Tablet Computer Fodder

The morning started off wrong when I discovered that the tablet computer's hideous protective sleeve was extremely warm. Although the tablet computer was powered off, the battery was heating up. Thus, there was only a five percent charge remaining. I am pretty certain that the problem lies with the last operating system (OS) upgrade. Naturally, I was extremely perturbed. My patience with the tablet computer is depleting rapidly. The rest of the day was an unfunny comedy of errors. Nothing worthy of mention.

I did run into my homeless buddy at the public library, though. I assisted him with a few more computer problems. We are planning a field trip to look at different tablet computers this coming Saturday. Should be entertaining.

This evening, I met with Debbie, my realtor, at the coffee shop in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I brought some requested paperwork with me. We also chatted briefly. I spent the rest of the time at the bookstore with my unpredictable tablet computer. In other words, another day of distractions. More "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

Slob Manor Homeless Shelter

Some interesting findings at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) since yesterday. Tom, the drunkard, is apparently enrolled in a subsidized medical plan, the same program for low income and homeless people (with no more than $2,000 in assets). I suspect that he is also on welfare and food stamps. His derelict buddies are most likely people whom he met while in some kind of drug rehabilitation program. That's why Tom and his cronies look so familiar to me. They look exactly like the worst of the homeless. The story about the huge amount of money that he had made after selling his alleged property in Hawai'i Kai is a lie. That's one of the many stories that Tom told the resident culinary artist (term used loosely) in order to schmooze the fool. Tom is a fraud.

Tom has moved some of the furniture from upstairs into the first floor common area, no doubt to make room for his derelict buddy. By the way, I have seen Tom's buddy rummaging through both the trash can and recycling bin at Slob Manor. Unlike Tom, his derelict buddy does own a "piece of shit" vehicle. Its safety check sticker has expired, so I assume that the vehicle is uninsured. Yet, both Tom and his buddy go "joy riding" while in an inebriated state. Losers!

This morning, I chatted with my homeless buddy at the fast food joint (represented by a clown named "Jack") in town while sipping a cup of free coffee. My homeless buddy is still trying to persuade me to apply for residency at the Next Step homeless shelter. Heck, I already reside in a homeless shelter. Sheesh! My homeless buddy also gave me a few valuable pointers about camping on the streets in a minivan (or equivalent). Very relevant, actually.

I am not sleeping well again. Now, I am driven to insomnia by the money sink that the detestable "condotel" unit has become. I am rapidly approaching the breaking point concerning money and finances. I just don't have that much time left on the planet. Continuing to be enslaved in one fashion or another is no longer tolerable. Any loss, just to get rid of the dump, is worth it. Well, at least I restored my extreme monk haircut.

Tom Foolery (Reprise)

Yesterday afternoon at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I chatted with Alan concerning Tom's alcoholic buddy. From all indications, he has moved in upstairs with Tom. And, he has been brazen enough to park his "piece of shit" automobile in the driveway. Tom and his buddy spend all day and night upstairs, drinking cheap booze, strumming (not playing) a guitar while singing off-key, staggering around, watching the tube, and frolicking together. Oddly, they do not seem to tire of each other's company. I am suspecting that there's more to the friendship than cheap booze. All that in the face of a threatened rent increase by the landlord.

I really don't know whether Alan will forward the information to the landlord or not. And, Tom is quite shrewd. He quickly identified who would most likely "squeal" on him to the landlord. So, he has been heavily schmoozing the resident culinary artist (term used loosely). The latter has essentially been disarmed. What neither Alan or the culinary artist realizes is that we are subsidizing both Tom and his alcoholic homeless buddy.

I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library. As usual, he filled me in about the latest nonsense at the Next Step homeless shelter. He also verified my observation that there has been a significant increase in the homeless population within the last two weeks. My homeless buddy is an honorable guy. He deserves much better than what he has. Yet, he remains humble in the face of adversity. Contrast that to "useless eaters" like Tom and his alcoholic freeloading buddy. Who really deserves to be out on the streets?

Barriers to Freedom

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. I brought along a picture of moms and I at the airport about 20 to 25 years ago. That's the only family photograph that I possessed. Other pictures were long returned to the family picture archive (actually just a cardboard box in moms' closet). The lone photograph will also be deposited in the archive. Next time, I will retrieve a recent photograph of moms from the archive. I will purchase a small frame for it. And, it will remain in my possession for the rest of my life. Otherwise, nothing to report.

