Same ol' shit, with the exception that I restored my extreme monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. Not much else getting done on this end. What's that? Sloth, you say?
Sloth is not an issue for me since it is essentially a religious "sin." Religion is a farce, so sloth is of no importance. Well, how about the secular definition? Laziness could be a problem if one's survival is at stake. However, laziness is a classification coined by rabid disciples of Frederick Taylor. Guilt associated with laziness had been indoctrinated into modern culture in order to create self-policed slave states. Laziness (or sloth) can cause moral and ethical lapses because of indifference, we are told. That's the same as saying, "Idle hands are the devil's playground." How credible is that?
Of course, if the idle hands belong to the moneychangers and powers-that-be, then rampant evil is certainly a highly probable outcome. They have the time and resources to delve into major moral and ethical lapses that can affect millions of rank-and-file peons. Laziness on my part, as poor as I am, can only affect me.
That damned fudgepacker Joker! Don't mind me. I just thoroughly enjoy saying that. No outing this evening. I missed the bus anyway. Aside from the detestable "condotel" unit and my truck, I am going to sell whatever I can that's worth anything. I am starting up a "nine" fund. That's right, I will eventually be purchasing a 9mm weapon. No details are necessary.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Lucky Piérre
Same ol' shit. At the library, I chatted with the "homeless" buddy. The usual innocuous homeless discussions ensued. Well, that's the extent of my entire social life, as it were. Great, isn't it?
As I was dressing after my workout and shower at the gym this afternoon, I was privy to view one of the Jack Links® "Messin' with Sasquatch" series of advertisements on the tube in the locker room. The one I viewed was appropriately titled, "Paper Bag Pop." I almost burst out laughing, but I refrained. Thank goodness. Otherwise, I would have looked like a true dork. The "Messin' with Sasquatch" series has apparently been around for a while, but I don't watch the tube at all. So, it was all new to me.
Why did I find the cheesy advertisement funny? I don't know. I viewed a few other video clips in the series that are available on-line. None were as humorous as "Paper Bag Pop." Recently, Urban Coyote urged me in his e-mail to study comedy as a means to circumvent the alleged effects of acedia. Well, that would be a difficult task because I find little in the way of modern comedy to be funny. I've viewed my fair share of comedy flicks, only to end up disappointed. I've watched a few sitcoms, only to end up equally disappointed. As for comedy on the tube, were it not for the canned laugh tracks, the material would be nakedly exposed as crap.
What exactly constitutes "funny"? And, what invokes laughter? The concept of humor is strange because a "sense of humor" is entirely personal. I have often wondered whether the perception of humor is partly genetic. What is funny to one person is often not funny to another. As for me, I am very critical of comedy or humor. If it's too stupid, too simple, too obvious, too rote, too stereotypical, or too "corny," then I am more put off than anything else.
I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, but only for a short while. No beverages. Once I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was privy to listen to Joker the faggot stomping around upstairs and dropping heavy objects on the floor. Of course, once I learned that he was a gay blade, I no longer needed to puzzle over his peculiar ways. I can only wonder whether he was "Lucky Piérre" in his now-defunct "partnership." Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Joker was probably a closet homosexual when he attended high school. Remember that he and I were in the same graduating class. I can't even imagine what it must have been like to be gay over 40 years ago. No doubt, he has suffered from psychological trauma, alienation, ridicule, possible physical abuse, discrimination, and so forth. Heck, his parents, who reside in Aina Haina, probably disowned him. Let's face it, Joker is a loser. The fudgepacker is mentally ill. If I had the opportunity, I would eagerly help put him out of his misery for good.
As I was dressing after my workout and shower at the gym this afternoon, I was privy to view one of the Jack Links® "Messin' with Sasquatch" series of advertisements on the tube in the locker room. The one I viewed was appropriately titled, "Paper Bag Pop." I almost burst out laughing, but I refrained. Thank goodness. Otherwise, I would have looked like a true dork. The "Messin' with Sasquatch" series has apparently been around for a while, but I don't watch the tube at all. So, it was all new to me.
