BoyToy was back in the fold. No doubt, he had a change of heart because of three long weeks without the "nookie." Guys are such idiots when it comes to babes. It's all about da wild thing.

I left for town at 9am. I was able to spend a few minutes with my Nalu Board. I've made a bit of progress since Tuesday night. Now, I can actually launch from either side. My rides are still incredibly short. The rest of the day was uneventful (read: same ol' shit). Later, I will spend some time on my Nalu Board. Then, I will numb the oversized cranium in front of the tube.

Pseudo-professor Mike has ordered his bumper stickers for his campaign, but he has not filed the nomination papers yet. He is still trying to get me to invest money in his house in exchange for partial ownership. The house at present is owned by him and his wife. The disposition of the house is up in the air until after he they divorce. From what I can ascertain, he wants me to invest money so that he can turn around and pay off his wife for her share of the property. As you can easily see, the whole scheme is a sham to separate me from my money. He has an alternate plan in which he will persuade Bea, his mistress, to sell her place or obtain a reverse mortgage on it. Then, Bea and I together with him will invest in another place together. Yeah, right. "No one will separate me and my money," I told him.

Anonder has often urged the ol' lavahead to take time off to vacation in a remote part of the world. Anonder himself does this often. In fact, he is now backpacking and camping in Spain for a few months. He has said that it would do wonders for my soul to spend an extended amount of time in solitude. I am already a loner as it is. My tolerance for people decreases each day. I cannot imagine that I would have a newfound love for people after such a journey. I believe that the opposite would occur. In addition, I would most likely develop severe psychopathology which would border on insanity. Unlike Anonder, I do not have the resources to completely exit society as I often wish. I can only attain semi-retirement. I will still have to live amongst people and also work with them for a number of years. For me, it's the March of the Wage Slave Penguins.

Investment Report. The Fed raised the short-term interest rate again, which is good and bad news for the ol' lavahead. His money market fund is now yielding 5.42 percent (annual) which brings in about $1,300 in taxable interest income per month. His one and only mutual fund (IRA) has yet to recover the same NAV before the crash of 2001. His bond fund (IRA) lost about $500 NAV because of rising interest rates, but it yields 4.8 percent (annual). Pressure from global long-term interest rates is pushing up mortgage interest. Thus, the ol' lavahead may be in for a big surprise if he purchases another dump.

Crazy Days Ahead

I played around with my new Nalu Board last night. I cannot believe how bad my balance has become. Well, it never really was good. It may take me a month to get better at it. No wonder I suck at surfing. Sheesh! The Nalu Board is a copy of the original Indo Board®. It's not as aesthetically impressive, but the Nalu Board is just as good, if not better than its competitor. The company delivered as promised. The board was sent by Priority Mail. I paid $25 for shipping, but the actual postage was $33 and some change. If you are interested in playing around with a balance board like the ol' lavahead, try out the Nalu Board.

I read, with some interest, the news coverage about the Shrub administration's dismissal of the letter from Iranian President Ahmadinejad. The reason? The latter failed to address the "nukular" issue. Remember the same charade with Saddam and the alleged "weapons of mass destruction"? It's the same ol' shit again. Israel, Pakistan, and India are fully armed with "weapons of mass destruction" in the region as it is. Why can't the cattle see through this farce? Even here at home, the cattle cannot distinguish between "illegal immigration" and discrimination. There is a reason why Canada's border is wide open while Mexico's border is not.

The acceptance of the counter-offer for Chez Loser was confirmed this morning by e-mail. The buyers want a quick closing, so I anticipate that I will be out of Chez Loser by mid-June. This presents a major problem. I have no place to live once I move out. I also received e-mail that the home inspector will be checking out Chez Loser on May 15th. The documents are being submitted to the escrow service today as well.

I met with Lori for lunch at Che Pasta. She is leaving for China next week. We are planning to start surfing again after she returns to Hawai'i. I need to practice more on my Nalu Board before then. I told Lori about the pending sale of my place. She thinks that I need to purchase another place rather than rent a dump. She also mentioned that she has a new one-person outrigger canoe.

