End of All Things

Last night, I was able to eat my prison dinner (read: beans and bread), clean my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush, complete the dreaded laundry task, and defrost my tiny prison fridge before I made the nightly journey to Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I have found my next book purchase, although that will be a while: "Dark Ages America: The Final Phase of Empire," by Morris Berman. Once again, I procured a big-ass can of cheap brewski when I returned to Waikiki. I sat in the prison compound for an hour or so and continued to read Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization."

Given the incredible amount of carnage that has resulted from the latest "divide and conquer" strategy (i.e., "surge") in Iraq by US and puppet Iraqi forces, the history detailed by Fisk becomes even more relevant. I am not completely convinced that an incursion in Iran is inevitable. What else could explain Shrub's pressing need to appoint a "war czar"?

After standing at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop) this morning for 30 minutes amidst the billowing clouds of cigarette smoke and the thousands of flies buzzing about, I finally exhausted my patience waiting for the Route B City Express to arrive. Naturally, after boarding the slow-moving regular route, the desired prison transport whizzed by. The prison transport was extremely crowded. After 35 minutes of chugging along at snail's a pace, always perfectly synchronizing with every red traffic signal, the prison transport finally arrived in town. I was relieved to fill my cup with free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I felt invigorated. Of course, my daily tribulations are nothing compared to the suffering by the impoverished around the world.

I made the usual jaunt to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread, a can of generic pork and beans, and three air-filled energy bars. I did my one-hour of wage slavery, albeit reluctantly. Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room, an activity that I am beginning to despise. At this point in time, I am certain that I will engage in the full nightly ritual later this evening.

In view of my upcoming emancipation (i.e., Friday May 11th) from wage slavery, I have been giving a lot of thought to the matter of how I will utilize my spare time. Spending hours in front of a computer is not exactly fulfilling. Yet, I have come up with no other alternatives. I suspect that I will have to wean myself from the computer. I will also need to cut down on the time spent to compose the "blog." I can probably spend more time at the main branch of the library in town. I will be able to do more reading, I suppose. Perhaps I should obtain a library card as well.

Reading, by the way, has been a great recreational activity for me. I have never read much in my lifetime, so I have barely read any of the classic literature. Even now, I have little interest in reading fiction novels or the "classic" literature. I am fixated by current events and modern history. In some respects, I am curious about politics and religion, but my curiosity has been abated by the rampant corruption and evil that permeates both entities. Primarily, I am observing world affairs and watching for the signs of the "end of days." There is a prophesied secular Apocalypse coming, one that will be the precursor to Armageddon. Please do not mistake the ol' lavahead for one of the all-too-familiar "holy rollers" or "Sunday-go-to-meeting" churchgoers or an affiliate of any of the apostate sects of Christendom².

My exodus from society will remain my main goal in life and will supersede everything else. However, I cannot force anyone to purchase the "condotel" unit. Neither can I make make my investments grow exponentially. Thus, the "blog" will continue to chronicle my steps, albeit painfully slow, to exit society. I want to be in a safe place when the "end of days" arrives.

An interesting tidbit appeared in an article on the Business Times site. An excerpt from the discussion with Simon Johnson, the IMF's chief economist:

Mr. Johnson said that the US slowdown was likely to prove to be only a temporary "growth pause," however, rather than the first phase of a new recession. "You might ask, if the US sneezes, won't the rest of the world catch cold?" he said. "Our bottom line is that while the US may, indeed, have sneezed, it seems to be a mild sneeze thus far, and not likely to spread."

The IMF now expects the American economy to bounce back and grow by 2.8 percent next year. Mr Johnson said that the US was "holding up well," despite the housing down-turn. Although the fund believes that this "still has a way to run," it saw "tentative signs" of the market stabilising. With the US jobs market still strong and household finances "solid," US growth should "gather momentum in the course of the year and into 2008."

Clearly, this article is an obfuscation of reality. What happened to the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage market? Where's the so-called "housing bubble"? What happened to the millions of unemployed wage slaves? What about the negative national savings rate? What of the large consumer debts that are running across the board in almost all households? What about the reports that real income has declined? And, the same projections are parroted by every economist in the nation. It is my guess that certain elements of the economy have simply vanished. They just don't exist anymore. Wealth and growth are being measured by a limited yardstick. Only the wealth of the corporations and the elite class are being figured into the equation.

Incidentally, I removed my useless university diplomas from the sturdy and attractive diploma cases. I placed the diplomas in cheap plastic sleeves and threw out the cases. My original intention was to discard the diplomas, but I foolishly decided to keep the latter for a little while longer. Why? The diplomas from my alma mater mean nothing to me. Just very expensive pieces of paper. Why did I defame my diplomas? Just another step in the deconstruction process, of course!

²Christendom, a grouping of apostate religious sects claiming to be Christian.

Requiem for a Dream

As fatigued as I was, I made the trek to Ala Moana Center to spend an hour or so at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I departed for Waikiki at 10:10pm. On the way back to Quagmire prison (read: hotel), I procured a big-ass can of cheap brewski. For once, I felt that I deserved it. I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and continued to read Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." After droppin' back the whole big-ass can of cheap brewski, I went into lockdown in my prison cell. I read a little more before calling it a night.

I slept well for once. I woke up at 8am this morning and leisurely packed my gym bag. I was off to town by 8:30am. As usual, I indulged myself with a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Lee inquired about the "hearing." I provided a verbal synopsis of the sordid details. He was disappointed that outcome was not much better. My ritualistic trek to Safeway® yielded the usual food products for lunch. Later, I did my one-hour of wage slavery. Gym time was at 2:20pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. The rest of the afternoon was spent in the faculty computer room. Will I embark on the nghtly ritual? We shall see.

I reflected on yesterday's main event, specifically the "hearing" conducted by the cabal of evil. I visualized the two amorphous blobs of jelly, the "dynamic duo" (i.e., Les, the Vice President of Academic Affairs and his sidekick, Kathy, the Femi-Nazi chairbitch), sitting before me. I wondered just how many Ding Dongs® and other junk food were stuffed into their orifices by the gluttons to yield such bloated bulkage. As I was being showered with their rabid spittle, I was forced to listen to their twisted version of the truth, no doubt the fabrication of minds saturated with lard and artificial ingredients of the toxic waste that they consume. Their minds, now the playthings of Satan, were no longer in their control. Pity, eh?