Why did I find the cheesy advertisement funny? I don't know. I viewed a few other video clips in the series that are available on-line. None were as humorous as "Paper Bag Pop." Recently, Urban Coyote urged me in his e-mail to study comedy as a means to circumvent the alleged effects of acedia. Well, that would be a difficult task because I find little in the way of modern comedy to be funny. I've viewed my fair share of comedy flicks, only to end up disappointed. I've watched a few sitcoms, only to end up equally disappointed. As for comedy on the tube, were it not for the canned laugh tracks, the material would be nakedly exposed as crap.
What exactly constitutes "funny"? And, what invokes laughter? The concept of humor is strange because a "sense of humor" is entirely personal. I have often wondered whether the perception of humor is partly genetic. What is funny to one person is often not funny to another. As for me, I am very critical of comedy or humor. If it's too stupid, too simple, too obvious, too rote, too stereotypical, or too "corny," then I am more put off than anything else.
I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, but only for a short while. No beverages. Once I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was privy to listen to Joker the faggot stomping around upstairs and dropping heavy objects on the floor. Of course, once I learned that he was a gay blade, I no longer needed to puzzle over his peculiar ways. I can only wonder whether he was "Lucky Piérre" in his now-defunct "partnership." Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Joker was probably a closet homosexual when he attended high school. Remember that he and I were in the same graduating class. I can't even imagine what it must have been like to be gay over 40 years ago. No doubt, he has suffered from psychological trauma, alienation, ridicule, possible physical abuse, discrimination, and so forth. Heck, his parents, who reside in Aina Haina, probably disowned him. Let's face it, Joker is a loser. The fudgepacker is mentally ill. If I had the opportunity, I would eagerly help put him out of his misery for good.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Startling Revelation
Last night, I made the trek to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. No beverages, though. I also happened to stop by Longs® and discovered that the entire Waterpik® line was on sale. So, I purchased a new standalone (i.e., AC-powered) unit to replace my rapidly failing battery-operated unit (both made in China).
When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I ended up chatting with Kyle. Well, I learned that Joker is gay. That's right. For some reason, Joker had been upfront about his "preferences" to Kyle. Of course, that all changed when Kyle lodged a few complaints about Joker to the landlord. I mentioned to Kyle that Joker had told me that he was in a relationship with a babe for at least two decades. Kyle was very certain that Joker had mentioned his "partner" and that the latter was specifically a guy. Once I heard Kyle use the term, "partner," I knew that he spoke the truth. So, that explains everything. That's why the fudgepacker continues to have "hissy fits" and plays his little "gay blade" revenge games. Damned faggot!
Seriously, though, knowing the new tidbit of information about Joker has made me more sympathetic. I now understand (but, do not condone) Joker's behavior. I have nothing against his "orientation." There is no "moral" basis to label homosexuality a "sin." It is not a genetic disorder or a disease. Yet, one has to wonder why Joker was so candid with Kyle.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. No outing this evening. Too fatigued. Although, my new Waterpik® device works very well. Perhaps I should just shift to short phrases in the "blog," eh?
When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I ended up chatting with Kyle. Well, I learned that Joker is gay. That's right. For some reason, Joker had been upfront about his "preferences" to Kyle. Of course, that all changed when Kyle lodged a few complaints about Joker to the landlord. I mentioned to Kyle that Joker had told me that he was in a relationship with a babe for at least two decades. Kyle was very certain that Joker had mentioned his "partner" and that the latter was specifically a guy. Once I heard Kyle use the term, "partner," I knew that he spoke the truth. So, that explains everything. That's why the fudgepacker continues to have "hissy fits" and plays his little "gay blade" revenge games. Damned faggot!
Seriously, though, knowing the new tidbit of information about Joker has made me more sympathetic. I now understand (but, do not condone) Joker's behavior. I have nothing against his "orientation." There is no "moral" basis to label homosexuality a "sin." It is not a genetic disorder or a disease. Yet, one has to wonder why Joker was so candid with Kyle.
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. No outing this evening. Too fatigued. Although, my new Waterpik® device works very well. Perhaps I should just shift to short phrases in the "blog," eh?
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Truth or Consequences Redux
Same ol' Sunday shit. The highlight of my day was when I stopped off at Ala Moana Center to enjoy an ice cream treat. I sat outside in my usual spot adjacent ot the dreadful parking lot. I could smell the horrific odor of the homeless guy sitting on bench to my right. He was droppin' back a huge 40-dog of malt liquor. The smell was so bad that I wondered if his flesh was actually rotting. To my left was an obese local couple with a toddler. The father was playing with his "smartphone." The mother had gone off somewhere. The toddler seemed to be behaving just fine. Yet, the father keep asking in Pidgin-English every ten seconds, "You like lickin'?" Little wonder why I can't find peace of mind.
