Slab City

Yet another evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty, not that it matters. I walked through the shelves of books as I usually do. However, last night, I overcome by the sight of the endless selections of recorded knowledge. Good knowledge, bad knowledge, idiotic knowledge, all there right in front of me. And, I have partaken very little of this precious fruit. Even if I were to commence reading just the literary classics alone, I would not make a dent in my reading list in the time that I have left on the planet. Sadly, I have never placed much emphasis on the importance of reading, which was truly an error on my part. How could I have not even been inclined to curiosity by Karl Marx's treatise, "Capital"? Instead, I became caught up in the meaningless pursuits of the postmodern life-style.

Modern literature and non-fiction books pale in comparison. The writing style is vapid, lacking any substance. Non-fiction literature all follow the same simple plot templates varying ever so slightly upon loosely defined genre. The prose is terse and replete of style. The author's real motive is quickly revealed to be that of getting rich quick. Non-fiction reading is even more insulting to the mind. Tantalizing titles are backed with mindless rhetoric and useless buzzwords. Once read, the book is totally useless even as a doorstop. Aside from the time wasted on reading such trash, the void in the ol' pocketbook is even more contemptible.

I finished the chapters titled, "The Bean-Field" and "The Village," in Thoreau's book, "Walden." My reading of the book is very slow because I devote so little time to the venture. And, as I stated, the style of prose is much more complex, lending for much more time consumption to comprehend and digest what I am reading. One could easily tire from reading such laborious text. I could have simply forsaken the whole task in favor of something more mindless. I must, however, continue. I am compelled to do so.

After an incredible slow ride to town on the Prison transport (read: bus), I found myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill to start yet another nauseating day of wage slavery and time-wasting. I walked to Safeway® as per my morning ritual. I purchased a loaf of bread, four energy bars, and one Tina's® burrito. I also restored my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. A young Asian hottie did an excellent job. I put in my one-hour of time in wage slavery. Then, I was off to the gym at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I returned to the faculty computer room.

By late afternoon, I felt a deep sense of disconnection and a surge of despair. "Derealization" was setting in as well as melancholia. I am simply passing my time waiting for the inevitable day that moms passes on. In a warped sense, that is when I will attain my freedom, if I can call it that. The decision is by choice, and therefore, I have no regrets. Yet, the passing of time in such a dysfunctional manner is likened to the proverbial water torture. The day that I am unshackled from the current benign life-style will not be a happy one. It is a phase of life that signifies the countdown of my own mortality. I expect to spend time in mourning to pay my last respects to the last of my family and to mentally position myself for the exodus. I see no other choice. I have already divested most of my material connectivity, and I have absolutely no social commitments. I want to find a way to live simply in my own "Walden." I want to read the books that are full of treasures of the mind. I don't want to concern myself anymore with the satanic gargoyles, the evil world they live in, the epidemic of the "seven sins," or the moneychangers and powers-that-be. The end times will come, there's no doubt. The prophesy is hopelessly cast in stone. Well, I will depart for Waikiki at 7pm. After consuming my dinner consisting of prison food (read: beans and bread), I will engage in my nightly ritual.

Incidentally, I have been clearing out the huge library of hurdy-gurdy video clips (read: mpeg files) that reside on my beloved Palm® TX. What was the purpose of such a collection? Chokin' da chicken? The babe situation is moot. A done deal. It has been that way for a long time. I just had not come around to admitting it formally. I am a senior citizen now, and I am not interested in senior citizen babes (term used loosely). I have become so obsessed with my ultimate exodus from society that I do not think about much else. My other concern is that the secular Apocalypse will arrive before my exodus, in essence trapping me in an untenable situation along with the myriad satanic gargoyles.

I am also becoming increasingly aware of the fact that I am piddling away what little time I have left on the planet. I am engaged in the daily rigor of useless activities simply to survive in a benign world. I am constantly bombarded by idiotic nonsense that I am supposed to assume is "knowledge." For the most part, "knowledge" is just advertising in disguise. I can never find peace or quiet, no less peace of mind. I am becoming anxious again. Along with anxiety comes claustrophobia.

My salvation now is not going to come in the form of homeless "camping." I surmise that, when the time comes, I will embark on a nomadic journey. My first stop could very well be Slab City near Niland in Cali. I will need something like the Dodge® Sprinter cargo van to suffice as a spartan motorhome. I became quite excited and requested a Dodge® Sprinter brochure. The Dodge® Sprinter would be perfect for my needs. I could sleep in a sleeping bag in the cargo area. The interior height of the vehicle will allow me to stand and walk about. I could probably ride my Nalu Board in it as well. In my nomadic trek, I would surely find accommodating campgrounds and RV parks. Sure beats living in a prison cell (read: little shoebox). Well, food for thought anyway.

Surge, or Serge?

Another exciting night at Barnes & Noble® in Ala Moana Center has come and gone. I spent a little over an hour browsing around before departing. I ran into Airi, a hottie former student, at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). She apparently just finished her shift at Jackie's Kitchen (i.e., Jackie Chan's restaurant). She asked if I still lived in the hotel. I laughed and confirmed the latter. We were able to chat for a few minutes. She also lives in Waikiki, so we rode the same prison transport (read: bus).

I read a little more of Thoreau's book, "Walden," before calling it a night. I have completed the chapter titled, "Visitors." I have also maintained my nightly cleaning vigil with my humble dustpan and brush. The other day, I defrosted my tiny fridge. My Brookstone® Tranquil Moments® "sound therapy placebo" seems to be somewhat effective. I also pay homage to the pink rubber piggy bank replica often. Thus, I have relegated myself to the painful routine of the modern wage slave's life-style, at least for now.

