Time's A-Wastin' (Reprise)

Usual visit to Hawai'i Kai. My bro had the day off because of the holiday. Not much of a conversation ensued. Moms and I followed the usual itinerary as to be expected. And, my Panda Express® fortune cookie's fortune: "An admirer is concealing affection for you." Say what? Is the hottie gym trainer finally coming around? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Joker

When I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) this afternoon, I ended up chatting with Kyle. He apparently wrote a letter to both Joker and the landlord about Joker's continued defiance. Yeah, don't ask me about what's going on. Evidently, I know nothing about any alliances as I had previously thought. About 15 minutes later, I heard all kinds of noise while I was in my squalid room. Joker and his rodent-like dogs descended the stairs. Then, I heard the landlord yelling something to Joker. Joker and his rodent-like dogs quickly slipped into his car. And, off they went. I stepped out to find Kyle standing in the kitchen. He said that the landlord had gone upstairs to speak with Joker about the issues stated in Kyle's letter. Some kind of argument ensued. Then, Joker allegedly stormed off.

I can, of course, verify that Joker has remained defiant. He continues to "test the waters." For what reason, I do not know. I have taken to ignoring him. I let him pull his little stunts with absolutely no response on my part. Obviously, reasoning with the guy does nothing, as Kyle discovered. I was also certain that the landlord had completely given up and accepted Joker. Joker has been paying his rent in staggered increments, which is probably why the landlord is snapping into action. From what I gathered about today's incident, Joker is being pushed to the edge of sanity. Will he erupt in senseless violence? Will he have to be put down?

As for the evening, same ol' shit. I was out and about even with the rain coming down. I am purposely staying away from Slob Manor in order to avoid as much of the nonsense as possible. My goal is to allow the other residents and the landlord to do the "dirty work" insofar as Joker is concerned. I will remain on the sidelines, watching and waiting. Then, when Joker's guard is down, I will pounce.

Well, I've wasted both my time and my words to describe another forgettable moment in the annals of stupid human tricks. These pathetic distractions are what makes mortality more abominable. My greatest priority has been to transcend such crap and move into the sphere of deeper understanding of life, whatever that means. Of course, more and more distractions are coming our way, what, with the secular Apocalypse and all. Yeah, time's a wastin'.

Big Bamboozle Redux

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday, complete with a brief perusal of the hottie gym trainer. I'd like to say that there was more to the day, but I would be fibbing. The evening? Same ol' shit.

I neglected to mention that there was a small protest group assembled at the Dr. Sun Yet Sen Park (aka Chinatown Gateway Park). I assumed by what was emblazoned on the cardboard placards that the local protest was mirroring the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. I cannot say that the effort can be viewed as being effective. I've already discussed what the most effective options would be. We're not likely to see any of them to fruition.

A few non-existent readers may be wondering about what the ol' lavahead is doing instead of actively protesting the "system" on the street with a cardboard placard. Is he just a bloviating armchair activist? Well, the ol' lavahead is doing as much as possible to bring the "system" down. He's no longer a wage slave. He spends money on subsistence products only. His debt-to-equity ratio of 0.1429 is unheard of in a rabid consumerist society. He has no income, so he pays no income taxes. And, he has been boycotting the empire's failed election process for decades. Yes, the ol' lavahead is a radical activist!

Well, I don't mean to "toot my own horn." There are well over one-quarter of the empire's civilian population who are doing the same, albeit involuntarily. They are the homeless, the destitute, the incarcerated, and the unemployed. My point, of course, is that there is so much money at the top of the heap that one-quarter of the population just does not matter. Take a look around you. Does anyone really seem concerned? As I said before, we will not see "change" until real unemployment surpasses 50 percent. As long as the masses have income, even at minimum wage, we will only be privy to the same ol' shit.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I have had increasing suspicions about internal treachery. I have run through a series of clandestine tests to determine the validity of my hypothesis. While not conclusive, I am convinced that there has been a shift in alliances. Guess who is now the bad ol' puddy tat? The mental midgets of Slob Manor are least of my worries, though. With so little time left, I cannot waste even a fraction of a second on the lamp-baked fools. They are a sad cross-sample of the kinds of morons who populate the empire's citizenry. That's why the latter were bamboozled for so long while the aristocracy robbed them blind and reduced them to powerless serfs. So, I don't really need to plan their demise. They are doing just fine in that respect.

Lamp-Baked Life VI

Same ol' shit. I ran into my "homeless" buddy at the library. He's planning an excursion to Malaysia and Singapore. He's probably leaving in a couple of weeks and will be gone for two months total. My "homeless" buddy is about the only person whom I see on a regular basis these days. Mind you, I have been meeting an assortment of new people lately, mostly at places where I frequent. Let's just classify them as weak acquaintances.

