Last night, Pseudo-professor Mike stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill again at 5:15pm. He invited me to an "Open House" at Bea's condo on Saturday. The party is supposed to be in honor of Bea. He has also invited Bea's relatives. I am not so sure that the party is a good idea. I will not be attending. He has also mentioned an increasing interest in another elderly female, someone he's known for a while. "I will wait for the customary mourning period to pass," he added. Did he "get" what I was telling him the other night?
I spent the evening in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Prison food for dinner. Cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Continued reading of "Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. In reviewing Frankl's criteria to determine meaning in life, I found that nothing falls under the three categories (i.e., creative, experiential, and attitudinal values). My only "creation" is the journal and "blog." That doesn't amount to much. My experiences are limited, and I have no "significant other." I have forced myself to subsist in poverty, but I am not truly suffering enough to trigger any quest for meaning. I am living too comfortably even at a low standard-of-living, because I am still privy to all of the distractions available to the average satanic gargoyle. Thus, I still have the option to sedate and satiate myself with the mundane and defer any internal dialog about my purpose for existing. Meaning is what gives us the will to live and to take pride in who we are. When I say "pride," I do not mean the conceited and arrogant haughtiness that is prevalent amongst the satanic gargoyles.
Meaning or purpose cannot be derived from trivial creations, mundane experiences, convoluted values, or vanity martyrdom. Obviously, most of our lives are filled with such useless rubbish. As an example, most of the satanic gargoyles were more concerned about the fate of the sleazy party ho' serving as "Miss America" than any other issue in the past few days. The bottom line: baby is a hottie and will get her way. My own search for meaning will continue.
I departed for town at 8:15am this morning on the prison transport (read: bus). I ended up in the faculty computer room. I made a pot of coffee and ate a cup of yogurt (leftover from the workshop). Gym time was at 2:15pm. While I was finishing up the cardio portion of my workout, I was privy to see the hottie gym trainer starting a session with a gym member. Baby was looking hot. I will, no doubt, have to resurrect my hurdy-gurdy DVD library to appease the Vienna Sausage. After the gym, I returned to the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. Lockdown tonight!
Late News. The Countdown to the Meltdown has been mummified! I've been saved again in the eleventh hour, if you can believe it. I received a contract for the Spring term today, and there is another one on the way. My negotiations have paid off. Ralph, now a Dean at HCC called and left a message to advise me of two possible classes for me to facilitate. And, one of my former Diploma Mill students has petitioned for a "directed study" course after requesting that I facilitate the latter. When it rains, it pours, eh? I also have two Summer term contracts in the works.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Return to Dust
At about 5:30pm, Pseudo-professor Mike returned to the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. He invited me to dinner again, but I declined. He also wanted a favor. He wanted me to drive Bea's car to to his house. Bea's condo has only one assigned parking spot. I agreed to help him.
After dropping off the car, I rode with Pseudo-professor Mike to Waikiki so that I could drop off my gym bag at Quagmire Prison. I decided to ride with him to Ala Moana Center. I engaged him in a discussion about his motives or apparent motives in the big money grab. We ended up at the huge Neiman-Marcus® store anchored in the center of the mall. He disclosed to me that he has retained an attorney to handle all matters with both his divorce proceedings and the disposition of Bea's condo. He is extremely short on cash. He had to use a creative method to pay the "retainer" for the attorney. That's why we were standing at the checkout counter of Neiman-Marcus®. He purchased twenty-five $100 Neiman-Marcus® gift cards using his credit card. As a matter of fact, he has acquired several new credit cards as of recently. I surmised that he will be using the credit cards to survive. I stated my opinion that he should not be so vocal about the big money grab, lest he be misconstrued as a "golddigger" guy. Clearly, I came away from the discussion being less certain about where he really stands on the issue. After the big purchase, Pseudo-professor Mike dropped me off at Quagmire Prison. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown and performed my various mundane rituals.
I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. My destination? The faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. There is a large swell along the South shore today, which means that surf conditions will be really good. Will I be out there surfing? Obviously not.
At 10:15am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of Safeway® bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. The sheer number of fat slobs careening around recklessly in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) was maddening. I was almost run over by a senile old fool in his 15-year-old (i.e., piece of shit) Buick® Skylark motorized chair.
The madness of the Saturnalia shopping has infected the masses. As the days tick down to the Winter solstice, the level of desperation to purchase gifts increases. Saturnalia is not a Holy day, nor is it the birth of the Son of the Almighty. It is a pagan holiday coincident with the solar solstice. Fools who choose to celebrate this pagan holiday are worshipping the sinister kahuna and its brethren. Oh, lighten up, I hear you saying. What's wrong with a little holiday cheer? What's wrong with being nice to others one day out of a whole year? What's wrong with buying useless gifts out of societal pressure? The deep level of hypocrisy is one problem. Succumbing to the epidemic of the "seven sins" is another problem. Believe me, Saturnalia is not harmless. It is generating more harm than good. It perpetuates a pagan celebration that empowers and feeds El Diablo.
Well, if it is not the real birthday of the Son of the Almighty, then why are the large religious organizations standing firmly behind the celebration? Large religious organizations, especially those proclaiming to be "Christian," have no basis in real Christianity. In the time of the Son of the Almighty, the moneychangers had infested the temple grounds. Even the Son of the Almighty had to evict the moneychangers out of the temple. The vast level of adultery committed between the so-called "church," the state, and the moneychangers was prophesied a long time ago. We are seeing the prophesy fulfilled in these times. In secular terms, Saturnalia is just another vehicle to enslave the masses through endless consumption.
Greed is the common denominator of the "seven sins," that is, greed in the sense of continuous and insatiable self-serving actions. Even the so-called "progressives" are guilty of hypocrisy because they cannot logically separate themselves from their self-serving actions. They are appalled by the trade deficit, yet they cannot even curb their own consumption of cheaply made Chinese products. They clamor over global warming, yet they refuse to stop driving their 4000-pound motorized chairs. They want our involvement in Iraq to end. They want less dependence on fossil fuels. They want this-and-that. Yet, they are complicit in the causes of the problems. Until we identify our own hypocrisy and deal with the latter, nothing will change.
Have I dealt with my own hypocrisy? I will be asked this question over and over again by fools who wish to deflect their own guilt. Yes, I have dealt with my hypocrisy. I have voluntarily moved to reduce my possessions and live a mendicant life-style. My consumption is at a bare minimum, survival level at best. The amount of waste that I generate is very minimal. In ten days, I produce about the equivalent of one small plastic shopping bag full of rubbish. I have discovered that my minimalist actions are the greatest contribution that I can make to the planet. A few dolts have suggested that I give all of my assets away to the homeless or whomever needs help. Otherwise, I am a true hypocrite. As I mentioned before, that suggestion is a thinly-veiled attempt to deflect their own guilt. As we can see, the donation of money has done little good for any cause. Most of it has been legally stolen through "administrative costs," and so forth. Thus, the only power that we have to instigate change is to mummify our participation in malignant activities (e.g., shopping, stuffing our faces, driving everywhere in a 4000-pound motorized chair, etc.).
At 1pm, Pseudo-professor Mike brought food to the faculty computer room for a lunchtime feast. He has apparently obtained good advice from his attorney. From what he told me, he will be expediting the provisions of his divorce proceedings. He can then reallocate his assets to cover the purchase of Bea's condo. Let's hope that it works out for him.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was walking around in her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby was looking hot. My mind has become distracted by babes again, which means that the Vienna Sausage is still far off from atrophying. I am now contemplating the purchase of a small, cheap portable DVD player in order to resurrect the defunct hurdy-gurdy DVD library. Obviously, the latter is a stupid idea on face value. However, it would be better to maintain the hurdy-gurdy DVD library than to have the mind distracted by babes like the hottie gym trainer.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I did nothing all day except compose the "blog." What else can I do? The Countdown to the Meltdown is at 12 days, although I am essentially unemployed now. I will depart for Waikiki at 6pm on the prison transport. The evening? Most likely, lockdown!
