Food Poisoning

The relapsed common cold, more like the flu now, has certainly helped wean me of the "blog." I was and still am illin' ... over four weeks now. Naturally, I failed to curb my workouts at the gym. On Wednesday, during my cardio session, I was overcome by the chills. I also felt nauseous. Of course, restoring my extreme monk haircut only exacerbated the problem by increasing the ventilation and cooling of the oversized cranium. Woe is me!

Typical Weaned Hottie

If I were still maintaining the old "blog" format, I would have no poverty of material to discuss. Same ol' shit, though ... altercations with asswipes, endless foolishness, and so on. Never a dull moment when dealing with chimpo sapiens. And don't get me started on Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Sheesh!

Actually, the situation at Slob Manor has improved. I had to politely confront Tom and the "chef" about the noise problem, which is what I should have done a long time ago. As we know, I no longer deal well with people on a social level. That's why I am a monk, a misanthrope.

Anyway, weaning does a body good. Say what? So, I will attempt to space out the postings even more. Heck, I might simply disappear, if you know what I mean. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

The weather for about a week has been cold and windy with occasional patches of rain. I must battle the elements every night in order to procure dinner. On Wednesday night, as ill as I was, I made the trek to Kahala. I procured a "healthy" chicken salad at the fast food joint, or so I thought. It was, for all intents and purposes, delicious. All was well until I walked back to the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall).  I suddenly felt bloated. I attributed the sensation to the strain experienced by my abdominal muscles due to excessive coughing. Little did I know that Micronesians at the fast food joint most likely didn't grill the chicken properly.

I literally had to run to the restroom. After a quick bout of diaharea, my stomach began churning away. Lots of gaseous emissions (read: flatulence) resulted. When I returned to Slob Manor, the gaseous emissions filled my squalid room with a strong dung odor. I attempted to go to sleep at 10pm. Even after drinking a glass (i.e., five ounces) of wine, I was wide awake. My stomach kept churning. Noxious gaseous emissions occurred every few minutes. My heart rate climbed over 120 beat per minute, as if I had just consumed a large cup of coffee. Then, at 3am, the "night sweats" commenced. I decided to get up and compose the "blog" in lieu of sleep. Yeah, so much for weaning.

Oddly, I was not completely fatigued this morning. The standard cup of coffee, procured at the fast food joint in town, did not taste good at all. Even the ol' lavahead's staple food, granola, tasted like sawdust. Only a cup of hot oatmeal, courtesy the same fast food joint, satisfied my taste buds. Remnants of the food poisoning haunted me all day. I am not at all certain whether I can eat anything but soft foods for a few days. Sheesh!

Naturally, without sleep, I will be illin' for several more days. And, I keep getting weaker and weaker. My limbs kept trying to cramp up. I still suspect the coffee to be a culprit for sleep deprivation. Yet, I rely on coffee to function. That's the proverbial "Catch-22."

Homeless Buddy Mini-Update®
My homeless buddy has decided to reapply for residency at the "crack house" in Chinatown. I surmise that he wants out of the Next Step homeless shelter. As you may recall, he rented a unit at the "crack house" for seven years. He urged me again to reconsider moving there.

"Crack House" in Chinatown Mini-Update®
My homeless buddy gave me more details about the place. Lots of drug addicts and drug dealers. The reason that there are always units available is because the eviction rate is high. The first floor is reserved for disabled people. The cleanest (subjective) units are on the third and fourth floor. There have been a number of suicides as well, usually a depressed resident jumping out of a window on the top floor. A few residents "keel over" on occasion, possibly due to drug overdose. No one would have known except the stench from the decaying cadaver was overwhelming. Great selling points, eh? Nice place, the "crack house." Could I really get more sleep in that kind of environment? Could I attain peace of mind?

Surveillance Mini-Update®
The Google® surveillance gauntlet is still tracking the "blog." The robot has been reprogrammed to view the "blog" about five minutes subsequent to the posting. Very clever. The delay acts as a filter and countermeasure to my "test" posts.

"Blog" Mini-Update®
Visitors to the new "blog" have dwindled down to perhaps one or two per day. The new format appears to generate little interest. Is the final mummification of the "blog" nearing? Most likely.

A $35 Tank Top

My evening outing in Kahala on Saturday night was slightly out of the ordinary. First, I procured a free six-inch Sweet Onion Teriyaki Chicken sandwich with a bowl of Broccoli Cheddar soup at Subway® and supplemented the meal with a greasy "value menu" Buffalo Ranch McChicken sandwich at Mickey Dee's®. No regrets. Then, I went shopping in Kahala Mall. Yeah, shopping.

Typical T-Shirt Hottie

Well, I only purchased one item, a $35 tank top made of synthetic material, at Macy's®. That's the regular (read: high markup) price, by the way. Why did I spend so much for one flimsy shirt? The cotton tank tops were only $20 (regular price). Well, I decided to switch my gym attire to synthetics a while back. Now, I have a complete workout set with two tank tops and a pair of shorts, all synthetic.

The synthetic clothes will be easier to care for. I can wash them by hand every night. Cotton clothes can only be worn once before washing, although I manage to get by with three days. Unfortunately, sweat and cotton don't mix well. Eventually, the clothes simply retain a peculiar odor, whether washed or not.

Alas, I have drawn out the story beyond credulity. I actually espied the Hurley® tank top the day before. I spent many hours deliberating whether I should spend the money to buy clothing at regular prices. Then, it dawned upon me. I am 59 years old. In a few short years, I won't be wearing any tank tops, no less even going to the gym. So, paying regular price is a ridiculous consideration at this point in time.

I keep forgetting that I only have a handful of "good" years left. Then, I will succumb to decrepitude. Nothing can stop that chain of events. I may as well enjoy my "good" years in every way possible. In other words, death is the "bottom line." How quickly we forget our mortality!

Thoughts on Health

First, a little background. Out of thirteen uncles, there are only two who are still alive, both blood relatives on moms' side of the family. All of my other uncles (blood and non-blood) and pops were victims of cancer or other chronic illnesses. My uncles and pops all lived beyond 65 years of age, though. Pops' was one month short of 78 years when he succumbed to cancer. Out of fourteen aunts, only three have passed on, one being a blood relative. My other living aunts (blood and non-blood) and moms have experienced extreme longevity.

I have about 40 first cousins. Age-wise, I am at the arithmetic mean. My bro is the youngest on both sides of the family. My cousin Tammy on moms' side of the family had a large tumor removed at a young age. My cousin Greg, also on moms' side, has Type 2 diabetes. My cousin Kenny, on pops' side, had polio. I know of no other health issues amongst the cousins.