I have not seen or heard from people who could be considered friends or strong acquaintances. Obviously, I have not gone out of my way to contact anyone either. I have to assume that I really have nothing to offer anyone. I am a very low-ranking peon, in the same class as the homeless and destitute. So, why would anyone waste their valuable time with the ol' lavahead?

The evening? Same ol' shit. My tablet computer accompanies me on my nightly excursions, and it is responsible for most or all of the content in the "blog." As far as I know, the tablet computer is not being mummified by the manufacturer. I am awaiting the big operating system update that is supposed to happen at the end of the month. Unfortunately, I could care less about the PIM "apps." I am still waiting for a functional spreadsheet "app." Nothing more, nothing less.

Since I am spending a good portion of every evening away from Slob Manor (read: rental housing), the downloading of massive numbers of hurdy-gurdy video clips has fallen in priority. Is that benign activity ready to be mummified? Obviously, my netbook computer would no longer be necessary if hurdy-gurdy mummification were to occur. Actually, nothing is really necessary in my life anymore.

Precedents

Usual visit to Hawai'i Kai. Nada to report. The evening? You know the drill already. What more can be said? Well, tidbits, of course!

If Shrub's "lucky trifecta" known as the "September 11th" event had not occurred, we would not be dealing with the various PATRIOT and Military Commissions Acts which were rushed through the empire's so-called "legislative" process. The situation has only gotten worse since then. From Reuters:

American militants like Anwar al-Awlaki are placed on a kill or capture list by a secretive panel of senior government officials, which then informs the president of its decisions, according to officials.

There is no public record of the operations or decisions of the panel, which is a subset of the White House's National Security Council, several current and former officials said. Neither is there any law establishing its existence or setting out the rules by which it is supposed to operate.

Previously, I had vowed to "tune out" most of the noise called "news." However, there has now been a dangerous precedent established, one with possible grave consequences for citizens of empire.

Although the whole process has been cleverly cloaked under the umbrella of the "war on terror," there seems to be no bounds for the targets of the secret panel. Most citizens of empire are too uninformed or just too apathetic to "connect the dots." After all, who cares about a "towelhead"-wannabe in Yemen? Everyone should care. The precedent is that any citizen of empire can be targeted in secrecy for termination with extreme prejudice at any time. There will be no arrest, no trial, no conviction, no incarceration, just execution by most likely violent means. Make no mistake. We have truly crossed the line into totalitarian territory. Welcome to the United Fascist States of Empire (USFE)!

As the secular Apocalypse closes in on the entire "Western civilization," not just the empire, we can expect the heat to be turned up. Pretty much anything can trigger the secular Apocalypse now. Even the collapse of the Euro or a single failed state like Greece could light the fuse, as it were. Or, perhaps, if the "Occupy Wall Street" protest metastasized into a bloody coup. We don't need to wait for Peak Oil, global climate change, or natural disasters to take effect. The failed "civilization" paradigm, the failed money "system," all of that will do just as much damage or more.

As for the "Occupy Wall Street" campaign, I fail to see what can be accomplished by a "sit in" out on the street. Although I commend the participants for trying, I cannot see the end result. Will the crooks surrender to the authorities? Why would they since they "own" the authorities? There really are only a select number of options that could yield some progress:

• a general wage slave strike
• a consumer strike
• a run on all banks, or
• senseless violence.

The first three options, if prolonged, will cause much suffering amongst the masses. However, in the end, the "system" could collapse. Unfortunately, the perpetrators at the top of the heap will survive unscathed. Then, a quasi-feudal economy will be installed and enforced by a police state.

The option involving senseless violence is not really senseless. It is the last resort of people who have lost everything and have nothing more to lose. Unfortunately, all participants will be deemed either "terrorists" or "enemy combatants." They will be subject to termination with extreme prejudice as set by the precedent described earlier. Unless they are able to master the art of asymmetrical warfare with a decentralized command structure, the campaign would be futile.

Obviously, any of the options would fail immediately without a large number of active participants. Hence, as I've stated on numerous occasions, I do not expect any significant change in the empire's venue until real unemployment tops 50 percent. The actions of tens of millions of people, acting in collective unison for a common cause, will bring about real change (i.e., "change you can believe in"). Unless, of course, they are too demoralized or too sedated by the tube (or antidepressants) to snap into action. Again, welcome to the UFSE!

