Fault Line

The rain was coming down heavily by 9pm. Thus, I deferred my nightly prison furlough to Barnes & Noble®. I spent the rest of the evening reading Mike Ruppert's book, Crossing the Rubicon." I am in the last one-third of the book, and I have to say that Ruppert's theses are even more conceivable after considerable pondering. The sad part is that the questions posed by Ruppert still remain unanswered today. What will I do with that knowledge? I have no idea. I also managed to catch an episode of, "Monk." Traylor Howard, who plays the character "Natalie" is such a hottie. I also watched, "House, MD." So much for another evening, eh?

This morning, I departed for town on the prison transport (read: bus) at 8:15am. I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. A small teaching conference was being held, so there was a lot of food remaining. I was able to chow down on the leftovers. Gym time was at 1:30pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. At 5pm, I will leave for Waikiki. The nightly ritual will commence, provided there is no inclimate weather.

There's been very little news about Iran. The "mainstream" media is reporting that US and Iranian delegates have opened a line of communication during the Baghdad conference. So, looks like no new war after all. The Lewis "Scooter" Libby scandal is fading rapidly into obscurity. Time to get back to the business of heavy consumption and material acquisition, eh? Even the dollar has miraculously stabilized or gained strength with respect to other currencies. The stock market recovered extremely quickly, no doubt due to the tremendous strength of the economy. Even the warning cries in the alternative media have been reduced to silence, only the fretting over Ann Coulter's rabid spewing remains. Life has returned to normal, my friends. It's time to throw the "tin-foil hat" into the recycling bin. I will maintain the sole vigil in the end times.

Not to say that there hasn't been a lot of domestic "collateral damage." The hundreds of thousands who have been forced into early retirement (read: unemployment) because of "globalization," a good portion who are no longer counted into statistics because they can no longer claim unemployment benefits. The sheer number of victims of a chain of natural disasters who have lost everything including their dignity, who sit and wait for assistance that will never come. The vast silent crowd of the impoverished and the homeless who remain invisible to everyone else. They have all been debased and neutered into silence and subservience. They no longer figure into any economic equation, so the economy appears to be so much better than it really is. "That can't happen to me," the satanic gargoyles mutter to themselves. "They are losers. We are winners." With vile disdain, they look upon the "collateral damage" as genetically flawed miscreants deserving of such a terrible plight. It is Social Darwinian justice, they proclaim. Alas, the satanic gargoyles have learned well from their masters, the elite class who look down upon them with equal disdain for the very same reasons.

The class of "bottom feeders¹" is increasing, by the way. More and more satanic gargoyles are falling victim to the finite reality of the epidemic of the "seven sins." The party cannot go on forever without an infinite source of money. The moneychangers and the powers-that-be have continually drained all of the lower classes of their wealth. And, thus, the foolish "bottom feeders" have come to leverage their satanic gargoyle life-styles through creative financing instruments. Like a kick to the cojónes, poverty hits instantly and all signs of wealth disappears. Given the incredible level of denial, disbelief and delusional thinking that exists in this society, I would estimate that at least 80 percent of the population would have to succumb to personal financial collapse before any kind of collective action is taken. Naturally, any collective action instigated that late in the game will be met with deadly force by the elite class in power. Mass defiance will be crushed. A gloomy outlook indeed, but that is, as I am told, "human nature" in action.

As a side note, I really have no idea about why the economy keeps bouncing back miraculously. I would suspect that money is being injected into the money supply M3 as per the Plunge Protection Team (PPT). The PPT apparently has a huge pool of spare money to offset trades in the stock, bond, derivative, and money markets, amongst others. The infusion of cash must also exist in the form of loans to brokerage houses and financial institutions as well. The whole problem of pinning economic growth to any real quantity traces back to the Nixon presidency. To fund the increasing debt of the Vietnam War and remove constraints to economic growth, the dollar's value could no longer be tied to gold. Gold, as we well know, is finite. There was no way to create more money without an increase in the gold reserves. Dropping the gold standard and making the dollar a fiat currency was the solution that Nixon imposed. From that point forward, the actual value of the dollar was based on bearer perceptions of its worth, as well as its sheer bulk displacement as the world's reserve (trading) currency. From what I can tell, the dollar's value is based entirely upon debt, foreign or otherwise, and not necessary restricted to loans. The paper money is worth nothing on face value. However, the fact that huge quantities are in the possession of numerous entities (i.e., foreign central banks) is what gives it monetary weight and purchasing power.

The actual aggregate supply of money M3 must be staggering, so much so that any infusion by the PPT does not create any hyperinflationary effects. What also boggles my mind is how the microeconomy continues to remain solvent. Huge consumer debt and the so-called "real estate bubble" are being propped up by some artificial means. Could there just be endless amounts of creative financing still available to the common satanic gargoyle? I do not know. As it stands, I can still only see one event that will bring down the US economy and cascade throughout the various vassal economies, specifically a disruption in global oil supply either by war, and embargo, or Peak Oil effects. A major recession will ensue, but total financial collapse will be imminent given the precarious preconditions that exist right now. Many moons ago, I lived in Convalescent City, which lay along the infamous San Andreas fault. All during that time, I wondered when the "Big One" (read: earthquake) would strike. I feel the same apprehension today.

¹Low end of the Proletariat class.
²Aggregate money supply including M1 and M2. M3 figures are apparently no longer released by the Fed

Denial, Anger, Acceptance

Prior to leaving the Diploma Mill last night, I had a brief discussion with a young hottie student. A bit of background is in order. She had come in to take a make-up quiz, the second so far this term. She rarely shows up to class, even having registered one week late. Of no surprise, she is failing the class. Her diatribe was of the "It's my fault, not your fault, but it really is your fault" genre. She alleged that many of her fellow students and a few former students were extremely displeased with my methods. Oh, how I wanted to laugh out loud.