After the gym, I met up with Rob, the former Asylum IT guy, at Indigo for Happy Hour. I was full from lunch, but I stuffed my face anyway. Rob said that he accepted the offer made on his place, but he is not certain if it is in escrow yet. This will make the timing difficult for us to find a place to rent, at least for the interim. Rob had lowered the price of his place from $650,000 to $370,000 because it was not attracting any buyers. In any case, the new adventure has begun.

The Routine. Same ol' shit. Well, maybe it wasn't the same ol' shit.

Loose Ends

Yesterday, I did not hear anything about the second offer for Chez Loser, so I assumed that it never came in. When I returned to Chez Loser, I discovered that the Post Office attempted to deliver my new Nalu Board. I spent the rest of the evening in front of the tube. Chubs did not return home until 2am. The ho' was making all kinds of noise. Stomping. Slamming shit round. Dropping heavy objects on the floor. No doubt, Chubs was drunk again. I am not too concerned anymore. Soon, the ho' will be putz's problem.

I woke up at 7am and made a pot of coffee. At about 8:30am, I drove to the Post Office to pick up the parcel. When I returned home, I unpacked my new Nalu Board. It's pretty nifty. I played with it for a few minutes and noted how easy it would be to maim myself. Chubs woke up at 9:30am. There was a flurry of thuds amidst all the stomping. Then, the ho' left.

The rest of the day will be uneventful. End up in town. Faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Gym. Back to Chez Loser. Eat a can of beans with rice. Vegetate in front of the tube. Play with my new Nalu Board.

I've also learned a few more details about the "camping" situation in Waimanalo. It turns out that the majority of "campers" are derelicts. Crime, drugs, violence are typical. The locals do not even go there anymore. And, the police have been looking the other way. When I was out there a few weeks ago, I was risking my life. Now I understand why no one else (aside from the derelicts) was around.

The "blog" statistics have been tracked using Blog Patrol. However, like most free Net services, the site's servers are overtaxed. I am not certain whether the numbers reported are even accurate. The number reported in the box is supposedly the count of unique visitors based upon IP addresses. The number of page visits is much higher.

Well, since I have nothing else better to do, I should tie up the loose ends from the original journal. Really, there is only one loose end. The journal was compromised when I had to remove all references to the former friend. I am not going to delve into the details. I will just give a minor synopsis of what transpired. Then, I will discuss how the journal came into play.

I had actually met the former friend a couple of times before she started to hang out at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. One day, we were walking down the hallway and she asked me if I was a student or a faculty member. I replied that I was faculty. She introduced herself and said that she was faculty also. She taught biology classes. Right then, I realized what a hottie she was. In February 2003, she started coming by the faculty computer room right before her class. We started chatting. She had a very alluring accent. It turns out that she was "Persian," which is what most Iranians call themselves.

About that time, I was beginning to suffer from mid-life crisis. Well, the latter was actually an on-going malady. It flared up when I met the former friend. I became quite anxious about life. I decided that Summer was going to be a turning point. With that, I contacted Shirley and asked her if she wanted to do a bunch of Summer activities. Shirley agreed. I even offered to pay her way since I knew that she was short on dinero. Right before the end of the Spring term, I asked the former friend to join Shirley and I on the first outing, which was a hike up Diamond Head. Shirley easily figured out the situation. On the day of the hike, Shirley was quite distant when we were hiking up Diamond Head. In fact, she was way ahead of the former friend and I. That was the start of the next few months. We did a number of activities. In the middle of Summer, a few of my students joined the group. And, another long lost friend, John from Heald also joined.

I became quite enamored of the former friend. That was a topic of endless conversation between Shirley and I. Yes, at one time, Shirley and I were pretty good friends. We chatted almost daily on the phone, if we didn't run into each other during the day. The former friend became close to Shirley as well. Thus, the matter of loyalty could have come into play later on.

I won't go into much more detail. I did ask the former friend out once, but she turned me down. Things were a little strained for a few weeks. Then, somehow we started hanging out more. Shirley did not join us very often at that point. So, it was just the former friend and I. Nothing happened, of course. In the end, the former friend moved back to Cali. That was March 2004, just before Spring Break. I had just purchased Chez Loser. The former friend gave me a bunch of furniture and other stuff prior to departing to hawai'i. I moved it out of her apartment with the help of Pseudo-professor Ralph. During Spring Break, I flew to Cali to visit friends. It had been years since I had left Hawai'i. I was in Northern Cali. I flew down to LA to visit the former friend as well. And, that was the last time that I saw her.

