Steps in the Dark

Another urban nomad kind-0f-a-day was marred from the start. The Route 1L bus was right on time this morning which put in me in Aina Haina a few minutes earlier than usual. I opted to ride the Route 24 bus into the upper Aina Haina valley, but it never showed up. Instead, I saw it roll by across the street as it headed to Waikiki. What happened? As far as I can tell, the bus driver had gone up the wrong street and bypassed the bus stop by the Aina Haina Shopping Center.

I walked across the street to wait for the next Route 1L bus. A wretched old (about my age) haole guy joined me a few minutes later. After 40 minutes, I wondered why the bus did not arrive. Not owning a watch, I asked the old fart for the time. He was obnoxious with his reply. "Sorry I bothered you," I said snidely. I should have "tuned his ass." The bus finally arrived at 9:50am.

I rode the bus to Kahala Mall and alighted. Not wanting to have my whole day ruined, I purchased a big-ass cup of coffee at Starbucks®. I walked out to the bus stop and was able to board the next Route 24 bus within a couple of minutes. At Ala Moana Center, I immediately transferred to a bus that was heading to town. Fortunately, I was able to enjoy the cup of coffee for the entire trip.

Once in town, I engaged in the usual urban nomad routine. Few details are necessary. At the gym, I simply went through the motions of a typical workout. I was quite tired because the Chinaman kept me up for most of the night. The moron was talking at the top of his lungs on the phone at 1am. From what I can tell, the Chinaman is up for most of the night and sleeps all day. Then, he departs to do heaven-knows-what a couple of hours before I return to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at 5pm. To his credit, he has not disturbed me in several weeks.

This afternoon, Mark ended up on the same bus that I was riding. So, we were able to chat for the duration of the trip. Once back in my squalid room at Slob Manor, I made preparations for another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

Even the most casual observer should notice the high degree of chaos that has permeated daily life in the empire. I, myself, have been transcribing the local phenomena right here in the "blog." Also, most conspicuous is how much the general populace is totally mind-controlled by self-adulation, cigarettes, cheap booze, illicit drugs, the tube, and rampant consumerism. Every single day, I must deal with these morons.

I have recently observed that many more of the homeless are exhibiting psychotic symptomatology. I have seen many of them over and over again in the course of the years. Gradually, I noticed that many of them started talking aloud, although I can never determine if the conversations are directed at themselves or to imaginary friends. The homeless are an unique case because they have been emancipated from the mind-controlled society involuntarily. The homeless possess the precious freedom that many of us seek but, in the illusion of a mind-controlled reality, they cannot distinguish the value of the latter.

The closer an individual is to true freedom, the more the mind-controlled society attempts to impose its restrictions upon that person (in addition to the self-policing tactics of its sycophant citizenry). The alienation inflicted upon the victim is hostile which, in due time, breaks the victim's character. If the homeless knew just how close they are to freedom, they would most likely become immune to the relentless covert attacks. However, the nefarious power of peer conformity is too great.

All institutions of society-at-large are instruments of oppression. We often call them the building blocks of "civilization," but nothing can be further from the truth. The mind-controlled society's institutions are the pillars of the mausoleum of slavery. Modern "civilization" is institutional slavery.

Now, I am beginning to wonder when I will be overcome by psychosis. When will I start babbling incoherently amongst the bus passengers while drool drips from the sides of my mouth? When will I commence long orations about nothing to non-existent audiences? It's bound to happen because I will not give in to the demands of the mind-controlled society. I have been alienated and ostracized. I have nowhere to turn since my brethren are already clinically insane. How much longer can I feign to be a part of a society that I disdain? That's the real question.

Subscape Remix

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was only marred by the bus ride back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon when a bunch of punk school kids boarded the Route 1L bus at Kahala Mall. Yes, the last ten minutes of my urban nomad outing was pure hell. The punks were making all kinds of noise and being overly obnoxious. I had to change seats in order to avoid any urge to commit genocide. Then, a 300-pound fat slob brushed his arm against the oversized cranium as he attempted to lumber to the front of the bus. I would like to have carved up the beached whale and sell his blubber for rent money.