Typical Healthy Hottie

With that said, I have been observing the type of food consumed by my bro's family. My bro is ten years my junior. My sister-in-law is three years younger than me. And, my nephew is almost exactly 40 years younger. So, the food ...

Lots and lots of what I would classify as junk food. Lots of snacks, candy, lard-based pastries, all kinds of chips, crackers, sugary cereals, cakes, pies. Lots of canned soft drinks and juices. Lots of red meat, pork, and poultry products. Lots of frozen products. Very little fruits and vegetables. My bro's family also consumes lots of fast food. They have eaten that way for as long as I know. So, my bro's family is inundated with high quantities of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), oil, lard, saturated fats, artificial flavors, artificial coloring, preservatives, salt, sodium, leeched plasticizers, and more.

Surprisingly, no one is overweight or obese. My bro may be packing an additional five pounds or so because he consumes two bottles of beer every night. Aside from that, there are no health issues, no signs of malnutrition, no food complications. None whatsoever.

Contrast that to the "chef" of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) fame. He spend six hours minimum daily in the kitchen concocting organic culinary monstrosities and shamanistic potions to stave off phantom illnesses and imaginary disorders. That's six hours or more out his life every day. Add to that the cost of the organic food and esoteric ingredients. My bro's family can purchase three times as much food for every dollar spent on organics by the "chef."

The bottom line ... Is the 30-year-old "chef" any healthier than my bro and sister-in-law (who are much older than he is)? Obviously not. And, rest assured that my bro's family is certainly not wasting six or more hours per day preparing food in the kitchen.

Well, I had made drastic changes to my diet in the past, fueled by a moderate level of paranoia. Then, I came to my senses. I now apply a more practical approach by avoiding questionable foods with dubious ingredients when possible. I am also allowing myself to consume more junk food. So, is the alleged poisonous food a cause for concern? Is a family medical background an accurate health predictor? You be the judge.

Homeless Report - January

I've been chatting with my homeless buddy for the past three mornings at the fast food joint in town. He had been waiting for the promised low-income rental unit that was supposed to be available this month. He called various management offices, but he was not able to speak to anyone. Messages went unanswered. Then, on Wednesday, he received a form letter stating that he has been put on a waiting list, which could be as long as three years.

What will my homeless buddy do in the meantime? He plans to stay in the Next Step homeless homeless shelter until his two-year time limit is up. Then, he will spend six months in Vietnam. What about his cancer treatment? That will have to wait until he returns. Where will he stay after that? He still owns the mini-van, so that will become his motorhome.

The situation at the Next Step homeless shelter seems to be degenerating. Lots of petty theft going on. Lots of drama and altercations, too. Some of the more nefarious homeless residents are falsely setting up other residents for violations that can result in work duty or a temporary ten-day eviction. The staff and management are becoming more condescending to the homeless residents.

My homeless buddy also confirmed that there are myriad homeless migrating from the mainland empire. He has even overheard several of the homeless in phone conversations urging their friends to buy a one-way airline ticket to come to Hawai'i. Nearly all of the homeless, even recent mainland empire migrants, have caught on to the lax policies here. It's just too easy to get welfare benefits, food subsidies, health insurance, and there are many agencies pushing to get as many of the homeless on permanent disability entitlements.

With that said, my homeless buddy has been urging me to apply for "free" health insurance, courtesy ObamaScare. Apparently, anyone can enroll just by omitting a few pieces of financial data. Last week, though, an article appeared in the local paper about the healthcare fraud. So, I am expecting a crackdown soon.

My homeless buddy also gave me a synopsis of life in Communist Vietnam. It's actually similar to China. There are a lot of billionaires, he told me. His older sister is actually quite wealthy. She owns four buildings and does not have to work as a wage slave. Sadly, there's a lot of police corruption, and hence, a lot bribery.

Nearly all of the computers that my homeless buddy has stockpiled in his storage unit are gifts that he sneaks into Vietnam. Well, actually has to bribe the authorities at customs. He gives them away to friends and family members.

My homeless buddy does not stay with any of his relatives while he is visiting. The corrupt police know that his sister is wealthy. So, they may find a way to extort money out of her using my homeless buddy as a patsy. Regular tourists, though, only need to worry about theft, usually pickpocketing. A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

I have come to understand my homeless buddy better. I can see his rationale for what he does. Unfortunately, his time at the Next Step homeless shelter has forced him to become more "street smart." In order to survive, he is becoming more like the other homeless.

Speak! - Surveillance Edition

Am I just paranoid or is Google® continuing its robot surveillance of the "blog"? In a recent comment, T in Japan wrote:

"I doubt if there is anything especially sinister (i.e., more sinister than normal) about those accesses from Mountain View and Texas. Google owns your blogging service and Google wants to index all information on the Web, so they presumably have a program that tells their page-capture servers whenever a new post through Blogger as well. (That said, none of your posts since the start of January appear in regular Google searches yet.)"

In actuality, the surveillance "hits" only began to appear a few months ago. Never before that. Coincidentally, I had specifically removed the "blog" from being indexed on search engines. That's when the visitor numbers dropped substantially. Most of the visitors were searching for hottie pictures anyway. That could have raised a "red flag." Who would want to reduce the number of visitors to a personal "blog"? Maybe a "terrorist" sending coded messages in image files and cryptograms in the text, eh? Laugh if you will, but I am certain that "whistleblower" Edward Snowden would not find much humor in the assertion.

Typical Clandestine Hottie

Both T in Japan and Trumpingham in the UK mentioned the inaccuracy of the Feedjit® widget that is embedded in the "blog." They are both correct. The widget must be fully loaded in the Web page before the visitor's IP address is registered. There may be devices that are not recognized by the widget. In any case, Blogger® provides comprehensive visitor statistics. And, yes, all visitor history has been archived.

Speak! Mini-Update®
"Because I just met up again with the other Amsterdam, Noord-Holland visitor of your Blog, I want to say that I really appreciate you, and coming back to your blog is a homecoming of some sorts. I am the other person on the tee-shirt-photo." Annabelle, is that you?

Ol' Lavahead Mini-Update®
The common cold has relapsed with a vengeance, not even a week after the last tortuous bout. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

Slob Manor Mini-Update®
Same ol' shit.

"Crack House" in Chinatown Mini-Update®
I have engineered every contingency for all scenarios including high crime exposure. In other words, I am totally prepared to move to the "crack house." No decision yet, though.