What Pseudo-professor Glenn had done on my behalf was very noble. However, his good deed most likely did more harm than good, unbeknownst to him. He saw what he perceived to be an injustice, and he did what he thought was right. However, wrong is right these days. Pseudo-professor Glenn is a fossil, a relic, and I don't mean his age. Yes, he is in his late seventies. What I am alluding to is his value system. He is an honest and good man, a man of integrity. I have come to view him as a friend, by the strictest definition of the word.

There's no telling what the saps at the Diploma Mill thought. The "dynamic duo" most likely believed that I coerced someone to feign concern for the alleged wrong done to me. Who really cares? It's a done deal. The most important outcome was that I learned who really was a friend. It's kind of hard for me to accept friendships, at least now that I have gone through the effort of disassociation. It is nice to know, though, that there are still real people whom I can trust, as opposed to the myriad satanic gargoyles sporting their hideous kabuki masks.

All in all, I am relieved that the ordeal at the Diploma Mill is over. I will finish out the term, which will insure enough cash flow to cover my taxes. I did not grovel and beg for mercy from the oppressors. Thus, I have retained my dignity. After that, I will have to remain both patient and vigilant. The deconstruction process will eventually see itself through completion. I have faith that it will. I will continue to be tested. I will forced to downsize my life-style even further. There is no telling how long I will be forced to eat prison food (read: beans and bread). My stamina will also be tested and my willpower as well.

Kangaroo Court

While I was still in town in the late afternoon yesterday, I felt famished. So, I walked to one of the cheesy Korean vendors along Fort Street mall and purchased a lard-filled muffin. As I mentioned before, the vendors purchase the entire stock of bulk lard-filled muffins from Costco®, wrap them individually, and sell them for $1 each. The fact that the muffins are shitty does little to justify the cheap price. I was in a perturbed state anyway. The realization that my business model for putting the "condotel" unit in the hotel rental pool was an utter mockery almost reduced me a sniveling blob of jelly. Instead, I became infuriated at my own stupidity. Little could appease me. If only someone would donate a new unregistered Glock® 9mm to me. Oh, that would be the happiest of my days.

I am, perhaps, even more agitated by my helplessness as I watch moms grow older. I have already observed that moms is walking a lot slower, although I am so thankful that moms is fully ambulatory. I also noticed that moms' hands shake a little more. There are many more signs of the feebleness of old age, but it breaks my heart to discuss them. I am always happy to spend time with moms, but I am overcome by sadness afterward. Everything else, including the idiotic problems of my own life, seem superficial in comparison. Overall, this truly is the turning point in my life. I will do what I believe to be right, even if it means that I must suffer the worldly ramifications of my decisions.

After a simple prison meal, I cleaned my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. I questioned the maddening ritual as I engaged in it. At 8pm, I departed for Ala Moana Center to spend part of the evening at Barnes & Noble®. The ride on the the prison transport (read: bus) became a moment of existential crisis. Once again, I questioned the benign nature of my nightly ritual. What purpose does it serve me to spend as little time as possible in my prison cell? Is this my feeble attempt to experience a base level of freedom? And, what of my coming emancipation from wage slavery? I've been through the same crap before. With each incident, I attributed my worldly demise to a possible lack of humility on my part. Cockiness. Oh, yes, I have been cocky, even while I claimed to be a humble monk. I am humbly cocky. I offer no remorse this time.

With the stunning revelation that I have been thwarted again by my own foolishness, I must go back to Square Zero. What I mean is my attempt to rid myself of the "condotel" unit. I am to remain imprisoned in my prison cell for a while longer. I simply should be thankful that I was able to accomplish the first step in the deconstruction process. Sheesh!

I thought about moms again. I felt like sobbing, but I held it in. The time is so short. I have had to waste that valuable time with asswipes and dickheads. I have been tormented by the former and the latter because I would not prostrate myself and worship their fat asses. I would not stand before their hideous kabuki-masked gargoyle craniums and let them shower me with their venomous spittle. I have no time fat mortal morons feigning to be deities. I can only honor someone when honor is due.

I wandered around Barnes & Noble® with no other purpose but to be anywhere else than where I had to be. I am playing the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle game. If it works for subatomic particles, it should work for the oversized cranium. By the way, the hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I perused a few interesting books. Then, I left at the usual time, around 10:05pm.

When I returned to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel), I ended up reading Robert Fisk's book, The Great War for Civilization," in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). Forget Leo Tolstoy's book, "War and Peace." It is almost impossible to put Fisk's book down. I finally decided to call it an evening at 12:45am.

At 2am, I was awakened by a group of people yelling and making all kinds of noise. I peered through the window of my prison cell, but I could see no activity. I surmised that the noise originated from the one of the upper floors of Quagmire Prison. The noise continued on until 5am. I was surprised that no one complained, and no one apparently called the police. Are all of the satanic gargoyles on Ambien®? Needless to say, I did not sleep well at all.

I finally arose at 8am this morning. I was completely groggy. I have not slept well in days. After hastily packing my gym bag, I departed for town. I ran into "Snowflake," one of my current Diploma Mill students, on the prison transport. That's her nickname, by the way. We had an interesting discussion. She described the chronology in which she was dropped from the women's basketball team, a tale reminiscent of my own current plight. Fortunately, with about month left in the term, she did not have her scholarship revoked. The coach who had dropped her from the team was eventually terminated, but "Snowflake" was not reinstated. Sadly, most of her former teammates have shunned her, most likely out of fear. Sound familiar?

Once I was back in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I loaded up on the free coffee. Then, I performed my daily run to Safeway® to find something worthy of eating. Aside from insuring that I would be awake, I did nothing else to prepare for the "kangaroo court" session with Les, the Assistant Vice President of Academic Affairs, scheduled later in the afternoon.

I spent the rest of the morning composing the "blog" and working on financial matters. I contacted my sole investment firm to finalize my 2006 IRA contribution. I established a new IRA money market account. My plans are to shift assets from my other IRA accounts once the NAV (Net Asset Value) of their respective shares returns to the original price.

After my one-hour of wage slavery, I attended the "kangaroo court" session with Les, the Assistant Vice President of Academic Affairs. Just prior to the "hearing," Pseudo-professor Glenn had stopped by with some bad news. Apparently, Nancy has a possible artery blockage in her heart. He also confided in me that he had personally phoned the Vice President of Academic Affairs and called my situation to the latter's attention. Otherwise, there would have been no "hearing." The "kangaroo court" was in session at 2:15pm. Kathy, the fat Femi-Nazi chairbitch was also present. The plaintiff's letter, the sole "evidence," was fairly juvenile. Portions were read aloud. I was presented a copy with the name deleted, but I didn't even bother to peruse it. Misquotes and fabrications abounded. I was pretty certain who the author was. I spent over 30 minutes defending myself against faulty accusations. Then, the "witch hunt" commenced. With the inability of the "dynamic duo" to substantiate the ludicrous charges, the questioning then targeted my pedagogy. At that point, I realized the real motive. In order to justify my termination, some kind of legitimate cause had to found. Otherwise, heaven forbid, I may be able to slap a lawsuit on their asses.