I have been giving much more thought to the issue of finding meaning in my life. Obviously, resurrecting the vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library seems counterproductive in comparison. Seriously, though, there is much work to do. I have to come to grips with the fact that I will not be spending much more time with moms than I am now. Moms is busy with her church duties. Moms is also much more concerned about the survival of my bro's family. And, I don't blame her. My bro and his family could not survive without moms, whereas I am fairly self-sufficient. With that, I will be happy to have the hour or so that I spend with moms. That has been a blessing and has allowed me to fulfill my familial obligation. I must now concentrate on the task of discovering the purpose for my existence.
I have continued to read, with interest, the increasing number of articles in the progressive media concerning the disappointment with the "new direction" of the Iraq incursion. Why did the fools have any hope that there would be any change in course with the election of more Democrats in government? Good cop, bad cop, it's all the same. Some of the more astute observers are pointing out that an attack on Iran is still possible, made even more plausible by Iran's reserve currency conversion to the Euro. Sending more ground troops into Iraq may very well be a precursor to an incursion into Iran. Lord, have mercy.
After dropping off the car, I rode with Pseudo-professor Mike to Waikiki so that I could drop off my gym bag at Quagmire Prison. I decided to ride with him to Ala Moana Center. I engaged him in a discussion about his motives or apparent motives in the big money grab. We ended up at the huge Neiman-Marcus® store anchored in the center of the mall. He disclosed to me that he has retained an attorney to handle all matters with both his divorce proceedings and the disposition of Bea's condo. He is extremely short on cash. He had to use a creative method to pay the "retainer" for the attorney. That's why we were standing at the checkout counter of Neiman-Marcus®. He purchased twenty-five $100 Neiman-Marcus® gift cards using his credit card. As a matter of fact, he has acquired several new credit cards as of recently. I surmised that he will be using the credit cards to survive. I stated my opinion that he should not be so vocal about the big money grab, lest he be misconstrued as a "golddigger" guy. Clearly, I came away from the discussion being less certain about where he really stands on the issue. After the big purchase, Pseudo-professor Mike dropped me off at Quagmire Prison. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown and performed my various mundane rituals.
I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. My destination? The faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. There is a large swell along the South shore today, which means that surf conditions will be really good. Will I be out there surfing? Obviously not.
At 10:15am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of Safeway® bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. The sheer number of fat slobs careening around recklessly in their 4000-pound motorized chairs (read: automobiles) was maddening. I was almost run over by a senile old fool in his 15-year-old (i.e., piece of shit) Buick® Skylark motorized chair.
The madness of the Saturnalia shopping has infected the masses. As the days tick down to the Winter solstice, the level of desperation to purchase gifts increases. Saturnalia is not a Holy day, nor is it the birth of the Son of the Almighty. It is a pagan holiday coincident with the solar solstice. Fools who choose to celebrate this pagan holiday are worshipping the sinister kahuna and its brethren. Oh, lighten up, I hear you saying. What's wrong with a little holiday cheer? What's wrong with being nice to others one day out of a whole year? What's wrong with buying useless gifts out of societal pressure? The deep level of hypocrisy is one problem. Succumbing to the epidemic of the "seven sins" is another problem. Believe me, Saturnalia is not harmless. It is generating more harm than good. It perpetuates a pagan celebration that empowers and feeds El Diablo.
Well, if it is not the real birthday of the Son of the Almighty, then why are the large religious organizations standing firmly behind the celebration? Large religious organizations, especially those proclaiming to be "Christian," have no basis in real Christianity. In the time of the Son of the Almighty, the moneychangers had infested the temple grounds. Even the Son of the Almighty had to evict the moneychangers out of the temple. The vast level of adultery committed between the so-called "church," the state, and the moneychangers was prophesied a long time ago. We are seeing the prophesy fulfilled in these times. In secular terms, Saturnalia is just another vehicle to enslave the masses through endless consumption.
Greed is the common denominator of the "seven sins," that is, greed in the sense of continuous and insatiable self-serving actions. Even the so-called "progressives" are guilty of hypocrisy because they cannot logically separate themselves from their self-serving actions. They are appalled by the trade deficit, yet they cannot even curb their own consumption of cheaply made Chinese products. They clamor over global warming, yet they refuse to stop driving their 4000-pound motorized chairs. They want our involvement in Iraq to end. They want less dependence on fossil fuels. They want this-and-that. Yet, they are complicit in the causes of the problems. Until we identify our own hypocrisy and deal with the latter, nothing will change.
Have I dealt with my own hypocrisy? I will be asked this question over and over again by fools who wish to deflect their own guilt. Yes, I have dealt with my hypocrisy. I have voluntarily moved to reduce my possessions and live a mendicant life-style. My consumption is at a bare minimum, survival level at best. The amount of waste that I generate is very minimal. In ten days, I produce about the equivalent of one small plastic shopping bag full of rubbish. I have discovered that my minimalist actions are the greatest contribution that I can make to the planet. A few dolts have suggested that I give all of my assets away to the homeless or whomever needs help. Otherwise, I am a true hypocrite. As I mentioned before, that suggestion is a thinly-veiled attempt to deflect their own guilt. As we can see, the donation of money has done little good for any cause. Most of it has been legally stolen through "administrative costs," and so forth. Thus, the only power that we have to instigate change is to mummify our participation in malignant activities (e.g., shopping, stuffing our faces, driving everywhere in a 4000-pound motorized chair, etc.).
At 1pm, Pseudo-professor Mike brought food to the faculty computer room for a lunchtime feast. He has apparently obtained good advice from his attorney. From what he told me, he will be expediting the provisions of his divorce proceedings. He can then reallocate his assets to cover the purchase of Bea's condo. Let's hope that it works out for him.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was walking around in her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby was looking hot. My mind has become distracted by babes again, which means that the Vienna Sausage is still far off from atrophying. I am now contemplating the purchase of a small, cheap portable DVD player in order to resurrect the defunct hurdy-gurdy DVD library. Obviously, the latter is a stupid idea on face value. However, it would be better to maintain the hurdy-gurdy DVD library than to have the mind distracted by babes like the hottie gym trainer.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I did nothing all day except compose the "blog." What else can I do? The Countdown to the Meltdown is at 12 days, although I am essentially unemployed now. I will depart for Waikiki at 6pm on the prison transport. The evening? Most likely, lockdown!
I have been giving much more thought to the issue of finding meaning in my life. Obviously, resurrecting the vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library seems counterproductive in comparison. Seriously, though, there is much work to do. I have to come to grips with the fact that I will not be spending much more time with moms than I am now. Moms is busy with her church duties. Moms is also much more concerned about the survival of my bro's family. And, I don't blame her. My bro and his family could not survive without moms, whereas I am fairly self-sufficient. With that, I will be happy to have the hour or so that I spend with moms. That has been a blessing and has allowed me to fulfill my familial obligation. I must now concentrate on the task of discovering the purpose for my existence.
I have continued to read, with interest, the increasing number of articles in the progressive media concerning the disappointment with the "new direction" of the Iraq incursion. Why did the fools have any hope that there would be any change in course with the election of more Democrats in government? Good cop, bad cop, it's all the same. Some of the more astute observers are pointing out that an attack on Iran is still possible, made even more plausible by Iran's reserve currency conversion to the Euro. Sending more ground troops into Iraq may very well be a precursor to an incursion into Iran. Lord, have mercy.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Big Money Grab
When I arrived back in Waikiki at 5:40pm, I observed that the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) was desolate. I decided to do my laundry right away. After consuming the usual bland fare for my prison dinner, I cleaned my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. At 7:45pm, I departed on the prison transport to the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. I dropped off more stuff in my truck that will be divested later. I then rode the prison transport to Waikiki Beach.
Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One was near vacant. The semi-lucid homeless guy sat silently at one of the tables under the pavilion. Another table had a large bouquet of flowers. Another table had a whole mess of food and other crap laying on top of it. I surmised that the new homeless guy was around somewhere. A few minutes later, the new homeless guy came back. He sat at the table with the semi-lucid homeless guy. He attempted to chat with the semi-lucid homeless guy. However, the semi-lucid homeless guy is quite closed off to social contact. Another guy, possibly homeless, popped in from out of nowhere. He was wearing boardshorts and no shirt. He carried his shoes with him. He sat on the bench two down from me and used the bench to clean sand of his shoes. At one point, he slipped. "That felt really good," he said aloud. Apparently, the shoe had hit his cajonés. After he completed the task, albeit in pain, he joined the semi-lucid homeless guy and the new homeless guy at the table. All attempts to socialize with the semi-lucid homeless guy failed. At one point, the new homeless guy said, "I should go on strike. I'm not cooking anymore." Then, he laughed. Apparently, the new homeless guy has been cooking and setting up a few of the tables in Pavilion One like a restaurant, hence the flowers.