My morning commenced in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. My new morning ritual is the jaunt to Safeway® to find something to eat. I have applied the JIT (i.e., "just-in-time") method to my grocery shopping. I purchased four energy bars, one Tina's® burrito, and two more packages of M&M's® candy. One of my "directed study" students, Sandra, came by to deliver a gift, a very nice Quicksilver® T-shirt. Sandra, a young hottie from Germany, was also a former student from a Spring term class.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was busy with a gym member. Baby was mighty fine. Just as I finished my workout, I ran into Pseudo-professor Mike. He recently joined the gym. He forgot his workout shirt and wanted to borrow mine. However, my shirt was soaked with sweat after my cardio workout. I noticed that he had not shaved for a couple of days. He apparently had an appointment scheduled with one of the trainers, perhaps the hottie gym trainer.

I was back in the faculty computer room by 4pm. The shower-impaired Pseudo-professor Ken was there. The stench from his body odor was only moderately offensive today. He had his crap deliberately strewn everywhere. I had to put my little gym bag on the floor near the door. He made some snide comment about the empty doughnut box sitting on the table and about how he was going to throw it in the trash can. The insinuation was that I left the empty box there (which I did). Just shut up and take a shower already! Sheesh! He's fortunate that I did not smash one of the office chairs over his head. Incidentally, Pseudo-professor Glenn had brought in the doughnuts earlier. I will depart for Waikiki at 7pm. The night? You know the drill.

Montezuma's Revenge

Last night, the ride to Ala Moana Center on the prison transport (read: bus) was nothing short of spectacular. I sat in the rear with a large group of locals who were taking up as much space as possible and speaking Pidgin-English as loud as possible. The White Supremacist satanic gargoyles cowered in fear and sat as far forward as possible. Often, the satanic gargoyles looked back with an air of smugness, an attitude which was proportional to the distance between their feigned superior fat asses and the troglodytes sitting next to me. Contrast the latter with the spectacle of the wandering bands of locals who sporadically breaking into song and dance routines anywhere along the streets in Waikiki. A show for the tourists, like performing monkeys. The satanic gargoyles watch in amusement, often with snotty smirks plastered on their grotesque kabuki mask faces. Oh, they must wonder how Captain Cook had tolerated their infantile minds, no less met his demise in their hands. Savages, one and all of them!

I, myself, has an experience with two White Supremacist fudgepackers on the prison transport ride from town. I sat way in the back with my gym bag on the seat beside me. The gay blades decided to sit next to me. "Excuse me," the one middle-aged limp-wrist hissed, as he looked disdainfully at my gym bag. "Would you like to sit on this one?" I asked as I got up from my seat. "I just want to sit on the seat that I paid for," he grunted with a lisp. Whoa! Big Money Limp-Wrist paid for his seat. Whoa! "You can have anything you want," I told him. He was, of course, just milliseconds from receiving a "facial¹".

My evening at Barnes & Noble® was marked by three visits to the restroom. Montezuma was having a mild revenge on my stomach, no doubt because of my chiding of the the gay blades earlier. I departed at 10:15pm because my stomach cramps had only subsided slightly. While I was not in the restroom at Barnes & Noble®, I noticed that one of the hottie "booksellers" was on duty. The night before, both hottie "booksellers" were working. However, that is neither here or there. My only purpose for being at the bookstore is to avoid spending too much time in my tomb-like prison cell (read: little shoebox).

Whenever I stand and wait at the prison transport stop next to the sleazy E-Z Discount Store in Waikiki, I peruse the fake Hawai'ian crap in the window display. Shitty postcards, tiki keychains, plastic leis, crappy T-shirts and apparel, the nauseating macadamia nut chocolates, plaques with English first names translated to its alleged Hawai'ian equivalent, and so forth, all made somewhere is Asia. The satanic gargoyles buy up the crap. Do they set up a faux Hawai'ian shrine in a corner of their mausoleums back in bricklayer² country? The cheapening of Hawai'i makes me sick. All of the sleaziness has, of course, attracted sleazy tourists. The tourist industry has attempted to convert Hawai'i to a pop-culture theme, only to have failed miserably by being so out of touch with reality (i.e., promoting shit as chic). There are no Hawai'ian print iPod® skins to be found anywhere. Sheesh!

Another day of wage slavery. I spent most of the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I walked to Safeway® briefly to purchase a couple of bagels, two bread foccacia bread snacks, and two packages of M&M's® candy. Gym time was at 2:15pm. I only got a brief glimpse of the hottie gym trainer on my way out. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I received e-mail from Debbie, my realtor. She had transmitted the counter-offer, which was rejected by the buyer. Thus, I will not be exiting society quite yet.

At 5pm, I sat outside in the student area while the janitorial staff cleaned the faculty computer room. Professor Gordo happened to walk through the area. "Hey, you better watch out," he said. "You look like a 23-year old student. One of these chicks is going to ask you out, and you'll have to tell her that you're faculty." We both had a good laugh. As always, I will be departing for Waikiki at 7pm. If my gut feels okay, I may sashay over to Ala Moana Center.

¹A fist "facial" as opposed to a face full of jizz.
² Pseudo-professor Glenn had previously asserted that most of the tourists in Waikiki are from the middle class. In jest, he stated that many of them are members of the bricklayer's union.

Disclaimer. Whether you, the reader, agree with the ol' lavahead or not, this is simply a "blog." I, as with most other "blog" writers, attempt to chronicle my life, specifically the steps that I have taken to reach my ultimate goal, that is, my exodus from society. During the journey, I make observations about the "scenery" and other ambient characteristics, which is really fodder for useless consumption. The main focus of the "blog" is the exodus.