The only deviation from my usual routine was the restoration of my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. Everything else was mundane and rote. Even I am beginning to wonder how long I can endure the same ol' shit.

I neglected to mention that I happened to scratch the black paint on the casing of my tiny Master Lock® Model 646 combination lock (made in China) when I attempted to force it into the locker latch at the gym a couple of days ago. Foolishly, I inadvertently discovered that, if I insert the lock upside down into the latch, it fits fine. I am supposed to be an engineer. Why couldn't I see that before?

I am deliberately avoiding the discussion of my usual topics, especially that of the ills of empire. Although there are clear signs that we are approaching some kind of cataclysm, I cannot verify whether the latter is apocalyptic or not. Neither can I say that the year 2012 will be of any horrific significance. Clearly, there is ample reason to believe that the status quo will be restored and the same crap will keep happening in cycles. Human nature tends to favor permanence ad nauseum. My own thoughts as expressed in the "blog," however, have slanted toward an inevitable collision course with a fate of our own making (i.e., the proverbial "chickens coming home to roost").

Mental Tribunal Revisited

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was ten minutes behind schedule subsequent to the tardy arrival of the Route 24 bus at Ala Moana Center. As a result, there were no tables available for me to sit at in the Makai Market. I had to sip my ABC Store Kona-blend coffee outside on a wooden bench along with my trusty gym bag. Sitting on the next bench was a homeless guy. He had all of his worldly possession stuffed in one piece of luggage with rollers. There were several plastic shopping bags filled with stuff attached to the sides of his suitcase. He also possessed a small radio, which was playing music. The patrons who were walking by gave both us the once over. At some point, I noticed that there was some kind of horrid smell, like dog shit (i.e., dung), in the air. Naturally, I assumed that the source of the odor was the homeless guy.

I walked back into the Makai Market. I found a spot to sit down. However, within ten minutes, a group of noisy tourists stationed themselves in close proximity to me. I immediately got up, walked outside, and sat on the same bench next to the homeless guy. I was far more comfortable there.

I eventually ended up at the library in town. A guy sat at the table adjacent to the one that I had reserved for myself. I could again smell a distinct odor, dog shit, which I assumed was coming from the other guy. I moved one more table over. I meandered around in search of something to read. I checked the on-line catalog and discovered that all of the books of interest were not available. Finally, I found the book, "The Mayan Factor: Path Beyond Technology," by Jose Arguelles.

As I sat down to peruse the book, I could still smell the dog shit. That's when I took a close look at my slippers (read: slippahs). There was some messy crap stuck on the bottom of the right slipper, which I assumed was dog shit. I realized that I probably stepped in the dog shit when I deposited some stuff in the recycle bin at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) as I was leaving for town. The landlord owns two dogs, which run loose every now and then. I was blaming the offensive odor on others when I was the culprit. Definitely a humbling experience.

Fed up with the putrid stench, I walked out to the coconut tree grove in the Capitol district. I found a small twig to scrape the dog shit from the bottom of the one slipper. Can my situation become any more pathetic? The rest of the day followed the usual urban nomad routine. After performing my usual workout at the gym, I took a long, hot shower. I always wear my slippers in the shower (for sanitary reason). So, I was able to sanitize the desecrated slippers. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor in no time. Only an urban nomad kind-of-an-evening awaits me.

I have many interesting thoughts during the day, but I just do not feel like transcribing them to the "blog" once I return to Slob Manor. Perhaps, if I had a netbook computer to carry around ... see how rampant materialism just seems to pop up out of nowhere? That's why I have to "nip it in the bud."