As the conversation progressed, it became more obvious that she was building a case in her mind about my incompetence, although I countered her arguments with palatable (i.e., made-for-"mental midgets") tidbits of my methodology of facilitation. She assumed an air of exaggerated self-importance and immaturity. In the end, I suggested that she submit a letter to the administration such that my alleged incompetence would be rewarded by my eventual "removal from service through attrition." What I should have told her is that she should trade places with someone in Iraq or Afghanistan, someone who would appreciate just being able to stay alive.

I have no intention of being "politically correct" about anything. What I have observed in the educational arena is a profound sense of entitlement primarily amongst the babes. Sadly, they resort to being little "bitches" in order to get their way. I am sure that they approach any situation the same way that they do with their fathers. They are all "daddy's little girls." Guys have become so emasculated by "political correctness" and male-bashing that they can no longer function as anything other than asexual automatons. Oddly, guys in the same academic predicament as my spoiled, "bitchy," young hottie student rarely contest their plight. They simply accept their fate, or do what is necessary to improve their lot.

That's one big reason why I will remain a celibate monk for the rest of my life. I have observed irrational and "bitchy" behavior amongst babes across all age groups. It never dawns upon those "Ice Princesses" that they are not "special." Sure, there are quite a few are hotties out there. And, unfortunately, guys are often guided by the Vienna Sausage. I, myself, have learned to draw the line. By refusing to get sucked into the vortex of stupidity, I can remain aloof and work toward my objective to exit society.

Also obvious is my ambivalence to wage slavery. As I have stated previously, I am somehow taunting fate to take the appropriate action for me. Sadly, rather than simply resign my employment, I simply await the process of attrition to take effect. Yes, it is difficult to drive the stake into the heart of wage slavery. After all, it provides me with some income, offsets my tax liability, and makes the minimum Social Security and Medicare contributions. I derive no employment benefits (i.e., "perks" in the form of health plans, status, prestige, and so forth) at all. In the new consumerist model of higher education, I am simply a Customer Service Representative standing in front of a fairly disgruntled set of brain donor customers. I am often amused by so-called "colleagues" who just cannot seem to grasp the latter concept. They still believe that higher education is all about learning and the beauty of universal knowledge. What a crock of shit! All of that idealistic crap went out the door when everyone sold their souls to become satanic gargoyles. All that is left of higher education institutions are empty shells and pay-and-go trade schools.

I am ready to face my destiny as a permanently unemployed and possibly homeless automaton. That's the new definition of retirement. In theory, that will be the day of my emancipation. I will be free, although I anticipate much discomfort. Yet, I do not really know for sure if there will be any more discomfort than what I am already experiencing now. My one slight advantage is that I have liquid and semi-liquid assets that are significantly more than the majority of the populace. And, I know that my continuation in wage slavery will not add much to those assets. Thus, when that fateful day comes, I will be much more prepared, at least financially, than I currently perceive.

When I arrived back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel) at 7pm, I decided to do the dreaded laundry chores, one day early, I might add. No one else was using the washer or dryer, so I was able to complete the task fairly quickly. I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble® as usual. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I left at 10pm. I purchased a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza to calm my nerves. Once back in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I dropped back the whole big-ass can of cerveza and continued reading Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon."

In the next two chapters that I read of "Rubicon," Ruppert came out swinging. In attempting to obtain answers about the war games concurrently scheduled during the "September 11th" event, Ruppert and his team encountered stonewalling and misinformation. Feigned confusion, recollection problems, and deliberate fabrications were the standard modus operandi. A critical mind would ascertain that a massive cover-up was in progress. The issue is of considerable importance today. The "September 11th" event is what precipitated the conflagration with Iraq and Afghanistan. And, now, we are full circle again with the Lewis "Scooter" Libby trial.

This morning, I departed for town fairly early again. I have no desire to hang around my prison cell. After a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, two energy bars, and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos. My various sickening routines are beginning to eat away at my sanity.

After my one-hour of wage slavery, I was off to the gym. Along the way, I ran into Judith, one of the faculty at the Asylum. We chatted for a few minutes. She said that the Asylum is going downhill fast. Most of the old gang are still there, including James, Wayne, and Chip. The enrollment is so low that the faculty have been reduced to part-time status. Judith is planning to sell the house that she inherited for $500,000 or so. Then, she plans to move on. Judith also mentioned that first floor windows of the Asylum were damaged by a drive-by shooting. I'm not surprised since the dump fleeced so many students. It could very well be a former employee, since there were so many who were disgruntled. The dump will probably shut down permanently by the end of the year. No hottie gym trainer at the gym today. Boohoo. I quickly finished my workout and returned to the faculty computer room. At 6:30pm, I will commence my nightly ritual. Yep, prison food (read: beans and bread) for dinner, clean my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush, and a couple of hours at Barnes & Noble®.

Conspiracy of Dunces

I spent yet another exciting evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was there. Baby was looking mighty fine. I perused a few new books:

• "American Spy: My Secret History in the CIA, Watergate and Beyond" - E Howard Hunt
• "The 48 Laws of Power" - Robert Greene
• "The 33 Strategies of War" - Robert Greene
• "A Field Guide to Household Technology" - Ed Sobey

Well, a few comments about all of the books that I have been perusing lately. Robert Greene's trilogy including, "Power," and, "War." are actually quite interesting and humorous as well. However, the sad part is that Greene outlined a series of sociopathic methods to be used in order to survive and achieve success in life. Both books are a testament to the depraved cutthroat culture that exists today. "American Spy" by E Howard Hunt seemed interesting, at least for the detailed account of the "Watergate" scandal. The underlying lesson, of course, is that a perpetrator of a major crime should destroy any evidence, be it voice recordings or documents, well in advance of an investigation.