Future by Design

I became even more disconnected with my benign existence as the evening wore on. How did I end up in such a predicament? Wage slave. Monk. Poor. Alone. It made no sense to me. I am hanging on to the twilight of moms' last few years. Over the past four years, I have transformed into an urban hermit. Friends ... I have had myriad friends over my lifetime. Gone in a wink of an eye. I failed to maintain my friendships. Then, there were the few who were infected by epidemic of the "seven sins." I was forced to expunge them from my proximity. I had to mummify the situation.

A senior citizen such as myself deserves better than this. The least that could have happened was the preservation of my dignity. No, that was not about to happen. I reflected upon the afternoon when the young hottie student came by for help with her homework. As she sat next to me at the table, very close I might add, I was struck by both her beauty and my mortality at the same time. I would have thought that a striking contrast would be evident, but I was impressed by more by an intrinsic similarity, one that resonated on a spiritual chord. Baby is a hottie. I admired her aesthetics, but only in an appreciative way. Her presence at that moment allowed me to finally see the incredibly cruel joke that was perpetrated upon me by nefarious and villainous happenstance. It is of no fault of anyone that I have had to accept my lot in life. Destiny has fulfilled its own purpose.

I am now too old to make considerations and errors more forgiving of youth. I need not tolerate the machinations of sociopathic maggots, the kind who proliferate in dung heaps. My life is too finite to be worthy of more than I have. O woe to thee, sociopathic maggot. Can thou not eye yon horizon in thy shit?

As friendships have come and gone, acquaintances made and broken, so my time has been and done. I became a wage slave and fulfilled my most materialistic promise and embedded myself in a dream of self-deceptive magnitude. Only time is being sacrificed, I said to myself, as I forfeited the sand particles in my hourglass of life, never to have the hourglass flipped over again. To find myself living in a prison cell (read: little shoebox) is of high comic relief until one sees just how small the box really is. The cubic shape lends little in the way of humanism. It is the shape of a coffin, and for good reason. Why could it not have the inside shape of the Sphinx? Am I not already mummified? Am I not seeing the nefarious varmints looking for flesh to devour? What is left for me to encounter along my path to New Walden? Perhaps Thoreau himself is waiting for me. He will greet me in open arms. A comrade who seeks the same inner peace, one that is attained only away from the madding crowds, the sociopathic maggots and the nefarious varmints.

Oh, yes, and the young hottie student. I was reminded of my chance encounter many moons ago with Joyce, another young hottie student, although Joyce did make her intentions quite known. Ah, Joyce, I remember her well. It struck me then, as it strikes me now, the matter of entropy. It is and it was entropy. The Second Law of Thermodynamics. The laws of the universe bind all that exists within it. The laws of physics apply to the human mind as well. Should it not, as we are sourced from the same Creation?

Where and how does evil fit into the equation? It doesn't. I have exorcised the demons, and now they come back in mutant forms. Satanic gargoyles. Sociopathic maggots. Nefarious varmints. The zombie disciples of the sinister kahuna (read: sinister force). To remind you, yes, that is the same sinister force whom G Gordon Liddy referenced as the originator of mischief in testimony during the Nixon Watergate hearings. In the end, what have I learned from Liddy? I can send chills down anyone's spine if I take a cigarette lighter to my bare arm. That is, of course, all there is to know about life in these times.

My night at Barnes & Noble® ended on a quiet note. The inner turmoil, however, was still simmering in the background. The quest for the real truth will doggedly continue. I found solace by stopping by the ABC Store I was tempted to purchase cheap booze as a means of sedation. Instead, I opted for a carton of milk and one Granny's Gourmet Muffin. A small spurt of consumerism is the quick fix for mental weariness.

I found myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill this morning after a tiresome ride on an overcrowded prison transport (read: bus). I was confronted by a nameless amorphous being about the sociopathic buddy. The web spun by the subject has entangled many victims in its sticky trap. The amorphous being has taken the bait and is being lured out into the open. When will these fools ever learn? The amorphous being, a compassionate soul, optimistically believes that sociopaths can be reformed. Compassion (i.e., pity) is a weakness that is exploited by sociopaths. An elaborate scheme is being hatched by a select few to offer empathic intervention, a common mistake made by untrained individuals, to assist the sociopath in "finding himself." Attempts will be made to raise the subject's "self-esteem" in a "loving and caring environment that will nurture him back to well-being," I was told. "He's just misunderstood." My warnings have apparently fallen upon deaf ears. Sociopaths have no desire to be reformed. Why is anyone willing to help the subject? "He's my friend," replied the amorphous being. I had nothing more to add.

My day was filled with busy work, mostly because the IT staff at the Diploma Mill given me a different Web server space. Several hours were devoted to the task. I took a break and walked to Safeway® to purchase four energy bars and two small packages of M&M's® candy. Yum! After my one-hour of wage slavery, I was off to the gym. The hottie gym trainer was there. I only caught a brief glimpse of baby as I was leaving. She was standing behind the front counter. What a hottie!

After the gym, I was famished. I made the foolish error or purchasing a lard-filled muffin from one of the vendors near the Diploma Mill. I felt ill after consuming the detestable lump of saturated fat. Later, I was able to complete more of my wage slave tasks, the very ones that keep me occupied and distracted from the real essence of life. I will depart for Waikiki on the prison transport at 7pm. My evening ritual will remain unchanged.

I received e-mail from Debbie, my realtor. A buyer has made an offer of $130,000 for the "condotel" unit, which is way too low for me to absorb the loss ($20,000 or so). Such losses are not tax deductible, by the way. The buyer will be dealing directly, so that will save about $4,000 in closing costs. However, by my calculations, I can only reasonably accept an offer of $142,000 based upon a closing date at the end of March. The loss incurred would be just about the same as I would have paid in rent for the equivalent time period. Nonetheless, I will consult with Debbie to see what my options are. I was taken quite by surprise as I did not expect any offers until the end of the year.