I returned to Quagmire Prison on the prison transport at 9:30pm. I stopped by the ABC Store to purchase a carton of milk. I rarely stop by the ABC Store these days, now that I cut back on the cheap booze. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown. I washed my boardshorts by hand. Then, I watched the tube to sedate my mind.
I departed for town this morning at 8:15am, even though I am on unpaid, possibly permanent, vacation. The ride to town on the prison transport was almost relaxing. Usually, it is full of Diploma Mill students. Thank goodness for the Winter break. I ended up in the faculty computer room as usual. At 9:30am, I rode the prison transport to Kahala Mall. I met moms for lunch. We ate at Panda Express®. Lunch was delicious. I sat with moms at the bus stop until the bus arrived. After moms was on her way, I returned to town.
Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room. He now claims to have "power of attorney" over Bea's property. However, the latter precludes the possibility of "gifting" the Honolulu Tower condo to himself. I presumed that he was attempting to do so, but was thwarted. Instead, he has come up with a 20-year lease for himself, with the proceeds payable to himself. He is attempting to do anything to keep the property out of probate by obfuscating matters, he told me. At the end of the lease period, he will pay less than half of the current fair market value (i.e., original purchase price) to purchase the place. He wants me to sell the "condotel" unit and rent the vacant room from him for $500 per month, coincidentally the same amount as the lease he made with himself. We also discussed a few generic money issues dealing with retirement. That's when he disclosed that he has absolutely no money saved for retirement, not even an IRA.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a good workout, I returned to the faculty computer room. Within a few minutes, Pseudo-professor Mike showed up. In continuing the previous discussion, he added that he is no longer in a hurry to complete the divorce proceedings with his wife. He mentioned that his wife was willing to remain married to him to insure that he can remain under her health plan. The disposition of their house was not brought up. I suppose that the house has something to do with the current machinations as well. Does he not realize how transparent he is? He is acting like a desperate man, grasping at straws to be part of the big money grab. He went on to state that his intentions are honorable. Ultimately, he is really only thinking about the welfare of his son, he said. This from a guy who has been carrying on an affair for years? I became quite sickened by the discussion. He also invited me to dinner again, which he has been doing now for the past few days. I have ignored the invitation. As I said before, I do not feel right about being in Bea's place after her untimely demise. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. The evening? Lockdown!
Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One was near vacant. The semi-lucid homeless guy sat silently at one of the tables under the pavilion. Another table had a large bouquet of flowers. Another table had a whole mess of food and other crap laying on top of it. I surmised that the new homeless guy was around somewhere. A few minutes later, the new homeless guy came back. He sat at the table with the semi-lucid homeless guy. He attempted to chat with the semi-lucid homeless guy. However, the semi-lucid homeless guy is quite closed off to social contact. Another guy, possibly homeless, popped in from out of nowhere. He was wearing boardshorts and no shirt. He carried his shoes with him. He sat on the bench two down from me and used the bench to clean sand of his shoes. At one point, he slipped. "That felt really good," he said aloud. Apparently, the shoe had hit his cajonés. After he completed the task, albeit in pain, he joined the semi-lucid homeless guy and the new homeless guy at the table. All attempts to socialize with the semi-lucid homeless guy failed. At one point, the new homeless guy said, "I should go on strike. I'm not cooking anymore." Then, he laughed. Apparently, the new homeless guy has been cooking and setting up a few of the tables in Pavilion One like a restaurant, hence the flowers.
I returned to Quagmire Prison on the prison transport at 9:30pm. I stopped by the ABC Store to purchase a carton of milk. I rarely stop by the ABC Store these days, now that I cut back on the cheap booze. I spent the rest of the evening in lockdown. I washed my boardshorts by hand. Then, I watched the tube to sedate my mind.
I departed for town this morning at 8:15am, even though I am on unpaid, possibly permanent, vacation. The ride to town on the prison transport was almost relaxing. Usually, it is full of Diploma Mill students. Thank goodness for the Winter break. I ended up in the faculty computer room as usual. At 9:30am, I rode the prison transport to Kahala Mall. I met moms for lunch. We ate at Panda Express®. Lunch was delicious. I sat with moms at the bus stop until the bus arrived. After moms was on her way, I returned to town.
Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room. He now claims to have "power of attorney" over Bea's property. However, the latter precludes the possibility of "gifting" the Honolulu Tower condo to himself. I presumed that he was attempting to do so, but was thwarted. Instead, he has come up with a 20-year lease for himself, with the proceeds payable to himself. He is attempting to do anything to keep the property out of probate by obfuscating matters, he told me. At the end of the lease period, he will pay less than half of the current fair market value (i.e., original purchase price) to purchase the place. He wants me to sell the "condotel" unit and rent the vacant room from him for $500 per month, coincidentally the same amount as the lease he made with himself. We also discussed a few generic money issues dealing with retirement. That's when he disclosed that he has absolutely no money saved for retirement, not even an IRA.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a good workout, I returned to the faculty computer room. Within a few minutes, Pseudo-professor Mike showed up. In continuing the previous discussion, he added that he is no longer in a hurry to complete the divorce proceedings with his wife. He mentioned that his wife was willing to remain married to him to insure that he can remain under her health plan. The disposition of their house was not brought up. I suppose that the house has something to do with the current machinations as well. Does he not realize how transparent he is? He is acting like a desperate man, grasping at straws to be part of the big money grab. He went on to state that his intentions are honorable. Ultimately, he is really only thinking about the welfare of his son, he said. This from a guy who has been carrying on an affair for years? I became quite sickened by the discussion. He also invited me to dinner again, which he has been doing now for the past few days. I have ignored the invitation. As I said before, I do not feel right about being in Bea's place after her untimely demise. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 6pm. The evening? Lockdown!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Chokin' da Chicken
After arriving back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) at 5:45pm yesterday, I felt listless. Another night of lockdown would have been my demise. Rather than sit in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I decided that I would go on furlough. I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to Kapi'olani Blvd. I waited for 30 minutes before the Route 3 prison transport came by.
Finally, I arrived at the apartment where Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, lives. The small party was being held in the back of the adjacent apartment building. Rob and Internet Jon were there as well as a few of the residents of the various apartment buildings. I mainly chatted with Rob and Internet Jon. The food was delicious. I also managed to drop back five bottles of Bud Light® brewskis. What was I thinking? According to Internet Jon, he and Rob will be millionaires in about six months after the project is in full swing.
Internet Jon gave me a ride back to Waikiki in his new Toyota® Tacoma truck. Internet Jon is an unusual character. He is in his forties and lives at home with his parents. The family is quite affluent with investments in a number of ventures. Thus, they are able to finance Internet Jon's life-style. He touts himself as the "Boy Wonder" of computers, even though his genius is suspect. The project allegedly uses proprietary 3-D streaming video technology, of which only Internet Jon is privy to. Let's see what happens in six months. The rest of the evening was spent in lockdown in my prison cell. I performed my usual rituals before calling it a night.
Being out in a minor social context last night did little to influence my goal of remaining a social recluse. In fact, the event helped to solidify my preference. There just seems to be no point to social events except an excuse to drop back large quantities of cheap booze. Of course, it's nice to catch up on what's happening in other people's lives. Yet, it all seems so empty and devoid of meaning.
I departed for town on the prison transport at 10am this morning. I was able to procure the Sunday newspaper in the prison compound before I left. I ended up in the covered lanai of the Beretania Street Apartments. I read the paper and perused the homeless who were occupying all of the benches in the adjacent park.
Internet Jon gave me a ride back to Waikiki in his new Toyota® Tacoma truck. Internet Jon is an unusual character. He is in his forties and lives at home with his parents. The family is quite affluent with investments in a number of ventures. Thus, they are able to finance Internet Jon's life-style. He touts himself as the "Boy Wonder" of computers, even though his genius is suspect. The project allegedly uses proprietary 3-D streaming video technology, of which only Internet Jon is privy to. Let's see what happens in six months. The rest of the evening was spent in lockdown in my prison cell. I performed my usual rituals before calling it a night.