Lamp-Baked Life V

I usually compose the dreadful "blog" in my head at various times throughout the day. Often, I will have framed a cogent narrative. Unfortunately, I do not carry either my netbook or tablet computer with me during daylight hours out of fear of theft. By the time I am finally able to sit down with the former or latter, my thoughts have vanished into thin air. I am then forced to hastily reconstruct my thoughts, which often lead to the disastrous gibberish you see before your eyes. Today was no exception.

To be perfectly honest, most of my thoughts these days have been caught up in abstractions about life, the universe, consciousness, mortality, and so forth. I'd like to think that such topics would be interesting reading, but I seriously doubt that anyone else cares. I have attempted to focus on the microsecond timeslice of my paltry existence ... well, nothing going on there. So, I have no choice but to delve into "metaphysical" concepts. I use quotation marks around the word because I cannot be certain of its validity.

I have also come to see the strange coordination of lifeforms on the planet as being beyond coincidence, which just begs to differ with the theories of spontaneous generation and evolution. In my mind, I envision earth as the staging ground for a large-scale survival game. Oddly, we need the diversity of lifeforms in order to insure our own survival. However, all lifeforms have the capability to become dominant. Yet, when proliferation of the species and domination become prevalent, self-destruction becomes imminent. It is a game that all other lifeforms except humans understand instinctively.

As for the mundane, I have been reading two of Richard Posner's books about Great Depression Redux. Posner, in fact, is probably the only other person who refers to the global economic calamity as a "depression." Sadly, I have decided to mummify any further reading of the books. Although I believe that Posner has provided the most concise account to date, I no longer am interested. I am a rank-and-file peon. I am not one of the moneychangers or powers-that-be. I will always be a helpless victim of the "system." Thus, it serves no purpose for me to learn the inner workings of what is totally out of my control. The empire's aristocracy is hell bent on robbing us blind. I, or any other peon, can't stop it. That's all we need to know.

On a final note, I have grown weary of my massive hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). What purpose does it serve aside from chicken-chokin' tedium? Perhaps it's time to find a real babe. Or, maybe not. The hottie gym trainer just doesn't seem to want to come around. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

SOS Redux

Same ol' shit (SOS). However, I ran into Mark on King Street as I was walking to the gym. We chatted for a few minutes, although there was not much new to share. The evening? Same ol' shit. I can no longer sit in my squalid room in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) all evening. Naturally, the quantity of hurdy-gurdy video downloads has suffered tremendously. Nonetheless, thank goodness for my extremely portable tablet computer. I am still able to compose the "blog" from afar.

I was quite shocked by the news that Apple® co-founder Steve Jobs passed on. He was, of course, the same age as the ol' lavahead. There's already myriad news reports as it is, so I will only add that the issue of mortality has reared it ugly head again. Aside from that, I am neither a fan of Jobs or Apple®.

On a final note, I have been "tuning out" more and more of both the "mainstream" and alternative news sources. I just don't care to read rubbish anymore. Even the growing protest against Wall Street brings out the real cynic in me. We are at that point in the empire's history where only the application of senseless violence will bring about real change (i.e., "change you can believe in"). The rank-and-file peons are no match for the affluent aristocracy. Peaceful demonstrations are only a placebo for the masses. Eventually, as the aristocracy is fully aware, the masses must return to wage slavery or their cardboard box shelters under freeway overpasses. Then, we'll be back to the same ol' shit.

Lavahead, Lamp-Baked Style

Last night, I chatted with one of the Foodland Farms employees while we both waited for the 8:30pm bus in Aina Haina. Word has it that the Foodland in Koko Marina was not closed down for the reasons publicized (i.e., lease not renewed in favor of the future tenant). Apparently, Foodland management simply decided not to accept the 15 percent increase in rent proposed by Koko Marina management.

So, I've been listening to Deep House Cat mixes on and off. Deep House is the only music on my "playlist" these days. I once listened to the psychotic "classical" pieces on public radio. When I say, "psychotic," I mean psychotic. I am certain that most of the "classical" composers were schizophrenic. I could hear the psychosis in the music. "Classical" music is also a product of "Western civilization," a failed paradigm at best. Thus, I had to mummify my interest in it.

Unlike most people, I don't take music very seriously. I prefer Deep House because there's not much to take seriously. It sounds good. I enjoy it. That's my criteria. Some may find Deep House to be mindless, a more advanced form of "disco." I beg to differ. Deep House is to music what hurdy-gurdy videos are to cinema. The real enjoyment, of course, comes in the form of mixes where several cuts are blended together into one long track seamlessly. That's when I exclaim, "Smooth!"