A fellow customer (yes, that's what we are) cut me off in the aisle while I was walking about. My patience, as low as it has been lately, was responsible for me to react and say, "Excuse me, asshole." Later, he walked by again and politely said, "Excuse me, sir." He was not being sarcastic. I then realized that he may have been homeless. He was toting a lot of stuff with him, a telltale sign. I was immediately overwhelmed by guilt and anguish. I psychologically kicked a man when he was already down. If indeed he was homeless, then he was a silent comrade whom I betrayed. I immediately departed. On the way back to Quagmire Prison (read; hotel), I purchased a big ass can of Tecate® cerveza at the ABC Store. I dropped back the whole big-ass can of cerveza once I was in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). Am I now a "J-Cat¹"?

I continued to read Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." The weakest chapter in the book is the one detailing his attempt to obtain information from the various governmental agencies about the war games that were allegedly being carried out concurrent with the "September 11th" event. Upon pondering the chapter, I realized that the scant availability of data was not the issue. It was the inability to reasonably obtain the data, the ridiculous level of subterfuge and obfuscation involved, which was the primary purpose for the chapter. Obviously, the lessons of the "Watergate" scandal were taken to heart. Nonetheless, Ruppert was able to "connect the dots," and his version of the chronology of events on that fateful day created a lot of anxiety for the players involved. Will we ever learn the truth about the "September 11th" event? Not likely.

I departed for town at 7:50am, even earlier than usual. Even then, a half-crazed bitch stepped on my feet on an uncrowded prison transport (read: bus). I have come to the conclusion that I will never be free of the myriad cheap fucks. After consuming a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I was placated and ready for my one-hour of wage slavery. I walked to Safeway® to purchase two energy bars and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos.

After completing my wage slave tasks, I was off to the gym at 2:15pm. Once again, I saw no sign of the hottie gym trainer during my weight workout. However, as I was in the final few minutes of my cardio workout, the hottie gym trainer walked by in front of me. I was able to get a glimpse of baby. What a hottie! I almost fell off the elliptical machine. I felt a testosterone surge and a renewed vigor. In fact, I could have gone on for another hour. I realized right then that the non-atrophied Vienna Sausage was the cause. As I was leaving the gym, I saw baby standing behind the front counter. Baby is definitely gorgeous. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. At 6:30pm, I will begin the nightly ritual.

I have been experiencing increased levels of alienation, depersonalization, derealization, and incongruence as of late. Since reducing my useless material possessions down to almost nothing, I have become even more keenly aware that our material possessions are what define who we are in a material society. If I own nothing, then I am nothing. I cannot "belong" to society unless I "own" a part of it. By "ownership," I mean more than just the clothes I am wearing. Even the façade of renting (i.e., quasi-ownership) is better than nothing. Hence, we can come to understand the incredible limbo that the homeless must subsist within. It is literally a "non-existence."

Obviously, I deliberately failed to recognize that I own my truck and I own the mortgage to the "condotel" unit. The latter dichotomy is a matter of my own non-recognition of material possessions as worthy of value. Unless I embrace my material possessions as well as constantly expand and exploit my material empire, then I will forever be a non-entity. The reality of social acceptance is wholly based upon that premise.

¹Category J classification for clinically insane prison inmates.

Squeal Like a Pig

Another evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking hot. I ran into Internet Jon while I was meandering around. He apparently holds meeting with his staff in the café. He gave me a few more puzzling descriptions of the project. The project, he claimed, is going in a different direction. He has signed up millions of dollars in contracts to distribute streaming media under some kind of novel service agreement that promises flexibility to customers. What sets the project apart is that Internet Jon allegedly has exclusive rights to a proprietary streaming media technology that promises full-screen DVD-quality video resolution. Is this not already available commercially? In any case, I enjoyed chatting with him. I departed for Waikiki at 10pm. Once in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I continued reading Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon."

This morning, I departed for town at 8am. Once in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I consumed several cups of free coffee. My morning Safeway® ritual yielded three energy bars and a box of Nature Valley® granola cereal. I piddled around on the computer and read more "foilhead¹" stuff. I also transferred $660 from my investment accounts to my local bank. I did my one-hour of wage slavery. Gym time was at 2:15pm. Where has the hottie gym trainer been? I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. At 6:30pm, I will be off on my nightly ritual.

I've been very fatigued lately. I perceive that the "incongruence" is increasing by the day. I don't belong in this society, no less in this time period. I am surrounded by psychopaths, sociopaths, pathological liars, scumbags, chain-smoking chumps, cheapskates, meatheads, old fudgepackers, perverts, fat slobs, drunkards, assholes, dickheads, derelicts, drug addicts, and kabuki-mask-wearing satanic gargoyles. What kind of society is this? I'm slowly becoming a "J-Cat²."

¹Foilheads are "tin-foil hat"-wearing mofos.
²Category J classification for clinically insane prison inmates.

Hubris

Yep, another evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty as well. Baby was looking fine. I perused a few new books again, including:

• "Adam's Fallacy: A Guide to Economic Theology" - Duncan Foley
• "Life in Prison" - Stanley "Tookie" Williams
• "Gringos in Paradise" - Barry Golson

I also perused Jeremy Scahill's book, "Blackwater," specifically the sections dealing with the deployment of Blackwater® security forces in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. How is it that a fully armed private army, a commercial enterprise no less, can patrol the streets of New Orleans? What exactly is its jurisdiction? Under what laws does its "troops" operate? Who are they accountable to? In addition, many of the elite class hired other private security firms to safeguard their assets (i.e., businesses, mansions, gated communities, and so forth). It is my guess that we will see an increased and conspicuous presence of private paramilitary troops as the nation goes through social and economic upheaval.