Being out in a minor social context last night did little to influence my goal of remaining a social recluse. In fact, the event helped to solidify my preference. There just seems to be no point to social events except an excuse to drop back large quantities of cheap booze. Of course, it's nice to catch up on what's happening in other people's lives. Yet, it all seems so empty and devoid of meaning.
I departed for town on the prison transport at 10am this morning. I was able to procure the Sunday newspaper in the prison compound before I left. I ended up in the covered lanai of the Beretania Street Apartments. I read the paper and perused the homeless who were occupying all of the benches in the adjacent park.
I walked to the Diploma Mill at noon. For some reason, the student computer lab was not to open until 1pm. So, I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's® to pass the time. I was finally able to station myself in front of a computer at 1pm. By the way, my beloved Palm® TX still travels daily with me to town. How else would I be able to peruse all of the free hurdy-gurdy sites?
Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, back to the student computer lab. I will leave for Waikiki at 5pm. This evening? Aside from the usual rituals, I'm looking at laundry and lockdown. Sheesh!
My own search for meaning in my life has been stymied by a variety of factors. In reading, "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl, I believe I have found the root cause. During his time in the Nazi concentration camp, Frankl had nothing more than his tattered prison uniform. All material possessions were taken away from him along with his freedom. He and the other prisoners had to live under sub-human and degrading conditions. In a perverse sense, he was forced into an ascetic and mendicant life-style. Yet, it was under those conditions, in which he possessed nothing more than his own thoughts, that he realized the true determinants of finding meaning in life. These can be summarized as creative, experiential, and attitudinal values:
In modern society, wherein a large number of distractions and temptations exist, we are faced with an existential dilemma. Should we attempt define a meaning to our existence, or should we just succumb to the immediate pleasures of the flesh. Both are mutually exclusive events. With a constant barrage of consumerism, we may unwittingly choose hedonistic pleasures over the discovery of meaning. We may give in to the epidemic of the "seven sins." We return to child-like behavior and over-indulge in the absence of "parental" control. When the soul is starved of meaning, it will continue to satiate itself with boundless pleasures. Eternal chicken chokin'. And, essentially, that is what life will be reduced to. Chokin' da chicken, physically and metaphorically.
Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, back to the student computer lab. I will leave for Waikiki at 5pm. This evening? Aside from the usual rituals, I'm looking at laundry and lockdown. Sheesh!
My own search for meaning in my life has been stymied by a variety of factors. In reading, "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl, I believe I have found the root cause. During his time in the Nazi concentration camp, Frankl had nothing more than his tattered prison uniform. All material possessions were taken away from him along with his freedom. He and the other prisoners had to live under sub-human and degrading conditions. In a perverse sense, he was forced into an ascetic and mendicant life-style. Yet, it was under those conditions, in which he possessed nothing more than his own thoughts, that he realized the true determinants of finding meaning in life. These can be summarized as creative, experiential, and attitudinal values:
- By creating a work or doing a deed
- By experiencing something or encountering someone
- By the attitude we take towards unavoidable suffering.
In modern society, wherein a large number of distractions and temptations exist, we are faced with an existential dilemma. Should we attempt define a meaning to our existence, or should we just succumb to the immediate pleasures of the flesh. Both are mutually exclusive events. With a constant barrage of consumerism, we may unwittingly choose hedonistic pleasures over the discovery of meaning. We may give in to the epidemic of the "seven sins." We return to child-like behavior and over-indulge in the absence of "parental" control. When the soul is starved of meaning, it will continue to satiate itself with boundless pleasures. Eternal chicken chokin'. And, essentially, that is what life will be reduced to. Chokin' da chicken, physically and metaphorically.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
All Fall Down
Last night? As I predicted, lockdown. The weather, even in Waikiki, has been crappy. Lots of wind. The chill in the air has also continued. I spent part of the evening reading, "Man's Search for Meaning," by Viktor Frankl yet again. That's the only book that I own aside from the Good Book. Each time I read the book, I come away with a better grasp of my own situation as a prisoner of a society gone berserk. While my existence does not even come close to the horrors of a true prison camp, there are some interesting parallels. Sad to say, for the poor and destitute, the parallels are much more striking.
Although I have read Frankl's book a number of time, I was able to ascertain that the "existential vacuum" is the main focus of the book. Lacking any meaning or purpose in life creates an "existential vacuum." The construct of modern society exacerbates the prevalence of meaninglessness. Shopping and all of the other symptomatology of the epidemic of the "seven sins" do not define meaning or purpose, by the way. Even back in 1984 (last revision of the book), Frankl observed a pronounced increasing trend of meaninglessness amongst the populace. How bad is it today?
As the Countdown to the Meltdown ticks down to my demise and the satanic gargoyles are prancing around in evil bliss, I helplessly watch my small world collapse around me. Surely, I will be snapping into action sometime soon, right? Well, if eating prison food for dinner and cleaning my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush is considered to be "snapping into action," then I'm up shit creek without a paddle. Sheesh!
I departed for town at 8:30am on the prison transport. I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike called right as I walked in. He wants me to meet with him later. Apparently, Bea's niece. the alleged "trustee" of Bea's estate, is attempting to block the transfer of the Honolulu Tower condo to him, that is, if such a transfer of title does exist. I half-expected some kind of response from Bea's family. He is still planning to fly to NY at the end of the month. He wants me to "house-sit" Bea's place, but I am concerned that his motive is to block any type of lockout coup that may staged by the family.
I am on unpaid, if not permanent, vacation as of today. I have a few more residual wage slave tasks to complete. Then, I am done. Fini. Fortunately, a small workshop was scheduled and, thus, there was a lot of food in the faculty computer room. Naturally, I had to chow down. Each day, I wonder whether I will be saved in the eleventh-hour as I have been in the past. Have I humbled myself enough to deserve such a reward? That's the big question, isn't it? Then, again, is continued wage slavery any kind of reward at all?
Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, I ended up back in the faculty computer room. A few of the fats slobs from the workshop came by to continue stuffing their faces with the leftover chips and dessert items. I am afraid that I cannot help but become sickened when I am privy to witness such a gluttonous spectacle. As I said, the satanic gargoyles are wearing on my one remaining thin nerve. I will leave for Waikiki on the prison transport at 5pm. The evening? Who knows?
Although I have read Frankl's book a number of time, I was able to ascertain that the "existential vacuum" is the main focus of the book. Lacking any meaning or purpose in life creates an "existential vacuum." The construct of modern society exacerbates the prevalence of meaninglessness. Shopping and all of the other symptomatology of the epidemic of the "seven sins" do not define meaning or purpose, by the way. Even back in 1984 (last revision of the book), Frankl observed a pronounced increasing trend of meaninglessness amongst the populace. How bad is it today?
As the Countdown to the Meltdown ticks down to my demise and the satanic gargoyles are prancing around in evil bliss, I helplessly watch my small world collapse around me. Surely, I will be snapping into action sometime soon, right? Well, if eating prison food for dinner and cleaning my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush is considered to be "snapping into action," then I'm up shit creek without a paddle. Sheesh!
I departed for town at 8:30am on the prison transport. I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike called right as I walked in. He wants me to meet with him later. Apparently, Bea's niece. the alleged "trustee" of Bea's estate, is attempting to block the transfer of the Honolulu Tower condo to him, that is, if such a transfer of title does exist. I half-expected some kind of response from Bea's family. He is still planning to fly to NY at the end of the month. He wants me to "house-sit" Bea's place, but I am concerned that his motive is to block any type of lockout coup that may staged by the family.
I am on unpaid, if not permanent, vacation as of today. I have a few more residual wage slave tasks to complete. Then, I am done. Fini. Fortunately, a small workshop was scheduled and, thus, there was a lot of food in the faculty computer room. Naturally, I had to chow down. Each day, I wonder whether I will be saved in the eleventh-hour as I have been in the past. Have I humbled myself enough to deserve such a reward? That's the big question, isn't it? Then, again, is continued wage slavery any kind of reward at all?
Gym time was at 2pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, I ended up back in the faculty computer room. A few of the fats slobs from the workshop came by to continue stuffing their faces with the leftover chips and dessert items. I am afraid that I cannot help but become sickened when I am privy to witness such a gluttonous spectacle. As I said, the satanic gargoyles are wearing on my one remaining thin nerve. I will leave for Waikiki on the prison transport at 5pm. The evening? Who knows?