Well, I am not sure how to address the issue of acedia since it is a state of mind rather than a contrived mental disorder. At this time, I can only say that an extreme "disconnect" from society-at-large is likely to trigger acedia-like symptoms. However, "disconnect" is only one facet of the problem. In my own case, I spent well over a year disproving almost every human belief from sham religions to the failed "civilization" paradigm. Essentially, what I discovered is that humanity has been living a lie, or series of lies, for millenia. What are we to make of that?
To really come to grips with one's mortality is perhaps the most difficult task every human will eventually encounter. Unfortunately, most people will be more than satisfied to continue to live a lie, live in denial, or rely upon some kind of false religious hope. Of course, some may argue that the latter coping strategies (term used loosely) are better than sinking into despair, hopelessness, or grief. I can't say that I concur.
Frankly, I have been trying, albeit fruitlessly, to imagine what life was like for early humans, well before a small handful of self-appointed leaders or shamans began to construct ridiculous paradigms to force upon the masses. Believe me, once the shoddy paradigms are removed, there is very little that makes sense about humanity as we know it today. And, that's when my real problems of incongruence commenced.
Superficially, though, the "disconnect" can have adverse effects in a society so deeply embedded in materialism and the mass consumption of junk. The so-called "ownership society" has effectively killed our freedom of movement. We can only be confined to what we own. Otherwise, we are trespassing. The less that we own, the more confined we are. Sounds like a prison, doesn't it? And, rightly so.
Acedia also, by implication, is tied directly or indirectly to "spiritual" matters. The word "spirit" is somehow tied to the religious concept of the "soul." Since religion and its beliefs are fabrications of the human mind, there is not much credibility for the "spirit." I pursue nothing "spiritual" because it is all hogwash.
So, I am not looking for a pychiatric or psychological diagnosis. I do not want to be classified with a disease or disorder. I am not looking for a cure-all solution either. At this point in time, reality (i.e., the real reality) has given me a hard slap on the face. I'm just trying to get over the initial shock.
Well, I am not sure how to address the issue of acedia since it is a state of mind rather than a contrived mental disorder. At this time, I can only say that an extreme "disconnect" from society-at-large is likely to trigger acedia-like symptoms. However, "disconnect" is only one facet of the problem. In my own case, I spent well over a year disproving almost every human belief from sham religions to the failed "civilization" paradigm. Essentially, what I discovered is that humanity has been living a lie, or series of lies, for millenia. What are we to make of that?
To really come to grips with one's mortality is perhaps the most difficult task every human will eventually encounter. Unfortunately, most people will be more than satisfied to continue to live a lie, live in denial, or rely upon some kind of false religious hope. Of course, some may argue that the latter coping strategies (term used loosely) are better than sinking into despair, hopelessness, or grief. I can't say that I concur.
Frankly, I have been trying, albeit fruitlessly, to imagine what life was like for early humans, well before a small handful of self-appointed leaders or shamans began to construct ridiculous paradigms to force upon the masses. Believe me, once the shoddy paradigms are removed, there is very little that makes sense about humanity as we know it today. And, that's when my real problems of incongruence commenced.
Superficially, though, the "disconnect" can have adverse effects in a society so deeply embedded in materialism and the mass consumption of junk. The so-called "ownership society" has effectively killed our freedom of movement. We can only be confined to what we own. Otherwise, we are trespassing. The less that we own, the more confined we are. Sounds like a prison, doesn't it? And, rightly so.
Acedia also, by implication, is tied directly or indirectly to "spiritual" matters. The word "spirit" is somehow tied to the religious concept of the "soul." Since religion and its beliefs are fabrications of the human mind, there is not much credibility for the "spirit." I pursue nothing "spiritual" because it is all hogwash.