The problem came about after the former friend did an ego-search for herself. She discovered several threads in an older version of the discussion forums. In the journal, I had painfully described every detail of infatuation with the former friend and more. Since the ol' lavahead just loves to write, he ended up spinning quite a tale of obsession. Although some may doubt what I say, I spent a lot of time thinking up ways to make my story seem ever so much like mid-life crisis gone awry. Apparently, I succeeded especially with the former friend. It's all water under the bridge now.

I am a monk. An eunuch. I don't concern myself with babes. My goal is to exit society, not to further entrench myself in it. the sad part about surgically removing those portions of the journal is that no one will benefit from the lesson learned. Quite a few people have read the entire journal and have sent e-mail to say how it has helped them out in one way or another. Reading a perspective from someone who has the same kind of mistakes is often comforting. Alas, that is neither here or there. The important thing is that the "blog" is here to continue where the journal left off.

Late Breaking News. This just in at 5:19pm HST. The counter-offer for Chez Loser has been accepted!

Revenge of the Stoneheads

Well, it is quite clear that Hawai'i is on the same destructive path once taken by the Moai. We've erected technological versions of the infamous Easter Island stoneheads, all monuments and testimony to human stupidity. By the way, have you checked out, "House II: The Second Story"? Did you see the cheesy skull? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!

I returned to Chez Loser at 4:15pm yesterday. I was able to chat with Debbie, my realtor, in between the time people showed up for the Open House. A suspicious haole guy returned to pick up a fact sheet. He claimed that he forgot to take one. He then revealed that he was a party (husband) of the offer that was submitted. He had stopped by earlier, but not revealed this fact to Debbie. He asked a few foolish questions, which seemed as though he was making a case for submitting such a low bid. From what I could tell, his wife had made the decision that she wanted the place. Isn't that how it always works? To salvage his manhood, putz decided to take it upon himself to become a real estate mogul. He briefly discussed his insulting offer. Debbie mentioned that we were going to make a counter-offer. "That's the nature of the game," putz responded, which revealed his true intentions. After the Open House, Debbie and I noticed that the Open House sign had been turned around so the arrow was facing in the opposite direction. The only person who would have done that was putz.

A few other people came by, two of them neighbors of mine. Debbie called up the putz's realtor. She negotiated a counter-offer. The realtor had to get back with putz to confer with him. After a few more phone exchanges, the realtor made a final call with a compromise proposal. I would lower the price by $9,000 and add on the 1.5 percent cash credit. The final selling price would then be $364,000 and some change. I would get $360,000 after the credit and before selling costs are deducted. Debbie also said that she would give me one-third of her commission if and when I purchased a new place to help compensate.

The paperwork for the counter-offer was sent by e-mail this morning. I perused the documents briefly before taking the bus to Kahala Mall to meet up with moms. We ate lunch at Panda Express®. We got to chat for a while. After I returned to town, I had to meet Debbie across the street to submit the documents. Debbie mentioned that there might be another offer later today.

The downtown gym finally opened today. I was able to do a short cardio workout and take my shower. I may still consider going to the Kapi'olani gym every now and then.

Meltdown Hawai'i

"I'm a hundred-seventy-year-old fart." -- Gramps in "House II: The Second Story."

I spoke with Debbie, my realtor, late yesterday afternoon. She mentioned that the potential buyers were also asking for a three percent credit for closing costs. In other words, they want me to pay them $11,000 cash in addition to lowering the price. The reason, according to Debbie, is that they are seeking 100 percent financing, which means they have essentially no cash. I also noticed that the potential buyers want a $1,000 cleaning credit (read: more cash), too. Chez Loser is clean. The place has new carpets. There is no furniture. I don't even take a shower there. Cleaning credit, my ass! Debbie is going to look over the offer and come up with a counter-offer. The ridiculous offer brings the price of Chez Loser too close to the leasehold units, which means I would be losing money. Debbie also mentioned that Kamehameha Schools (Bishop Estate) has put a hold on current lease negotiations, indicating that the fee purchase may be much higher soon. Obviously, lease rates and fee purchases are not going to decrease.