Friday, December 15, 2006
End Zone
Lockdown last night was the same as the night before and the night before that. Sitting in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) is draining the life out of me. I have a better understanding now about why the satanic gargoyles spend incredible amounts of money to equip their mausoleums with myriad entertainment amenities. Without that, what is their to do in a tomb?
After 12.5 hours in lockdown, I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) for a full day of wage slavery at the Diploma Mill. This is my last official day of employment. Thus, the real Countdown to the Meltdown will begin. I have been continuing negotiations to obtain contracts, even against my own desire for "freedom." What will I do if I do not have wage slavery? I would lose my mind if I had to vegetate in my prison cell all day. What would my alternative be? Camping (i.e., homeless)?
Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room just before I left to fulfill my wage slave duties. He wants to rent out the extra room in his condo. He is hinting that I should sell the "condotel" unit and rent the room from him. He will need money to cover the extremely high monthly maintenance fee for the Honolulu Tower complex. In addition, he will have to pay the exorbitant property tax based upon the ridiculous assessed value of the place. I am not certain whether he realizes that he will most likely incur either estate or gift tax for the condo. That will be his problem, not mine. In the meantime, he can run around around like Big Money Grip.
I had a short break at 11:30am, just enough time to walk to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a nice workout, I returned to the faculty computer room where I will spend the rest of the afternoon. Tonight? Lockdown!
Robert, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail yesterday. He invited me to a party being held at his apartment complex on Saturday evening. I am not certain if I will attend. I am just not in the mood to involve myself in any social context. The satanic gargoyles really wear on my one remaining thin nerve.
After 12.5 hours in lockdown, I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) for a full day of wage slavery at the Diploma Mill. This is my last official day of employment. Thus, the real Countdown to the Meltdown will begin. I have been continuing negotiations to obtain contracts, even against my own desire for "freedom." What will I do if I do not have wage slavery? I would lose my mind if I had to vegetate in my prison cell all day. What would my alternative be? Camping (i.e., homeless)?
Pseudo-professor Mike dropped by the faculty computer room just before I left to fulfill my wage slave duties. He wants to rent out the extra room in his condo. He is hinting that I should sell the "condotel" unit and rent the room from him. He will need money to cover the extremely high monthly maintenance fee for the Honolulu Tower complex. In addition, he will have to pay the exorbitant property tax based upon the ridiculous assessed value of the place. I am not certain whether he realizes that he will most likely incur either estate or gift tax for the condo. That will be his problem, not mine. In the meantime, he can run around around like Big Money Grip.
I had a short break at 11:30am, just enough time to walk to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, two energy bars, and four more cans of Hormel® Chili. Gym time was at 2:15pm. After a nice workout, I returned to the faculty computer room where I will spend the rest of the afternoon. Tonight? Lockdown!
Robert, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail yesterday. He invited me to a party being held at his apartment complex on Saturday evening. I am not certain if I will attend. I am just not in the mood to involve myself in any social context. The satanic gargoyles really wear on my one remaining thin nerve.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Equity Extraction
Last night? Lockdown for 12.5 hours again. Same ol' ritual. Eating prison food for dinner. Cleaning whole prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. Foraging for more useless possessions to divest. Perusing pink rubber piggy bank replica. Incidentally, Pseudo-professor Mike had invited me over for dinner again. I decided not to do so. When he stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill yesterday afternoon, he was in a manic state. His current behavior can be likened to someone who won the lottery.
I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:20am this morning. As usual, I found myself in the faculty computer room. Waking up in the morning is not a difficult task. However, I am finding that, with each passing day, I am dreading the mundane tasks ahead of me. Even shopping for food, which is a necessity, has become a major chore. Introspection has made me realize that I am reacting to my paltry existence in the concrete jungle. The hideous edifices which we, the wage slaves, must reside (term used loosely) in are essentially large mausoleums for zombies. The only true meaning that I have been able to ascertain for myself is the time spent composing the "blog" on the computer. That is truly ludicrous, but not unrealistic. I am almost certain that the satanic gargoyles around me have yet to even define a meaning for their existence. Platitudes such as family, kids, and so forth do not provide any real meaning unless the fruits of one's labor produces a better "fruit." For the most part, whatever anyone claims to provide meaning in their lives is simply a function of consumerist behavior. How do I know? Well, fat gluttonous slobs producing fat arrogant little dickheads does little to contribute much good to society, does it?
As much as I have done to reduce the materialistic impulse within myself, I have yet to transform myself to accomplish tasks which yield purpose. I have lived up to my word to spend time with moms, but I also realized the limitations of the latter act. Moms is quite busy, for obvious reasons. If anything, I may be able to spend a couple of hours more per week to visit with moms, but that's it. I have built up a costly infrastructure just for those handful of hours and have subjected myself to increasingly intolerable conditions as a result.
As I have mentioned before, I am driven to reduce my worldly possessions to a lump sum that is easy transportable at a moment's notice. I have not determined what exactly is the impetus for that task, aside from the upcoming secular Apocalypse or that I may impulsively decide to flee. Whatever the motivation, it is coming from deep within the subconscious. And, I find that I cannot rest until my tasks are completed. Insanity, you say? Hardly. Human instinct does still exist, even though it has been suppressed by consumerism, cheap booze, cheap thrills, and medication. If we free our minds of the clutter and the vanity that subsumes our true values, then we will be able to feel our instincts.
In chatting with a few acquaintances, I have come to discover that most of them do not have a plan. They live day-to-day, paycheck-to-paycheck. I am dumbfounded when I try to imagine how they will survive during retirement since they will essentially have no savings. They are all in their forties. Even if they were to save $20,000 per year (which is unlikely), they may end up with $600,000 in 20 years, if their investments panned out. That is my predicament as well. What can I save in the next ten years if I were fully engaged in wage slavery? I would still be far short of the projected $1.5 million in savings required to retire comfortably.
Then, there is the matter of mortality. We could kick the bucket at any time. Uncertainty is the greatest incentive for consumerism, if not the only one. Knowing that we have a limited time on the planet, we fear that the end could come at any time. Thus, we must try to do everything, own everything, be everything we possibly can right now. No one wants to worry about an uncertain future. Such a debased form of thinking causes our immunity to the epidemic of the "seven sins" to deteriorate.
At 10:30am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase three energy bars and six more cans of Hormel® Chili. I am storing the cans in my storage locker, taking a couple of cans home at a time. I mustered up some energy to walk to the Institute of Hair Design to restore my monk haircut. While I waited, an older babe chatted with me. An Asian hottie cut my hair. She did a nice job in a short period of time. So, I managed to accomplish my mundane chores with very little grief.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor with her "yellow shirt" uniform during that time. On my way out, I saw baby chatting with one her previous clients. Baby was looking mighty fine. I returned to the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. He finally disclosed to me that Bea had left the Honolulu Tower condo to him. So, he is now the owner of a $500,000-plus Honolulu Tower condo (mortgage-free). I guess he did win the lottery. What can I say? I will piddle around on the computer until 7pm, when the prison transport will take me back to Waikiki. Lockdown? How did you know?
I am concerned that the Fed will begin slashing short-term interest rates starting next month. That seems to be the "buzz" in business circles. With the dollar at an all-time low and the trade deficit running extremely high, there would seem to be no reason for the Fed to lower interest rates again. There seems to be some concern that "equity extraction" may be drying up. In fact, it is quite easy to determine that the Fed had deliberately created the housing "bubble" in order to increase "equity extraction" just to fuel consumption. That is the key, after all. Consumer spending through increased personal debt is what is keeping the economy afloat, especially in view of the fact that "globalization" has exported many of the jobs overseas. Will the satanic gargoyles take the bait again if interest rates are lowered? You be the judge.
A decline in short term interest rates by the Fed will affect all of my investments which, in turn, will signal the beginning of my demise. I have already delineated my contingency plans in the "blog." I am not certain which route I will take, but I will need to be prepared and vigilant in the meantime. That is the primary reason why I am divesting my useless crap. I anticipate a time when I will need to travel light.
