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2001: The Viagra Years
Wednesday February 21, 2001
My coffee consumption has increased tenfold. I had dropped back to a cup a day. Then, about three weeks ago, I found myself drinking more and more coffee to "wake up." What caused this change in consumption patterns? One of the offices in the Asylum makes fresh Starbuck's coffee each morning. Excessive coffee makes one more fatigued later in the day. I'm also beginning to exhibit sign similar to that of someone "tweaking" on Ice.
All was quiet at the House of Lolo last night. However, I am certain that what transpired two nights ago is only the tip of iceberg. The morons are on a collision course with violence. I can only hope that the stray bullets do not come flying in this direction. Sheesh! Five years ago, the situation at the Roach Motel was building up to a fever pitch as well. Loser was pacing up a storm. I had dedicated myself to the monk life and was on the wagon for barely over a year. As was the case back then, I am close to the edge once again but I do not know why.
It's certainly not due to the "situation," as The Master used to call it. Babes are not a problem for me. What is interesting is that I have become very detached again, just as I was five years ago. However, I know and interact with babes on a daily basis. Of course, these babes are students in my classes. I find it really interesting to see how much I've come to depend on these babes to make my classes interesting. They feed on the attention and provide a kind of synergistic energy that I couldn't accomplish alone. Strange, isn't it? The babes are extremely dangerous but I am immune from their spell as I am a monk. In dealing with them, I have come to realize the awesome power that they exert over guys. I believe that most guys would need handcuffs to control themselves in their presence. Yes, even as a monk, I could sense their power. My buddy Bud was absolutely correct when he warned me, "Stay away from [babes]. They are all dangerous."
The babes are only as dangerous as one wants them to be. They can only exercise their power if one allows them to. Temptation is the real culprit. How can one escape? Well, thank goodness that SynthMonk provided a link to the article Forget porn -- men want consumer electronics on MSN. An excerpt:
But just when you thought it couldn't get worse, of course, it has. Now technology is so seducing the male population that quite literally the future of mankind — procreation — is affected.
A recent Playboy Mantrack survey found that 8 percent of men polled were having sex less often because of the time they spend not with the conventional definition of adult toys, but the new version — consumer electronics.
Well, there may be more uses for my Palm IIIe than I thought. By the way, I also found a new application called Oracle. It's a foolish program which generates random answers. That may come in handy soon.
Thursday February 22
The Palm IIIe as a monk utensil. An interesting concept. Sheesh! I was completely drained of energy today. My lethargy is increasing by the day. I was out of the Asylum a little earlier than usual, so I stopped off at Tanioka's and bought a Lau Lau plate lunch. The steamed Taro leaves are my favorite part. I ate my lunch in the faculty computer room. After lunch, I was just sitting around when Pseudo-professor Ralph walked in. "Don't you have a class?" he asked. I jumped up when I realized that my class was to start in a matter of minutes, not at 2 o' clock. Time has become an elusive concept.
After my class, I talked with Ray, one of my former students. He's interested in politics and right now he's serving a term as a City commissioner. Then, I went to the gym. I returned to the faculty computer room afterward. I was talking with Pseudo-professors Ralph and Dorothy for a while. Then, Pseudo-professor Robert made his appearance. Things got a little stupid after that. Pseudo-professor Ralph showed us a picture of Senator Hillary Clinton. "What Britney Spears song title would make a good caption for this?" he asked. Pseudo-professor Robert took a look at the picture and began rappin' away — "Give me a project chick. Give me a 'hood rat trick ..." Somehow I ended up mentioning that a few of my students have managed to download the Cash Money Millionaires' hit from Napster. So, I ended up installing Napster on a faculty computer and started the download. Pseudo-professor Chad walked in about that time and became involved in our conversation about the recent turn of events concerning Napster. Pseudo-professor Ralph was just about ready to leave when Pseudo-professor Robert broke out the printed copy of the lyrics to Project Chick. He started rappin' to the full lyrics. It's hard to describe the look on Pseudo-professor Ralph's face. Needless to say, I didn't get much done this afternoon. The level of buffoonery has increased amongst the ranks of the pseudo-professors. I'm not certain but I can assume that being overworked and underpaid may be the underlying issue.