Chubs was not home all night again. How could I be so blessed? I spent the evening in front of the tube. For a break, I went shopping at Safeway® and Longs®. I was looking for canned pork & beans again. Nothing at Longs. Safeway had the Van Camp's® Pork and Beans in stock at $1.59 per can. That's highway robbery, dag nabit!

This morning, I cleaned up Chez Loser in preparation for the Open House. Then, I departed for town at 10am. I was able to transfer to another bus within a few minutes after arriving in town. I was at the Kapi'olani gym by 11:20am. The gym was fairly crowded. There were babes everywhere. I did my usual Monday workout today. Yesterday, I did my usual Wednesday workout because I did not go the gym on that day. A former Asylum students, Joe, works at the Kapi'olani gym. He told me that the downtown gym may not be operational for a few more days.

I was able to catch a bus back to town fairly quickly. I spent a couple of hours at the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. Since I do not own a computer anymore, I must compose the "blog" at inconvenient times. Thus, I am composing this at 1:47pm HST. I can only guess what the rest of the day will be like. I plan to return to Chez Loser and chat with Debbie before the Open House is over. Then, I will make dinner, which will consist of frozen vegetables, rice, and my last can of beans. More details about my foolish diet in the last chapter of the journal.

Meltdown. I have tried to include relevant details about the ridiculous cost of living here in Hawai'i. As of Friday, the "gas cap" law was repealed as a result of the public furor over high petrol prices. Incidentally, petrol prices never went down prior to the "gas cap." Thus, the State government waited until prices were incredibly high before repealing the cap. Really, the whole situation can be summarized by a can of beans. The regular price of my favorite can of pork & beans is $1.59 each. Does this sound a little high to you? This will be a never-ending cycle from this point forward, especially now that we may have entered the era of Peak Oil. Hawai'i is totally dependent on imports of all goods. Hence, we are at critical mass. Meltdown is inevitable. We've got limited supplies of fresh water. Our landfills are at capacity. All agricultural land has been converted to residential use. Traffic is beyond comprehension. The infrastructure is overtaxed as evidenced by the recent dumping of raw sewage which closed all South shore beaches. Yet, development just continues as if there are unlimited resources and no tomorrow. Something's gotta give.

Hawai'i is only a small part of the world. However, what goes on in the microcosm may reveal the cracks developing in the macrocosm. Overpopulation. Pollution. Global warming. Peak Oil. Resource wars. Pandemic outbreaks. Famine. Poverty. Obesity. Junk food. Chronic illness. Garbage and trash. Consumerism. Greed. Corruption. And so on. The negative synergy caused by these components is bringing us very close to the Apocalypse.

Hog Call

I received both a call and e-mail from Debbie, my realtor. There were four showings scheduled for Saturday and another Open House on Sunday. The good news was that an offer is coming in this weekend. My first offer! The bad news? I could be homeless within two months.

Lori and I briefly communicated by e-mail. We may meet for lunch next week. Lori has only two weeks before she is heading for China for the Great Wall Marathon, or something like that. The trip is apparently costing $10,500 and some change. We are probably going to get back into surfing once she returns. The ocean on the South shore is reported to be clean now, although I am suspicious of the latter. However, many people have started going back in the water without incident.

I joined Pseudo-professor Glenn briefly for monthly Art Walk (also called First Friday). The event was boring this month. Hardly anyone was out, most likely because of Cinco de Mayo.

Chubs did not return last night, so I enjoyed the peace and quiet. However, the ho' and her oversized offspring returned early this morning. The dumb ho' turned the air conditioner on in her room and passed out. Well, hey! It's hard work climbing the one flight of stairs. Her stupid "ton o' fun" kid began a marathon back and forth running session. Each step with his club feet creates a loud thud. My ceiling fans were vibrating, and white shit was raining from my ceiling. The sad part is that the fat little hog is probably only five years old. I left at 10am for town. However, I was fuming. What if the little lard ass kept that crap up all day, especially during when the realtors bring their clients over for the showings? I should have launched into my infamous hog call. Suuuuuweeeee! Suuuuuweeee! If the two swine make me lose out on a potential sale, I may go on a homicidal rampage.