I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:20am this morning. As usual, I found myself in the faculty computer room. Waking up in the morning is not a difficult task. However, I am finding that, with each passing day, I am dreading the mundane tasks ahead of me. Even shopping for food, which is a necessity, has become a major chore. Introspection has made me realize that I am reacting to my paltry existence in the concrete jungle. The hideous edifices which we, the wage slaves, must reside (term used loosely) in are essentially large mausoleums for zombies. The only true meaning that I have been able to ascertain for myself is the time spent composing the "blog" on the computer. That is truly ludicrous, but not unrealistic. I am almost certain that the satanic gargoyles around me have yet to even define a meaning for their existence. Platitudes such as family, kids, and so forth do not provide any real meaning unless the fruits of one's labor produces a better "fruit." For the most part, whatever anyone claims to provide meaning in their lives is simply a function of consumerist behavior. How do I know? Well, fat gluttonous slobs producing fat arrogant little dickheads does little to contribute much good to society, does it?
As much as I have done to reduce the materialistic impulse within myself, I have yet to transform myself to accomplish tasks which yield purpose. I have lived up to my word to spend time with moms, but I also realized the limitations of the latter act. Moms is quite busy, for obvious reasons. If anything, I may be able to spend a couple of hours more per week to visit with moms, but that's it. I have built up a costly infrastructure just for those handful of hours and have subjected myself to increasingly intolerable conditions as a result.
As I have mentioned before, I am driven to reduce my worldly possessions to a lump sum that is easy transportable at a moment's notice. I have not determined what exactly is the impetus for that task, aside from the upcoming secular Apocalypse or that I may impulsively decide to flee. Whatever the motivation, it is coming from deep within the subconscious. And, I find that I cannot rest until my tasks are completed. Insanity, you say? Hardly. Human instinct does still exist, even though it has been suppressed by consumerism, cheap booze, cheap thrills, and medication. If we free our minds of the clutter and the vanity that subsumes our true values, then we will be able to feel our instincts.
In chatting with a few acquaintances, I have come to discover that most of them do not have a plan. They live day-to-day, paycheck-to-paycheck. I am dumbfounded when I try to imagine how they will survive during retirement since they will essentially have no savings. They are all in their forties. Even if they were to save $20,000 per year (which is unlikely), they may end up with $600,000 in 20 years, if their investments panned out. That is my predicament as well. What can I save in the next ten years if I were fully engaged in wage slavery? I would still be far short of the projected $1.5 million in savings required to retire comfortably.
Then, there is the matter of mortality. We could kick the bucket at any time. Uncertainty is the greatest incentive for consumerism, if not the only one. Knowing that we have a limited time on the planet, we fear that the end could come at any time. Thus, we must try to do everything, own everything, be everything we possibly can right now. No one wants to worry about an uncertain future. Such a debased form of thinking causes our immunity to the epidemic of the "seven sins" to deteriorate.
At 10:30am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase three energy bars and six more cans of Hormel® Chili. I am storing the cans in my storage locker, taking a couple of cans home at a time. I mustered up some energy to walk to the Institute of Hair Design to restore my monk haircut. While I waited, an older babe chatted with me. An Asian hottie cut my hair. She did a nice job in a short period of time. So, I managed to accomplish my mundane chores with very little grief.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor with her "yellow shirt" uniform during that time. On my way out, I saw baby chatting with one her previous clients. Baby was looking mighty fine. I returned to the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. He finally disclosed to me that Bea had left the Honolulu Tower condo to him. So, he is now the owner of a $500,000-plus Honolulu Tower condo (mortgage-free). I guess he did win the lottery. What can I say? I will piddle around on the computer until 7pm, when the prison transport will take me back to Waikiki. Lockdown? How did you know?
I am concerned that the Fed will begin slashing short-term interest rates starting next month. That seems to be the "buzz" in business circles. With the dollar at an all-time low and the trade deficit running extremely high, there would seem to be no reason for the Fed to lower interest rates again. There seems to be some concern that "equity extraction" may be drying up. In fact, it is quite easy to determine that the Fed had deliberately created the housing "bubble" in order to increase "equity extraction" just to fuel consumption. That is the key, after all. Consumer spending through increased personal debt is what is keeping the economy afloat, especially in view of the fact that "globalization" has exported many of the jobs overseas. Will the satanic gargoyles take the bait again if interest rates are lowered? You be the judge.
A decline in short term interest rates by the Fed will affect all of my investments which, in turn, will signal the beginning of my demise. I have already delineated my contingency plans in the "blog." I am not certain which route I will take, but I will need to be prepared and vigilant in the meantime. That is the primary reason why I am divesting my useless crap. I anticipate a time when I will need to travel light.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Cattle Drive (Reprise)
I spent 12.5 hours in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) last night. I neglected to mention that Pseudo-professor Mike had invited me to a dinner party after the wine tasting event. I did not attend. I am not comfortable with the idea that Pseudo-professor Mike is livin' large in a $500,000-plus condo in the Honolulu Tower that is owned by Bea (now deceased). What puzzles me even more is how animated and blissful he has been when he should be in mourning. "He's coping really well," a few people have told me. I have been suspicious of his motivations for a long time. I find his behavior puzzling. I am not certain what he is up to now. Frankly, it's none of my business. However, I need to distance myself from him.
During lockdown, I ate prison food for dinner and did my cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Off and on, I perused the pink rubber piggy bank replica. What could be a more appropriate icon for this day and age? The prevalent fixation upon money, wealth, vanity, and celebrity status are symbolized by the pink rubber piggy bank replica. There is no way to put any money in the pink rubber piggy bank replica, by the way. The vain color of pink and the rubberized composite metaphorically represent the satanic gargoyles who are deeply infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins."
The US is sending a trade delegation to China this week to attempt to force the Chinese government to make certain trade concessions to help reduce the trade deficit. The real story is that the bigwig puppets of the moneychangers will will also be visiting China in an attempt to persuade the Chinese to let the yuan float and to not sell off any of its dollar reserves. These events are coincident with the falling value of the dollar. Are we at the edge of the economic precipice?
I spent even more time scrounging around for useless crap to divest. I discovered the nice Cross® Classic Century pen that the former friend had given to me three years ago. It was still in its box. I decided to keep it. I also found an old copy of Mrs. Miller's "Greatest Hits" vinyl record. Mrs. Miller was here in Hawai'i promoting the album many decades ago. I was there. Unfortunately, the record is worth nothing. Aside from that, I exhausted my repertoire of useless crap. At that point, it became painfully obvious that the Jeep® gym/duffel bag is too large for my needs. I will need to replace it with something smaller, similar to my regular gym bag.
Friends, I am almost home free. I have finally realized my goal of whittling down my possession to barely nothing. Living in the "condotel" unit has, of course, been instrumental in meeting that goal. The fact that my prison cell is self-contained and is equipped with a variety of so-called "amenities" has helped to cut my expenses and reduce the number of useless possessions.
I departed for town this morning at 8:15am on the prison transport (read: bus). I stationed myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, where I spent most of the day. I made a half-pot of coffee and consumed all of it myself. At 10am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a few energy bars for lunch. I also purchased six cans of Hormel® Chili, which were on sale for $1 per can. I will need to stock up on the canned goods. At 1pm, I walked to Ross® to see if I could find a small gym bag. I was swept up in the riptide of crazed Saturnalia shoppers. The place was a madhouse. No surprise that the crazed satanic gargoyles with credit cards in hand looked like drugged-out cattle being herded into the slaughterhouse. I became nauseous and left immediately. The worst is yet to come.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor wearing her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby looked hot. After the gym, I ended up in the faculty computer room again. I will piddle around until 7pm when I must return to Waikiki on the prison transport. The evening? Did you say, "Lockdown!"?
As the Countdown to the Meltdown continues to tick down, I am making as many preparations as possible for a "soft landing." I will be able to maintain what little "perks" that I have at the Diploma Mill. I will be able to keep my storage locker. I will also be able continue to use the offices and facilities there. And, I will be able to pay into the group health plan, if I choose to pay the $300 monthly premium. All of this will be the status quo, unless I am officially terminated. Not having any current contracts precludes termination, thank goodness. A small safety net, but one worth having. Which reminds me, I will soon store my wage slave duds (read: clothes) in my small storage locker at the Diploma Mill.