So, instead of the usual nonsense, I decided to run a Net search to find the hottie gym trainer. By the way, I discovered her name many moons ago since the gym has a wall devoted to all of the trainers. I submitted baby's name on the Yahoo! search engine. There's not much data about our hottie gym trainer friend. There are maybe two or three pictures of her. She is either 38 or 39 years old of Portuguese (read: Portagee) ancestry, a graduate of Kailua High School in the Class of 1988, a UH graduate with a BS in Health, Exercise Science, & Lifestyle Management, works at Castle Medical Center as well as the gym, has a page on Facebook, appears to be unmarried, possibly owns a home about a block from Kailua Beach, and is a total hottie. Whoa! That was much more interesting than discussing the ills of empire, eh?

Long Story Short

To make a long story short, the day was almost identical to last Friday. The Indian guy was up before 6am. He made a lot of noise as usual. He also attempted to take a shower again. Why does he bother? The shower head is still lying at the bottom of the bathtub. What a maroon!

Moms and I made the rounds around Hawai'i Kai including Safeway® and Longs® in Kuapa Kai. Lunch was courtesy Panda Express® in the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. Finally, moms shopped for groceries at Foodland in Koko Marina. My bro returned early from work again, just before moms and I left at 10:30am. Later, moms served the last of the Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I also chatted briefly with my bro. Then, I departed at 1:30pm.

The rest of the day was typical urban nomad. I also ate a banana and a Spam® Musubi for dinner again while sitting at one of the tables overlooking the beautiful Koko Marina parking lot. I reluctantly returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to commence another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

I neglected to mention that Shirley, Lori, John in Modesto, and the Ubuntu Forums sent greetings on Ol' Lavahead Day. Lori is currently running a marathon in Australia. Where does she get the funding? John seems to be doing fine. He's working on a couple of potentially lucrative Net projects. I finally responded to Shirley, so we will most likely be getting together for our ritual lunch sometime soon. In the meantime, hele on, braddah!

Hele On, Braddah!

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that, as I was leaving Slob Manor (read: rental housing) in the morning, I saw the landlord out in the driveway. The landlord asked, "Where you going? Holo holo?" Yeah, I replied. So, another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday followed the same holo holo routine. Hele on, braddah!

At the gym, I was privy to peruse the hottie gym trainer, a Lexi Stone (aka Angela McLin) look-alike, working with a gym member on the weight machine next to me. Baby is so hot! Later, baby walked through the weight room. She had changed out of her trainer outfit and was wearing a skimpy and tight top. Oh man! Magma was flowing from the ol' lavahead.

Anyway, the bus ride from town to Ala Moana Center to Kahala Mall was a fiasco, although I will not detail the nonsense. At Barnes & Noble®, I was surprised to see the hottie bookseller from the Ala Moana store working there again. She must have transferred to the Kahala Mall store. Baby was wearing some extremely tight pants. Ho boy! Definitely a day devoted to the hotties.

Of course, reality must always enter the "big picture." I was back at Slob Manor by the usual time, ready and able to commence an urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. Nauseating, just nauseating.

On a side note, I am finally beginning to see what the moneychangers and powers-that-be have up their sleeves. They cleverly installed Obama as chief executive of empire to usher in the "good cop" era. They immediately disarmed the so-called "liberals" by utilizing an ethnic minority puppet (i.e., the "race card"). The hidden truth is that Obama simply turned out to be Shrub in disguise.

Believe me, the so-called "liberals" are bamboozled and confused. They have no idea about what's going on. They have been betrayed, but they are frozen in inaction. The "bad cop" era is right at our doorstep. I believe that Sarah Palin will most likely be the new chief executive of empire in the next (s)election. What better candidate to continue the bamboozlement and confusion, all the while toeing the line for the moneychangers and powers-that-be. And, once again, the so-called "liberals" will be disarmed because Palin is female (i.e., the "equal rights card"). The moneychangers and powers-that-be are a shrewd group, having honed their skills to perfection over time.