I ended up at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill as usual. I had some work to do. Then, I had to write my usual bullshit for the "blog." Frankly, I am really enjoying the writing. That is the kind of loser I am. The gym in town is still closed for repairs, so I had to go to the Kapi'olani branch again. Debbie, my realtor, called while I was at the gym. She left a message saying that the offer was $350,000 for Chez Loser. That's $19,000 than my asking price. Shit! I will have to discuss the strategy with her. This is my only offer so far, but I do not want to desperately settle for less.

By the way, transporting myself by mass transit to the Kapi'olani gym on the weekends is a nightmare. I waited over 30 minutes for a bus to return to town on one of the busiest routes. In fact, the weekend bus schedule for all routes is is quite minimal. My guess is that most people drive on the weekends because they are going out on their usual shopping sprees. I spent the rest of the day in town. I was able to listen to DI.fm Deep House , thank goodness. I'll spend the rest of evening watching benign programming on the tube. Incidentally, I watched "House II: The Second Story" last night. What a riot! Gramps steals the show!

Rhetoric & Rubric

Chubs returned at about 10:30pm last night. Stomping. Slammin' soirée. Chubs was obviously drunk again. There was a lot of noise in the kitchen. Well, after a long night of drinking, Chubs was famished. It sounded as if Chubs was frantically trying to put something together to stuff in her face. At one point, there was a huge thud. Chubs was probably standing on a chair in order to reach for the Costco-sized box of Snackwells® hidden in the cupboard and then jumped off the chair in sheer ecstasy when she found 'em. Of course, if Chubs looked like Roselyn Sanchez, then things would be different.

I was given a whole loaf of Hawai'ian sweet bread the other day. I polished off the loaf in two days, even though I noticed the absence of the "Nutritional Facts" label. I did look at the ingredients. The sweet bread was toxic. Partially hydrogenated oils, BHT, food coloring, lots of sugar. I might as well have downed a bottle of Drano®.

The rest of the day was uneventful. This was the last day of the term at the Diploma Mill. One more week left for final exams. I must also complete my grading for The Seminary. The gym in town was still closed and may remain that was for a few more days. So, I will have to go to one of the other locations.

Did you notice that the diagram for Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is depicted as a pyramid? Can you guess how many cattle actually become human enough to attain "self-actualization"? Do you think that money (read: dinero, mullah) determines what strata one falls into? Obviously, these are rhetorical questions.

I received e-mail the other day from Mr. Ray. He been toolin' around the country with his father. I've been reading his adventures on his "blog." Quite interesting. You know, I'm getting to like this "blog" concept. Many of the cattle will classify the ol' lavahead as "anal retentive" because he refuses to use the text messaging syntax so popular today. In addition, he firmly obeys rules such as putting quotation marks around the word, "blog." Let's face it. The cattle do not even know the meaning of the phrase, "anal retentive." In fact, the closest that they get to comprehending the latter is when they use toilet paper.

The "Blog." Fewer people visit the "blog" than the journal. That's what the Blog Patrol statistics reveal. Well, I will continue to "blog" the journal for now. The entries will continue daily while I still have time on my hands as well as material to discuss. There are far too many other options out on the Net to read. Well, we will soldier on until the day comes when it's time to put the whole thing out to pasture.

Future Health Crisis. The Star-Bulletin had a couple of interesting articles last night. One article cited that 29 percent of all kids entering school (K-12) are overweight or obese in Hawai'i. The other article the State regulatory control over health insurance premiums has ended. Thus, health care providers can raise premiums at any time with no restraint.

The first issue is obesity. Aside from the fact that Chubs is going to fall through my ceiling sometime soon, there are wider ramifications. The obesity rate in Hawai'i is coincident with national figures, of which the US leads amongst all nations. It does not take a rocket scientist to see how obesity will affect us all. It should be common knowledge that the common denominator amongst all chronic diseases is excess blubber. Fat stores most of the toxins that we are ingesting and slowly poisons the body over the years. The more blubber, the more toxins stored. Hence, the higher risk of of even more chronic problems.