Williams' book, "Life in Prison," was of profound interest to me. It is a very thin book, yet there are a few noteworthy observations. Williams described a special group of insane inmates:

Prisoners who are stir-crazy are insane. We call these men "J-Cats." It's slang for Category J, the official term used by prison staff to identify inmates in need of mental-health care ... These men have retreated so far from reality, they don't even know they're in prison ... Many of them are so out of their minds that they don't take showers, comb their hair, brush their teeth, or change their clothes. They smell so bad that no one wants to be near them.

In the book, Williams describes "stir crazy" as the adverse result of the confinement in a prison cell and the prison itself. I could not help but wonder if Williams' definition also applied to those of us in the larger prison of society. Are we "J-Cats" as well?

I also noticed a lot of books dealing with the "War on Terror" and "insurgencies." The latter books should be shelved in a new category, "Doorstops." The "War on Terror" is defined as "insurgent" activity by "terrorists" upon an occupying imperialist power. Don't you find that puzzling? After the imperialist power (read: empire) invades a sovereign nation to exact "regime change," the ungrateful citizens subsequently rebel and wage war upon the occupying forces. The propaganda machine spins the débâcle as an uprising by an "insurgency," even though it was the empire that invaded the foreign nation, occupied it, and created chaos. That kind of hubris and arrogance permeates every aspect of our culture. In my day-to-day encounters, I see the same kind of self-importance, self-righteousness, and hubris in each and every fat-ass satanic gargoyle in the general populace.

Naturally, after enduring another day in the empire, I had to procure a big-ass can of cheap Coors® Light brewski before going into lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I continued to read Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." The section with the actual chronology of the "September 11th" event was brief. However, the graphical timeline was the most important piece of data by far. Although I do not need any more convincing that something was terribly wrong on that particular day, the chronology of the events proved that the resulting tragedy did not occur because of the total incompetence of several branches of the government. That's a ludicrous presumption at best.

This morning, I rode on the Route 4 prison transport (read: bus) to town. Within a block or two after I boarded, the prison transport was completely packed, mostly with Japanese students. I observed that, unlike their mainland counterparts, the Japanese students were quite polite and careful not infringe upon the rights of other passengers. They were a little noisy, but that's to be expected. They alighted at the UH campus. I watched as two of the Japanese students cheerfully held the back doors open for everyone else. The prison transport then made its way around portions of the Makiki district. I made note of how the whole area looked like a Third World nation. Finally, after an hour, I found myself in town.

After a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I embarked on my morning ritual to Safeway®. I purchased a loaf of bread, three energy bars, and two Jalapeño Focaccia bread snacks. The guy at the checkout counter asked, "What happened to the burritos?" I laughed. "I took a break from them," I replied.

Another day of wage slavery, or should I say, another hour of wage slavery. I spent the rest of the time in front of the computer. What else is there? It's not like I have babes to do da wild thing with. Sheesh! Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. Well, out of sight, out of mind. I was back in the faculty computer room by 4pm. The rest of the day? I will depart for Waikiki at 6:30pm. You know the drill.

Attack of the "Foilheads"

Another evening at Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I perused a couple of new books of interest:

• "Blackwater: The Rise of the World's Most Powerful Mercenary Army" - Jeremy Scahill
• "Limbo: Blue-Collar Roots, White-Collar Dreams" - Alfred Lubrano

Scahill's book, "Blackwater," is noteworthy. Scahill has also written numerous articles about Blackwater®, the infamous private army (read: mercenaries) for the The Nation. Blackwater® "troops" are currently being deployed in Iraq. They are considered "contractors," and apparently exempt from criminal prosecution. The ominous ramification is that Blackwater® "troops" can literally get away with murder. Blackwater® personnel were also deployed in US civilian population crises, the most recent being the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. That's a dangerous precedent if ever there was one. Since Blackwater® "troops" are neither military or law enforcement personnel, they will not be held accountable to military code or law enforcement standards. If the exemption from prosecution is widened in scope to include the US homeland, then a virtual police state could be invoked without any violation of the Posse Comitatus act. Did you get that last part? Worst of all, Blackwater® has close ties with the so-called "Christian right¹."

I returned to Waikiki after yet another harrowing experience on the prison transport (read: bus). I have had to waste my time transferring to different prison transports because of the sheer number of fat slob satanic gargoyles who board the prison transport at subsequent stops. Since I am a "brown skin," I am considered inferior by the White Supremacists. Therefore, they can step on my feet with their thunderous legs, crush me with their blubberous girth, and sweat profusely on my clothes as they are forced to press their bloated physiques outside of normal boundaries. These are "Americans," the most hated group of curmudgeons in the world. Believe me, they are not hated because of their "freedom²." Once back in lockdown in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I continued to read Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." I have been so captivated by the book that I cannot seem to put it down.

Let me qualify my opinion about "Rubicon." So far, I have completed reading about half of the book. I have not found anything inconsistent except the possibility that Ruppert may be overly optimistic about computer technology. No one from the "Dark Side" is going to come forward with the truth about anything. Believe me, Darth ain't comin' out. Ruppert goes into detail about why that is the case. However, what Ruppert does is "connect the dots," something that no other reputable journalist has done. A few crackpot "foilheads³" have made half-assed attempts, which only served to fuel the "conspiracy theory" ridicule of any thesis outside "mainstream" thought. Ruppert's theses are sound because he is presenting whatever facts are available and analyzing them using knowledge of military code, government legislation, law enforcement protocol, and standard clandestine operations as well as the law of the land (or what's left of it). He then generated his theses and chronology based upon a statistically high probability of occurrence. In my book, that's about as close as we are ever going to get to the truth.