Lost Cause

“It is staggering that, in the 21st century, half of the world’s population — that’s three and a half billion people — own no more than a tiny elite whose numbers could all fit comfortably on a double-decker bus.” -- Oxfam chief executive Winnie Byanyima

Well, I have been spending way too much time in keeping up the "blog" that was supposed to have only sporadic postings. The idea was to wean myself off of the "blog" and off of the Net. I am now looking at my problem as an addiction. What else could it be?

Boredom, poverty, slavery, stupidity ... all combine to promote addiction of one kind or another. And, addiction is a prison. When options whittle down to nothing, we keep going back to the easiest "fix," be it illicit drugs, alcohol, sex, or the Net. Heck, I would much prefer sex, but that's not easy to come by without "assets."

The "ownership society" can only guarantee freedom for those who have enough money and enough power. The impoverished and the powerless need not apply. In my case, I should be spending my ample time on working out a strategy to increase my freedom. Wasting time on the Net is about as useful as Tom, the drunkard of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) fame, attempting to remain sober. Lost cause.

Net Worthiness

There's all kind of statistics floating around in empire about the financial net worth of its subjects. We really don't care about the filthy rich class. Our concern is the average rank-and-file peon.

Net worth is a snapshot in time of the total assets that an individual possesses after deducting all liabilities. Future income or capital gain streams are not included.

For our sample, how about the idiotic residents of Slob Manor (read: rental housing)? Naturally, the ol' lavahead is excluded. Each person in the sample owns an automobile, possibly worth between $500 and $1,500 or so. Minor possessions in their squalid rooms and in rented storage (if applicable) amount to anywhere between $900 to $3,000 at most.

Let's start with 61-year-old Alan. Assets in his immediate possession and in storage probably amount to $2,000 at most. His automobile is so thrashed that I can only assess it at $500 salvage value. His local bank account, I would assume, has at least $10,000 in cash. His "McMansion" in Arizona, he claims, is now worth $250,000 (original mortgage principle is $225,000 which has probably been reduced by $8,000 after six years of amortized payments). His retirement account, he claims, is worth about $225,000 after the recent stock market surge. Alan's net worth is $37,500 or so.

The 30-year-old "chef" probably has about $1,000 in possessions, if even that. His automobile is worth about $1,500 at most. Judging from his personality, I would assume that he has about $2,500 in his bank account as a "cushion." If his parents paid off his $50,000 student loan debt, then he is debt-free. If they gave him $2,000 as a gift for being so intelligent, then he has a little more in his bank account. The net worth of the "chef" is $7,000 or so. If his parents did not pay off the debt, then he has a $55,000 liability after capitalizing the deferred interest. The net worth of the "chef" would be downward revised to -$50,000 or so.

Tom, the 49-year-old drunkard, is supposedly worth millions of dollars. Yet, I cannot verify the latter assets. He seems to be getting an "allowance" from someone on the mainland empire, possibly a trust account custodian. His automobile is worth $500 since its manufacturer no longer exists. He has myriad possessions, mostly junk, with an estimated value of $1,000 maximum. Tom appears to be debt-free. I would assume that he has no more than $1,000 in his bank account on average. Tom's net worth is $2,500 or so.

How does that compare to, say, a homeless guy? Well, my 55-year-old homeless buddy has accumulated at least $65,000 in cash that is currently stuffed in a bank safe deposit box. He has about $5,000 worth of new merchandize in storage. He is also debt-free. He may or may not own an automobile, most likely of low salvage value, at this time. My homeless buddy's net worth is $65,000 or so.

So, who is the winner? Who has the highest net worth right now? Obviously, my homeless buddy. Yet, the other unwitting participants are smug and haughty. Two are wage slaves and will continue to be wage slaves until the official retirement age and possibly beyond. My homeless buddy is already retired with disposable income, health insurance, food, and (soon) rental housing for life. Who is truly net worthy?

Tablet Computer Update

Every night (except On Sunday), I visit the Apple® Store (read: fruit-based computer store) in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I am there to exploit the display computers, usually the tablet computers, to minimize the wear and tear on the Nexus 7 tablet computer. I view several technology sites on the Net and also keep track of the arrival of the bus that will return me to the despicable Slob Manor (read: rental housing).

The fruit-based computer store (see image in the link above) is always full of people, mostly snobs who believe that they have incredible net worth. Lots of punk adolescents are running amuck as well. The store employees fit the typical mold in the image which the parent company desires to homogeneously convey. In other words, more snobbery. Incidentally, the "chef" proudly owns a fruit-based tablet computer and "smartphone." Enough said.

I am usually stationed at the first display computer at the left of the entrance. There's a notebook computer, tablet computer, and "smartphone" at each display area. I always opt to use the tablet computer. Thus, I have become extremely acquainted with what I call the "fruit-based tablet computer." At first, I was very impressed. "Tablet computer shame" quickly overcame me, and I was embarrassed to own the Nexus 7 tablet computer.

Nexus 7 2013 Edition

Long story short, I have become indifferent to shame, much as I have become indifferent to fruit-based devices. The snobs and mental midgets that I have encountered in the fruit-based retail store were excellent deterrents. Add to the mix the various boring technology sites on the Net whose sole purpose is to convince sycophants to blindly purchase new, albeit useless, devices. The fruit-based devices are the usual favorites of the sites' non-credentialed pundits. Essentially, they are the same as the "gasbags" on political sites.

The Nexus 7 tablet computer suits me just fine. I have neutered nearly all of the Google® surveillance "apps." I have mummified nearly all of the services. It's just a generic tablet computer now. And, in a standardized drop test, the Nexus 7 did as well as or better than the fruit-based devices. So, why pay more for no additional advantages?

Blob

With so much more time on my hands, I have been able to ruminate about the past 59 years, whatever I can remember of it. Aside from the past six years (as an emancipated wage slave), the rest of the time was simply an infinite series of mistakes and blunders. Fortunately, about thirteen of those years are chronicled in the old journal and old "blog." I can safely summarize that I did not fully utilize my faculties of consciousness until six or so years ago. I was too deeply involved in faux "mainstream" activities. Pathetic!

Of course, the present time can be summarized as ... so boring. As we already know, the concept of boredom is a modern manifestation. Yet, boredom is exactly what I am experiencing. There is no cure. I am in exile. I cannot return to the "mainstream," either in life-style or in thinking. And, so many more avenues of escape have been cut off.

So, I have been feeling a little restive and anxious. I certainly cannot continue in that fashion until my demise. Yet, the prison-like "ownership society" has increased its grip on unwitting exiles like myself. It absorbs anything and anyone like a grotesque amorphous blob.