Clearly, I have a major difference with the Diploma Mill's model of pedagogy. I immediately recognized the "self-esteem" school of thought, the same sickening, nurturing philosophy which has produced a generation of useless dolts. The Vice President of Academic Affairs then identified what he thought were serious flaws in my methodology. Knowing that I was on a dead end street, I ceased offering any explanation. Instead, I asked, "What would like me to do?" There was a long pause. Obviously, the "dynamic duo" had no answers either. "Witch hunt" confirmed. Soon, there was nothing more to discuss. I was asked if I had any questions. I said no. Let it be known - I did not beg for my job. I shook both their slimy hands and walked out with my dignity. No formal termination process was initiated. I am a pseudo-professor emeritus. I will be emancipated from wage slavery in five weeks.

Gym time was at 3pm, very late because of the time wasted in the "kangaroo court" session. The hottie gym trainer was there. Baby was still looking hot. I was fatigued, but I completed my workout. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. As tired as I am, I will engage in the nightly ritual.

Paying the Piper

I was somewhat fatigued yesterday afternoon. At first, I felt invigorated about my idea to use a business model to exploit the "condotel" unit once I move out. However, as I thought more and more about my freedom, I became despondent and whatever energy that I possessed was easily spent. Yet, I cannot abandon my hope for freedom. I will have to rely upon sheer cleverness and cunning ability to succeed. I do not want to rely upon wage slavery. If this had been a better world, maybe I would not be so adamant.

I look forward to the day that I can move about at a leisurely pace. I would like to able to sit at the Barnes & Noble® Café at Kahala Mall every other morning and sip coffee, perhaps even order a delicious sandwich. I would be able to visit with moms without interference. I would continue to go to the gym. I would be done with the material world and wage slavery. I would live modestly in an inexpensive rental of some kind. And, no more "condotel" unit. Alas, such a life seems so far off.

I rode the prison transport (read: bus) to Ala Moana Center at 8pm. When I arrived, the place seemed extremely desolate. It turns out that Barnes & Noble® was closed for the pagan Easter festivities. Feeling dejected, I rode the prison transport to Waikiki Beach. I sat on a bench adjacent to Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One. What a waste of time. I could jump into a cesspool for the same kind of fun. With not much else to do, I made the trek back to Quagmire Prison (read: hotel). Along the way, I stopped by the ABC Store to purchase a big-ass can of cheap brewski. I went into lockdown immediately upon entering my prison cell (read: little shoebox). I watched the movie, "The Mothman Prophecies," on the tube and dropped back the whole big-ass can of cheap brewski. Not an evening even worthy of mention.

I departed for town at 8:15am this morning. After a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I was off to Kahala Mall. I met moms at 10:20am at the entrance to the mall. We ate lunch at Panda Express®. Moms and I only chatted briefly at the prison transport stop (read: bus stop). When we parted company, I returned to town to do my one-hour of wage slavery. I did my usual workout at the gym. Then, I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room.

I printed the relevant IRS documents pertaining to rental income and loss. A very sad story indeed. By my mental calculations, I will not come out ahead. I cannot deduct the loss from any "passive" real estate rental activity unless the loss offsets income from another "passive" business activity. In addition, I must deduct mortgage interest and the maintenance fee directly from the rental income as expense items. I would lose about $200 or more in tax deductions by doing so because the rental income is too low. In addition, I would have to find a room rental for myself that is lower than $600 per month in order to just break even. Thus, the only remaining option is to become a homeless "camper." I have hit rock bottom. The deconstruction is stalled. Why didn't I purchase a Glock®? There is a simple, but powerful, lesson to be learned here: the IRS is just another tool of oppression by the "system." The moneychangers and the powers-that-be use the ridiculous IRS tax structure to keep the wage slaves in permanent poverty.

I must eventually disassociate from all wage slaves. The problem is the philosophical rift that exists in their thinking as opposed to my own. The fact of the matter is that the majority of wage slaves are satanic gargoyles. They worship at the idol of the god of money. Sadly, they sold their souls to the sinister kahuna and allowed themselves to be infested by the epidemic of the "seven sins." What I have discovered is that they base their lives on the "wage slave fallacy." The fallacy assumes the power of annual earned income and its state of permanent tenure. The average wage slave will use gross annual income and project the latter over their enslaved lifetime. Thus, if a wage slave earns $50,000 per year before taxes, then the wage slave will multiply that amount by 35 years (roughly the number of working years before standard retirement) to obtain a whopping $1,750,000 lifetime income potential. The eyes of the wage slaves glazes over. Hubris sets in.

Armed with such a high aggregate income figure, the wage slave feels empowered to indulge in greed and consumerism. Monthly spending then approaches and exceeds parity with monthly expenses. Debt is incurred because the assumption is made that the wage slave will remain tenured for the long haul. Little thought is given to taxes and other payroll deductions. Very little thought is given to saving money. The wage slave also firmly believes that there will be steady increases in yearly income to eventually pay off the ever-increasing accumulated debt. In the business world, the rough analogy to the latter phenomenon is called pro forma analysis, whereupon the future value of money is the driving force for the present value. Wage slavery, like greed, feeds upon itself.

The conundrum that I currently face is that almost every available option in society require proof of earned income. Legitimacy is only derived from wage slavery. Yet, wage slavery is what normally ends up causing our demise. As a soon-to-be emancipated wage slave, I am finding that I will encounter opposition and obstacles in my daily transactions, not just financial. I will be impeded in many ways, which means that I will have rely upon sheer cleverness for survival. Otherwise, I will have to make capital investments and incur exorbitant expenses just to maintain the normal functions of day-to-day living. Ain't that some shit?

Circle of Fate

When I returned to my prison cell (read: little shoebox) yesterday afternoon, all was quiet. I ate the Focaccia bread snacks that I carried back with me. Then, I sat on the floor and read a few more pages of Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." I was so fatigued that I closed my eyes. What a pitiful sight that must have been. It was almost dark before a muscle spasm in my left arm jarred me back to reality. Alas, my humble dustpan and brush were calling out to me, so I cleaned my prison cell. After piddling around for a while, I decided to make the trek to Ala Moana Center. I reflected on my situation while I rode the prison transport (read: bus). I am so foolish and so blinded. I had gone off on a desperate internal tirade earlier about my so-called "living situation," not realizing that I am fortunate enough to have options. I cannot make rash decisions lest I end up in a worse predicament.