So, I am not looking for a pychiatric or psychological diagnosis. I do not want to be classified with a disease or disorder. I am not looking for a cure-all solution either. At this point in time, reality (i.e., the real reality) has given me a hard slap on the face. I'm just trying to get over the initial shock.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Grotesque Psychopathology (Reprise)
After another near-sleepless night at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I thought that I would be able to seek refuge and rest for a spell in the inner courtyard of the library. Within minutes, an obese fifty-something haole babe (term used real loosely) sat at the next table with her prospective attorney, an older guy who resembled a walking cadaver. For over an hour, the bitch tortured both the attorney and everyone in the courtyard with a sordid tale of her nightmare as a tenant in a sleazy Nu'uanu condo, really a descent into her own insanity. A security guard and a few library staff members had to ask her to be quiet several times, to no avail. When the bitch began rambling on incoherently, the attorney cut her off. He attempted to make her understand the logistics of the legal proceedings, but the clueless ho' kept spiraling deeper and deeper into paranoia and delusions of persecution. Finally, the attorney abruptly stood up and hobbled out of the library. The fat tub of lard was left dumbfounded. Her reaction? The blob wandered around the library, all the while muttering, "That fucking asshole."
The rest of the day? Thankfully, same ol' shit. I wanted to get away from Slob Manor again this evening, but I was just too fatigued. I was exposed to myriad idiots all day. I just couldn't fathom anymore crap. The sudden rain shower didn't help either.
Well, here's an interesting excerpt from an article on The Hermitary site about acedia:
The rest of the day? Thankfully, same ol' shit. I wanted to get away from Slob Manor again this evening, but I was just too fatigued. I was exposed to myriad idiots all day. I just couldn't fathom anymore crap. The sudden rain shower didn't help either.
Well, here's an interesting excerpt from an article on The Hermitary site about acedia:
Is not acedia the original perception of alienation and revolt against complacency and the burdens of culture? Is it the angst of Kierkegaard, the "nausea" of Sartre, the alienation and revolt of existentialists from Camus to Marcel? Acedia is never without a sense of guilt or complicity, not as sin but as complicity in the horrors of contemporary life. To the modern mind, acedia remains real and relevant. It is a personal statement against the contrivances of culture, the hypocrisy of public morality, alienation from the natural patterns of nature and simplicity.Acedia or Viktor Frankl's "existential vacuum"?
Friday, August 26, 2011
Post No. 1,944
Usual visit to Hawa'i Kai. I was very fatigued due to sleep deprivation. Apparently, I was given a cup of regular coffee instead of the decaffeinated brew last night while I was relaxing at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I happened to donate more useless stuff to charity. Otherwise, nothing new under the sun.
I found myself back at the den of consumerism in Kahala this evening. I really did not want to spend money on a beverage, nor did I want to end up with the wrong brew again. However, I really wanted to sit at a table and relax. So, I purchased an expensive foo-foo coffee beverage. Not to worry, there's hardly any caffeine. It's mostly made of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS).
I recently engaged in a couple of brief discussions with Kyle at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). He's pretty much fed up with Joker. Can't say that I blame him. Joker has been acting up again. Details are not necessary. I've also learned that Kyle is currently a student teacher, not regular faculty, at the high school that my nephew attends. Kyle's internship will be up in December.
Well, I received a couple of e-mail from readers, which means that the readership of the "blog" is not zero. Clyde in Cali passed on a warning about the dangerous food that we have available in the islands. I was just thinking about that topic the other day. The food itself is not really dangerous. The problem is how it is stored or served. Unfortunately, many of the items cannot be kept at the legal low or high temperatures without a significant degradation in subjective quality. I've grown up with that kind of food, so I may have developed some kind of immunity to localized toxins. And, Urban Coyote sent a lengthy prognosis (refer to text copy) of what may truly be ailing the ol' lavahead. In short, acedia is a monk's ailment. I have copied the text verbatim to a linked file because it is somewhat lengthy and, hence, difficult to format as a quote in the "blog." Lots of food for thought. So, we may finally have more topics to discuss in the "blog" after all.
I found myself back at the den of consumerism in Kahala this evening. I really did not want to spend money on a beverage, nor did I want to end up with the wrong brew again. However, I really wanted to sit at a table and relax. So, I purchased an expensive foo-foo coffee beverage. Not to worry, there's hardly any caffeine. It's mostly made of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS).
I recently engaged in a couple of brief discussions with Kyle at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). He's pretty much fed up with Joker. Can't say that I blame him. Joker has been acting up again. Details are not necessary. I've also learned that Kyle is currently a student teacher, not regular faculty, at the high school that my nephew attends. Kyle's internship will be up in December.