This morning, I was privy to yet another harrowing experience on the prison transport to town. I felt better once I consumed a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I was on my to Kahala Mall shortly afterward. Once again, I experienced another harrowing ride on the prison transport. I met moms at the entrance to the mall at 10:30am. We ate lunch at Pearl's Korean Barbeque. Lunch was delicious. I was able to spend some time chatting with moms. Then, we parted company at the prison transport stop.

I am looking forward to the day that I get to visit with moms at least one more time during the week. That will be give me a better perspective of what I am doing here. Often, I forget my promise to sacrifice whatever is necessary in order to spend time with moms. As always, I become wrapped up in my own daily struggle for survival and my on-going battle with stupidity. My true obligations are clear. Without understanding what is a priority and what isn't, there can never be any reconciliation with one's conscience. We must always strive do what is right in our hearts, and the latter cannot always be self-serving. Yes, there are obligations. yes, there are sacrifices. However, no amount of remorse will ever bring back lost opportunity. Only the can peace of mind be attained.

When I returned to town, I did my one-hour of time in wage slavery. Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. Where are all of my favorite babes? I quickly completed my workout and rushed back to the faculty computer room. I will remain in town until 6:30pm. Then, by gosh, it's time for the nightly ritual again.

Incidentally, I received a long e-mail from Clyde in San Jose. Apparently, he has been seeking out answers about what's been happening in the nation much in the same way as the ol' lavahead. He, too, has had to search outside the "mainstream" media to find some answers. I also received e-mail from Mr. Ray. He, too, appears to be worried about our most indefinite future. And, Devin has been communicating much of the same concerns on Speak! VI. I will respond within a day or so. I'm always glad to hear from my virtual homeys.

¹Christian right, a group of fundamentalist "Christians" who are heavily involved in Republican Party politics, obviously oblivious to Christian doctrine which admonishes ties with the world.
²Hatred of "freedom" by "infidels" as defined by Shrub: "They hate us because we love freedom. They hate us because we love and hold dear the idea that anybody can worship an almighty God in any way he or she sees fit. They hate the idea of a free press, free political discourse. That is what they hate. And so long as we love our freedoms, they will try to harm our country."
³Foilheads are "tin-foil hat"-wearing mofos.

Invisible Hand

After a prison brunch consisting of Coral® tuna and bread, I departed for town. I was able to secure the Sunday paper from the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) first. I read the paper in the lanai are of the Beretania Street Apartments. Then, I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's® and waited until the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill opened at noon. The weather has finally gotten warmer, by the way. Once the student computer lab opened for business, I found myself engaged in the usual mundane activity in front of the computer.

Gym time was at 1:30pm. I only caught a glimpse of the hottie gym trainer. Baby was busy with a gym member in the weight room. Baby was looking hot as usual. I wondered to myself whether I should resurrect my vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library. What else could placate the non-atrophied Vienna Sausage? After the gym, I purchased two Cheesy Bean and Rice Burritos at Taco Bell®. A hearty meal for a virtual homeless guy. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the student computer lab. At 5pm, I will depart for Waikiki. The evening ritual awaits.

Did I perform the usual nightly ritual last night? Yes, I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble®. I perused a couple of new books:

• "Generation Rx: How Prescription Drugs are Altering American Lives, Minds, and Bodies" - Greg Crister
• "No Place to Hide" - Robert O'Harrow

O'Harrow's book, "No Place to Hide," is quite absorbing. He details the extent to which we have attained a "total surveillance" society. Frankly, the topic is quite chilling. I gleaned a few tidbits from Crister's book, "Generation Rx," as well. About half of the US population takes one prescription drug (i.e., medication) daily. One out of six satanic gargoyles takes three or more prescription drugs daily. Now, get this, the average number of prescription drugs per person across the population is twelve. Those are alarming statistics.

What most satanic gargoyles do not understand is that all drugs must first pass the so-called "blood-brain barrier." Thus, the efficacy of the drug is determined by the dosage as the liver tends to filter out toxins (read: drugs). That's right, most drugs have some level of toxicity. Imagine that the brain is being saturated with poisonous substances. The worst part is the drugs' effect on the liver. Drugs, as with alcohol, tends to have detrimental effects on the liver. Irreversible damage may occur. Needless to say, I've mentioned all of that in the "blog" and the journal numerous times. It is best to avoid all forms of drugs, if possible.

I am about one-third through Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." I still firmly believe that "Rubicon" is as close as we can get to the truth. In addition, because of unusual circumstances, Ruppert's From the Wilderness site has been given full public access. Thus, once restricted archives (referenced in the book) are available to cross-check information. Since Mike Ruppert is not a household name as a media pundit, he will likely ever be taken seriously. However, upon closer scrutiny of his investigative team and collaborative authors, it is evident that a tremendous amount of effort has been invested into finding the truth. Skeptics may ask why ... if Ruppert is on to the truth ... why wasn't he "taken out"? The number of copies of the book as well as the actual number of members and readers of the From the Wilderness site are relatively small compared to the audience of the "mainstream" media.

Most alternative media sites suffer the same plight. With actual numbers being so small, there is no real threat of mass persuasion. The "invisible hand¹" will continue to rule. The alternative media is allowed to exist to enable the façade of basic constitutional rights (i.e., freedom of the press, freedom of speech et al.). If anything, the alternative media serves as a distraction and comic relief since the masses are quick to label them as "conspiracy theorists."

The "blog" has become an obsession for me. I have been religiously updating the "blog" from Day One, even after the demise of the journal. The sad part is that the "blog" serves no real purpose. It is just there. I spend more time composing the "blog" than any other activity including wage slavery. In fact, wage slavery has become a burden, a general nuisance, that gets in the way of the "blog" and, ultimately, my exit from society. The purpose of the "blog" is revealed in its subtitle, "The Exodus Files." Yet, this is one damned slow exodus. An exodus is synonymous to an escape. We imagine an escape being a hurried, if not frantic, flight to safety in which the speed is somewhat faster than the flowing of molasses in Winter.