Obviously, the whole underlying process is just "theater" and histrionics. Everyone is on the same side. They are just playing their respective "good cop, bad cop" roles. The rank-and-files peons who constitute the masses cannot see through the ruse. All the while, the masses are being raped and pillaged. When will they ever learn?

Subscape

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day commenced at 7:30am this morning with a bus ride to Ala Moana Center. In Waikiki, a guy boarded the bus who was heading to the Hawai'ian Waters Adventure Park. He asked the bus driver for route information. "The last time I was in Hawai'i, the fare was a dollar," he added, laughing. He apparently was a soldier stationed at one of the bases. He was discharged after spending time in Iraq. He was manning the gun turret when a mortar shell hit the armored vehicle he was riding in. He was thrown from the vehicle, but the other crew members were not so fortunate. I wondered to myself if any of the leaders of the Fascist empire had even heard an account like that firsthand.

I purchased coffee at Foodland this morning. I was taken aback by the friendly service offered to me by the cashier. I also checked the price of the Foodland coffee cup, which can be used for 69-cent refills. The price was $6 as opposed to $7 at the Foodland in Hawai'i Kai. Even the refills are ten cents more in Hawai'i Kai. Whassup wi' dat?

I had an interesting chat with a couple of friendly tourists at the Ala Moana Makai bus stop who wanted to travel around the island. So, I told them which bus to take and where it would take them. I hope they enjoyed their day. The rest of the day was strictly routine.

At the library, I completed reading David Icke's book, "Alice in Wonderland and the World Trade Center Disaster." Although the title has a "tin foil hat" ring to it, the book itself was quite interesting. I also read, "Crop circles: Exploring the Designs and Mysteries," by Werner Anderhub and Hans Peter Roth. Definitely a book worthy of perusal.

I then performed my usual workout at the gym before returning to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) to initiate another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. No further details are necessary.

I should mention that, as I was walking back to the dump from the bus stop, I heard someone call out, "Uncle T!" I looked around and saw a couple of guys in a car who were waving. They were former students of mine at the detestable Diploma Mill. That was probably five years ago or more. I was surprised that they remembered me. Actually, though, I was one of the more popular faculty. Too bad the whole experience was ruined in the end by a bunch of morons and fat slobs in the administration. That's the big pitfall of wage slavery.

I happened to check out the new KDE desktop for Linux, and I have to admit that it is a lot more polished than the current Gnome® desktop. Of course, changing desktops will not solve any of the problems that I have with Ubuntu. So, why bother?

Fantasy of Freedom

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 8:15am this morning. Unfortunately, I failed to remember that moms was going to be out until 11am. So, as a contingency, I started off at Safeway® in Kuapa Kai to purchase a cup of Seattle's Best® Colombian coffee. I ended up at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. I sat on one of the metal benches along the main promenade. Sitting on the next bench was a homeless guy. Every few minutes, the homeless guy would break out in a Buddhist chant. I must admit that he sounded very authentic. However, I was probably the only person who was impressed by his skill.

I walked around the strip mall. There were plenty of shoppers by 10am. I immediately noticed how happy all of the shoppers appeared. They were very excited about buying useless crap and Saturnalia presents. When I entered Ross®, I could really feel the collective jubilation. The sensation was mind-numbing. I, on the other hand, was not as captivated as the shopping brethren. I mainly felt dizzy and disoriented.

Moms and I only made the rounds in Koko Marina. Lunch was courtesy Zippy's. My nephew was home because of "Furlough Friday." He was engaged in yet another intense video game session. My bro had returned early from work. I had only chatted with him briefly before moms and I left on our excursion. Once back, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert. I only stayed until 1:15pm. Then, I embarked on the usual urban nomad routine.