Obviously, I may be faced with a real decision. Do I want to exit society, or not? Will I take up homeless "camping"? If I secure a reasonable offer, then I will divest the "condotel" unit. I will have about 30 to 45 days to find alternative housing once the offer is accepted. Will that be enough time? Well, I am getting a little ahead of myself. I sent my calculations to Debbie. I will wait to hear what she has to say. I doubt that the buyer will pay much more than the original offer. I can wait.

Escape from Madness

Another evening at Barnes & Noble® only further substantiated that l'ennui has already established a stranglehold on the ol' lavahead. I am now engaged in purposeless wandering in the cold recesses of the concrete shells of consumerism. What substitutes for living is simply a poor excuse. Existence in the middle and poverty classes is designed to revolve around the tube. Sit around on our fat asses, stuff Hostess® Ding Dongs® into our bloated faces, and consume the bland bullshit on the tube. The mind will turn to mush, and a lobotomized smirk will remain permanently molded into our kabuki mask faces.

During the course of the evening, I was able to witness modern society at its best. Standing at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop), I observed the sheer number (close to 90 percent) of overweight satanic gargoyles parading up and down Kuhio Avenue. Two punks used a permanent marker to scribble graffiti on the doors of the Prison transport (read: bus) as they were exiting. The men's restroom at Barnes & Noble® has been closed for two days. The amount of vandalism and trash strewn about that I have observed on the days that the restroom is open would make anyone wonder if a herd of baboons had been let loose in there. Reading Thoreau's book, "Walden," has not improved my attitude about society-at-large. In fact, Thoreau lamented about the same malignant diseases afflicting that now fester in our society. I have now completed the chapter titled, "Solitude."

I met moms at the entrance of Kahala Mall at 10:30am, after an uncomfortable ride on an extremely crowded prison transport. The sheer number of overweight and obese passengers is mind-boggling. The seats are not wide enough for them to fit. Sheesh! moms and I ate lunch at Panda Express®. Lunch was delicious. I was able to chat with moms for a few minutes, but I could not wait with her at the bus stop. I have also noticed that moms is walking much slower these days. I shield my sadness from such observations.

The ride on the prison transport back to town after meeting with moms is always a sobering experience. Wage slavery has been keeping me occupied and distracted from the reality of my mortality. Yet another reason why I must exit society as soon as possible. I also reflected on the harsh reality that I have joined the ranks of the "non-savers." As of last year, I now spend more money than I earn. I am contributing to negative savings rate. Sadly, the latter will remain a permanent fixture in my life.

More sickening oral depositions have been offered to me concerning the malicious behavior of the sociopathic buddy. Is everyone losing their damned minds? I, for one, have washed my hands of the situation. I was able to offer timely advice, one that I am following. In other words, mummify the situation. Sociopaths love to draw out their victims into the open using different kinds of "bait." For simple minds, the process is likened to giving candy to a baby. If the conventional "bait" is ineffective, the sociopath is likely to engage in "bullying" or intimidation. Playing along with the sociopath will only serve to taunt or encourage him to go even further. I am praying that I will not hear more nonsense of the kind that I was privy to hear today. Mummify!

I walked to Safeway® after a brief consultation session with a young hottie student, the same student from last week. I have determined that baby is "dangerous," as evidenced by her skimpy outfits. Fortunately, I am an ethical monk. And, my only priority is to exit society. I purchased a couple of lard-filled Tina's® burritos for dinner. All of the bakery goods were long gone. The parking lot was a mess. Satanic gargoyles were driving their 4000-pound motorized chairs carelessly. In my mind, I tried to imagine those fools in the era of Peak Oil. How will they transport themselves without their beloved 4000-pound motorized chairs? Many of them are so obese that they can barely walk from the parking lot to the entrance.

Alas, I only look forward to my nightly ritual, my escape to Barnes & Noble®, where I am in a safehaven with books. I simply ignore the satanic gargoyles prancing about. I will have escaped society for a couple of hours.

Fool's Paradise

Yesterday, while I chatted with Professor Lisa, I sensed that her feelings about her return to Hawai'i is that of major disappointment. By admission, she has been intentionally out of touch with many of us in the past few months, much in the same way that I had opted for isolation. I doubt that she will remain here for much longer than a year. In a joking fashion, I also presented my ideas of exiting society and possibly leaving the country. I doubt that Professor Lisa would entertain such ideas.

I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble®, although I did not specifically peruse any particular book. I am contemplating the purchase of another literary classic to read after I have completed Thoreau's book, "Walden." I dream of the day that I will have nothing else to task me except the reading of classic literature in New Walden. I must admit that I have great difficulty reading for leisure. Perhaps it's due to guilt. In these troubled times, I am more inclined to read articles from the myriad alternative news sources and stay abreast of the real truth. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.

In the past two days, I have had to take a hot shower when I return from Ala Moana Center. The ambient temperature in the evenings has dropped significantly, hard as it may be to believe. The cold spell has persisted for over a month now, with just a two-day reprieve last week. I was amazed to see the number of satanic gargoyles wearing heavy jackets. Global climate change, you think? I stopped by the ABC Store before lockdown in my prison cell. I had to purchase a few essentials: three bananas, one Granny's Gourmet Muffin, and a big-ass can of Tecate® cerveza. Naturally, I dropped back the whole can of cerveza to cap off my benign evening.