Few people have the option to live off of investment income. I am not exactly in the most optimal position, but I do have the limited ability to remain unemployed for a while. I owe that luxury to my parents and the good fortune that I reaped after the sale of Chez Loser. As much as I despise my prison cell, I made a choice to purchase the mortgage given the facts at hand. It was a sound decision at the time. Obviously, everything changes in hindsight.

I neglected to mention that I had called the Nu'uanu YMCA earlier yesterday afternoon to inquire about room rates. Whoa! The rates went up. A room runs $33 daily or $210 per week. Overall, that is equivalent to the average amount for a shared rental in a house or condo, if you can believe it. A studio or one-bedroom apartment runs $1,000 per month and up. If I vacate the "condotel" unit, I would still have to pay about $350 to cover the mortgage and maintenance fee after the net hotel rental pool income. I would either break-even or come out slightly behind by concurrently renting a room at the YMCA. A very depressing situation. We are looking at the moment of truth. Am I ready to become a homeless "camper"?

I tried to relax and think while the prison transport chugged along ever so slowly. That's how my life should be, I thought to myself. When I am finally emancipated from wage slavery, will I really need to worry about a good night's sleep? I won't have to rush to the urinal ... er, Diploma Mill ... to perform my wage slave tasks. Alas, that will be the hardest part of the first stage of the deconstruction process. I won't need to be anywhere. Ultimately, I can live without the free coffee at the Diploma Mill. And, I can try to cut down on my computer usage. I must confess that I have become far too committed to the "blog." I could still make daily entries with my beloved Palm® TX. In fact, I composed part of the "blog" right after I arrived at Ala Moana Center.

The most important consideration is my time that I spend with moms. I cannot be diverting my time to other more ridiculous tasks. I have plenty of time for that later. Suddenly, I was aggrieved by the subliminal fear that haunts me daily. What will I do when moms is gone? For me, it's a scary thought because I will have nothing of essence left, having deconstructed my social life a long time ago. I do not want to go back to such a life-style, but I do not want to end up a hopeless wanderer. For now, though, I must be very careful about making impulsive or rash decisions. I need to slow down and let the deconstruction properly assimilate my soul.

Well, as to be expected, I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble®. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I wandered around until 10:15pm. I rode the prison transport to Waikiki Beach. I sat on one of the benches adjacent to Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One. After a few minutes, I walked back toward Central Waikiki, sadly noting how truly ugly and filthy the whole place appeared. Upon my return to Quagmire prison (read: hotel), I sat in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) and read Fisk's book. Lance, the only watch commander (read: front desk person) who is friendly to me, asked me if I wanted a Subway® sandwich. Apparently, the night crew had ordered pizza for dinner. "Sure," I said, and thanked him as well. The sandwich was delicious. I read my book for an hour before going into lockdown in my prison cell.

This morning, I tried to sleep in until 9am. Yes, I have had to resort to the dreaded "Brookstone® treatment¹" again. I ate my usual prison brunch, packed my gym bag, procured the Sunday paper in the prison compound, and left for town. The ride on the prison transport was enjoyable until an elder couple sat in front. The wife of the old codger must have sprayed a gallon of perfume on herself. My eyes were tearing up, and I felt like gagging. I wondered if she had actually sprayed depleted uranium on herself by mistake. As always, I must concede to the perpetrator and inconvenience myself in the process. I moved to another seat.

Once in town, I sat outside in the lanai area of the Beretania Street Apartments. At 11am, I purchased a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's®. The server was extremely rude. What can I expect from a wage slave? I have to put myself in her shoes, having to put up with idiotic customers and being oppressed by the "man²." I walked to Kukui Plaza and sat in the deserted mall area. I sipped my coffee and listened to smooth jazz playing on the background music system until noon. As pathetic as that may sound, I fully enjoyed sitting there. Most of the public benches (except for the beaches) have been removed from the entire city. The intended goal was to discourage the loitering and congregating activities of the "undesirables" (i.e., derelicts, the homeless et al.).

At noon, I found myself in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I vowed not to spend the whole afternoon there. Gym time was at 1:30pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. During my shower, an idea struck me. What if I set myself up as a sole proprietorship business and put the "condotel" unit back in the hotel rental pool? When I pay rent for another place, I could possibly claim a portion, say 20 percent, as a home office tax deduction. I could also purchase a new computer and depreciate it over three years, yet another deduction. The $300 or so shortfall each month could be considered an operating loss and may be deductible as well.

I slowed my pace down even more. I walked to Taco Bell® and purchased two Cheesy Bean and Rice Burritos. I sat in the dining area and took my time to savor each bite of the delicious burritos. I was back in the student computer lab at 3:30pm. Aside from composing the "blog," I spent time perusing IRS documentation to see if my business plan had any merit. I will report my findings during the coming week. So far, things look promising. Well, the nightly ritual beckons me. So, I will be back at Barnes & Noble® tonight for certain.

I am beginning to display the psychological symptoms which accompany the deconstruction process. Nothing has meaning. Expenses make no sense. The infrastructure of society becomes nonsensical. There is an intense desire to flee, while there is an overwhelming sense of being tethered to a finite radius. Disappointment always looms on the horizon because non-conformity to the "system" is severely punished. Freedom is a small moving target. Missing that target means returning to the "system," a little more humiliated and a lot poorer.

Sometimes I honestly do not know what freedom really means to me. I may not recognize it if I were to actually achieve it. On the other hand, there may not be any freedom. The only freedom that is left may exist solely in the mind. In the physical world, freedom is all but gone. Previously, I had stated that, perhaps, only the homeless have truly found freedom. Do freedom and dereliction go hand-in-hand? I'm afraid so. Anything else costs too much money. Poverty is still above dereliction, so it does not afford freedom either. The "system" has weaved an intricate web of slavery. As mentally fatigued as I am, my quest for freedom will continue.

I have been enjoying the reading of Robert Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization." At 1,000 pages, it is an epic literary work. I am, however, feeling increasingly forlorn with each page read. I can see no hope for humanity. Wars, violence, and injustice continue to perpetuate and worsen. Why must it be that way? I don't really know if there is a place on the planet worth habitating. Even in the "land of plenty," there are so many problems. I, for one, am seeking a simple life. In the "land of plenty," there is no simple life. Seeking the simple life will only result in incarceration for vagrancy. A minimum standard of living is forced upon by law. Yet, that minimum standard of living is proving to be beyond our means. Every day, I keep asking myself why it is costing me $1,900 per month on average to live like a pauper. I don't understand. And, every three months or so, the latter amount increases while the real standard of living itself is lowered.