That's probably why I cannot relinquish the "blog," even amidst the continuing unscrupulous surveillance. Then again, the "blog" itself could be the blob. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Speak! Mini-Update®
Very good to hear from Jan Pieter in the Netherlands. Yes, I remember the photo in the old journal. That was a while back, eh? And, also good to hear from Nicke in Sweden. Yes, we will be curbing the hottie images. Only the best hotties will be featured every now and then.

"Chef" Mini-Update®
The "chef" of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) fame does not appear to be suffering any financial consequences even though he allegedly in deep debt and only earns a pitiful wage. He's been living "high on the hog," spending money like there's no tomorrow. All eight cupboards and the five drawers under his jurisdiction (as well as fridge and freezer) are crammed with only the best organic food products. Mail order shipments of who-knows-what are frequent. This, after a recent two-week unpaid vacation. I suspect that his parents have paid off the $50,000 debt and gave him a few thousand dollars in spending money for good measure. So, he most likely won't go on a shooting rampage with his shotgun anytime soon.

Moms Mini-Update®
Moms appears to have fully recovered from the recent fall. So, that's been a big relief.

Death March

Just this morning, I noticed that about three strands of hair on my forearms are completely gray. Well, they ate actually transparent, lacking any pigment at all. My chest hair is mostly gray as well. Fortunately, no gray hair on my legs. Sideburns are graying, but the vestigial hair on my scalp is still mostly pigmented.

Old age is an ongoing process. My skin, upon close scrutiny, has a crinkly texture. Gone are days of smooth, elastic skin. The gentle creases are slowly evolving into wrinkles. Yeah, I am an old codger.

From a distance, I still look far younger than my 59 years of existence. My physique could easily be mistaken for that of someone thirty years my junior. Working out consistently at the gym has its benefits. However, the eventual muscle sag syndrome and flab build-up are just "around the corner." Working out is a "zero-sum game."

With little in the way of distractions, I can fully concentrate on the human "death march" as it pertains to myself. Not a pleasant thought, to be sure. However, the "curse of consciousness" has afforded me the ability to monitor my mortality. Can I ever come to grips with human finality? Can I ever accept death?

I doubt that anyone could truly accept death. It is too terrifying. We can't even imagine what it's like to not exist. Sure, we came into the world instantaneously. However, our self-awareness was a gradual process. Death, unfortunately, is instantaneous. We simply disappear after a brief tenure. That's the ultimate "zero-sum game."

So, what's the purpose of pondering death? It gives us a great opportunity to reassess our current path. It also enables us to focus in the present, not the past or future. Are we locked in a prison of our own making? Can we escape? Can we find an alternative that makes the present time frame a moment to rejoice?

Bacteria

We already know that most of the problems on the planet are caused by humans, the chimpo sapiens species. For example, we have brought about the complete extinction of many other lifeforms. Only when certain species are near extinction do we snap into action to save their gene pools. Alas, the result can often be summarized as "too little, too late."

In other cases, humans have imported various favored species into new environments and caused irreparable damage to the local ecosystems as the invading species proliferated. Yet, no other species or lifeform, except bacteria, has exponentially replicated as the now-ubiquitous chimpo sapiens. Over seven billion of us, and pretty much nowhere on the planet's surface is devoid of our presence.

Typical Anti-Bacterial Hotties

When other species increase too rapidly in population or become invasive, humans take aggressive action by exterminating them. We have no qualms about euthenasia for lifeforms when we believe that we have dominion over them. Yet, humans now number seven billion and rising. No other animal, not even our distant relatives (i.e., chimpanzees, apes), equal our number.

Of course, the absurdity cannot really be emphasized unless mortality enters the equation. Each and every one of us suffers from the "curse of consciousness." We are keenly aware of our mortality, but we also continue to reproduce like there's no tomorrow. Frankly, it's now already beyond absurd.

Ode to Natasha Vega

O, Natasha Vega! ... Never mind. Baby was one hot hurdy-gurdy video starlet. Unfortunately, she has left the industry. There are rumblings in the background about her return to stardom. Well, we shall see.

Natasha Vega

Seriously, though, there are a lot of new hurdy-gurdy hotties. Unbelievably gorgeous babes doing everything imaginable in front of the camera with ... well, dorks, for lack of a better term. Why would babes that hot want to be featured in "pr0n"? If you don't believe me, check out the sheer number of hurdy-gurdy video clips and "rips" that are available for downloading at the Horny Whores site.

Obviously, there are a lot of consumers (no pun intended) of "pr0n," most of whom are guys. I was once a foolish consumer of "pr0n," spending endless hours downloading and archiving hundreds of hurdy-gurdy video clips. There's no way to even assess the wasted time ... time that I will never retrieve.

The whole hurdy-gurdy industry is a reflection of the absurdity of the human condition. Copulation is an animal act. We humans, always seeking to be above animals (i.e., "civilized"), have converted copulation into an institution, be it love, romance, relationships, marriage ... blah, blah, blah. Thus, we humans cannot copulate unless there is some valid reason to substantiate it. Once copulation was institutionalized, it became a prime target for commercial exploitation.

So, why would hot babes like Natasha Vega want to star in hurdy-gurdy videos? Fame and fortune, no doubt. No one in his right mind would actually believe that the babes are enjoying what they are doing. Yet, in an era when guys can barely connect with babes, then their "manhood" must be fulfilled by proxy. Totally absurd!

Senior Citizen Solaces

Part of my daily experience is to observe the myriad senior citizens in my proximity. As a senior citizen myself, I know exactly what to look for. Specifically, I track any rapid degeneration, physical or mental, of the many regulars that I can readily identify. The picture, my friends, is not pretty. There is no glamor in old age. There are no "Golden Years."

With that said, moms was moving pretty slowly during my visit to Hawai'i Kai today. The injury sustained when moms fell down, and the trash can that moms was lugging fell on her knee, is taking a while to heal. Moms was fortunate that nothing serious happened. Yet, moms had a difficult time climbing into the cab of the ol' Nissan® Frontier truck. If the injury was permanent, I would need to immediately acquire a vehicle with a much lower floorboard.

The elder of the senior citizen crowd seem to have difficulty accepting that most formerly normal activities pose a real hazard. Yet, none of us in the younger age groups can reason with them. And, how could we? I can't blame the elder ones for their stubbornness. No one wants to be an invalid. No one wants to be "put out to pasture."