Everything that I do has now been deferred to a JIT² (read: last minute) protocol. First priority is the "blog." Rarely anything else supersedes that priority. On-going chores such as laundry, cleaning my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush, personal hygiene, and so forth are looked upon as rote drudgery. Approaching those tasks is becoming more and more difficult. Frankly, I am not even sure why I continue to go to the gym. As Jimbo asked me once at the gym back in Convalescent City, "What the purpose of being a buffed-out monk?"

I have considered reverting the "blog" to the experimental form of the now-defunct Myspace® "blog." The narrative was in the third-person form wherein I am replaced by the generic character "monk," much in the same way I currently refer to the ol' lavahead. Aside from the comic relief, the value of the "blog" may simply depreciate to nothing. Alas, the real issue is whether I should begin weaning myself of the "blog" as the first real step to exit society. The again, perhaps the "blog" is all that keeps me sane.

¹Invisible hand, a metaphor coined by Adam Smith, has a more nefarious meaning today.
²JIT, from the faddish "just in time" method of production pioneered by Japanese manufacturers.

Send in the Clowns

Another night at Barnes & Noble®. Well, at least the hottie "bookseller" was on-duty. Another big-ass can of Coors® Light brewski. More of Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." I am reading sections of Ruppert's book that many other readers have found questionable. However, I have been noting his citations as well as performing informal Web searches to supplement the reading. I suspect that many readers are reading the text alone and skipping any of the annotations. If that is the case, then I can understand why there was skepticism. Knowing that the attention span of most satanic gargoyles and unconverted humans is only a few milliseconds, there is little doubt concerning the misconceptions by the meatheads. Only one area posed a problem for me so far. Ruppert alleged that the PROMIS¹ software was highly modified to include "artificial intelligence." The software purportedly interfaced electronic data with the neurological system of the brain. Those storage systems are mutually exclusive, and there is no such direct "translator." In other words, infusing digital data packets into a neuron will not inject knowledge.

A noteworthy aspect of Ruppert's book is that his reporting transcends political party lines. No Democrat versus Republican, liberal versus conservative shit. Both political parties are being pulled by the purse strings above them. This is my contention as well. The two-party system is simply a theatrical implementation of the "good cop, bad cop" theme, only being played out for the amusement of the simpletons who believe it is real. The farcical "mandate" of the last election is proof enough.

There are only three options to survive in the kind of world we live in today. These options are:

• Buy into the "system." Accept the consumerist life-style and all that goes with is. In the US, it is called the "American Dream." Leverage yourself completely in order to maintain an artificial standard of living that allows you to enter the "mainstream." Toe the company line wholeheartedly. Never question anything. Believe that you are "special." Seek out and exploit friendships and relationships that bolster your esteem and status. Exploit prescription drugs and cheap booze to maintain sanity. Party like there's no tomorrow. Bury your head in the sand when it comes to painful issues. Allow yourself to become totally infected with the epidemic of the "seven sins." Embrace each "sin" as if it were a virtue. Exploit anything and everything to satisfy your hedonistic desires. Immerse yourself in the singular world of "you." Never question your motives.


• Escape the "system." Let guilt and anger overcome your senses, all the while feeling victimized and helpless. Alienate yourself by disassociating from society while still remaining a part of it. Swallow your hypocrisy and internalize your feelings of incongruence. Experience envy since you cannot partake of the "riches" of the consumerist life-style, even though you seriously desire it all. Rely upon massive quantities of illicit drugs and cheap booze to escape the meaninglessness of life and your own complicity.


• The Exodus. Decide to draw the line and sever your hypocrisy. End all desires to pursue the worldly objectives in the first option. Follow a systematic plan to exit society. Seek out a destination that will allow you to return to what your heart and mind really crave, specifically truth and meaning. In escaping the "fake" society, seek out a real society where people exist, rather than satanic gargoyles. If none exists, relocate to a very remote and desolate area and reside as a hermit.

The third option is normally the last resort after realizing the futility of the second option. By the way, I have observed that the "New Age" section of the bookstore is very popular (followed by the "Self-Help" section). Upon a closer perusal of the selections in the "New Age" section, I noticed a large amount of occult material (i.e., Tarot card reading, fortune telling, voodoo, etc.) that delved into "spiritism." I should not be surprised. As I have discussed previously in the "blog," the satanic gargoyles are disciples of the sinister kahuna. Once a human converts to a satanic gargoyle, the innate need to worship still exists. Only the shrine of worship (i.e., deity) changes.

"Spring-breakers party on amid Acapulco drug war," read the title of a news article from Reuters. Here are some excerpts:

U.S. spring-breakers are guzzling beers and slamming back tequilas in the Mexican Pacific beach resort of Acapulco, unfazed by a violent drug war that has killed police and left body parts strewn about town.

But with the beachfront strip largely unaffected by the violence, college students are packing hotels and vast dance clubs in what officials hope will be record numbers, most of them blissfully unaware of the drug war raging nearby.

"We don't necessarily think about any of that, it's more just coming down here and having a good time," Western Michigan University student Caitlin Murray said at the Copacabana hotel's pool, scene of wet T-shirt and beer-drinking contests.

Students say the only noticeable effect of the crackdown is a scarcity of illicit drugs. Cocaine and marijuana readily available in most Mexican resorts have been hard to find, boosting usage of prescription drugs like pain-killer Vicodin.

Says it all, doesn't it? If the article still does not make sense, then refer to the first option (above) to survive the world we that live in. When all else fails, send in the clowns!