The wage slave's solution is to increase wage slavery by seeking out one or more jobs in addition to the primary wage slave job. Working 60 to 80 hours per week is not my idea of survival. It is slavery, plain and simple. As more and more wage slaves adopt this concept, the cost of living will adjust upward for everyone else as well. The prime example is the housing and rental market. Upon closer scrutiny, we can see the real reason, the real driving force, causing prices to rise. Yes, greed is at play, one of the "seven sins." Greed feeds upon greed. Unless greed can be stopped in its tracks, it will continue to fester and spread like a benign tumor. There will be an end time when the "system" implodes, but that could be ten years from now. In the meantime, those of us who do not want to be part of the debauchery will still be spent and discarded like an old pair of shoes.

¹Treatment using the Brookstone® Tranquil Moments® "sound therapy placebo."
²The "Man," another connotation describing the "system."

Hotel Paradiso

I decided to spend the evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking fine. I was mostly preoccupied with decisions about my immediate future. Thus, I was simply wandering around with no purpose. I departed for Waikiki at 10pm. The prison transport (read: bus) wasn't very crowded. However, I was the only person standing. I alighted in West Waikiki. I walked along the main promenade. I observed all of the tacky new construction and renovation projects along the way. Sickening! I continued my stroll all the way to Lou's Kabuki Theater at Pavilion One in Waikiki Beach. I only observed a few of the familiar homeless along the way. I wondered if they had been relocated to the various new homeless shelters in West O'ahu. Most of the downtown homeless have disappeared as well. A lot of taxpayer money is being allocated to remove the homeless from public view. The reason? Altruism? Heck no! Visible homeless derelicts hurt the sacred cow, the tourist industry.

I was growing significantly more perturbed as I approached Quagmire Prison (read: hotel), which necessitated the procurement of a big-ass can of cheap cerveza. I dropped back the whole big-ass can of cerveza once I was in lockdown in my prison cell. I was only mildly sedated. At 5am, I was awakened by the new occupants of the prison cell next to mine. Endless slammin' soirée. Fools going in and out every few minutes. Thus, after only four hours of sleep, I decided that I should begin my day.

I found myself back in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill at 9am. The place reminds me of a urinal more and more. I made a pot of coffee, which was a necessity this morning. After downing a few cups of coffee, I staggered over to Safeway® to purchase food to eat. More air-filled energy bars. More lard-filled Tina's® burritos. Between the idiocy at the Diploma Mill and the shitty food that I have been eating, I am doing myself in. I have got to escape the madness.

Gym time was at 1:30pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I was back in the faculty computer room to compose the "blog." I will remain in town until 5pm. Then, I will most certainly embark on the nightly ritual. Lord, have mercy!

What I need in order to prevent my own financial meltdown is for the Fed to increase short-term interest rates to 6 to 7 percent. Fat chance! The Fed is itching to lower interest rates to near-zero again. The reason is simple. Alan Greenspan's "experiment" created the so-called "bubble economy," which was only possible by means of extreme greed. Yes, one of the "seven sins." Easy money and easy credit caused the financial services sector to balloon and ultimately displace manufacturing and production as the primary force driving the economy. Coupled with "globalization," the domestic economy quickly diverted itself to debt and debt instruments. The size of what we call "debt" is now so huge that it can never be paid down. Radical schemes, including the devaluation of the dollar, may or may not work, and the ramifications of such programs may have a more detrimental effect than intended. Call it financial "blowback," if you will.

I don't expect my wishes to come true while the Fed is under Ben Bernanke. His hands are tied. Greenspan laid down the foundation for a serial bubble economy, one that is too late to reverse. Consumer spending is now 75 percent of GDP. Thus, nothing must impede the flow of easy money or easy credit to consumers. Will it come crashing down? Sooner or later, something's gotta give. My bet is on an oil price shock. In the meantime, we are all going to be drained of our money one way or another.

The hard decision for the next deconstruction step is coming up for me soon. What I mean is my decision concerning my so-called "living arrangements." The "condotel" unit has outlived its usefulness, and the living conditions are horrendous, not that conditions will be any better in an apartment complex (read: mausoleum). I have gone through the multitude of scenarios already. I am left with three options:

1. Find a decent and cheap rental
2. Live at the YMCA
3. Take up homeless "camping."

I must put the "condotel" unit into the hotel rental pool. Since I will be unemployed, I should have plenty of time to tend to any tax-related issues. The "condotel" unit will remain in the hotel rental pool until it is sold, whenever that may be. The "catch" is that I need to find a cheap place right now.

Urban Nomad

Once again, I spent the evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. I have observed that the "booksellers" remain quite busy throughout their shifts. In other words, the "bookseller" job is not a leisurely one. I purchased the book by Robert Fisk titled, "The Great War for Civilization: The Conquest of the Middle East," after much deliberation. I had some reservations about investing $20 in one of Fisk's works. I have often read his commentaries and felt that he was biased toward the West. I departed at 10pm for Waikiki. I spent an hour or so in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) reading Fisk's book. It is about 1,000 pages in length, but what an interesting treatise!

This morning, I slept in until 9am. I ate whatever I had on-hand for brunch. I read Fisk's book, "The Great War for Civilization," for about an hour. Then, I departed for town with my stuffed gym bag at 10:45am. The prison transport (read: bus) was extremely crowded with irritating satanic gargoyles. I almost lost it. Once in town, I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread and two energy bars. There was no coffee. I had to procure a cup of coffee at Mickey Dee's®, all the while toting my heavy gym bag. The whole of Fort Street Mall was filled with cigarette smoke thanks to the myriad nicotine-addicted fat slobs. I ended up sitting in Kukui Plaza. I cannot even express how sick I am of this life of endless crowds, even more endless noise, cigarette smoke, and fat slob satanic gargoyles. I sat and drank my coffee while I listened to smooth jazz playing on the background music system. I noticed that the energy bars were much lighter. Obviously, more leavening agents are being used. Thus, the energy bar looks the same in size as before, but the relative size is offset by large air pockets formed in the dough. In the parlance of cutting-edge business strategy, the latter would serve as an example of the "offering more of less" paradigm. I tried to relax and enjoy the day. I composed the "blog" on my beloved Palm® TX. Alas, not much could distract me from observing the pathetic and empty existence we all share. Each and every day, we are robbing ourselves and each other of our dignities.

Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. At least there was liquid soap in the shower dispensers. Sheesh! I departed for Waikiki at 4pm. The ride on the prison transport was actually pleasant. I ate my prison dinner (read: beans and bread). I cleaned my prison cell (read: little shoebox) with my humble dustpan and brush. Then, I deliberated whether I would engage in the rest of my evening ritual. What to do ... what to do ...

Whether I am terminated from the Diploma Mill next week or I am allowed to finish the term through the middle of May, I will have to wean myself of the faculty computer room. I am spending way too much time there. I am simply piddling away my life in front of the computer. That's not necessarily bad since I have nothing else to do. Then again, sitting in my prison cell (little shoebox) or in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby) is detestable at best.

Even if I sold the "condotel" unit, I would end up renting some kind of tomb (read: mausoleum) or prison cell somewhere else. Again, I would be paying a lot of dough to live in substandard conditions - substandard because I fail to equate any of those dumps to the definition of a "home." I do need to find a "home," but I seriously doubt that I will ever satisfy that quest. Ultimately, I see myself living day-to-day in YMCA-type housing or becoming a homeless "camper." I cannot justify spending more than $400 per month on housing.

My dependence on computers is another issue. While I have access to the faculty computer room, I can use my beloved Palm® TX as an adjunctive computer. However, since all of my financial transactions are now accomplished through the Net, I may need a reliable notebook computer to fulfill the latter functions in the near future. I will attempt to test the ability of the Palm® TX first. I have finally sent myself the font-span tag, so I will be able to directly update the "blog" with my Palm® TX. Mistakes, however, can only be fixed with a regular computer. If I choose to purchase a computer, I will probably opt for a cheap notebook version. I would most likely replace the operating system with Linux.

Once the full deconstruction of my life is finished, then I am not even certain whether there will be a need to update the "blog" frequently. Eventually, even Anonder discontinued his journal. What really is there left to discuss once the exodus from society is completed? As for me, I still have a ways to go before my own exodus is complete. Let me say, though, that the emancipation from wage slavery is a big step in the deconstruction process. I will lose all validity in the material world. Already, I am being shunned by others who disagree with my decision.

My days, once I am emancipated from wage slavery, will be filled with ample idle time. My only commitment will be my workouts at the gym. I will have nowhere else to go because there is nowhere else to go. I am not going to pay good money to be entertained or to have access to a place to hang out. Thus, the daily content of the "blog" will repeat an even more scant, albeit mundane, routine. The bulk of the content would rely upon my thoughts, the journey of the mind, as it were. If I can further isolate myself from society-at-large, I will have even less to discuss. What will I be left with? I suppose that I can follow a similar path to spiritual enlightenment as did Anonder. My path will obviously not parallel his. Spiritual enlightenment is still spiritual enlightenment, no matter what path is taken, I suppose. I could also be more vigilant about my observations of the secular Apocalypse or even Armageddon.

All in all, I cannot even stress how much I look forward to further distancing myself from the myriad asswipes and dickheads, the so-called "pillars of society." There can be no meaning derived from associating with such fools. They are agents of the "system," disciples of the sinister kahuna. They are the blind leading the blind to mutual destruction.

Incidentally, I transferred $700 from my investment accounts to my local bank yesterday. I will still have to make another major transfer later to cover expenses and taxes. I still have not made my 2006 IRA contribution, possibly my last. In addition to the prior reported $10 per month increase in the maintenance fee for the "condotel" unit, there will also be an increase $13 per month mortgage payment increase because of the ridiculous new property tax structure. It seems as though my cost of living increases significantly every month even though I have continued to cut my expenses. How do the satanic gargoyles keep up?

In a final note, I must qualify my previous statements about domesticated pets. As useless as they are, I would give preferential treatment to domestic pets over their dumb satanic gargoyle owners any day.

East of Eden

I ended up at Barnes & Noble® last night. No hottie "bookseller." Boohoo. I met Debbie, my realtor, and her mother at the entrance. I had to give Debbie another pass card to the "condotel" unit. We chatted for a bit before parting company. I spent the rest of the time perusing a few books, but I was really stewing over the idiocy of the escalated Diploma Mill situation. Naturally, I had to procure a big-ass can of cerveza to drop back in my prison cell (read: little shoebox).

This morning, I left for town at 8:30am. Once I consumed a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, I felt invigorated. I purchase a couple of lard-filled Tina's® burritos and two energy bars at Safeway®. I reluctantly performed my one-hour of wage slavery. Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. I was back in the faculty computer room before 4pm. I will begin the nightly ritual at 6:20pm.

I expect to be formerly terminated at the Diploma Mill next week. The situation has escalated, unbeknownst to me, to one of the higher offices in the administration. No doubt, someone else has been appointed to assume my classes until the end of the term. Oddly, I have yet to hear the charges against me. Not that I really care. The only inconvenience with formal termination is that I will not able to hang out in the faculty computer room anymore. Aside from that, I had no intention of remaining a pseudo-professor. My immediate concern is to prevent myself from going off in "Lester Burnham¹" fashion during the upcoming farcical "kanagaroo court."

I long for the day that I will never have to tolerate the endless number of self-absorbed dickheads around me. There is more to life than dealing with the same petty bullshit day in and day out. Superficiality rules society, which in turn is causing the demise of the latter.

There is an overall false sense of "self-actualization" amongst the masses because an overabundance of material possessions and overinflated egos vis-à-vis the "self-esteem" movement have substituted for the lower strata of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Obviously, we are looking at a house of cards, of which the glue that holds it all together is the epidemic of the "seven sins." Hence, pettiness and stupidity are the basis of everyday life.

My hand has been forced to expedite my exodus from society, although I cannot say that it was entirely premature. I could have tried harder to conform and remain in the "system" for a couple more years. Yet, I would not have come out any further ahead than I am now. At best, I could have maintained the status quo. I would still fall short. I am praying that I will be able to realize the complete deconstruction of my current life-style within a few months. The sale of the "condotel" unit is my primary concern. Believe me, the sooner I get out of Babylon, the better off I will be. I don't think that most people realize how trapped they really are. Consumerism has allowed the masses an easy route to convert to satanic gargoyles in a vain attempt to ease the pain. Yet, now they are all caught up in an endless vortex of indentured servitude. The vortex only increases in strength. Soon, there's no way to escape it.