I am actually quite perturbed. I received e-mail from Debbie, my realtor. There seems to be some minor interest in the detestable "condotel" unit. So, I may be close to realizing the $38,000 "haircut" upon sale. What is more disturbing is that the "condotel" management has told a prospective buyer that there will be a $20,000 assessment per unit in August. I am surmising that the alleged assessment is for the remodeling cost for each unit. What a ripoff! The unit is not even 300 square-feet in area. And, why is the management disclosing such information to an outsider when none of the owners have even been told anything?

I am really looking forward to exiting the so-called "ownership society." Small-time "owners" like myself are, in actuality, slaves. We may have exclusive right to "owned" property, but we never fully own anything outright. We must continue to pay more and more money for fees and taxes even after the receiving the title to the property. No payment, then the property is confiscated. True ownership for peons only includes petty items (i.e., useless gadgets, assorted junk). Yes, I anticipate the day that I can say, "Good-bye, and good riddance!"

"Ownership" is a barrier to freedom. Only the affluent class can afford to be owners and be free concurrently. Attempting to emulate the affluent class with only chump change is foolhardy at best. In any case, "ownership" is really just a subset of failed "immortality narratives." As mortal beings, we can own nothing.

Post No. 2,492

While I sat outside the coffee shop right around the corner from the gym, I espied the hottie gym trainer walking by. Baby was wearing extremely form-fitting tights. To say that baby is a hottie would be an understatement. No, baby has not come around yet. The coffee was good, though.

The usual Sunday itinerary was followed. Upon return to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I performed a few houseboy chores. I also completed the dreaded tax returns. I will be filing them earlier than usual, just to get the paperwork out of the way. Then, I wasted some time looking for more useless crap to divest. Yeah, I know. There's nothing left. Stupid, very stupid.

At the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala this evening, I perused two books that I am very interested in reading: "Why Does the World Exist?" by Jim Holt and "Why the World Doesn't Seem to Make Sense: An Inquiry into Science, Philosophy, and Perception," by Steve Hagen. The former book delves deeply into the subject of nothingness. Let's hope that I can find the titles at the public library.

Homeless Connect (Reprise)

This morning, I enjoyed a free cup of coffee at a different fast food joint (represented by a clown named "Jack") in town, thanks to a coupon that I had clipped. The coffee was good. However, I realized that ambiance is even more important. The dining area was nearly empty, and it was fairly quiet. Contrast that to the fast food joint in Kahala, which is staffed almost entirely by obese Micronesians. The dining area is always full of senior citizens, and the order counter is always besieged by long lines of people. Very noisy, very hectic. Last week, I was privy to witness one of the senior citizens, a little old lady, with a continence problem.

Same ol' day shit. My evening outing was cut short because I could not locate a vacant chair at the bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. No big deal. I am sure that I will be back there tomorrow. The good part is that I arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) just before a big downpour.

Ford® Transit Connect
I have been thinking again about replacing the truck with all-purpose homeless vehicle (APHV) (pictured above). Yeah, I could probably use it as a mobile home. A lot of the homeless have come up with different strategies to circumvent shelter residency, according to my homeless buddy. For example, he knows of two homeless guys who are living in their rented storage units (at the same mini-storage depot that he utilizes). Why can't I just park the APHV in a parking structure and sleep in it?

On a side note, I have not heard anything yet about the rent increase from the Slob Manor landlord. Tom, the drunkard, has been allowing one or two of his alcoholic buddies to stay with him nearly every day (i.e., six of seven days per week). They spend all day and all night in a drunken stupor. Tom's liver is a lot more resilient than I thought. I had hoped that he would have been deceased by now. I really would like to help him put himself out of his misery.

Zombie Freedom (Reprise)

The days keep slipping by, yet I am in no way motivated to accomplish much. In a few short years, I will cease to exist. I will vanish into nothingness. My consciousness will be extinguished. Not even my own end seems to motivate me. Sometimes I wonder why I no longer go out of my way to share the vast knowledge that I have acquired. I am no longer willing to help or advise anyone unless it's a simple computer problem. My knowledge is useless anyway, most of it being part of the failed paradigms of "civilization." My more recent knowledge is of no interest to anyone either. I would only generate extreme animosity because I would be perceived as attacking the flawed beliefs that people hold dear to themselves.