I departed for town at 10am this morning with the Sunday paper in hand. After the prison transport (read: bus) dropped me off, I walked to the Beretania Street Apartments and sat outside in the lanai area and read the paper. With that done, I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's®. I then sipped the coffee and waited for the student computer lab to open at noon.

Overall, this was a relaxing day. The computer lab was fairly deserted. Only a few hottie chicks were sitting at the computers. The gym was almost empty. No hottie gym trainer, but plenty of soap in the dispensers. Downtown reminded me of a small town for once. As to be expected, hardly any guys were out and about. Only a large number of panhandlers were roaming the street. This is the only aspect of "Super Bowl Sunday" that I truly appreciate. Next weekend, the idiotic Pro Bowl will be held at the Aloha Stadium. I treated myself to a couple of delicious lard-filled Cheesy Bean and Rice Burritos at the equally deserted Taco Bell®. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the student computer lab. Tonight? Barnes & Noble®, of course!

No doubt there are many individuals, albeit a small minority as a whole, who ponder the same questions as I do about the future of our society. We see daily events and associated actions which appear to be careening out of control. "Yet, by observing the behavior of government, businesses or the general population, you wouldn't think any of that was going on, or that if it is, that it mattered little," observed Stephan Pizzo in his article titled, "Research Reveals Fool's Paradise," which appeared on the Smirking Chimp site. He noted that the latter behavior comprises a "Fool's Paradise," and describes the critical components:

That's where the "fools" come in. The fool is the indispensable ingredient in a fool's paradise. It's not a paradise for the fool, but because of the fool. And there has to be a lot of them. They all have to share an almost bulletproof sense of optimism, be rock-solid stubborn and immune from facts. (That's key.) A fool's paradise that is not allowed to achieve critical mass is a near-miss, not a fool's paradise. The more obvious a fool's paradise is about to blow, the more important it is that the fools remain steadfast in their belief all is well and that the real fools are the ones running around sounding alarms.

I keep looking forward to the day that I can flee from the cesspool of postmodern society and its sickening cast of sociopaths and satanic gargoyles. My activities have been intentionally limited to curb my exposure to the more caustic elements of society. I have even made sacrifices in leisure pursuits. As an example, I most likely will not go out surfing again here in Hawai'i. I cannot handle the crowds. Overall, the only obstacle to exiting society is a lack of funds. My current estimate is that at least $1 million in liquid assets is necessary for the exodus. I am nowhere close to that amount. Even if I fully committed to wage slavery, I will never come close to that amount before retirement age. It is a losing battle. Slowly, I am beginning to realize that my exodus is but a "pipe dream."

Stalag 13

Last night, I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble® in Ala Moana Center as to be expected. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I perused Mike Ruppert's book, "Crossing the Rubicon," again. In his conclusion, Ruppert predicted (at the time of his writing) that Saudi Arabia and Iran would most likely be the next targets of military aggression in that order. He felt that Saudi Arabia would be a priority because of the volatile situation in the House of Saud (read: house of cards). A US occupation of Saudi Arabia would be necessary to secure oil interests and maintain a regional US military presence through its military bases there. In truth, the opposite happened. The US apparently abandoned its military bases there, no doubt because of its new permanent bases in Iraq. The next target, Iran, is now in the crosshairs.

In trying to understand the overall goal of the Shrub administration in the Middle East and Central Asia, the geopolitical advantages factors heavily into the imperialistic equation. In addition, the control of petroleum and natural gas resources is a major goal. However, the nebulous area of consideration is whether regional stability is a desired objective or not. Maintaining regional instability has its advantages. Any crippled or puppet regime will not have enough autonomy and power to nationalize its country's resources, nor will it be able to convert its trading currency to Euros. Could the ultimate goal be perpetual governmental instability in those regions? Military bases have been situated in Iraq, Afghanistan, and in several former Soviet Bloc nations. Each of those nations has some geographic or resource advantage, whether it be oil, natural gas, or pipeline routes. Almost every country that is involved in regional warfare right now falls under the latter categories. Coincidence? You be the judge.

The history of the Middle East and other third-world or second-world nations (that are blessed with abundant desirable resources) is saturated with accounts of external meddling. Regional governments are overthrown, coups are staged, and so forth. Yet, the intrinsic instability of those regions must also include rebellions from internal radical factions which can and do disrupt the plans of the "external forces." In addition, the "blowback" resulting from intrusive meddling can cause even greater disruptions and instability. Thus, theoretically, keeping typically unstable regions in permanent flux may be the optimal solution. Sacrificing military personnel (e.g., the "surge" in Iraq) could very well be part of such a plan. Afghanistan is already in a state of flux.

Iran is presently stable per se, but it is not contained within the "sphere of influence" of the "external forces." Since there is no possibility that Iran's present government will capitulate to the demands of the "external forces," then a mandate will be necessary to destabilize its government and reduce its power. Bombing the alleged uranium enrichment plants as well as the military and commercial infrastructure will have such an effect. Iran will be reduced to a state of disorder similar to Iraq, or that is what the "planners" of the conflagration are hoping to accomplish. The degree of haste with which the conflagration will be implemented could suggest that there is some underlying imperative. Peak Oil perhaps? Cutting off China or Russia? Whatever the case may be, the "planners" also know of the risks involved. What if the plan goes bad? What if the Iranians are able to invoke a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz? What if oil prices shoot upwards of $100 per barrel?