Obscure reports have indicated that long-term healthcare facilities will be severely limited in the near future, especially with the first of the Baby Boom Generation soon retiring. With the way the cattle are converting their bodies to toxic waste dumps, there will be no way to meet the needs of the latter as they become senior citizens with extreme chronic illnesses. The problem is also more immediate. Have you ever been to an HMO clinic during the day? Any day? It's more crowded than the mall. When I did have a health plan, I only went to the clinic once in a year.

I dare say that the current problems are exacerbated by all of the medication ads on the tube. The cattle are going in to see their physicians and demanding to be put on meds. Have you ever listened to the narrator at then edn when he is going through all the contraindications as fast as possible. It's almost unintelligible. The one part you should hear is, "Don't take if you have liver problems." I don't think that the average clown realizes that meds are essentially toxins. Most meds work on specific parts of the brain. That's right, the meds saturate the tiny pea-sized gray matter in the cranium. The residual toxins must be filtered out. Well, guess what does all the filtering. Yes, the liver!

With the possibility that health insurance rates will go sky high, I have prospect of ever having health insurance again. I am not really sad, although it does create some anxiety. Health insurance premiums have to go up. With so many people illin', there is no other way to subsidize the cost. The insurance premiums average across all of the insured. In other words, the only people who benefit from health insurance are the ones who are constantly at the doctor's office (which is almost everyone). Frankly, I predict that the whole healthcare industry is going to collapse, and we'll be up shit creek without a paddle. Something to think about.

No Escape for the Weary

I decided late yesterday afternoon to take up the invitation for dinner from Pseudo-professor Mike. I walked over to the Honolulu Tower. The dinner was held at Bea's place. There a few other people there as well. Dinner was delicious. We sat around after dinner. I somehow got caught up playing with his Apple® MacBook. In my mind, I imagined that I needed one myself. Then, reality set in. At most, I will require a Palm® device, such as the Tx model. I was able to take a shower there, which was nice since the gym was closed. Pseudo-professor Mike gave me a ride back to Chez Loser.

Pseudo-professor Mike is a "dreamer." In chatting with him about his ambition to run for public office, I discovered an incongruence between the end result and the means to get there. Dreamers are an interesting group. I've met quite a few of them in my lifetime. They tend to have grandiose plans, but have neither the resources or the perseverance to reach their goals. Not one of these "dreamer" acquaintances have gone beyond the mundane. Oddly, they always seem to have significant others who double as "enablers" of the malady. In the weeks to come, I expect those political aspirations to silently disappear.

Chubs and her stupid kid were both home when I returned at 9:30pm. I could hear the stupid kid running back and forth. Fortunately, the two chunky monkeys went beddy-bye within a few minutes. The two morons were up fairly early. Chubs' little oinker was running back and forth continuously after he woke up. I thought the ceiling was going to cave in. I have determined that the hyperactivity displayed by Chubs' stupid kid is extreme psychomotor agitation caused by the build-up of excess blubber. The little shit needs some exercise! Chubs was stomping around as well. I have determined that Chubs must stomp while walking because the excess blubber in her thighs and fat ass does not allow her to extend and lift her thunderous legs. Even though Chubs is unable to lift those huge limbs high enough to exhibit some grace in movement, the sheer inertia created by their weight causes her club feet to impact the floor with an "eight on the Richter scale" tremor.

I made my car insurance premium payment this morning. Last week, I had called the GEICO® local office and was told that I could use a credit card. Somehow, I was connected to some mainland office in NY. What a difference! The clown acted like he was doing me a favor, what with the "new" policy of not accepting credit card payments and all. I should have told him to take his right hand and move it up and down, if you know what I mean. I have been doing everything that I can to charge all purchases to plastic money. That way, I can reap my paltry one-percent cash reward. Well, hey! I'm in survival mode!