It is the roving money trap that is ensnaring everyone in its path. The buck literally has to stop here. Only the individual can make that decision. In effect, that's exactly what Anonder had done. With well over $1.5 million in assets, he could have easily gone "hog wild" and indulged in every whim. Instead, he chose a mendicant path. In the end, he has obtained the ultimate freedom. I was not as careful in my planning over the years, much to my disappointment. I had a vague idea about where I would end up, but I did little to prepare. Anonder was much more methodical, and it paid off. Sitting around and thinking about nothing or chokin' da chicken is probably not what one would consider "self-actualization." Is amassing countless crap and indenturing oneself permanently to wage slavery any more fulfilling? I think not. Everyone fears boredom (read: the "existential vacuum²"), but boredom is far better than permanent indentured servitude.

¹Lester Burnham, the main character from the film, "American Beauty."
²Existential vacuum, a term coined by Viktor Frankl, to describe the emptiness created in one's life in modern society.

Pet Rock Symbiosis

Another evening at Barnes & Noble®. The hottie "bookseller" was on duty. Baby was looking mighty fine. I have observed that are quite a few books about Iran that have recently appeared on the bookshelves. Naturally, they are all negative. The common theme is, of course, the "insane" nuclear weapons ambitions of the current "regime." One book dredged up the old "hostage crisis" from 1980, citing the precedent of alleged "terrorism" in Iran from early on. The books was damned near two inches thick. Hardly anyone can recall that students were the actual hostage takers, not "Islamo-Fascist terrorists." The "war pimps" are busy flooding any media venue with propaganda to beat the war drums. When I returned to my prison cell (read: little shoebox), I completed reading the last few pages of Kevin Phillips' book, "American Theocracy."

I was back in town by 9am this morning. In the past two days, I have been trying to slow down my pace. Can it really get any slower? Yes, it can. Last night, as I looked in the mirror, I saw the lines of age becoming much more predominant on the face of stone. More strands of gray hair are sprouting atop the oversized cranium. The horror of it all almost cracked the impervious stoneface of the ol' lavahead. Yet, I am fortunate. For the most part, I look between 10 and 20 years younger than I am. My moderate gym regimen has kept any excess weight off, which also subtracts years of physical aging. Alas, there is no question that my days as a wage slave are numbered. I have too little time left to needlessly tolerate stupidity.

I drank a few cups of free coffee in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. At 9:30am, I sauntered over to Safeway® to purchase a few energy bars to drink with my free coffee. I did my one-hour of wage slavery like a good automaton. Sad to say, there will be one drawback to my emancipation from wage slavery. If I must return to wage slavery in the future, I would have to work an eight-hour day at the peon rate of $7 per hour in order to earn the equivalent of one hour as a pseudo-professor. Obviously, unwitting agents of the "system" would chastise me for being so foolish to let such an ideal situation pass by. Why don't I just go in and beg for my job? We already know the answer, don't we?

Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. Boohoo. When I returned to the faculty computer room, I discovered that I had an e-mail from the Vice President of Academic Affairs. Thus, my situation has gone from bad to worse, I assume. I am being called in like a schoolboy gone bad because of an alleged "classroom situation." Obviously, Kathy, the fat Femi-Nazi chairbitch, could not handle the problem herself, although this was the first time that I have been made officially aware of any problem. No doubt, the whole purpose of the meeting will be a show of power to make me cower in fear. Perhaps the fools want me to beg for my job. Or, perhaps they will terminate me immediately. I really don't care. I have already made up my mind to emancipate myself from wage slavery. The nightly ritual begins at 6:20pm.

An unbelievable amount of "mainstream" news coverage has been devoted to the poisoned pet food débâcle. Frankly, who cares? Domesticated dogs and cats make up the pet population. The proliferation of these animals only add to the destructive ecological footprint of citizens of First World countries. There is no fundamental need for such animals. In fact, the companionship that is valued by those useless pets is the direct result of a decomposing society. As more and more people convert themselves to rabid satanic gargoyles, trust and companionship as well as every other virtue of "civilized" society has disappeared into a quagmire of animalistic behaviors. That's right, pets are less animalistic than their so-called "human" owners.

Furthermore, domestic animal populations are far higher than would be normally found in nature. Sadly, we have a booming population of useless pets as thousands upon thousands of species of life go into extinction. Even worse, when the pets outlive their usefulness, the owners abandon them somewhere. The symbiotic relationship between the pet and its owner is parasitic at best. The stray pets quickly un-domesticate and present a health hazard to the community, which then necessitates organizations such as the ASPCA and the Humane Society to rescue and house the animals. I would be more concerned about the impoverished population who are forced to eat reconstituted pet food as opposed to real food because they cannot afford the latter. The only good pet is a Pet Rock².

An interesting article by Sharon Smith titled, "Circuit City's Guinea Pigs," appeared on the Counterpunch site. Circuit City®, as you may recall, recently terminated 3,400 of its rank-and-file employees as a cost-cutting measure. I am certain that no one really cares. "That will never happen to me. I'm just too valuable," I can hear the fools saying. That's Generation Me¹talking. Naturally, executive management did not suffer any pay cuts. The Circuit City® terminations are a bold experiment to see how far the business "hatchet men" can oppress and abuse the wage slaves without repercussion. If there is little uproar, then myriad corporations will follow suit. Needless to say, no matter what Circuit City® management perpetrates against its workforce, the "shop 'til you drop" satanic gargoyle consumers will still line up for bargain products, all made in China. Where's the outrage?

Well, at least Iran released the British sailors with no incident. In fact, Iranian President Ahmadinejad met with the crew upon their release, which provided an excellent photo opportunity. I suspect that the Iranian government knows that a conflagration with the US is imminent. The images of President Ahmadinejad, smiling and laughing with the British sailors, will be indelibly etched into the minds of the world citizenry. When the US finally begins the bombing campaign, those images will be remembered.

¹Generation Me, from the book of the same title by Jean Twenge.
²Pet Rocks were ordinary gray pebbles bought at a builder's supply store and marketed as if they were live pets.

Dinero Decadence

Was I at Barnes & Noble® last night? Was the hottie "bookseller" working? Is the sky usually blue? Later, back at Quagmire Prison (read: hotel), I spent an hour or so reading Kevin Phillips's book, "American Theocracy," in the prison compound (read: hotel lobby). Reading the last section of the book concerning the national debt crisis has given me a better understanding of the composition of the economy.