Within the US, a significant increase in oil prices would probably cascade through the economy with detrimental effects: the collapse of the so-called housing "bubble," possible stock market "corrections," the surge of petrol and energy prices, and so forth. Will the "Plunge Protection Team" come to the rescue? Overall, the nation could nosedive into a major recession. There will be some domestic "collateral damage" (i.e., unemployment, business closings, inflation, etc.), but the nation will adjust or rebound in the future. At least, I assume the latter to be the optimistic expectations of the "planners." The main point, though, is that the "planners" understand the risks and are willing to make the sacrifices on "our" (read: peons) behalf. Whether "we" suffer or not is inconsequential in the big picture that the "planners" envision. That's how important the whole scheme is. When all is said and done, our lives are reduced to nothing. The idiotic Super Bowl®. The sociopathic buddy and other satanic gargoyles. Wage slavery. Useless material possessions. Everything is meaningless and just plain vanity in comparison.

I spent the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, yet another permanent ritual until I emancipate myself from wage and social slavery. I made a pot of coffee right away when I arrived at 9am. For a break, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, three energy bars, and two lard-filled Tina's® burritos. Professor Lisa stopped by for a few minutes around noon, so we were able to chat. She is still adjusting to her new position. I finally started on my dreaded tax returns. From what I can tell, I will owe about $710 total for State and Federal taxes.

Gym time was at 1:45pm. I did my usual cardio workout. Then, I was back in the faculty computer room for the rest of the afternoon. I will depart for Waikiki at 5pm. No doubt, I'l be at Barnes & Noble® again tonight.

Black Narcissus

As I stood at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) last night, I could not help but notice how tacky Hawai'i has become, specifically cesspools such as Waikiki. Why these dolt tourists come here is beyond me. Aside from the mild weather, there is practically nothing to distinguish Hawai'i from almost anywhere else. The conundrum of tourism (as with most other industries) is that it relies upon continual "growth." In economics, "growth" is a given. It is also assumed to be infinite. Otherwise, stagnation will occur. Thus, the tourist center (i.e., Waikiki) must grow disproportionately out of control. An ever-increasing number of tourists are required in order to maintain the status quo and even more to capture a profit.

The shitty little stores in Waikiki are filled with the same tacky, fake Hawai'i crap, all made somewhere in Asia. It's sickening, to say the least. However, that kind of crap is good reflection of our society in general. I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble® in Ala Moana Center. One of the hottie "booksellers" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I departed at 10:15pm. Once back in Waikiki, I stopped by the ABC Store to purchase two bananas, one Granny's Gourmet Muffin, and a big-ass can Coors® light brewski. I had to purchase the big-ass can of brewski because I decided to do the dreaded laundry, one day early I might add.

I was fortunate to have the laundry room all to myself. Thus, the stress of doing laundry was minimized. I dropped back the big-ass can of brewski anyway. I washed my sheets and pillowcases as well, even though I had previously stated that I would replace my bedding with a sleeping bag instead. Obviously, I have not yet purchased a sleeping bag. And, I believe that three months is about the limit for holding out on washing the sheets. Sheesh! I spent another hour reading Thoreau's book, "Walden," before calling it a night. I am now in the chapter titled, "Sounds." by the way, the concrete spalling repair crew moved the scaffolding equipment further down. Thus, I will be able to keep my windows open more often.

Another day of wage slavery found me in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill bright and early this morning. Well, 9am is early to me. I walked to Safeway®, as I do almost every morning, in order to purchase something to eat. I ended up with three energy bars, and two Tina's® burritos. I completed my one hour of wage slavery, then I was off to the gym. No hottie gym trainer, but at least there was soap in the dispensers. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. A couple of "dangerous" young hottie students in skimpy outfits came by for help with homework. I am, of course, immune to the wily ways of the babes. I will depart for Waikiki at the usual time. Tonight? Same old' shit.

The sociopathic buddy is apparently persisting with his discombobulated behavior. In addition, I have observed the subject exhibit inappropriate affect¹ on numerous occasions, a distinct sociopathic characteristic. The sporadic and brief appearances by the subject is also puzzling, since there seems to be no purpose for the latter activity. Of course, the longer the subterfuge continues, the more ludicrous the situation becomes. The time frame is already past the point of no return. There will be no benefit to end the charade, since it would only tend to reinforce any suspicion of deviant behavior. In any case, it is best follow Stout's advice in her book, "The Sociopath Next Door," which is to mummify all ties with a sociopath. Consider it done! Speaking of sociopathic behavior, Mickey Z wrote a good article titled, "What I heard on the W Train," appearing on the Smirking Chimp site. Check it out.

Incidentally, Lori sent e-mail. She is apparently recovering from a back injury. She wanted to know my wage slave schedule. However, I doubt that we will be able to fit surfing in the schedule anytime soon.

¹Inappropriate affect is affect or emotion that does not match the situation or the content of talk or thought, for example laughter while describing the loss of a loved one.

Parallax View

I enjoyed a nice evening at Barnes & Noble® in Ala Moana Center. I continued to peruse one book in particular, "The Long Emergency," by James Kunstler. I believe that some of his predictions may come about much sooner, given the increased possibility of an incursion into Iran. When I returned to my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I spent an hour reading Thoreau's book, "Walden." I have gained much comfort from the reading. In fact, I am now reading the chapter titled, "Reading." Thoreau lamented about the mindless reading fodder of his day as opposed to the timeless, albeit neglected, "classics" of literature. The more things change, the more they remain the same, eh?

This morning, I waited 30 minutes for the prison transport (read: bus). I passed up about three prison transports because they were full. Once in town, I stationed myself in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. The hottie pseudo-professor arrived shortly after I did. Baby has been coming in during the days sporadically as of late. Pseudo-professor Beth asked for assistance to send a file to her students via e-mail. I showed her an alternative method of simply making the file available through her course homepage. Baby is a hottie. I took a break to walk to Safeway® to purchase three energy bars.