So, I keep to myself. I say nothing that could be misconstrued as anything of substance. Humanity has lost its way, and I certainly do not want to be an enabler of the outcome. My only concern is freedom, and how I will attain the latter with minimal opportunity costs. Heck, is that even possible?

Freedom remains my main priority, but I have no idea about how to attain the goal short of death itself. Surely, there is the possibility that a mere peon can find freedom, true emancipation from all forms of slavery (except mortality, of course). Surely? Oh yeah, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. My sister-in-law and nephew have already returned from the mainland. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Zombie Peonage

At the public library, I read selected chapters from the book, "The Fine Print: How Big Companies Use 'Plain English' to Rob You Blind," by David Cay Johnston. Interesting reading, especially about zombie banks and financial institutions, but keep a big-ass bottle of cheap booze handy. Also, lock up your 9mm semi-automatic pistol and throw away the key to prevent the possibility of a homicidal rampage.

Lots of coverage of the Jodi Arias trial in Arizona. I have seen bits and pieces on at least one of the widescreen LCD tubes at the gym. By the way, I still stand by my modest assessment of January 29th in the "blog." I will admit that, upon observing Arias as she appears in court, there is just a total disconnect to the sheer butchery that baby allegedly perpetrated. Arias has admitted to committing the heinous crime, but the disconnect just cannot be abated. There are also a number of fan sites popping up, the most notable being Jodi Arias Is Innocent.

My mind is still on some kind of vacation. No progress with anything. I am just waiting to sell the detestable "condotel" unit and take a $38,000 "haircut." And, after my $244 dental appointment yesterday, I am numb. Money is disappearing rapidly. And, unlike anyone else, I have nothing to show for it. Not even a shitty "smartphone."

Finally, there are hella new homeless. So many new faces daily. I have a feeling that nearly everyone is on a perpetual spending binge. They just keep spending, even after becoming unemployed, until the money runs out. Then, homelessness. Mind you, most of the rank-and-file peons are working two or three wage slave jobs in Hawai'i. The loss of one of those jobs puts the peon out on the street within a few days. And, even then, the spending keeps on going.

Bedbug Fodder

Another mediocre cup of coffee at the fast food joint in Kahala this morning preceded my visit to the dentist office. I consented to full x-ray scans and received much better treatment than last time. Well, at $244 for the visit, I would expect as much. Money talks, eh? Supposedly, my teeth are fine.

At the public library, I ran into my homeless buddy. He had an appointment with a doctor earlier for the treatment of multiple bedbug bites. Apparently, the bedbug bites are all over his body, including his scalp. One of the wounds on his upper arm became severely infected, which is why he needed medical attention. The Next Step homeless shelter is completely infested with bedbugs. The shelter personnel are perpetually fumigating the premises, but only one section at a time, if that even makes any sense.

I completed reading the book, "Planet Without Apes," by Craig Stanford. One has to wonder who the real savages are. Of course, we already know the answer. Humans treat everybody, every lifeform, and everything like shit.

My mind is kind of "fried," what with the latest nonsense that I have had to tolerate. So, deep thoughts are out for now. Just a few observations, though. The stock market made a modest correction upon the hint of a possible reduction in money "printing" by the empire's central bank. Gold dropped precipitously below $1,600 per ounce. And, there have been more rumblings about a bond market collapse. What to do ... what to do ...

Fodder Fodder (Again)

This morning, I slipped up and gave in to the temptation of coffee time at the fast food joint in Kahala. The experience was substandard. The coffee was mediocre. When will I ever learn? Then, I ran into my homeless buddy at the public library. He mentioned that one or two of the security guards at the Next Step homeless shelter were arrested just after clocking out from the night shift. Drug dealing to the homeless, apparently. My homeless buddy has a doctor's appointment tomorrow for treatment of bedbug bites. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

I met with Debbie, my realtor, at the coffee shop this evening in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. The detestable "condotel" has been listed again. Debbie filled me in about the state of the housing market here, in particular "condotel" units. Pretty dismal, I'm afraid. Well, at least the dump is listed for sale. We'll see what happens next. Naturally, I spent the rest of the time at the bookstore.

The tablet computer has been restored to normal functioning, at least for now. I am, however, very disappointed. Surprisingly, Ubuntu is actively developing both a "smartphone" and tablet computer operating systems. Looks pretty impressive. Sadly, I may have to eventually switch over.