After my workout at the gym, I purchased my dinner at Foodland which comprised of a Spam® Musubi and a banana, which I ate while sitting at one of the tables along the periphery of the parking lot. I also purchased a piece of Dutch Apple Pie that I ate along with a navel orange and a few bites of Safeway® yogurt back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

The Spam® Musubi was pretty good, by the way. I have learned how to pick a good one. First, locate the larger Spam® Musubi of the bunch. Then, carefully, kneed the Spam® Musubi between your fingers to insure that the rice is not dried out. If the rice is quite pliant, then the small slice of Spam® should not have the texture of old leather.

Incidentally, the Indian guy departed at 4am this morning after making a lot of noise. I could hear what sounded like an attempt to use the shower. The pipes were groaning as the water attempted make its way up to the headless spigot. Without a shower head, there is not enough back pressure to keep the shower cut-off valve closed. I have no idea where the clown is taking his showers, if at all. My guess is that he's stepped up his dosage of deodorant.

The Indian guy also left a frying pan and its cover in the downstairs kitchen sink for well over a week. He had made an omelet. The were large scraps of the omelet in the pan and in the sink, all of which were stinking and rotting. Yesterday, the frying pan and its cover disappeared, The "official" storyline is that the landlord threw it in the trash can. Of course, I know better. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

On a side note, I am sure that most readers (if there are any at all) know that my relationship with my bro and his family is non-existent. I do not pretend to be faultless. As a matter of fact, I am probably entirely to blame for the situation. I have made no real effort to patch the situation, although a mild attempt was made mutually after pops' passing. Sadly, the situation returned to "normal" shortly afterward. I will continue to maintain some kind of détente in the interim. Ultimately, though, I will end up in permanent estrangement from my bro and his family. I should feel some kind of impending loss, but I don't.

Where is all of this crap heading anyway? By "crap," I mean the useless banter in the "blog." In all honesty, I do not know. I suppose that the exodus was the main goal, but that may have been a figment of my imagination. I may fooled myself into believing that I could escape reality ... that is, the reality of slavery. I have been composing this garbage now for over a decade. Since then, there have only been incremental changes. In the meantime, I have gotten older and more decrepit. Life has essentially passed me by, and any worldly opportunities are quickly vanishing. I have essentially sealed my fate to become an obscure "senior citizen" loner, not that I mind.

Am I happy about these circumstances? I cannot answer positively or negatively. I am indifferent, just as I am indifferent to almost all aspects of a so-called "normal" human life. The research that I have performed this year has been very enlightening, yet I have not benefited by such enlightenment. Instead, I have learned that we humans know nothing. That is to say, we know nothing of importance about our being. Hence, we are locked into the day-to-day trivia that is about as exciting as a large boulder. Mind you, I am still engaged in the disconnection process. Sometimes I do not know what I am disconnecting from. All of my beliefs, ideals, theses, constructs, abstractions, philosophies, doctrines, axioms, paradigms, and so forth have been desecrated. I am only certain of the fact that I am a slave beholden to the moneychangers and powers-that-be (i.e., the "masters").

I have no freedom, nor have I ever had any freedom. I have always been controlled by some greater legend or myth concocted by the "masters." To simply exist, I had to buy into the "system" both consciously and subconsciously. Just the act of being born executed a fiduciary contract with the "masters." What real hope is there to find freedom?

Divide & Rule

Yet another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... like a sand castle washed out to sea. This morning, the Route 1L bus was early, so I was able to transfer to the Route 24 bus as it headed into the upper Aina Haina valley. I figured that was better than sitting at the bus stop and waiting for the bus to return. Right at the turnaround point, I heard what sounded like a huge air leak. The bus driver then parked the bus. We had to wait about 30 minutes for the Transit Supervisor to arrive along with a replacement bus. Even though I was somewhat behind schedule, the urban nomad itinerary was fulfilled.

When I exited the gym this afternoon, I noticed that the sky was quite dark. There was moisture in the air. I sensed that rain was coming. Fortunately, the huge downpour did not commence until 7:30pm, when I was already deeply engaged in another typical urban nomad kind-of-an-evening.