I had dreaded making the jaunt over to the Kapi'olani branch of 24 Hour Fitness®. It's the largest of all the branches here. In addition, I heard that it was always crowded. A lot of my guy students used to urge me to go because all of the exotic dancers exercise there. Well, I missed my work out yesterday, and I was feeling very sluggish. I called the downtown gym. It was still closed for repairs. So, I transported myself by bus to the other gym. I was surprised to find that it was not crowded at all. The size of the building and number of machines made a difference, I suppose. I only saw two babes the whole time I was there. The reason is probably because there is a small chick gym inside. Guys are not allowed. I did a really good workout. In fact, I am thinking about becoming a regular there.

Economics. Because of my precarious employment situation and fragile mental state, I have been forced down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. I am in the survival strata which includes both the physiological and safety needs. I have been stuck there forever. When will I ever escape? Never. My only goal is to separate myself from the cattle who impersonate humans. Then, I can at least salvage what's left of sanity.

See, that's the sheer stupidity of our life-style. Ignorance is bliss.The only reason that I and the cattle are poor and destitute is because we are caught up in an economic system based on wage slavery and consumption. All of the higher level "needs" have been usurped by a consumerist model. The world banking system is what keeps us confined to an arbitrary caste system which is shaped like a pyramid. Obviously, the masses of idiots are way at the bottom. A caste system such as this can only be implemented through the regulation of money. Money is no longer backed by hard currency (read: gold) anymore. So, why are there so many poor and destitute? The central banks could just print more paper money and give it to everyone. It's not backed by anything, so why not? Well, if the the plan is to only have a few people at the pinnacle of the pyramid, then the answer becomes clear. Distribution of wealth must be controlled.

Wage Slavery. I am going on unpaid vacation right after the term ends next week at the Diploma Mill. I'll have about six weeks off until my Summer classes commence. Right now, I am only working three days per week, and I may put in a total of two hours. I actually get paid quite well, although I no longer have any health insurance. I've had to get up early and catch the express bus to town every day for the last three months. In that time, I felt like a true wage slave, but I really wasn't. The other people on the bus, as well as those who were racing to the freeway in their cars as I stood at the bus stop, have been doing the same grind for years. I have been extremely fortunate.

Living life frugally and not falling into the consumerist trap are certainly not the chosen path for the majority of people. However, it has proven to be the best way for me to survive and enjoy some semblance of peace of mind. Living healthy, eating right, and doing things that I want to do ... well, that's what life is all about for the ol' lavahead. The exodus has been slow and painful at times. However, I have not truly suffered. I have essentially discovered freedom, but only a small taste.

Retrospective

I left my bottle of shampoo at the gym again on Monday. I cannot even remember how many times this has happened. I have been purchasing small travel-sized bottles which I fill with shampoo. However, at 69 cents per bottle, restocking it becomes costly. Why do I leave the bottles at the gym? Because I am damned senile, that's why! I'm a senior citizen and a card carrying member of the AARP®. Well, I'm just going to start carrying the big-ass bottle of shampoo with me. Obviously, the big-ass bottle will add at least a pound of weight to my gym bag. At the least, the big-ass bottle will be conspicuous enough for me to not forget it. If I lose the big-ass bottle, then I might as well give up and check in to the "ranch" already. Sheesh!

The whole reason that I must take a shower at the gym is because Chez Loser has no hot water. I have had no hot water since I purchased the dump two years ago. At the time, natural gas would have run me about $25 per month. I have no idea what it is now, but it is much higher than that. I am not going to pay that much just for the luxury of taking a three-minute hot shower every night.

Becoming a senior citizen has not been a good experience for me. I am old and decrepit. I am also completely worn out from a cruel bout of mid-life crisis, the peak of which happened two years ago. As you may recall, I was cavorting around with young hotties, one being the former friend. Obviously, I had a thing for the former friend. The whole excruciatingly painful event was chronicled in the journal. However, after the former friend had inadvertently discovered the journal while performing an ego-search, I had to remove any reference to her. That's why over 25 chapters of the journal (commencing in February 2003) were edited beyond comprehension. The integrity of the journal was compromised. After that, I lost my "connection" to the journal. Later, I tried to locate archive copies of the edited chapters. To no avail. Thus, I was not too heartbroken about deviating to this "blog" format.