Well, I received a couple of e-mail from readers, which means that the readership of the "blog" is not zero. Clyde in Cali passed on a warning about the dangerous food that we have available in the islands. I was just thinking about that topic the other day. The food itself is not really dangerous. The problem is how it is stored or served. Unfortunately, many of the items cannot be kept at the legal low or high temperatures without a significant degradation in subjective quality. I've grown up with that kind of food, so I may have developed some kind of immunity to localized toxins. And, Urban Coyote sent a lengthy prognosis (refer to text copy) of what may truly be ailing the ol' lavahead. In short, acedia is a monk's ailment. I have copied the text verbatim to a linked file because it is somewhat lengthy and, hence, difficult to format as a quote in the "blog." Lots of food for thought. So, we may finally have more topics to discuss in the "blog" after all.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Critical Mass (Yet Again)
Same ol' shit. Details are absolutely unnecessary. I haven't been sleeping well, mostly due to insomnia. I was, however, awakened at 3am this morning at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by someone screaming upstairs. Joker either fell asleep in front of the tube and experienced a nightmare, or maybe he "shot his wad." I can't really say that I was all that amused.
Fatigue has exacerbated the existential crisis that plagues me. I see no end in sight. The current heatwave has been no help. I accomplish absolutely nothing during the day, but I feel that I must escape to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala later in the evening in order to relax. Makes absolutely no sense.
Since I have been experiencing much difficulty in composing the "blog," I will dispense with the frivolities and provide summary tidbits:
Fatigue has exacerbated the existential crisis that plagues me. I see no end in sight. The current heatwave has been no help. I accomplish absolutely nothing during the day, but I feel that I must escape to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala later in the evening in order to relax. Makes absolutely no sense.
Since I have been experiencing much difficulty in composing the "blog," I will dispense with the frivolities and provide summary tidbits:
- I need at least another $700,000 in cash to survive
- My cheap "briefs" underwear is probably responsible for the possible minor hernia problem
- I can implement the poor man's "cloud" storage by simply attaching files to e-mail sent to myself.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Pointless (Reprise)
Same ol' shit, with the exception that I had a dentist appointment this morning. So, I had to slightly modify my urban nomad itinerary. No cavities, thank goodness. Speaking of which, I have decided to eventually replace my battery-operated Waterpik® with a standalone unit.
I ended up back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening yet again. No beverages. I really did not want to be there. Instead, I desired to be back in my disgustingly hot squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), all the while downloading myriad hurdy-gurdy video clips. That's about all that interests me, and the benign activity is not that interesting. Rather, it's pointless.
I only felt energized when I contemplated the divestiture of more of my useless possessions. A few more items will be donated to charity early next week. Seriously, though, I am beginning to prepare for certain inevitable events. I really cannot be hindered by an inventory of crap. I'll disclose details as they transpire.
I ended up back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening yet again. No beverages. I really did not want to be there. Instead, I desired to be back in my disgustingly hot squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), all the while downloading myriad hurdy-gurdy video clips. That's about all that interests me, and the benign activity is not that interesting. Rather, it's pointless.
I only felt energized when I contemplated the divestiture of more of my useless possessions. A few more items will be donated to charity early next week. Seriously, though, I am beginning to prepare for certain inevitable events. I really cannot be hindered by an inventory of crap. I'll disclose details as they transpire.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Senseless (Reprise)
At the library, I ran into my "homeless" buddy. Naturally, we engaged in a brief discussion about the homeless. The homeless population in Hawai'i is increasing dramatically. In fact, almost everyone in the library was homeless. That's how bad the situation has become.
Then, at the gym, the guy who wears the red shirt with "Larry's" emblazoned on the back was probably close to going completely berserk. As you may recall, he has already lost his mind. He usually mumbles and laughs to himself during his workouts for no apparent reason. Today, he was practically yelling, albeit still jibberish. He was also laughing demonically and making troglodyte-like grunting noises. I would have suggested that he take up "blogging" to a non-existent audience, but I was concerned that I would push him over the edge into senseless violence.
I found myself back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala again this evening. No beverages, though. I sat around and composed the "blog" on my tablet computer. I'm getting a little fed up with my computers. The netbook is extremely slow, but I can't jettison it yet. Unless, of course, I mummify my spreadsheets. The tablet computer is extremely fast, but useless in some respects. Both of the devices are fragile. And, therein lies the problem. Oh, the senselessness!