In my day-to-day dealings with myriad insolent satanic gargoyles, I have come to realize that the nefarious "divide and rule" strategy has already been fully implemented in the Fascist empire. The fact that mostly all of the empire's citizens are indifferent or inconsiderate of others is truly an indicator of how deep the rot has permeated. If there are any loyalties at all, those loyalties are reserved for immediate clan. However, even a causal observer of society would know that clan affinity has degenerated significantly. It's "every man for himself."

What about all of those social networking sites and the boom in text messaging? People are communicating all of the time with thousands of "friends." That's a big joke, isn't it? The definition of "friend" should be "trophy acquaintance." So-called "friendships" are simply a matter of convenience, a gauge of superficial popularity, or a network of parasites. It's all part of the psychotic "reality show" mindset. The real culprit is consumerism. Or, should I say, consumer homogeneity through phony differentiation. It's kind of a "groupthink" concept wherein each participant believes that he or she is truly unique or special.

We at the point where the collective (i.e., masses of rank-and-file peons) in the hive only coexist to support each other's inflated ego. There really is no cohesion, which is why the pedigreed elite (i.e., moneychangers and powers-that-be) have been able to exercise extreme control over them. The "divide and rule" strategy has never been more successful.

Thus, we no longer live in a true society. Instead, we live in a façade. Everything looks quite real, but the opposite is true. All of the trappings are present, but something is just not right. What could the problem be? Did you say, "Powerlessness"? Yes, that's right. We are neutered wimps.

Castles in the Sand

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... still nothing new to report. Same itinerary, same ol' shit. Incidentally, the library will now be subject to furlough days, which will modify the urban nomad routine. There will be three furlough days this month (Dec 16th, 24th, and 31st) in addition to the holidays. Next year, the furlough days will occur on alternating Wednesdays of each month.

I have been pondering David Icke's thesis about the shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs). There are a couple of problems concerning the existence of such creatures, given the descriptions provided by Icke. A shape-shifting entity who can move from one dimension to another or change physical form does not make much sense. The being from another dimension (or universe) must abide by the laws of the host dimension (or universe). If the SSREs in question were to physically appear in this universe, their physical make-up should react wildly with ours. Most likely the SSREs would self-destruct along with the humans whom they "possess," much in way that matter and antimatter annihilate each other. The only other alternative thesis is that the SSREs are, in actuality, supernatural phenomenon. In other words, they are similar to the deities, angels, and demons in folklore.

Icke also mentioned that the SSREs may have originally arrived in advanced spacecraft, the original theory of which can be attributed to Zechariah Sitchin's translation of ancient Sumerian tablets. Space traveling SSREs would have to exist in the same physical universe as we humans. Their lifespan would have to be extremely long in order to travel the universe, even if their spacecraft could approach the speed of light. And, even if the speed of light was attainable, there is no way that the the spacecraft and its occupants could be successfully reconstructed after the mass-to-energy and reverse energy-to-mass conversions. There is also Michael Heiser's site, Sitchin is Wrong, which purports to debunk Sitchin's translations from an academic viewpoint.

I have also pondered about the joke that is money. As can easily be seen, I have a lot of time on my hands. Yes, money is a joke in the empire. Right now, the pedigreed elite (i.e., the moneychangers and powers-that-be) can acquire all the money that they fancy for essentially free. That money can be invested in any scheme. Any returns are pure profit. No interest is due. The sky is the limit. Money for the rank-and-file peons, however, is another story. It is a rare commodity, usually only issued through wage slavery. Every aspect of the rank-and-file peon's life costs money. Nothing is free. There are "appropriate" channels for peons to acquire "wealth," but there is a price to pay as always. We are not just talking about high usury interest rates. There is also the encumbrance or bondage of debt that revolves through time.

The rank-and-file peons (or wage slaves) are only indispensable to the pedigreed elite because they provide the brute labor to add value to the "system." That added value, in turn, is converted to real wealth in the coffers of the pedigreed elite. The rank-and-file peons (or wage slaves) also build the memorials and mausoleums that are so dear to the hearts of the pedigreed elite, and they also serve as cannon fodder in the pedigreed elite's wars for world domination.