Typical Young Hottie

For the time being, I am going through my own "old codger" experiences. Heck, in a few short years, I am going to see drastic changes in body and mind. Nothing will stop those changes. I can't help but equate all of my present activities as a "zero-sum game." Take, for example, all the years that I spent working out at the gym. In a few years, I won't be able to prevent muscle sag and flab build-up. By working out, I prolonged the inevitable for a short while, but the inevitable will eventually come.

The "old codger" physique makes many twists and turn along the way to total decrepitude. I now suspect that I have developed an increased sensitivity to caffeine. Or, my body cannot efficiently excrete it during the day. That could be why I am suffering from chronic insomnia. Even a sweet dessert in the evening can cause a sleepless night. I know that a few pieces of chocolate candy will do it. Even a cup of decaffeinated coffee. So, I must now contemplate the mummification of my favorite morning activity ... coffee at the fast food joint in town. Soon, I will be ready to be "put out to pasture." Sheesh!

Speak! - January

Remember Speak! by LoserNet, the ill-fated reader forum? Those were the days! Anyway, only a handful of reader comments. What did I expect? There are only a handful of readers. So, here we go ... T (in Japan) commented:

"You are approaching nineteen years since "The Loser Living Upstairs" — next year will be your twentieth anniversary. Any plans for a celebration?"

Twenty years of LoserNet, the old journal, the old "blog," and now the new "blog." Wow! We've maintained a Net presence, albeit obscure, for a long time. As senile as I am, though, I had earlier miscalculated the actual length of time. I was off by two years. Sheesh!

Anyway, no tentative plans for any kind of celebration. Who would I celebrate with? I could schedule the famous One-Man House Party, just like the good ol' days ... Well, we'll see what happens. I just hope that I don't keel over before then.

Typical Speak! Hottie

Anonder commented:

I spend much of the year traveling now, mostly by foot, camping maybe 2/3 the time, 1/3 in motels. I suppose there is a great deal of natural beauty in the areas where I hike, but I am mostly oblivious to it, and that's not the reason for my traveling. The true reason is to burn off excess time and physical energy in the least painful way I know of while waiting to die (which could easily take another 50 years given my good health and long-lived ancestors).

As you may recall, Anonder kept an on-line journal way back when. I was, of course, somewhat inspired by his lifestyle, although I ventured off on my own monk adventure of sorts. We still do have some things in common. My long morning coffee time and my approximately two hours of working out at the gym daily accomplish the same two goals that he mentions. The main difference is that I am not out in the wilderness. I am right smack in the middle of "civilization," the core of all human stupidity.

Anonder also suggested that I acquire an e-book reader. A good suggestion, but I actually prefer to have the real book in my hands. That's why I spent a lot of time in the public library and at the now-defunct bookstore in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I'm taking a break from reading right now. The public library has become a depot for derelict.

Finally, greetings to Kate in Arizona. You may recall from the old journal that Kate actually visited Hawai'i and met up with the ol' lavahead. Greetings to Trumpingham in the UK, who has apparently been a reader for a while. I often wondered who that was when I saw a regular UK visitor in the log.

Stoneface - January

Well, I am finally getting around to a real update. The layout of the new "blog" has been tweaked to its final form. I have been posting daily to the "blog" in the interim with a few residual thoughts. Now that the latter is "on the record," I will not have to discuss those topics again.

Typical Update Hottie

Comments. Commenting was activated for the new "blog." I was not expecting many comments since there are really only a handful of diehard readers. Comments are also moderated, so I can weed out any foolishness. Many thanks to readers who have made submissions. I may have responses to posted comments, but I have decided not to do so within the same section. Responses will appear in regular "blog" posts.

Surveillance. The Google® surveillance of the "blog" continues, although I have no idea what the underlying interest may be. The surveillance is overt and automatically triggered by a new posting. No attempt is made to hide the fact since the Mountain View (in Cali) and Texas locations blatantly appear in the visitor log. Of course that's the reason why the hottie images are still being embedded in the posts. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Homeless Buddy. I have seen my homeless buddy only twice since the new year commenced. Same ol' shit. He's offered to assist me in a variety of ways to save money. Most of his suggestions require that I engage in some level of fraud. However, fraud is so rampant now that no one would even notice. For some reason, I remain unconvinced.

Shotgun "Chef" - Armed and Dangerous. Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan had mentioned that the "chef" has acquired either a rifle or shotgun. And, he has it stashed in his squalid room. Yeah, he's got gun. Why does he need a gun? Obviously, the mental state of the "chef" is in question. See yesterday's posting for all the details.

Hawai'i Kai Visits. Moms sustained minor injuries after falling over while lugging a large trash receptacle. The trash bin fell on moms' knee. Otherwise, nothing to report.

Evening Outings. Same ol' shit, except that the Kahala outing is no more than 1.5 hours including the bus commute. I procure my dinner. Then, I loiter in the fruit-based computer store in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). Last night was one of the worst outings. The place was jam-packed with asswipes of all varieties. Pay day, you think? Or, extreme boredom.

Sleep. I am still plagued by insomnia. Even the small glass of wine consumed before bedtime has done little to help. The problem is most likely Slob Manor itself. In any case, I may mummify the wine consumption.

Tablet Computer. I have developed mixed feelings about the Nexus 7 tablet computer, primarily because of the on-going Google® surveillance. The direction of Google® "apps" also disturbs me. Lots of data collection and more integration of its social networking gauntlet. On a side note, I have discovered that my Apple® ID is still active. Is it time for the fruit-based tablet computer?

"Crack House" in Chinatown. Still no decision. However, the mental state of the "chef" of Slob Manor fame will be a determining factor at this point in time.

Armed & Dangerous

After another one-hour slammin' soirée, courtesy the "chef," at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) yesterday afternoon, I asked Alan half-jokingly whether he thought that the "chef" appeared to have an adversarial relationship with his food. "I know that he doesn't like what he eats," Alan told me. Then, why bother eating food he hates? "Because it's supposed to be healthy." Alan also felt that the "chef" was envious because Alan could eat pretty much any kind of junk food and not suffer any health consequences.

"He's probably stressed out because he went through all the trouble of getting a Master's degree and can't find a job in teaching. He also owes a lot of money in student loans," Alan added. I mentioned that the "chef" had a decent paying position at the private school in Kapolei. However, according to Alan, the "chef" said that his contract was not renewed. In other words, he was terminated, much as I suspected. As for the Master's degree, it was conferred at the Diploma Mill. So, it's essentially as good as asswipe paper. Alan is also certain that there's some degree of envy involved because he earns $80,000 annually and owns a "McMansion" in Arizona, all with only a high school diploma.