Then, there's the matter of babes — a topic that I have been discussing on and off lately. I believe that Hermit is correct in stating that I will be construed as a misogynist no matter what I say. The bottom line is that guys want to do da wild thing with babes. That is the primary attraction for guys. Babes know this and continue to equate this attraction with troglodyte behavior. Oddly, they will do everything to display their wares in a conspicuous fashion in order to lure the troglodytes. When the Neanderthals grunt and emulate other chimp-like behavior, the babes are quick to point out this chauvinistic "flaw." One point is certain. Babes care about being recognized for their minds just about as much as guys do. Guys who are noted for their intelligence are not revered by babes. They are called "geeks." Whereas babes are definitely looked upon as sex objects, guys are looked upon as money objects. A fat wallet. So, what's the difference? If we come to understand the superficiality on both sides, then there could be hope for some kind of parity. Unfortunately, the evil dinero has a way of screwing everything up. Brinkmanship does not work in the guys' favor. The majority of guys will cave in, knowing that they cannot possibly survive without da wild thing. As a detached monk, I've observed these games for a number of years. As I mentioned yesterday, I can sense the awesome power of babes. Only a true eunuch could resist.
There are many guys who claim to want to be eunuchs. It is usually a temporary situation, the result of being rebuffed by a number of babes. However, they find themselves back on the playing field quick enough. Rather than avoid the babes, they return to the scene of the crime. First, by proximity — all by alleged "coincidence." Then, they become more bold. They are only fooling themselves and bringing on their own temptation. Sooner or later, they end up a casualty of war — again. When will they ever learn?
Friday February 23
I am thankful that the weekend is finally upon us. Today was the last day of the term at the Asylum. I spent a portion of my time with my evaluator. So far, my "evaluation" has taken two hours on two separate days. The process is still not complete. I will be meeting with the evaluator again next week. All of this hullabaloo and I will end up without a pay raise.
Pseudo-professor Robert was happy with the Napster download of Project Chick. He also gave me a printed copy of the lyrics. He also gave me a printed copy of an article about hypergamy from the Upstream Web site. We have discussed hypergamy before. It means that women "marry up," and men "marry down." We are looking at the "marriage gradient," one of the fundamental principles of the patriarchal system. An interesting excerpt is in order:
Hypergamy worked the same way four thousand years ago. Feminist Dr. Elise Boulding writes of Urbanization, the Rise of the State and the New Conditions for Women in the second millennium BC:
What I have been describing is certainly not "equality" for women. Military action became increasingly important throughout the second millennium, and each new arms levy, each new conscription of soldiers, would enhance the power differential between women and men of the elite. The women's access to the new resources was far more limited than that of men. Power was shared, but not shared equally.
Not shared equally — meaning that the women didn't share equally with the victorious males, the males who took the risks and endured the ardors of military life and earned the booty. How much of the booty was earned by the women? None, and that is why they were lesser sharers. For every victorious male there was a defeated male who lost the booty and perhaps his freedom or his life. Dr. Boulding makes no comparison between women and these male losers — just as feminists see themselves discriminated against by the absence of women in the Senate and the upper echelons of corporate power and the engineering profession, but choose not to notice that there is a similar absence of women in prison and on Skid Row.
At the risk of being labeled a complete misogynist, I will continue by stating that the patriarchal system, by its basic definition, makes sense. It fits within the context of the family model. It fits within the context of the physiological differences between genders. And, it fits within the context of a workable society. We have usurped the basic model with an artificial economic infrastructure which, in turn, destroyed gender parity. We have engendered superficial rules to meet a superficial goal which feigned to provide equality and political correctness. In the end, we have social chaos. The family structure and, hence, all of society is fractured beyond repair. How else can one explain the exorbitantly high divorce rates in technologically advanced societies?