On a side note, I am now pretty certain that I have a minor hernia. It probably would be worse if not for my gym workouts. Nonetheless, I will most likely require surgery in a few years. That's the fun of being a senior citizen. Sheesh!
Then, at the gym, the guy who wears the red shirt with "Larry's" emblazoned on the back was probably close to going completely berserk. As you may recall, he has already lost his mind. He usually mumbles and laughs to himself during his workouts for no apparent reason. Today, he was practically yelling, albeit still jibberish. He was also laughing demonically and making troglodyte-like grunting noises. I would have suggested that he take up "blogging" to a non-existent audience, but I was concerned that I would push him over the edge into senseless violence.
I found myself back at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala again this evening. No beverages, though. I sat around and composed the "blog" on my tablet computer. I'm getting a little fed up with my computers. The netbook is extremely slow, but I can't jettison it yet. Unless, of course, I mummify my spreadsheets. The tablet computer is extremely fast, but useless in some respects. Both of the devices are fragile. And, therein lies the problem. Oh, the senselessness!
On a side note, I am now pretty certain that I have a minor hernia. It probably would be worse if not for my gym workouts. Nonetheless, I will most likely require surgery in a few years. That's the fun of being a senior citizen. Sheesh!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Grotesque Pyschopathology
Usual Hawa'i Kai visit. Moms is doing well. My sister-in-law is now working for a few of the senior citizens in the 'hood. Many of them are not doing too well. Mind you, most of the senior citizens moved to Hawai'i Kai at the same time as my parents over 45 years ago. Don't let the foolish term "golden years" fool you. It's a tough time. The body and the mind fall apart. I, for one, cannot even imagine what moms is going through. Well, I'll be finding out in a few years.
I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Same ol' shit. As I walked around briefly and surveyed all of the idiotic books on the shelves and in the displays, I bitterly wondered why I could not have at least become a writer with an income. Obviously, rhetorical. I know that I have always been a low achiever. I am a writer, but not in the lucrative end of the business. Let's face it. I'm basically talking to myself just like any psychotic fool. Anyone with a readership of zero would have mummified the "blog" a long time ago. Not the ol' lavahead. Is he losing his mind? Is he babbling incoherently by proxy?
I was deeply perturbed when the empire announced "Mission Accomplished" in Libya. What purpose did the sordid exercise serve? Who really benefits? And, what about the innocent victims who ended up as "collateral damage"? I suppose that many of the empire's Bible-thumping citizens are rejoicing. After all, that's about all those mental midgets seems to understand. Incidentally, I must revise another prediction. Since Sarah Palin is not running for Empress, I must assume that the detestable Michelle Bachman will take her place. The citizens of empire know nothing else but to play and vote the "religion card."
Perhaps I am losing my mind. The insanity that I am privy to witness firsthand as well as the empire-wide mental illness are too much to bear. Actually, the entire planet of humans has lapsed into a grotesque psychopathology. I really don't know anymore.
I ended up at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening. Same ol' shit. As I walked around briefly and surveyed all of the idiotic books on the shelves and in the displays, I bitterly wondered why I could not have at least become a writer with an income. Obviously, rhetorical. I know that I have always been a low achiever. I am a writer, but not in the lucrative end of the business. Let's face it. I'm basically talking to myself just like any psychotic fool. Anyone with a readership of zero would have mummified the "blog" a long time ago. Not the ol' lavahead. Is he losing his mind? Is he babbling incoherently by proxy?
I was deeply perturbed when the empire announced "Mission Accomplished" in Libya. What purpose did the sordid exercise serve? Who really benefits? And, what about the innocent victims who ended up as "collateral damage"? I suppose that many of the empire's Bible-thumping citizens are rejoicing. After all, that's about all those mental midgets seems to understand. Incidentally, I must revise another prediction. Since Sarah Palin is not running for Empress, I must assume that the detestable Michelle Bachman will take her place. The citizens of empire know nothing else but to play and vote the "religion card."
Perhaps I am losing my mind. The insanity that I am privy to witness firsthand as well as the empire-wide mental illness are too much to bear. Actually, the entire planet of humans has lapsed into a grotesque psychopathology. I really don't know anymore.
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