I seriously doubt that the general populace is even aware of the metamorphosis of the US economy other than the fact that the US has gone from being a "creditor nation" to being a "debtor nation." As we have watched the manufacturing sector erode into nothingness, we had little idea of what took its place or the ramifications. According to Phillips, the financial and real estate sector (i.e., FIRE) has directly replaced manufacturing as our primary industry. In other words, most of the economic activity in the US is comprised of moving "paper" around. The wealth disparity that we are experiencing is the direct result of the sacrifice in actual production and the increase of paper shuffling. Obviously, the most immediate effect is the loss of jobs. More nefarious is the compensation strata of "paper"-shuffling. Hence, we observe very large compensations for corporate executives and a pittance for the rank-and-file.

The economic quagmire that we are stuck in involves much more than the current account deficit, the foreign trade deficit, private and consumer debt, national debt, and the various "bubble" economies created by the Fed. The synergistic effect of the combination of factors is potentially lethal, however. Phillips' cites several examples from history, all of which do not exactly match the current situation. The decline of the Spanish empire was similar. Bonner and Wiggin also cite the example of Spain in their book, "Empire of Debt." During its heyday, Spain had acquired a large amount of gold and silver (i.e., hard currency) from the exploitation of its vassal states. The gold and silver increased the wealth of Spain, but eventually produced a large rentier¹ class. Production diminished because it was cheaper to import goods. Poverty increased. The hard currency had brought prosperity, but only to the elite class. Rather than invest the hard currency to revitalize production, the money was lent out. Thus, the proceeds of the loans were the basis of economic activity.

It is quite clear that the example of Spain does not exactly resemble the current situation of the US. At least Spain possessed hard currency in the form of gold and silver. What is important about the analogy is the rise of the financial services sector as the mainstay of the economy. In the case of the US, the financial services sector is selling debt internationally. One must wonder why anyone would purchase debt, but that's exactly what several large Asian economies (e.g., China, Japan et al.) have done. The motivation to purchase US debt was to insure continued trade, clearly a matter of self-interest. Even within the US, debt is being bundled and sold, which is why debt is growing uncontrollably and the economy is said to be doing well. What we have is an extremely large rentier economy living off of the proceeds by selling debt and fiat currency. To understand this fact is to understand why the economy hasn't yet collapsed.

The US economy, though, is held in a precarious balance with three main components:

• The dollar as the world's reserve currency and trading currency for oil
• The trade deficit ransom that forces nations with real production to purchase US debt
• The US military's guarantee to keep oil flowing at all costs

Consumer spending (and over-reach) is the engine which keeps the US economy rolling, as is the out-of-control government spending and borrowing. Hence, the reason why the Fed had rolled back interest rates to fuel the so-called "housing bubble" (i.e., "equity extraction). In the end, I still believe that my prior premise was correct. The Fed is looking for another reason to lower interest rates again. The only restraining force is the likelihood of inflation, which could slow down the economy. The Fed is not all too concerned about the subprime mortgage market collapse. The subprime mortgage market consists of "bottom feeders²" who were destined to live in poverty anyway. The foreclosed property will be resold to high-end developers. More money will be made. The Fed would be more concerned if the prime mortgage market were affected. Portions of the remaining middle class must continue in wage slavery indefinitely to keep the consumption cycle going.

I surmise that none of the satanic gargoyles or anyone else really cares about the economy, that is, as long as they are not part of the casualties. However, it is easy to see why investment accounts are not yielding much in the way of dividends. It's also easy to see why many investments are actually losing money. The losses are being distributed amongst the small investors. When a portion of an investment portfolio goes bad, someone has to pay for the loss. That would be you and I.

The ominous signs are clear. The dollar has never recovered from its precipitous drop in value against other currencies such as the Euro. Oil prices will never return to $30 per barrel, and most likely will remain above the $60 per barrel mark from this point forward. Gold prices, although manipulated, will most likely remain at historical highs. So, what are we to do? Will saving money be a viable plan? Where should the investments be made? What if the economy were to really collapse? Snake oil, anyone?

I slept in until 8:20am this morning. However, I was back in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill by 9am after a somewhat relaxing ride on the prison transport (read: bus). After a few cups of free coffee, I felt invigorated. I walked to Safeway® to purchase a loaf of bread and four energy bars. I did my one-hour of wage slavery. Gym time was at 2:15pm. No hottie gym trainer. No liquid soap in half of the dispensers in the showers. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the faculty computer room. I read the alternative news sources and composed the "blog." All I really care about is the "blog." The nightly ritual begins at 6:20pm.

I have been conducting an internal debate about my immediate future. Here are some of the issues:

Health Insurance. Tentatively, I have decided to pass on health insurance. Since I will no longer qualify for the Diploma Mill group plan, then I would have to pay for a costly "bare bones" individual plan. I am not even sure if any health plan will provide decent health care. My last year under a health plan was a nightmare (as chronicled in the journal). I don't really know if I ever want a health plan again. If I became chronically ill in my old age, would I want to prolong my life and live in agony? Would I want to go through endless operations and treatments, yet end up bed-ridden? As for dental and eye care, I would be able to pay for services on a cash basis. For now, the gym is my health plan.

"Condotel" Unit. I am eager to sell the "condotel" unit. As the days go on, I see it only as another means of enslavement. Mind you, I had planned my finances intricately to include the "condotel" unit as the most feasible residence option while I remained in wage slavery. Times have obviously changed. I need my full freedom. I am also contemplating fringe living as opposed to leasing an apartment (read: tomb), either a voluntary bout of homelessness or refuge in a place like the YMCA. Why would I need anything more?

The "condotel" unit is my biggest immediate concern since it is tying up a lot of money in equity. However, there is no telling when the unit will sell, It's been listed now for almost three months.

In reviewing my expenses for the month (see below), I can already ascertain that I will be a few dollars short of breaking even each month (post-emancipation from wage slavery). I can accept a $282 monthly loss coincident with "miscellaneous loans." Although a reduction in the principal amount will be unavoidable, the recategorization will prevent a mental breakdown. Alas, I am a hostage to the economy.

¹A rentier state is a term in political science and international relations theory used to classify those states which derive all or a substantial portion of their national revenues from the "rent" of indigenous resources to external clients. The term could also be applied to those nations which trade on their strategic resources (such as permitting the development of an important military base in their territory). Dependent as they are on this source of income, rentier states may generate rents externally by manipulating the global political and economic environment. Such manipulation may include monopolies, trading restrictions, and the solicitation of subsidies or aid in exchange for political influence.
²Bottom feeder is defined as a "leech, or in other words a total lack of responsibility to provide for oneself. Relies heavily upon friends, neighbors or anyone really for sustenance. A slacker through and through." (Source: Urban Dictionary)