Whereas Pseudo-professor Robert continues to search for an answer within a failed infrastructure, I have decided to remove myself from the process entirely. I do not believe that it is worth risking the chance of increased psychopathology just to do da wild thing. I am far better off devoting my time to my monastic duties, part of which is to educate others about the monastic alternative. Unless we, as a society, take responsibility for our actions insofar as these romantic trysts are concerned, then we will move closer to anarchy. Seeking out relationships for personal gain is a subset of greed. It has already eaten away at the fabric of society. And, it is at the root of prophesy that has yet to be be fulfilled.
Today marks the end of five long years since LoserNet first appeared on the Web. There will be no celebration. No "Welcome Back, Loser" House Party. I have one pathetic can of Keystone left in the fridge. I'll drop it back unceremoniously and usher in the sixth year in silence.
Saturday February 24 - The Sixth Year Cometh
I spent most of the day in a comatose state. Then, I drove my beloved six-four to Koko Marina so I could buy a 12-pack of cheap brewskis. I did the yardboy chores for the rest of the afternoon while droppin' back the cheap brewskis. Life without babes — that's what more than a few people would assert. I should clarify that I am not a misogynist. I don't hate babes. Frankly, I enjoy having them around especially in the classroom environment.
Some may feel sorry for the ol' lavahead and his brethren. The single life is, according to them, pathetic. It is a compromise and is equated with "throwing in the towel." Essentially, good intentions are often thwarted by ignorance. Being single is not the same as being a loser. However, that's what being single is defined as these days. A lifestyle is a personal choice. It has nothing to do with being a winner or a loser. Somehow, people spend so much time judging others that I oftentimes wonder how they can enjoy their own lives.
In the sixth year of LoserNet's existence, I would hope that we can dispel the myth of the ubiquitous loser. Being a loser has nothing to do with remaining single or becoming a monk. I have observed an interesting phenomenon. The numerous publications and Web sites (some I've quoted from) focusing on the issue of male singularity always approach the matter defensively. It is as if there must be a qualified reason (more like an excuse) to explain why anyone in his right mind would want to remain single, seek abstinence, or become a monk. Why do all the romanticists put us on the defensive? There is no need to explain this preference to others unless the real reason is to justify the position to oneself because of feelings of inferiority. I believe that many of us would be very content to remain celibate if it were not for the outside pressure to conform. Always remember — never kick a man when he's down, unless you're sure that he won't get back up.
Sunday February 25
Houseboy chores. Cheap brewskis. Coma. Beloved resin chair. Every weekend is the same. I have decided that I must do something productive, so I will be developing a few very useful Palm applications. These tasks may be be too much for my pea-sized brain, and I may have to quit before I even get started. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa!
Have you noticed that many of the Web journals penned by guys always include the obligatory "choking the chicken" segment? I'm not exactly sure why it is so important to disclose one's daily regimen with the chicken. My guess is that the use of this ploy lies in the belief that any babes reading said journal would feel sorry for the author. The sheer frequency of that activity would also suggest superhuman virility, perhaps to inspire the same babes to take a proactive stance. Of course, this is the main reason why guys always give in and return to the scene of the crime. This is the source of the power that babes have over guys.
Heck, maybe I'm wasting my time developing Palm applications. I should start up a hurdy-gurdy production company. Naturally, I'd have to be part of the cast to cut down expenses. What a way to go! I could do da wild thing with thousands of gorgeous centerfold babes without having to worry about relationship issues. So, I could still remain a monk. No need to choke the chicken either. Imagine doin' da wild thing in every possible way with babes like Jenna Jameson (at right). I'd try to produce at least ten hurdy-gurdy videos per week. I'd also make sure that I have plenty of Viagra around. Here's a great theme I just thought of — a special edition ten-DVD set in which the main plot centers on the ol' lavahead being locked in a vacant monastery with 200 gorgeous centerfold babes. Naturally, he does da wild thing with each and every one of them in every way imaginable. Each tryst is captured in full detail in the 80-hour video. Man, what a great idea! I've got to start looking for investors.