Now, the "chef" wants to become a massage therapist. There are thousands of freelance massage therapists in Hawai'i. Alan, being a civilian police officer on a military base, laughed. "Massage therapist" is just another alias for prostitution here in the islands. I laughed, too, because I has just read an article in the local newspaper a few days ago that confirmed that fact.

I knew that the "chef" was a fair-skin Mulatto. He grew up on one of the other islands, so he is still considered a local. What I didn't know was that his parents are religious. According to Alan, one is a "Holy Roller" and the other is a member of the infamous cult (of which moms is also a member). His parents are also overweight, possibly obese, which may also explain the bad relationship with food. The religiosity of his parents may also explain the various personality quirks that I have observed.

"He's way out there when it comes to conspiracy theories," Alan continued. I knew that already. The more absurd, the more the "chef" believes. Chemtrails, space aliens, shape-shifting reptilians, Illuminati, and so forth. For Alan, absurdity was the belief in "concentration camps" set up by empire to intern and euthanize dissidents once a totalitarian regime has been established. Of course, the "chef" believes everything he reads about food and germs. That's why he's obsessed with organic everything.

The fear of internment was superseded by the fear of losing the Constitutional right to bear arms, not that the "chef" ever owned a gun prior. Nor did he ever have an interest in guns as a hobby. I recall the "chef" being overly concerned that the authorities had confiscated guns from their owners in New Orleans after the Hurricane Katrina disaster. So, now the resident culinary artist has a loaded gun stashed in his squalid room.

The gun could also explain the recent brashness, the overconfidence, and hubris that I have observed. The "chef" clearly has a "chip on his shoulder." He's daring anyone and everyone to knock the chip off. The gun is substituting for the Vienna Sausage.

Then, there's the matter of the former "squeeze." The "chef" alleges that his "squeeze" was draining him of money. That's a cover-up story. Chicks are "high maintenance." Every guy knows that. The "chef" is a tightwad unless he's spending money on himself. I still stand by my prognosis that he tried to convert her to his eccentric life-style. When she realized that he was "cuckoo," she got out of the relationship as fast as possible.

Then, there's the matter of a recently bounced personal check. The "chef" was charged a $40 fee for insufficient funds. The "chef" went on for days about how he was treated unjustly. "I don't have that kind of money to throw away," he told Alan. How close is he to being financially insolvent?

What if he goes berserk and starts shooting all of us? Alan didn't believe the scenario to be possible. "He's got too much to lose," Alan said. What? What has he got to lose? He's $50,000 in debt. He has "burned all bridges" insofar as teaching positions are concerned. He screwed up with his "squeeze." He forces himself to eat food that he doesn't enjoy. He manipulates everyone in Slob Manor in order to have free reign to do as he pleases. In other words, he's "grasping at straws" to exert his locus of control on his ever-shrinking empire. When is he going to lose it and start shooting?

Rapa Nui

Back in my younger years, Hawai'i was a lot different. It was definitely more attuned to the Aloha spirit than now. I am, of course, waxing nostalgic about a time nearly four decades ago. Now, Hawai'i can be metaphorically considered the Easter Island (Rapa Nui) of today. We are the new Rapa Nuians.

Moa'i Stonehead

Hawai'i, although a noncontiguous colony of empire, was at least a decade behind with the trends of the mainland empire. And, the big name businesses of the mainland did not fully saturate the local economy until recently. However, technology, primarily media services, expedited the import of cheesy mainland empire culture. The Aloha spirit vaporized.

Hawai'i today is an overpopulated state with limited land resources rapidly being converted to residential and commercial use. The cost of living has always been high, but political forces have insured that the local economy cater primarily to the affluent. Thus, land prices are exorbitant and out of reach for most of the locals.

Catering to the "rich and famous" class always has the negative repercussion of creating an economically dichotomous society. Hence, Hawai'i is now the national trendsetter for a population made up of the "haves and haves not." The "middle class" has been relegated to distant memory.

There is a huge wave of external and internal migration. Hordes of Chinese, Micronesians, Marshall Islanders, Filipinos, and Vietnamese are moving here, legally or not. Third World immigrants are boosting the demographic of the poverty class. In addition, a large contingent of poor people are moving here from the mainland empire with the specific intention of surviving in homelessness. Very little is being done to curtail the migration. Sadly, nearly all of the indigent population is strapped in the lowest poverty class. Unfortunately, the poverty class is responsible for a large percentage of the rising crime, drug and alcohol abuse, and mental illness.

Typical Rapa Nui Hottie

The affluent class are also immigrants. They are the international "rich and famous." They have enough wealth to become instant residents with high political clout. Naturally, there are few complaints about this class of immigrants. In fact, the "welcome mat" has been laid out to invite more of them.

With that said, the Aloha spirit is long gone. What we do have is a "melting pot" of haughty, arrogant, rude, self-important and stupid asswipes, dickheads, morons, and clowns. Look no further than Slob Manor (read: rental housing) for ideal examples.

The economy of Hawai'i is mostly related to tourism and the military of empire. Agriculture has made somewhat of a comeback, but its products are mostly for exotic export. Hawai'i is not self-sustaining. Heck, even the garbage has to be shipped to the mainland empire by barge. Everything else must be imported.

We are running out of land and open space in Hawai'i. Traffic is one of the worst in empire. Infrastructure is slowly but surely crumbling. Population is increasing rapidly. Potable water is at capacity. Natural wildlife has gone into extinction. Defoliation for construction projects has increased the average ambient temperature. In other words, we are figuratively carving out infinite Moa'i stoneheads. The result? Rapa Nui reprise.

Denial of Truth

"Recent analyses of fossil DNA have revealed that modern humans occasionally had sex and produced offspring not only with Neanderthals but also with Denisovans, a relatively newfound lineage whose genetic signature apparently extended from Siberia to the Pacific islands of Oceania." That's an excerpt from an article titled, "What We Learned About Human Origins In 2013 Will Blow Your Mind," that appeared on the Huffington Post site recently.

So, here we are in the 21st century, a marker ridiculously based upon the birth of a possible mythical Jesus. The entire human species (i.e., chimpo sapiens) is mired in ignorance and self-destructive foolishness. Why? By "decoding" the human mitochondrial DNA and Y-chromosome, a nearly complete legacy of our species has been mapped. We are clearly descendents of ancient chimpanzees and apes. Yes, smelly ol' chimps. Yet, the majority of people are locked in denial, oftentimes of a violent nature.