At the library, I chatted with a guy named Kevin. He's a burly guy with a shaved head. Turns out, he's a gym member. He's also homeless since he mentioned that he was staying at one of the few homeless shelters. Why am I privy to meet so many of the homeless and destitute? They must assume that I am one of them. In a sense, I am. The rest of the day and evening? You know the drill. I suffered from on-going intrusive thoughts of the hottie gym trainer all day, most likely because of my extended perusal of baby on Sunday. I began to question my choice to essentially remain a monk for the rest of my life. I was succumbing to weakness. However, weakness is not a fault. We all suffer from human frailty. Nothing can change that.

Default Netbook Desktop

Well, I have settled upon the default Kubuntu desktop for the netbook. No more fussing around with customizations. I have included a screenshot (click to enlarge to actual size). The bottom panel is set to hide automatically. That's the Kplayer media interface with new hurdy-gurdy hottie Jazmine Jarako featured in a video clip. All of that on a ten-inch (diagonal) screen. Looks much better than the original sluggish Microsoft® operating system, eh?

Post No. 1,982

"Avenues of good fortune are ahead for you." -- Panda Express® fortune cookie

About 30 minutes after I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) last night, the cheap Belkin® router went down. Disconnected again! Fortunately, the "blog" had already been posted.

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. The evening? Den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala? Yeah, sure beats sitting in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) and listening to Joker stomping around and dropping heavy objects on the floor upstairs. Damned faggot!

Since I was discussing the hottie gym trainer yesterday, I performed another Net search out of curiosity. Quite amazing what five minutes of time will yield. The last search was a couple of years ago (refer to the "blog" of December 8, 2009). Baby is definitely a homeowner as the first search revealed. However, she is in a co-ownership with her sister. She has only one sister, who was apparently married at one time. She had a brother, but he passed on (no details given). There was also verification that baby herself has never been married. The most interesting tidbit was that she filed an adoption reunion request earlier this year. The child in question was evidently born out of wedlock to her mother at the age of seventeen. The child was taken by a social worker three days after birth. The mother was then married, then divorced or widowed, then remarried. Baby also changed her public Facebook® picture, now featuring herself in a long alluring dress together with her sister.

I am still puzzled about why baby never married or had any offspring of her own. I would assume that a hottie such as herself would have had no difficulty in finding suitors. And, chicks have been "socialized" into believing that they must be married by a certain age. Well, the reason may be embedded in the previously mentioned details, but that's all subject to interpretation. All I know is that baby is a hottie.

Lamp-Baked Life IV

The highlight of the day was, of course, an extended perusal of the hottie gym trainer at the gym. Baby completed her consultations earlier than usual, so she spent an hour or so working out in the aerobics room. To say that baby was looking mighty fine would be an understatement. As I was exiting the gym, I espied baby chatting with the front desk staff. A close-up of baby only confirmed how gorgeous she is.

The hottie gym trainer is an enigma. I find it very odd that baby appears to never been married. No sign of any offspring. And, she appears to be single now. Odd for a hottie in her early forties, eh? Perhaps baby prefers a lamp-baked life.

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I had nothing else better to do but power up the netbook computer and perform the dreaded laundry chores. The netbook, however, failed to boot up into the desktop. After a number of reboots, I thought that the computer was "bricked." I couldn't even boot up in the "failsafe" mode. My last chance for recovery was to access the terminal (which is possible in Linux, even though the desktop is non-functional). I deleted all of the hidden configuration folders using the command line. The netbook booted up properly, but everything was reset to the default. Thirty minutes of precious time wasted. I was fortunate that the tablet computer was fully operational. I was able to search on-line for possible solutions. And, thank goodness, I have somewhat of a grasp on command line operations.

I was back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) at Kahala this evening. No beverages, though. The cup of decaffeinated coffee that I consumed last night caused chronic insomnia. I also performed my incremental late night grocery shopping. Lamp-baked life? Yeah.

Lamp-Baked Life III

Same ol' shit. I ran into my "homeless" buddy at the library. I had not seen him for about two weeks. Apparently, he injured his foot. So, he was out of commission. He did happen to clear up a mystery for me. I often wondered why some of the homeless disappear for a long periods of time, then reappear out of nowhere. Turns out that many of them are cited multiple times by the police for jaywalking or drinking booze in public. If they don't pay the fines, they can end up incarcerated for up to three months. Turns out, some of the homeless actually want to spend time in prison in order to benefit from "free" room and board. Life on the street worse than prison? Is Joker a faggot?

Typical Lamp-Baked Hottie

Well, I spent 3.5 hours lapsing in and out of a coma in the inner courtyard in the library. Did I feel guilty? No. If I want to relax, then so be it. I have no agenda. I have nowhere to go, no one to meet, and absolutely nothing to do. The evening? Den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala? Beverages? Late night incremental grocery shopping? Triple affirmative. Lamp-baked life.