The sheer number of crap food in the supermarkets is mind boggling. However, I am now understanding why crap food is so prevalent. The most obvious reason is the high profit margin. Crap food uses simple or artificial ingredients, making it cheap to produce. The retail price is high by my standards, but it is much lower than real food. Another reason worth noting is that the production of real food is currently not meeting the demands of the world population. Only one option exists. Take a small amount of real food, mix it up with useless carbohydrates and sugar, cook it in lard, and sell if off as the typical glossy-packaged crap food. I am often astounded to see what people are purchasing as I stand in the check-out line. Nothing but lard-based junk food, lard-based frozen food, sodas, and desserts. Little wonder why there are so many fat slobs everywhere.

After my one hour of wage slavery, I was off to the gym. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. The soap dispensers in the showers have been empty for two days again. Fortunately, I remembered to bring my Suave® body wash. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I will leave for Waikiki at the usual time.

I have had more curious, yet insignificant, encounters with the sociopathic buddy. I can only summarize the subject's behavior as an implementation of Sun Tzu's "Art of War":

Warfare is the Way of deception. Therefore,

1. if able, appear unable,
2. if active, appear not active,
3. if near, appear far, if far, appear near. If they have advantage, entice them; if they are confused, take them,
4. if they are substantial, prepare for them,
5. if they are strong, avoid them,
6. if they are angry, disturb them,
7. if they are humble, make them haughty,
8. if they are relaxed, toil them,
9. if they are united, separate them.

Attack where they are not prepared, go out to where they do not expect.

More of the subject's victims have come forward with questions concerning his modus operandi. The scope of his "operations" have been far-reaching. I have observed that the subject is no longer able to keep track of his own fabrications and machinations. My most clever advice to the victims was simply to not let on that they know anything.

In my last encounter with the sociopathic buddy, I observed much more psychomotor agitation, nonsensical dialog, haphazard deception, and abrupt aloofness. I suspect that an internal rage is building and is manifesting itself in the latter outward symptoms. The rage has resulted from the unwanted exposure of the subject's true self, although it was he who exposed himself. This is the critical "self-destruct" period that Stout describes in her book, "The Sociopath Next Door." The increase in conflicting testimony seems to be beyond intentional obfuscation. The subject's stress level must be increasing because of the subject's perception that all four walls are closing in on him, which may likely be so. Intentional falsehoods and deception have a way of coming back like a bad sitcom. The aforementioned external symptoms are a precursor to psychosis. The subject should be placed under observation because the onslaught of psychotic or schizophrenic symptoms could come on fairly rapidly. If the subject is not immediately medicated with anxiolytics and anti-pychotics, he may exhibit a propensity toward criminality.

Did you notice the more intense coverage of "global warming" (read: global climate change) recently by the mainstream media? Did you observe the slant to dismiss it all as myth? This is the same kind of monotonous disinformation that is repeated day in and day out until the satanic gargoyles become so bored with the subject that they simply ignore it from that point forward. Seeing a Burger King® advertisement interspersed between the sleep-inducing coverage becomes a welcome relief to the masses. That's the same way the news about Iraq was handled. And, it will be the same when the bombing of Iran commences. Learning to identify and understand mind control will be a very important task in the near future.

As for "global warming," I become sickened when I must listen to the numerous mental midgets who spew idiotic rhetoric such as, "There's no global warming. Look at all the freak snowstorms across the nation. We're going through global cooling." Idiots! That is why I prefer to use the phrase, "global climate change." The planet is experiencing a warming trend, which is verified by the increased melting of the polar ice caps. The increase in water (i.e., cold water from melted ice) is changing the ocean currents, which affect the weather. The satanic gargoyles may not concern themselves with weather patterns, although weather changes will affect agriculture and water supplies adversely. Oh, what a mess "we" are in!

Tout ou Rien

An odd early evening encounter with the sociopathic buddy was beyond coincidence. In a half-joking manner, he feigned the commission of bodily injury upon the ol' lavahead's person. Sociopaths follows a pattern of cowardice in which they never directly confront their adversaries, or they will hide behind subterfuge and ambiguity. However, never underestimate the back-biting and backstabbing capabilities of the sociopath.

Then, in a continuation of his previous pattern of manipulation and obfuscation, the subject attempted to lure the ol' lavahead into an obligational trap with offers of unwarranted hospitality. He has also, by admission, revealed a novel strategy, a quasi-stalking modus operandi, to further exact his revenge. He will attempt an invasive maneuver whereby he will find himself in what he has perhaps deemed to be a sacred environment to the ol' lavahead. The benign and implicit threat will be accomplished through covert actions in which he, the perpetrator, will attempt to deconstruct anything that he has ascertained to be of value to the ol' lavahead. Obviously, the latter plan was easily conspired by the subject because the ol' lavahead's daily itinerary is clearly chronicled in the "blog."

The fact that the sociopathic buddy has yet to disclose his discovery of the "blog" is puzzing at best. Both he and I know the aforementioned fact. In his self-perceived cunning, he is banking on "reasonable doubt" to perpetuate the charade. The only advantage to the scheme rests on his motive for doing so. Retaliation is simply the only answer. Retaliation for what? Exposing the sociopath's machinations, of course! The degree of the mental illness of the sociopath is proportional to the degree of the obsession that is exhibited by him, more so if the obsession manifests itself in criminal or deviant behavior.

The brief encounter made it quite clear that the sociopathic buddy has been religiously dissecting the "blog" for clues to assist in bringing on the ol' lavahead's demise. Listening carefully and hanging on to every word uttered, I was able to determine what he knew. The fact that the game continues under a thinly-veiled charade only further substantiates my thesis.