Money is used to control the masses of rank-and-file peons. By distributing money as a rare commodity and then utilizing it as a medium of exchange for everything required to live, the pedigreed elite have reduced the rank-and-file peons to the status of "consumer." The latter term is actually derogatory in nature, the definition of which is to acquire, use, discard, and repeat the pattern forever. Acquisitions are limited by the rare commodity, money. All consumer acquisitions are also conduits of bondage because they require endless replacement parts, insurance, or accessorizing. Often, taxes or recurring fees are associated with the acquisitions. Ultimately, the use of debt may be required to maintain acquisitions. No matter what we peons do, we are only building castles in the sand. It's only a matter of time before the tide comes in and washes it out to sea.

Farce (Reprise)

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... I was about to provide moderate details, but why bother? A turd is a turd is a turd. Same ol' shit. At the gym, I attempted to locate my lost Master Lock® combination lock. Nada. My tiny new Master Lock® Model 646 combination lock (made in China) just barely fit the latch on the lockers.

As I predicted in the "blog" of November 8th, the empire's puppet leader, Obama, will be sending in excess of 30,000 more cannon fodder to Afghanistan with the hollow promise of de-escalation a year or so later. I say "hollow" because I know that there will be more "surges" coming up instead. The moneychangers and powers-that-be have really manipulated the "good cop, bad cop" theater so well that the rank-and-files peons are completely bamboozled. Obama is a one-term executive whose sole purpose is to utilize the "good cop" image to lull the masses into complacency with empty promises of "change." The trick worked like a charm, as it always has before. When will the fools ever learn?

I have had recurring bouts of anxiety ... more like panic attacks ... in the past few days. I have received no epiphany, but I have been given a dose of cold reality. I am no longer certain whether the moneychangers and powers-that-be have the ability to resuscitate the "boom" cycle, hard as they may allegedly be trying. Short-term interest rates are at zero percent, which means that money supply has the potential to go to infinity. The pedigreed elite will always increase their wealth whether in good times or bad. Right now, they have access to channels for extremely cheap money to invest in whatever schemes that meets their fancy. The rest of us will have to pay between 5 and 30 percent interest per annum for the same money.

Surprisingly, with all of the economic turmoil, everything seems to be running just fine. Consumption is down, which means that it is not growing. Rather, consumption is stable. We are consuming just as much as before. I have seen the latter phenomenon with my own eyes. It is as if the homeless, newly homeless, and the unemployed are still contributing significantly to the "system." Even the local governments appear to be functioning just fine even amidst a so-called "budget crisis." Here in Hawai'i, all of the foreclosures and the drop in tourism have allegedly decreased tax revenues, but there has been no change in the status quo. The doomsayers have been predicting collapse for well over two years, but there is no sign of collapse. In fact, I am beginning to believe that I am the only one who is suffering. Yes, even the homeless and the destitute are suffering far less.

At this point, the casual reader may suspect that I have lost my wits. However, one has to understand the nature and philosophy of suffering and also why certain victims are doomed to suffer more than others. I claim that many of the homeless and the destitute are suffering far less than I am. Why? These particular homeless and destitute aspire to be part of the "system," so much so that the "system" actually rewards them. If they could become like the affluent satanic gargoyles, they would go "hog wild." The few of us who are attempting to escape the "system" are ostracized no matter how clandestine we operate. It is as if the "system" and its sycophants can identify us and expose us for who we are.

Perhaps David Icke is on to something. Maybe the shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials (SSREs) move in and out of different dimensions as he claims. They are able to "see" us, even though we cannot see them. They identify the outcasts and rebels and inform the mind-controlled Illuminati (i.e., moneychangers and powers-that-be). That's why there is no escape. There's no way out. The exodus is a farce.