I had thought about using the third-person format that was utilized in the now-defunct Myspace "blog" experiment. I have to admit that the latter was quite hilarious. I had used code names. For example, "Senior Citizen Recreation Center" was used to mask the identity of several local watering holes. "Satanic Gargoyles" described the fat-ass administrators at the dreadful Asylum. I referred to myself as "Monk." The stories were real, but they were veiled in a mystical journey of the mind.

Speaking of the former friend, she would probably lose it if she knew that I still have the futon that she gave me. Well, during the fiasco, I ended up sending her a check to pay for the stuff that she gave me. The futon actually proved to be quite useful. By the way, I had a very nice bed, which I bought off of Lori's friend. I sold the bed about two months ago, but I kept the futon. It's not as comfortable as the bed, but it can be converted to a sofa. Very nice. Shirley gave me crap about that. "You think about her when you sleep on it, don't you?" she would say. Oh, what a fool I was! Actually, I may try to recreate, albeit summarily, the chronology of events with the former friend that led to the journal's demise. Heck, I'm a senior citizen now. An "old geezer." I have nothing else better to do. So, stay tuned!

Well, at least I have my beloved 2005 Nissan® Frontier NISMO truck. It uses up hella petrol, but I hardly drive it. Right now, the damned thing is costing me an arm and a leg, what with insurance, registration, and whatever. However, my truck is much more reliable than a babe and probably less costly. Who needs babes anyway? I have my beloved hurdy-gurdy DVD library.

When I returned home yesterday, I observed that the lanai gate was almost completely rebuilt. It needs to be painted, but it looks and works great. I spent most of the evening lapsing in and out of a coma again. I find the latter to be much more relaxing than watching the tube. I drove to Longs® at 9:30pm, coincident with the time the lawn sprinklers come to life. My truck has a covered carport stall, but the overspray from the sprinkler is pretty bad. It took me hours to barely remove the water spots.

Longs® was a nightmare. Everything that I needed (read: Van Camp's® Pork & Beans) was out. I suspect that hording is going be on the rise here in Hawai'i as the cost of living continues to go up. I also bought a bottle of Longs generic psyllium. What a joke! It turned out that the piece of shit contains 50 percent sugar, as opposed to the stuff moms buys at an organic food store. I've been taking pure psyllium as a means to combat my high cholesterol problem without the use of shitty medication.

Chubs was home for about an hour before going out clubbing again. Chubs returned at 1:30am, making all kinds of noise. No doubt, Chubs was hammered. I am fortunate that Chubs is an irresponsible parent. Her stupid kid is rarely around. Who is raising the little piglet? Probably Chubs' parents. Chubs is definitely in her early twenties. She probably got pregnant in high school just like so many other locals. The father is long gone. I doubt that she even went to college. So, how can she afford to purchase a $380,000 townhouse and a $40,000 Accura? Same answer: her parents. Most of the parents here in Hawai'i will risk bankruptcy just to help their useless kids. Are the kids grateful? No. I met moms at Kahala Mall. We had just enough time for lunch. Then, we sat at the bus top to wait for moms' bus to arrive. We didn't really have to chat about, so I assume that the situation with my bro and his family has subsided.

I ran into Pseudo-professor Mike after I returned to the Diploma Mill. He wants to recruit me as his campaign manager. His plan is to run for US House of Representatives. This could be interesting. He invited me over for dinner this evening, but I am not sure if I will comply. Lately, I have been feeling very much like a hermit.

I received e-mail from Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum. He said that he has got an offer on his place, so it is going through escrow. He wants to meet at Indigo Happy Hour next week. One of our contingency plans was to find a place to rent together for a year once we sold our respective places. That way, we would have time to get our individual finances settled. I'm not sure if this is a viable plan. I am sure that we will look like two senior citizen faggots. I am not homophobic. I would just rather not be mistaken for anything other than an eunuch.

I walked over to the gym in the afternoon only to discover that it was closed because of flooding. Most likely, a water main broke. Damn it! Where in tarnation am I going to take a shower? The main part of the gym is in the basement. It's quite interesting because the space was once occupied by a bank. So, two of the vault doors are still there. Well, the sinister kahuna is at it again, always toying with the oversized cranium. Oh, what a life I'm living!