I still do not sleep well at night. I am up almost every hour. I no longer am able to determine my capability to tolerate much more of the insanity that is playing out around me. The sad part is that, to the insane, I am insane. The satanic gargoyles believe they have the freedom to do whatever they want, even if their actions impinge upon the freedom of others. That is not freedom they are talking about. It is anarchy. As I have discussed prior, most of the world's population lives in poverty. Because we believe that we have wealth, we tend to believe that we are superior and blessed by a higher source. Thus, we deserve to conspicuously consume and waste as we please. That, my friends, is real insanity.
During lockdown, I ate prison food for dinner and did my cleaning ritual with my humble dustpan and brush. Off and on, I perused the pink rubber piggy bank replica. What could be a more appropriate icon for this day and age? The prevalent fixation upon money, wealth, vanity, and celebrity status are symbolized by the pink rubber piggy bank replica. There is no way to put any money in the pink rubber piggy bank replica, by the way. The vain color of pink and the rubberized composite metaphorically represent the satanic gargoyles who are deeply infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins."
The US is sending a trade delegation to China this week to attempt to force the Chinese government to make certain trade concessions to help reduce the trade deficit. The real story is that the bigwig puppets of the moneychangers will will also be visiting China in an attempt to persuade the Chinese to let the yuan float and to not sell off any of its dollar reserves. These events are coincident with the falling value of the dollar. Are we at the edge of the economic precipice?
I spent even more time scrounging around for useless crap to divest. I discovered the nice Cross® Classic Century pen that the former friend had given to me three years ago. It was still in its box. I decided to keep it. I also found an old copy of Mrs. Miller's "Greatest Hits" vinyl record. Mrs. Miller was here in Hawai'i promoting the album many decades ago. I was there. Unfortunately, the record is worth nothing. Aside from that, I exhausted my repertoire of useless crap. At that point, it became painfully obvious that the Jeep® gym/duffel bag is too large for my needs. I will need to replace it with something smaller, similar to my regular gym bag.
Friends, I am almost home free. I have finally realized my goal of whittling down my possession to barely nothing. Living in the "condotel" unit has, of course, been instrumental in meeting that goal. The fact that my prison cell is self-contained and is equipped with a variety of so-called "amenities" has helped to cut my expenses and reduce the number of useless possessions.
I departed for town this morning at 8:15am on the prison transport (read: bus). I stationed myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, where I spent most of the day. I made a half-pot of coffee and consumed all of it myself. At 10am, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a few energy bars for lunch. I also purchased six cans of Hormel® Chili, which were on sale for $1 per can. I will need to stock up on the canned goods. At 1pm, I walked to Ross® to see if I could find a small gym bag. I was swept up in the riptide of crazed Saturnalia shoppers. The place was a madhouse. No surprise that the crazed satanic gargoyles with credit cards in hand looked like drugged-out cattle being herded into the slaughterhouse. I became nauseous and left immediately. The worst is yet to come.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was cruising around the main gym floor wearing her "yellow shirt" uniform. Baby looked hot. After the gym, I ended up in the faculty computer room again. I will piddle around until 7pm when I must return to Waikiki on the prison transport. The evening? Did you say, "Lockdown!"?
As the Countdown to the Meltdown continues to tick down, I am making as many preparations as possible for a "soft landing." I will be able to maintain what little "perks" that I have at the Diploma Mill. I will be able to keep my storage locker. I will also be able continue to use the offices and facilities there. And, I will be able to pay into the group health plan, if I choose to pay the $300 monthly premium. All of this will be the status quo, unless I am officially terminated. Not having any current contracts precludes termination, thank goodness. A small safety net, but one worth having. Which reminds me, I will soon store my wage slave duds (read: clothes) in my small storage locker at the Diploma Mill.
I still do not sleep well at night. I am up almost every hour. I no longer am able to determine my capability to tolerate much more of the insanity that is playing out around me. The sad part is that, to the insane, I am insane. The satanic gargoyles believe they have the freedom to do whatever they want, even if their actions impinge upon the freedom of others. That is not freedom they are talking about. It is anarchy. As I have discussed prior, most of the world's population lives in poverty. Because we believe that we have wealth, we tend to believe that we are superior and blessed by a higher source. Thus, we deserve to conspicuously consume and waste as we please. That, my friends, is real insanity.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Bridge to Nowhere
I spent 12 hours in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox) last night. Prison food for dinner. Cleaning my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush. Perusal of the pink rubber piggy bank replica. I have completed the latest round of queueing the next divestiture of my useless possessions. There's practically nothing left. I had nothing else to do but sedate my mind with the tube. I watched the classic movie, "Stripes." I have deduced that my time spent with the tube is directly proportional to my affinity to remain in lockdown during the evening. The tube has a subliminal effect of turning the mind to mush and hypnotizing the viewer into a comatose form of submission.
I left for town at on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. I drank free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I piddled around for an hour before leaving for Kahala Mall at 9:45am. I dropped off some stuff in the Goodwill dropbox including my T&C® Surf backpack. I met moms at the entrance to the mall. We ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. Lunch was delicious. I waited with moms until the bus arrived. After seeing moms off, I boarded the prison transport destined for town.
I ran into Pseudo-professor Mike in the faculty computer room when I arrived. He seemed extremely upbeat, given the circumstances. He said that he had to return to his apartment right away because a pastor was coming by. I found it odd that he referred to Bea's apartment in that manner. A few minutes later, the hottie pseudo-professor arrived. She was using crutches to get around. She has not been around for three weeks because of an odd accident. Apparently, she had a run-in with a wheelchair lift on a bus. Baby looked hot nonetheless. What is interesting is that I am certain that I saw her around the campus last week, and she was walking fine. Baby also looked like she was wearing a diamond-studded ring on the middle finger of her left hand. She has not worn any rings before. It actually looked more like a wedding ring. Since it was on the wrong finger, I would guess that baby is a divorcée.
Pseudo-professor Mike called the faculty computer room at 2pm. He asked me to pick up some items that he had ordered from a vendor along Fort Street Mall. He wanted me to pay for it since he did not have any cash. "A homeless guy accosted me for money, so I gave him everything I had," he told me. I only had 48 cents in cash on me, since I use a credit card for almost all transactions. He said that he would call someone else. He also invited me to join his group at the HASR Wine Company this afternoon. There is a wine tasting event going on. He is planning to hold a small memorial for Bea during the event. I found the latter particularly odd.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. During the cardio portion of my workout, I noticed that the hottie gym trainer was working with a gym member on the machine directly in front of me. Baby was looking hot. After seeing both the hottie pseudo-professor and the hottie gym trainer, my mind was ready to snap. I ascertained that the Vienna Sausage has yet to atrophy. That's the whole problem, isn't it?
When I returned to the faculty computer room at 3:45pm, the hottie pseudo-professor was gone. In actuality, I discovered her name a few weeks ago. She has left items with her name on it haphazardly laying around several times. A quick search on the Net produced interesting results. Baby is actively involved in quite a few things. Not that it really matters.
At 5pm, I walked to HASR Wine Company. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. One other person showed up at the same time. We walked around the store. I was the only one not sampling any wine. Pseudo-professor Mike than asked me to hold his sampling glass. He walked outside to call the other people whom he had invited. After 15 minutes of standing around, I decided to return to the faculty computer. I sat and chatted with Pseudo-professor Francis while we drank hot chocolate. Then, I composed the "blog." As usual, I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 7pm. What's in store for the evening? Can you guess?
I left for town at on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am this morning. I drank free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I piddled around for an hour before leaving for Kahala Mall at 9:45am. I dropped off some stuff in the Goodwill dropbox including my T&C® Surf backpack. I met moms at the entrance to the mall. We ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. Lunch was delicious. I waited with moms until the bus arrived. After seeing moms off, I boarded the prison transport destined for town.
I ran into Pseudo-professor Mike in the faculty computer room when I arrived. He seemed extremely upbeat, given the circumstances. He said that he had to return to his apartment right away because a pastor was coming by. I found it odd that he referred to Bea's apartment in that manner. A few minutes later, the hottie pseudo-professor arrived. She was using crutches to get around. She has not been around for three weeks because of an odd accident. Apparently, she had a run-in with a wheelchair lift on a bus. Baby looked hot nonetheless. What is interesting is that I am certain that I saw her around the campus last week, and she was walking fine. Baby also looked like she was wearing a diamond-studded ring on the middle finger of her left hand. She has not worn any rings before. It actually looked more like a wedding ring. Since it was on the wrong finger, I would guess that baby is a divorcée.