Typical Truthful Hottie

The nature of denial is clear. If our animal legacy was universally accepted, then all of our core beliefs about human exceptionalism, dominion over the planet and other species, belief in "race" and bloodlines, religion, politics, culture, "civilization," and the whole gamut of human concoctions will be reduced to sub-moot. Absolutely nothing will make sense. And, clearly, we will come face-to-face with our animal origins. Our eternal stupidity will be exposed. The "inner animal" will be laid bare.

Take for example, the inane depth of ignorance that I was privy to overhear, courtesy the paper-thin walls at Slob Manor (read: rental housing). The "chef," consuming yet another full meal at 9pm, was engaged in a discussion with Alan about the alleged "energy fields" of the human body. Both of them apparently have invested in "crystals," essentially bogus, albeit expensive, stones that have some kind of alleged supernatural powers. Mind you, Alan has three computers set up in his room to triangulate a force field within a central region where, I assume, he sleeps. So, we already know where Alan's coming from ... the "New Age" religious cult.

Ultimately, the catalyst of their curiosity is morbid fear, that is, the fear of death. The "chef" is the perfect dupe to fall into the "New Age" ruse. His obsession with organic food and "holistic" (read: shamanistic) cures alludes to a deep fear of mortality. Consuming six pounds of ginger root is not going to prevent him from dying.

The real truth is available for those who are open to it. The human genome map is one step. The science of quantum physics is the other. In other words, the Church of Evolution and the Church of Quantum Physics have their doors wide open for us. The sooner we all join the congregations and "baptize" ourselves, the quicker we can resolve much of human stupidity.

Boredom

I am finding myself spending way too much time on the Net again. Sorry, no hurdy-gurdy video downloads, though. No social networking. No games. No streaming media. I'm on the damned Web browser, just wasting precious time. Yet, the question remains: What alternatives do I have in the "no trespassing" empire of "freedom, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness"?

Typical Existential Hottie

As I have stated many times, boredom is a modern invention. Boredom didn't exist until the word was coined. Now boredom is universal. Call it ennui, existential vacuum, or whatever ... boredom is boring. Technically, I am not bored. However, I am gradually being drawn into the gauntlet of boredom by the feeble constructs of modern culture (term used loosely).

The "ownership society" has forced us into pathetic conclaves that barely suffice as refuge. We must perform our actual "living" functions in miniature mausoleums, sarcophaguses, tombs as it were. As empire moves further into "inverted totalitarianism" and surveillance becomes ubiquitous, the powerless peons must sequester themselves in what basically amounts to a funeral home. The only conduit to the outside world is the Net. However, the devices used to access the latter have betrayed us.

I really don't know. Perhaps homelessness, true homelessness (i.e., unsheltered), may be the only way out. Yet, I have been told by my homeless sources that being homeless on the streets is extremely dangerous. There are bands of Micronesians, African-Americans, and White-Americans traveling in groups of three. They are robbing the homeless when they are asleep. If the victim awakens during the robbery, he is battered with various crude weapons. A few anonymous homeless have ended up in a real tomb as a result.

Oddly, I am not at all bored when I am out and about during the day. Boredom is only prevalent when I am sitting in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) or loitering around the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala in the evenings.

Little wonder why people spend so much money on gadgets, entertainment appliances, or accoutrements for their tiny mausoleums. Little wonder why people spend so much time in the kitchen like the idiotic "chef" of Slob Manor fame and consume 5,000 or more calories of food per day. Yeah, the "chef" does eat four or five full (completely organic) meals every day. Boredom knows no bounds.

Update. The "chef" is clinically insane. I've monitored his time in the kitchen when I am actually at Slob Manor. Six hours on wage slave days. Weekends, holidays, and vacations? Seven to eight hours, or more. All meals are complete, so his caloric intake is 6,000 upward daily. He spends a lot of time researching "holistic" cures and remedies on the Net. So, he's constantly conjuring up new concoctions. He on a ginger root kick now. He showed me about six pounds of ginger root that he purchased at a local farmer's market. Naturally, he's still a "conspiracy" nut of the worst kind. The more absurd, the more he believes.

Dark Side of Easy Street

There is, of course, a "dark side" to "easy" living. Every inconvenience, every minor altercation, every complication, and any deviation from the formulaic routine quickly spirals into a big problem. Intolerance is an issue brought to the forefront. The obsession with simplicity, the mundance, the ascetic minimalist life-style becomes overbearing. And, the pariah status completely subsumes the individual.

Typical "Dark Side" Hottie

Part of the problem ... well, a large part of the problem ... is financial. Every since the crooks have taken over the global financial "system," the rank-and-files peons have reduced to serfs and slaves, myself included. A simple life requires an enormous amount of assets. There is no way to cordon oneself off from the madness unless one has the resources to do so.

My situation has degenerated to the point that I must consider moving into a "crack house" in crime-riddled Chinatown. Like most "projects" for the poor, the "crack house" aims to provide "independent living" for the destitute. As Kevin Barbieux wrote in a recent post in The Homeless Guy "blog," those kinds of living arrangements are like prisons. And, the inmates are usually alcoholics, illicit drug users, or mentally ill.

On a side note, I read an interesting forecast for 2014 predicted by Jim Kunstler on his Clusterfuck Nation "blog." Kunstler is one of last holdouts of doomsayers. The rest have already defected to the "mainstream." I don't always agree with him, but the following excerpt sure "hit home":

It is sickening to see what we have become. Our popular entertainments are just what you would design to produce a programmed population of criminals and sex offenders. The spectacle of the way our people look — overfed, tattooed, pierced, clothed in the raiment of clowns — suggests an end-of-empire zeitgeist more disturbing than a Fellini movie. The fact is, it simply mirrors the way we act, our gross, barbaric collective demeanor. A walk down any airport concourse makes the Barnum & Bailey freak shows of yore look quaint. In short, the rot throughout our national life is so conspicuous that a fair assessment would be that we are a wicked people who deserve to be punished.

Couldn't have expressed the point any better.

Wonderful Wino!

No, I am not writing about comedian George Carlin's fictional AM radio station WINO. Do any of you remember those stand-up skits? Nor am I alluding to Tom, the drunkard, of Slob Manor (read: rental housing) fame. Anyway, I purchased a big-ass box of Peter Vella® Burgundy wine (on sale for $15 at Longs®) during my evening outing in Kahala last night. Unlike the big-ass bottle of King Cobra®, the boxed wine is not sitting in the Slob Manor fridge just for effect.

I have not slept well for over a week. Thus, the common cold is still lingering. The allergy medicine actually helped, but I discontinued its usage after four days. The antihistamine made me drowsy, so I slept a little better than usual. Lack of sleep, of course, is only prolonging the illness. Thus, the boxed wine. I will be drinking a glass late in the evenings to make myself drowsy. I only hope that I can sleep through the noise created by the inconsiderate fool, the "chef," at all hours of the night and early morning.