Maybe I should start recruiting babes at the university. I'm sure that a lot of them are looking for a great part-time job that pays extremely well. Can you imagine "Dangerous" Jennifer in one of those videos? I'd probably end up being called in by the Dean. He might even fire me! Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa! "Take this job and shove it!" I'd tell him. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaa! He'd only be jealous because he didn't come up with the idea himself. Well, I had better put this idea in my "To Do List" on my Palm IIIe, eh?
Monday February 26
There's nothing more sobering than returning to the salt mines. No one on the express bus looked excited about going to work. Most of the people have bags under their eyes. Some have done this routine for over a decade. How do they do it? I am already going insane with this wage slave ritual. The only thing that could infuse some life back into these weary bones is a tryst with Jenna Jameson. Just kidding! I guess when one has a home and a family to support, then wage slavery is a seemingly reasonable sacrifice. That's probably the justification to keep these fools from going insane. To the casual observer, there would appear to be little difference in the morale on the express bus and a typical prison transport bus.
I bought a Whopper (my way, of course!) for the first time in a long time. It was a delicious Whopper but I didn't really enjoy it. A sure sign that something is afoot. I suppose that I'm tired of my peon existence, but I have no way out. I will never earn or save enough to retire, even when I reach retirement age. It really takes an enormous amount of dough just to survive. I guess that's why it's so discouraging.
I've started designing my Palm applications. Let's see how far I get. Remember the novel that I was writing a while back? Where is it, by the way? Sheesh! I hope to have the prototypes of both applications operational before the end of the week. The real problem is that I cannot afford the development programs for the Palm platform. I should use the free development package from Palm but it looks cumbersome. I've already set up one of the faculty computers as my development workstation. I don't expect to make any dough from what I design, so there is even less impetus to invest any dough into it.
Tuesday February 27
My first Palm application is moving right along. It should be ready for beta-testing by the end of the week. I also registered my developer identification with Palm. I've decided that the most useful thing that a Palm device can do is to collect information. Most of the other applications and games outlive their usefulness in a matter of days. The Palm databases are the basic core of the operating system. That's what it does best.
I hope to complete my Palm projects and submit them to the usual shareware sites. The software will be marketed under the LoserNet Labs moniker. I shared my idea with a few of the pseudo-professors. They probably thought that I had lost my mind. I was almost totally oblivious to my surroundings because I was too preoccupied with my Palm projects. The day went by fairly quickly, but I am excited about working on my projects again tomorrow.
Wednesday February 28
I survived the final installment of the "evaluation" fiasco. I've spent close to four hours in this process, which only served as some kind of kangaroo court. The outcome? No pay raise. I've missed the mark because of not attending school functions (aside from meetings), and because I haven't made a move to obtain that pathetic MOUS certification. Yet, my student evaluations were amazingly good. I sensed that the administration was grasping at straws to find reasons to not grant me a pay raise. I'm at the point now that I really don't care.
I met Mark for lunch. We walked to Quizno's Subs and ended up paying a hefty price for mediocre food. The place was so small that we ended up sitting outside of the Paradise Café. The handmaiden walked by while we were eating. She waved and kept going. Thank goodness. I certainly would not been too happy to listen to any more of her fabrications. Then, within minutes, we were asked to leave (because we didn't patronize the dump). I won't be plunking down any change at either joint from this day on.
The whole day was pretty much ruined, but the sinister kahuna was not done. When I returned to the faculty computer room, I discovered that someone had uninstalled Napster and with it went Project Chick. So, I installed a stealth keyboard monitor program. It records all keystrokes made on the computer and also logs the various applications used. I will bait the perpetrator and discover his identity soon.
I neither made it to the gym or worked on my Palm projects. So, by the end of the day, I was in a really bad way. In fact, I dropped my beloved Palm IIIe on the floor. That's because I use a cheap plastic bag to carry it. I can't afford the $30 accessory case. I use another plastic bag for my beloved cell phone. I am always reminded of my poverty on a daily basis. That's what modern day life is about. Poor people will spend their last dime in a feeble attempt to look anything more than poor. There is no end. Any attempt to break out of the ranks will result in stigmatization and alienation. I should know. A few days ago, I read in the paper that the median level of personal savings was less than $3,000 per family. By inference, the majority of the population is living from paycheck to paycheck (i.e., the median should skew toward the largest portion of the sample). I'm not the only poor fool out there. Sheesh!