This morning, I ran into Pseudo-professor Glenn at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). We rode the prison transport (read: bus) to town. Pseudo-professor Glenn was going back to the hospital to have some stitches removed. He actually visited the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill yesterday, although I failed to report the latter. He had what appeared to be a black eye. "Were you in a bar room brawl?" I asked, jokingly. Apparently, he had slipped and fell down while running for the prison transport a day earlier. We had a nice chat. After Pseudo-professor Glenn alighted at his destination, I continued onward to town.

I was in the faculty computer room by 9:15am. I made a pot of coffee. After a few cups of joe, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, three energy bars, and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos. The guy at the checkout counter commented that I purchased the same things every day. "Is that some kind of special diet?" he asked. Yeah, I said, not wanting to reveal the fact that I was too poor to afford anything else.

Gym time was at 1:45pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I returned to the faculty computer room at 2:45pm. I will depart for Waikiki at 5pm. Beans and bread for my prison dinner tonight. Then, I am off to Barnes & Noble® again.

Incidentally, I received a long reply from Clyde in San Jose. Caroll called and left a message the other day. I do not have a cell phone, so I cannot return her call. I have not heard anything from Professor Lisa, so I am wondering if she has resigned from her position at the Diploma Mill.

At this time, I am not too concerned about wage slavery. In some respects, I feel as though I am tempting fate to emancipate me. Once I am unemployed, I will be at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. Homelessness will become a viable option. Why would I want to force myself to face a life of dereliction? If I maintained my present life-style without any income, I would be bankrupt within a few years. If I was homeless, I would be in the upper class of homelessness. That's the paradox, isn't it? Our perceptions of reality are clouded by pursuing total physical comfort, continuous entertainment, and endless material possessions. Hence, our judgment is rendered useless, if not made merely superficial. And, we are sheltered from the real human experience. Once again, I must quote Viktor Frankl²: "If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete."

Site Meter has been a great improvement over Blog Patrol®. Site Meter performs intensive tracking function. Aside from revealing that only five people read the "blog," it also informed me that no one clicks on any of the external links that I have painstakingly coded in by hand each day. Thus, my discussions about current affairs is moot. I am talking to myself, as it were. It doesn't matter. I am simply chronicling my conclusions in order to make a comparison with the future when that time comes. In addition, the "blog," like its predecessor (the journal), simply exists as a personal sounding board so that I can sort out my thoughts, for what that's worth.

¹PROMIS, developed by Inslaw.
²From the book, "Man's Search for Meaning."

Automaton II

I neglected to mention that I have mummified the reading of Henry Thoreau's book, "Walden." I donated the book to the Diploma Mill library yesterday. As I see it now, I do not have time to engage in leisurely reading. At this point, such a trivial activity could be likened to watching the endless crap on the tube. I must wait until I finally exit society before I return to leisurely reading as a diversion, unless there no longer is a society to escape from.

Another benign evening has passed. Can you guess my itinerary? Prison food (read: beans and bread) for dinner. Clean my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. Ride prison transport (read: bus) to Ala Moana Center. Hang out at Barnes & Noble®. Notice hottie "bookseller." Ride prison transport back to Waikiki. Purchase big-ass can of Coors® Light brewski at the ABC Store. Drop back entire can of brewski while reading Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." Call it a night, courtesy the "Brookstone® treatment¹." Oh brother, it's easy to see why my mind is ready to snap.

I was back in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill at 8:40am this morning. Can you guess the chronology of the day? Consume several cups of free coffee. Walk to Safeway® to purchase two bagels and a half-pound of Tofu Poke (pronounced po-kay). One-hour of wage slavery. Gym time at 2:15pm. Spend rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. Then, the nightly ritual begins. Can it get more benign than that?

For most of the day, my mind was essentially mush. I was not able to think clearly or focus on anything. Then, for some strange reason, all I could smell was the odor of stale piss (read: urine). Where was the odor coming from? My boardshorts? I wear the same clothes every day for days on end, so that's a good possibility. Am I becoming more like a homeless derelict as time goes on? Aside from the smell of piss, I was not cognizant of my surroundings. I also felt the strange sensation of alienation, a feeling that I did not "belong." I imagined myself being somewhere isolated, alone, enjoying the peace and quiet of nature. Not a soul around me for as far as the eye could see. No jackasses. No stupidity. I could hear myself think. Then, I let all my thoughts dissipate into nothingness ... Oh, the horror! I became frantic with the awareness that I am truly imprisoned along with the myriad fat slob satanic gargoyles. Only my mind will allow me the liberty of "freedom." Such tragedy!

Alienation and incongruence will be my friends for life. I am disconnected from society, that is, I have no friends, no babes, just myself. Moms is the only remnant of family. I spend my days alone, albeit amongst the masses. I do not initiate conversation with anyone. At times, I ignore conversation initiated by others. Thus, I have increased my isolation. Because I am now a complete loner, I am having an extremely difficult time facilitating my classes. I can pull off the charade just fine for now, but I believe that the students can sense that there is only a hollow shell standing before them. What they see, although they probably have yet to ascertain, is an automaton. No one can "connect" spiritually to the ol' lavahead. He has closed down the conduit. They see the face of stone, and they do not know how to react. Thus, they and everyone else are dealing with a mechanical apparatus, a piece of biological "hardware" run by software. I find that, as time marches on, I have little inclination to revert back to my old self. I am at or near the point of no return, whence I will become an irreversible hermit with no social skills.

Conversation is already difficult for me. I cannot sustain a conversation for longer than 30 seconds. I have nothing to say, no opinion, and rarely display any affect. I no longer ask questions out of fear that the response will be endless rote diatribe. I am a monk. I have a vow of silence. My only form of expression now is textual. Hence, the "blog." I say what I have to say, and I don't have to listen to kabuki-masked idiots refute me. Which is more resilient, the stoneface or a thin kabuki mask?