In case any of the meddling fools ask me about the boxed wine, I have already prepared a response. I will explain that I am totally stressed out in trepidation of moving into the "crack house" in crime hotspot, Chinatown. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

On a side note, I have been posting daily to the "blog" while I continue to tweak its layout. And, the babe pictures are only currently making a reprise as a response to the on-going Google® surveillance.

Easy Street

I am attempting to make my life as easy as possible from this point forward. Whether I deserve such a fate is irrelevant. Easy, albeit not painless. Pain cannot be avoided. Neither can mortality be avoided. So, what exactly do I mean by "easy"?

Typical "Easy Street" Hottie

I have exploited technology, specifically computer-related, to ease the burden of routine tasks. Now, everything that's possible is facilitated through the tablet computer. All of my finances are on-line and all accounts are "paperless." Ninety-nine percent of my transactions are done with one "rewards" credit card. I transact with only one local bank and one investment firm. I have only one e-mail account. I have no phone service, just Web voicemail. I have no social networking accounts. Trivial on-line accounts have been stripped of personal data and discarded. All regular mail is forwarded to a Post Office box, which I check maybe once every six weeks or so.

My entire life-style is focused on "easy." No wage slavery. No cooking. Low maintenance, limited wardrobe. Very few possessions, now mostly cheap replaceable items. Completely debt-free. No friends. No babes. No cash. No paperwork. No photos. Nothing of sentimental value. One small piece of luggage and one gym bag.

I have reduced almost all tasks to nothing. Even personal hygiene has been optimized. And, with so few useless possessions, little time is spent maintaining, cleaning, or repairing them. I don't cook either. So, no useless appliances or cookware to purchase, clean, and store. Only the dreaded laundry chores must be endured. Yet, with a minimalist wardrobe, there's little time wasted. One quick was load, and only 15 minutes maximum to dry. And, some clothing items are air-dried for further expediency.

Then there's the Nissan® Frontier truck. I barely take care of it anymore. I ceased washing it by hand and will take it to an automated carwash from now on. Maintenance is only performed once per year at the dealership that it was purchased. In time, it will be divested.

So, what do I do with all the spare time? Absolutely nothing, if possible. Am I admitting to being a lazy slob? Not really. I've put my time in as a dedicated wage slave and witting participant in the bogus "ownership society." I had to tolerate a lot of backstabbing and treachery, too. Now, I am an old codger ... a wise old codger. Wisdom is really the key. I've learned that everything is a zero-sum game. Mortality circumvents all human intentions.

Bookstore Solaces

Three days have elapsed since the closure of the Barnes & Noble® store in Kahala Mall. I had already tapered my visits there a week prior. However, I am now at a loss. A belated bereavement, as it were. I loitered in the central part of the mall for the longest time this evening. There's really nothing to do in a shopping mall except eat junk food or shop for useless crap, both of which are expensive.

The bookstore was a place of refuge, somewhere to go and browse books, with the option to purchase a snack in the café. There were chairs located throughout the store for patrons to sit. So, many of us spent the time perusing books and magazines. I often composed the "blog" while connected to the free wireless hotspot.

Goodbye, Old Friend

I have been frequenting the Kahala store ever since I moved back from the mainland many moons ago. The old journal, no doubt, had many entries which detailed that fact. Even when I moved to Waikiki, I made the jaunt to the larger store that is still open in Ala Moana Center. Alas, the latter store was much busier and obviously more crowded. Yet it was still a "hangout" place.

There's no place to "hangout" anymore. The bus trip to Ala Moana from Slob Manor (read: rental housing) is not feasible for the time that I have alloted for my evening outings. It would be much easier to travel to and from the "crack house" in Chinatown. The question is: Is the bookstore an important enough consideration to force my move to the district with the highest crime rate in Honolulu?

Square Zero Meme

No decision has been made at this time concerning the move to the "crack house" in Chinatown, although further analysis revealed that any potential savings will be offset by other unforeseen costs both in time and money. Worst of all is the potential for unwanted grief caused by other low-income residents as well as the riff-raff preying on unsuspecting victims in the high crime neighborhood. So, I will be at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) at least for another month.

The situation in Hawai'i is degenerating rapidly. The sheer number of homeless is testimony to that fact. Add the influx of immigrants (i.e., Micronesians, Chinese, Filipino, Tongans, Vietnamese, etc.), legal or otherwise, into the mix and ... Booyah! The number of clinically insane losers on the street is also increasing. There are so many "nutjobs" now that I cannot believe that they simply "lost their minds" due to natural causes. My educated guess is: chronic drug and alcohol abuse, most likely severe overdose scenarios.

Typical Square Zero Hottie

The goal of saving money by "pinching pennies" is ludicrous, too. Aside from shitty rental housing and food, there is nothing that I need to spend money on. More tablet computers, maybe? Hell no! And, I refuse to spend money on any passive entertainment venues. Paying money to be entertained or to purchase entertainment appliances is the quickest road to poverty and boredom. I may as well just be bored right from the start. Anyway, as we all know, boredom is a modern invention.

By the way, the automated Google® surveillance of the "blog" continues. I have taken the ludicrous step of posting daily a dummy entry titled, "Surveillance Test," in order to trigger the robot. Then, I remove the entry. You can see the intrusion events in the visitor log in the column to the right.

Welcome, Little Lambs!

The new year ... what can I say? Long story short, the time has finally arrived. The old "blog" is mummified. I have commented on pretty much everything. So, tentatively, there will only be sporadic updates to the new "blog." I am making greater progress toward obscurity.

Reader comments are now welcome, albeit moderated. Valid comments may not appear for an extended period of time. To expedite validation, please use a legitimate moniker. Informal tracking of visitors has been activated. No hottie pictures anymore. All for the better.

Silence, Little Lamb!

Originally, I had planned to mummify the old "blog" on Ol' Lavahead Day. Unfortunately, I couldn't envision the transition. So, the "blog" continued ad nauseam until now.

The new year finds us in no better position than before. Divestiture of useless possessions will continue ad infinitum (or until I run out of stuff). The whole purpose was to ready myself to move into the "crack house" in Chinatown. That decision is still pending.

The Nexus 7 tablet computer will have little use now that the "blog" has been quasi-mummified. There really is no purpose in owning it. I could simply exploit the display models at the fruit-based computer store in the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. With no bookstore anymore, there's not much else to do anyway during my evening outings. So, that's where we stand at this point in time.