The sociopathic buddy has one major weakness, one that he believes is a strength. For the most part, he is correct in the primary consideration of his frequent manipulation of mental midgets in his proximity, his preferred type of victims. In the greater chess game, his strength will be his weakness. It will be the chink in the armor that will bring him crashing down in cascading destruction. Mentally, is he prepared for battle? He will use lures to weaken his opponent, all the while offering confusing diatribe to obfuscate and disarm any defenses that the victim erects. He will attempt to draw out any information that he can twist around to cause further confusion. This data will be used with various untruths that he will concoct and intersperse with real information. Then, he will disseminate the information as necessary in a covertly manipulative and persuasive manner to others whom the victim is acquainted with. The victim will suffer from character destruction at the least. Depending upon the magnitude of damage that the subject desires to inflict, he will further disperse even more ridiculous untruths. It is by this same method that he will collect unwitting allies.

Even though all parties are privy to the knowledge that the charade exists, the sociopath will not back down. The whole charade has been exposed in the "blog." Yet, the games are just beginning. I am confused by the relentless pursuit of revenge by the sociopathic buddy over a perceived infraction when there is none. It is the discovery of a sick mind in the midst of an equally sick society that raises great fears. Hence, the disease is malignant. The diseased one does not desire to be cured. This, my friends, is demon possession, plain and simple. If the demon cannot be exorcised, then the host body must be destroyed. It is in the power of a monk to do so in Godspeed.

After consuming my pittance of a dinner, prison food (read: beans and bread), I cleaned my prison cell with my humble dustpan and brush. Once done, I made the trek to Ala Moana Center where I found myself at Barnes & Noble®. I spent some time composing the "blog" on my beloved Palm® TX. I was compelled to chronicle my curious encounter with the sociopathic buddy. I then walked to the Apple® Store to connect to its wireless network to send off the "blog." I spent the rest of the evening at Barnes & Noble®. On the way back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel), I stopped off at the ABC Store to purchase two bananas, one Granny's Gourmet Muffin, and a big-ass can of Coors® Light brewski. I dropped back the whole can of brewski immediately upon lockdown in my prison cell.

I was very groggy when I woke up this morning. Seems that I have a slight cold. Little wonder since I have gallivanting about the whole Creation. I paid my parking fee at the Waikiki Banyan parking structure. Then, I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to town. Once safely in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I discovered that I forgot to bring one of my wage slave shirts. Thus, I would have to perform my wage slave function out of "dress code." I could have run to Ross® and purchased another shirt. That's what a good wage slave would do. I am not a good wage slave.

I walked to Safeway®, taking my life in my hands as I dodged the myriad careening 4000-pound motorized chairs, just to purchase three energy bars. I did my one-hour wage slave stint in violation of the "dress code." Gym time was at 2:15pm. The hottie gym trainer was busy with a gym member while I was doing my weight workout. Man, I'd like to see the hottie gym trainer wearing a thong swimsuit. If baby donned a thong swimsuit, she would look exactly like the babe in the photo. Baby is a hottie. Ho boy! On second thought, that might not be a good idea. My mind would definitely snap. I would be reduced to a gurgling moron. In fact, I felt a strong surge of testosterone when I first saw her. At that point, I was almost capable of doing something stupid like mackin' on her. What a maroon!

I returned to the safety of the faculty computer room. I will leave for Waikiki at the usual time. The evening will consist of the same routine. Frankly, I am enjoying the new routine much better than the old ritual of attending the evening performance at Lou's Kabuki Theater.

The increasing possibility of an incursion into Iran continues to canvass the alternative news sources. "Military and intelligence sources continue to tell me that preparations are advancing for a war with Iran starting possibly as early as mid-to-late February," Stated Robert Parry on the Consortium News site. Parry asserted the ramifications of increased military aggression" "But the consequences both internationally and domestically – from possible disruption of oil supplies to potential retaliation from Islamic terrorists – could be devastating." The Shrub administration has been assessed as being "crazy" amongst other unflattering terms, a dismissal overview which misses the point. Why would they risk the possibility of a global conflagration by expanding the theater of war in the Middle East? Believe me, it's not about John Hagee and the "rapture."

At this point, I still believe that Mike Ruppert has accurately laid out what is about to transpire in his book, "Crossing the Rubicon." Nothing will stop the event from occurring. Articles of protest can be written, questions can be posed, demonstrations and "civil disobedience" can be staged, but nothing will stop the so-called "Neocon" agenda. It's all or nothing.

The Fed did not lower short-term interest rates much to my relief. At this point in time, I am still not drawing off much in the way of dividend income from my investments. If the Fed were to lower interest rates later this year in order to provide the so-called "soft landing" for the alleged real estate "bubble," then it will only fuel even more greed. Home prices will rise again, and the satanic gargoyles will still use "creative" financing to purchase beyond their means. The remaining few who did not cash out on equity will probably do so during the next round. I should be able to sell Chez Loser II easily in such a feverish market. On the other hand, if interest rates rise, I will make more off of my investments, although my tax liability will increase. These are troubling times, and we must all be vigilant about our personal finances.

Of course, if the so-called "Neocon" agenda¹ fails completely, we could be up Shit Creek without a paddle. Personal finances will be the least of our problems. In other words, if the incursion into Iran goes wrong and oil supplies are cut off, we will see a shockwave hit our economy which will make the bursting of the housing "bubble" look like a slumber party. Instant hyperinflation, along with tremendous shortages in petrol, food, and other necessities will result. Hard to imagine? Well, everything depends on cheap oil. The whole economy will eventually slide into deep recession. Sanitation and medical care will devolve into third-world conditions, which will spawn biological pandemics. It is under these conditions that martial law will be invoked. The secular Apocalypse could be right around the corner.

¹The current agenda did not originate with the "Neocons." The moneychangers and the powers-that-be are the ones who are pulling the strings from above.