My path has already diverged from mainstream society. I am travelling in the opposite direction, and my relative velocity is increasing. I no longer have any need for the material pleasures of society. My material needs are utilitarian. Often, I may desire something that will add to my convenience. The thought is quickly mummified. The desire is extinguished. Convenience must defer to sacrifice. More possessions only means that I will be bogged down, perhaps so much so that I will fail to make the long-awaited exodus at the appropriate time.

I must confess that debaucherous thoughts about the hottie gym trainer invaded the cavernous recesses of the oversized cranium in some frequency today. How could I be blamed? Baby is drop-dead gorgeous. Long, beautiful dark hair. Playmate's body. Baby is so hot! El Diablo hot. That kind of weakness actually makes me ill. It is a primal lust, one that can be overcome by a strong mind and equally strong will. As I have stated ad infinitum, the babe situation is moot. I am a celibate monk now. I have forsaken the temptations of the flesh. There is no time for that crap now anyway. The time of reckoning is approaching for all humanity.

¹Treatment using the Brookstone® Tranquil Moments® "sound therapy placebo."

Free Fall

Another night at Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. Then, back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox), another two hours of reading Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon." After that, I lapsed into a "Brookstone® treatment¹" coma. This morning, I was up at 7:30am and out the door by 8 o' clock. Yes, another day of wage slavery. Actually, I only put in one hour of wage slavery daily at the Diploma Mill. The rest of my day is spent piddling around in the faculty computer room. A few cups of free coffee always kickstarts the morning. Incidentally, my net wage slave income (i.e., "take home" pay) is now only $900 per month. I am well below the poverty level, and my expenses are over double my net income. I am a prime candidate for homelessness.

I walked to Safeway® as per my morning ritual to find something to eat. I purchased four energy bars, a Jalapeño Focaccia bread snack, a half-pound of Tofu Poke (pronounced po-kay), and a new Colgate® toothbrush. The Tofu Poke was delicious, by the way.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. I was just about done with my cardio workout when I espied the hottie gym trainer. Baby was busy with a gym member on one of the cardio machines two rows in front of me. Baby was looking so fine. I suddenly felt a testosterone surge. Debaucherous thoughts flowed through my mind. Obviously, the Vienna Sausage has yet to atrophy. My mind was ready to snap. After a long shower, I felt better. On my way out, I saw that baby was still busy with the same gym member. She was demonstrating the proper form of doing the Military Press with dumbbells. Whew! What a hottie! I quickly returned to the safety of the faculty computer room. I will depart at 6:30pm to begin my nightly ritual.

I'm not certain why I keep noticing babes like the hottie gym trainer and the hottie "bookseller." I suspect that my libido is operating at a primal level thanks in part to the non-atrophied Vienna Sausage. The babe issue is moot, at least in my mind. I have previously gone into detail exactly why I will remain single. The bottom line is that the ol' lavahead has nothing in common with babes. He brings nothing to the table, so to seapk. In addition, babes are not interested in or attracted to the ol' lavahead. As I had told Robert, "If the babes are interested, they'll let you know." He was often depressed because he could not hook up with a young hottie. Yes, babes will make sure that the "target" is aware of her intentions. As you can guess, the ol' lavahead is way under the radar of any babe.

A lot of interest is being generated in Chalmers Johnson's new book, "Nemesis: The Last Days of the American Republic." Stephen Lendman wrote a lengthy review and synopsis of Johnson's book on the Smirking Chimp site. Amy Goodman conducted an interview with Johnson, the transcript of which appears on the Democracy Now! site. Both are worthy of a read. Why exactly does an empire become imperialistic? I believe that William Bonner and Addison Wiggin determined a fairly reasonable explanation in their book, "Empire of Debt."

Why do I keep urging the five readers of the "blog" to read and search out information on the various topics mentioned here? I believe that we live in a critical time. We are most likely past the point of no return insofar as the objectives of the empire are concerned. That's the gist of the message being offered by Ruppert, Johnson, and all of the authors that I have cited. Obviously, if it is too late, then why worry? Seemingly, that is exactly the co-opting attitude exhibited by the satanic gargoyles. Buying into the "system" will only accelerate our demise. The only power that we have left is to make personal changes and individual sacrifices, even though the latter and former go against the grain of mainstream society. Exiting society may be the only wise option. Why? In describing the maturation of an imperialistic empire, Johnson (as well as Bonner and Wiggin et al.) has demonstrated that the empire must eventually turn on its own population. No empire can be imperialistic and democratic concurrently. History has proven the latter axiom many times over. Why would our modern day empire be any different? Dissenting opinion appears to be based upon an idealistic notion that our empire is "good," which explains why religiosity has become a prevailing societal force. Good will prevail, we believe. A false sense of salvation through Divine prejudice is what drives the minions of the empire, even though they are infected by the epidemic of the "seven sins." In the upper strata, the motives are even more primal, specifically greed and lust for power. Hypocrisy is the glue that holds the empire together. How long can that last?

The empires of history all collapsed in one way or another. Most of the empires of history no longer exist. Some previously large empires (e.g., Britain, France, Germany, Russia, Japan, etc.) are still around but subsist in a benign state. What will happen to the US empire? What happens when it falls? Who will survive, and who will perish?

¹Treatment using the Brookstone® Tranquil Moments® "sound therapy placebo."

Tidbits. The City has served eviction notices to the homeless "campers" in Ma'ili Beach Park, according to an article in the Advertiser. The new State shelter will be opening on the West side. However, the shelter only has 300 beds, not enough to accommodate the sheer number of homeless. My take is that the City is trying to sweep the island of any conspicuous presence of the homeless. The visitor counts have been down so far this year. Those fools are only worried about any possible adverse effects on the sacred tourism industry.