Pseudo-professor Mike called the faculty computer room at 2pm. He asked me to pick up some items that he had ordered from a vendor along Fort Street Mall. He wanted me to pay for it since he did not have any cash. "A homeless guy accosted me for money, so I gave him everything I had," he told me. I only had 48 cents in cash on me, since I use a credit card for almost all transactions. He said that he would call someone else. He also invited me to join his group at the HASR Wine Company this afternoon. There is a wine tasting event going on. He is planning to hold a small memorial for Bea during the event. I found the latter particularly odd.
Gym time was at 2:15pm. During the cardio portion of my workout, I noticed that the hottie gym trainer was working with a gym member on the machine directly in front of me. Baby was looking hot. After seeing both the hottie pseudo-professor and the hottie gym trainer, my mind was ready to snap. I ascertained that the Vienna Sausage has yet to atrophy. That's the whole problem, isn't it?
When I returned to the faculty computer room at 3:45pm, the hottie pseudo-professor was gone. In actuality, I discovered her name a few weeks ago. She has left items with her name on it haphazardly laying around several times. A quick search on the Net produced interesting results. Baby is actively involved in quite a few things. Not that it really matters.
At 5pm, I walked to HASR Wine Company. Pseudo-professor Mike was there. One other person showed up at the same time. We walked around the store. I was the only one not sampling any wine. Pseudo-professor Mike than asked me to hold his sampling glass. He walked outside to call the other people whom he had invited. After 15 minutes of standing around, I decided to return to the faculty computer. I sat and chatted with Pseudo-professor Francis while we drank hot chocolate. Then, I composed the "blog." As usual, I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 7pm. What's in store for the evening? Can you guess?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Here Today, Gone Tomorrow (Reprise)
I spent 14 hours in lockdown last night in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I departed for town at 8:15am this morning on the prison transport (read: bus). Once I settled myself at a workstation in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I commenced my benign ritualistic activities. I made coffee since Sandra, who works for the office that oversees the faculty computer room, was on vacation. I shredded more paperwork. And, I put the Tick action figure in its new home.
I checked my e-mail to find one item from Pseudo-professor Mike. He had to call an ambulance to transport Bea to the emergency room at Queen's Hospital sometime last night. Bea apparently had another stroke. This time, she did not survive. I was in shock. Here is another example of how everything is changing so rapidly. The last I had heard, Bea was doing fine. Her physician had given her the okay to travel to NY on vacation next week with Pseudo-professor Mike. As you may recall, Queen's Hospital is where pops passed on after going in for surgery for bladder cancer.
I called Pseudo-professor Mike at 9:45am. He provided a few more details about what transpired last night. He also added that Bea's paperwork for her estate had not been revised since her divorce many years ago. This will now put him in a bad position, given that he is going through his own set of problems. I am worried about Pseudo-professor Mike. I believe that he will be pushed to the edge of sanity, mainly because he is now in a state of financial flux. Whether his original motivation was nefarious or not, he now stands alone.
The rest of the day became meaningless to me, more meaningless than usual. Yet, each event that makes my meaningless existence more meaningless actually drives me to search for meaning beyond the artificial circumstances of modern life. We are very shielded from the fact that the nature of life itself is transient. Anything could happen anywhere at any time. Because we choose to live our lives so carelessly even further exacerbates the transience.
I walked to Safeway® at 10:30am. I purchased a loaf of bread and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos. The energy bars were sold out. Here is an example of stupidity in action. Even with the recent event of Bea's passing, I chose to purchase lard-filled shit for lunch. It's a matter of cost, I said to myself. I am no better than the satanic gargoyles who smoke cigarettes and eat junk food. Logic and reason seem to allude most of us. What was I thinking?
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was patrolling the main gym floor wearing her yellow uniform. What the yellow shirt means is that baby is available for quick training questions. I had a question in mind for baby, but it had nothing to do with weight training. Baby looks hot no matter what color shirt she wears. After the gym, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room.
I ruminated about life for most of the day. I thought about how I could improve the quality of my own life, but not in a material sense. I am certain that Bea's untimely passing was the impetus for my ruminations. I have not known Bea for very long, but she has always treated me well. Although I do not know her very well, I felt a void upon hearing the sad news. Here today, gone tomorrow. That's really how simple the equation of life is. When the world population exceeds six billion, there really is very little time that anyone wants to devote to remember or honor those who have passed on. Thus, our lives become even more cheapened and even less fulfilling. We will all eventually disappear into terminal obscurity. We are but a small time fragment of being in a history shared by only a select few. There should be more to it than that, eh?
I am no longer certain whether I plan to maintain the "blog" after the Countdown to the Meltdown is done. After all, what is the purpose of the "blog"? Has it done anyone any good? Or, is it "poisonous" as Anonder had charged? I have no reason to hide behind the thinly-veiled excuses proffered by the satanic gargoyles. I do not have much to lose, since I have lost everything else except for my self-respect. I do not have to patronize anyone for that very reason. Yes, I am still a wage slave, but only in flimsy terms. My opinions and observations mean nothing. They have no value, especially since they are divergent with the mainstream thought. Thus, as with everything else ... here today, gone tomorrow.
I checked my e-mail to find one item from Pseudo-professor Mike. He had to call an ambulance to transport Bea to the emergency room at Queen's Hospital sometime last night. Bea apparently had another stroke. This time, she did not survive. I was in shock. Here is another example of how everything is changing so rapidly. The last I had heard, Bea was doing fine. Her physician had given her the okay to travel to NY on vacation next week with Pseudo-professor Mike. As you may recall, Queen's Hospital is where pops passed on after going in for surgery for bladder cancer.
I called Pseudo-professor Mike at 9:45am. He provided a few more details about what transpired last night. He also added that Bea's paperwork for her estate had not been revised since her divorce many years ago. This will now put him in a bad position, given that he is going through his own set of problems. I am worried about Pseudo-professor Mike. I believe that he will be pushed to the edge of sanity, mainly because he is now in a state of financial flux. Whether his original motivation was nefarious or not, he now stands alone.
The rest of the day became meaningless to me, more meaningless than usual. Yet, each event that makes my meaningless existence more meaningless actually drives me to search for meaning beyond the artificial circumstances of modern life. We are very shielded from the fact that the nature of life itself is transient. Anything could happen anywhere at any time. Because we choose to live our lives so carelessly even further exacerbates the transience.
I walked to Safeway® at 10:30am. I purchased a loaf of bread and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos. The energy bars were sold out. Here is an example of stupidity in action. Even with the recent event of Bea's passing, I chose to purchase lard-filled shit for lunch. It's a matter of cost, I said to myself. I am no better than the satanic gargoyles who smoke cigarettes and eat junk food. Logic and reason seem to allude most of us. What was I thinking?
Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was patrolling the main gym floor wearing her yellow uniform. What the yellow shirt means is that baby is available for quick training questions. I had a question in mind for baby, but it had nothing to do with weight training. Baby looks hot no matter what color shirt she wears. After the gym, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room.
I ruminated about life for most of the day. I thought about how I could improve the quality of my own life, but not in a material sense. I am certain that Bea's untimely passing was the impetus for my ruminations. I have not known Bea for very long, but she has always treated me well. Although I do not know her very well, I felt a void upon hearing the sad news. Here today, gone tomorrow. That's really how simple the equation of life is. When the world population exceeds six billion, there really is very little time that anyone wants to devote to remember or honor those who have passed on. Thus, our lives become even more cheapened and even less fulfilling. We will all eventually disappear into terminal obscurity. We are but a small time fragment of being in a history shared by only a select few. There should be more to it than that, eh?
I am no longer certain whether I plan to maintain the "blog" after the Countdown to the Meltdown is done. After all, what is the purpose of the "blog"? Has it done anyone any good? Or, is it "poisonous" as Anonder had charged? I have no reason to hide behind the thinly-veiled excuses proffered by the satanic gargoyles. I do not have much to lose, since I have lost everything else except for my self-respect. I do not have to patronize anyone for that very reason. Yes, I am still a wage slave, but only in flimsy terms. My opinions and observations mean nothing. They have no value, especially since they are divergent with the mainstream thought. Thus, as with everything else ... here today, gone tomorrow.
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