Thursday March 1
The stealth keyboard monitor is an interesting program. It records every keystroke and even logs the various applications being used. It also records login and password information. This is the type of software that is being used by nefarious employers to track computer usage. It is a complete invasion of privacy. A wage slave, however, has no rights.
Malia came by the faculty computer center this morning. So, I was able to talk with her for a while. Aside from that, I worked on my Palm project. The project is nearly completed. I have compiled the beta version, and I will test it later this evening. It's too bad that I can't come up with a "killer" Palm application, eh? I will be starting on my second project as early as this weekend. There are quite a few people developing Palm applications for just about everything. Maybe I should design an application to keep track of underwear. A great idea, especially for guys since they tend to keep using the same underwear for decades.
Life has become similar to the proverbial water torture. I am finding that misery is inflicted upon others by an increasing number of nefarious individuals. Human suffering is the end result. I do not understand why there are people who have made this nefarious purpose the focal point of their lives. The insatiable nature of greed is at the root. There must be some kind of justice, we keep telling ourselves. With each passing day, we become less certain. The evil ones still reign. They squeeze the life out of us, just as they squeeze every last dime out of us. Yet, many of us do not abhor these scumbags. Rather, we want to become one of them. Human frailty feeds the desire to become god-like. After all, deities have omnipotence and power. Power over mortal humans. Yet, humans have proven time and again that they only strive to be worshipped or idolized, and will enslave all of humanity in order to accomplish that single, pathetic objective.
Friday March 2
Well, the stupid Palm application did not work. So, I spent part of the morning working on it. I had to waste some time and walk over to the Asylum for the new student orientation. That's part of the "dog and pony show" which I must put on to indicate my commitment to that dump. Naturally, I arrived too late. So, I returned to the university to continue with my Palm projects. Thank goodness for Web drives! I uploaded my projects again and will test them out later this evening. The second project is already past the drawing board stage, and should be completed soon.
The weekend is upon us once again. This is the only salvation for wage slaves. I have discovered that one of the "dangerous" babes in my classes is working at Hooter's. She definitely has all of the qualifications, from what I can tell. I find it all amusing because, if I wasn't a faculty member, these babes wouldn't even give me the time of day. That's all part of the game. I am very grateful that I do not have to play this game. I'm an outsider looking in, and I damned happy about it. I suppose that, when I grow old and impotent, I will regret my decision to be a bystander. Certainly a better prospect than having my chain yanked over and over again by the myriad handmaidens (of the sinister kahuna) out there.
It would be real easy to give in, just because of da wild thing. That's what the majority of guys do. They'd be better off investing their time in something more productive — such as droppin' back a whole mess of cheap brewskis. I've got one chillin' in the fridge, as we speak. Isn't that what life's all about?
Saturday March 3
My Palm project caused my Palm IIIe to crash — the kind of crash in which I must use a paper clip to stick in the hole where the hard reset switch is located. So, I spent most of the day debugging the piece of crap. I finally have it working. The second application should be completed by tomorrow. Apparently, I must apply for a new developer identification for each different Palm application. The whole process has been more irritating than anything else. I've been doing the HotSync thing all day with each modification. I will also have to design a Web page which will eventually serve as one of the distribution points for my products.
I installed the completed version of Psycho at 7:30pm. The final version of Choke da Chicken should be completed later this evening. Isn't that great? What will I charge for this wonderful Palm shareware? Not much. It will be voluntary to pay the whopping $1 price. They are both personal tracking applications (i.e., databases). Naturally, these are one-of-a-kind products that many people can use. I may develop a few more Palm applications using a different development environment. I have a splitting headache now, but at least I can be happy in knowing that it was not the result of the cheap brewskis. Sheesh!
Sunday March 4
I have been longing to work on a few computer projects for quite a while. Yet, I did not enjoy spending most of the day on the computer yesterday. I felt as if my life was passing before my eyes. I don't know why since I usually lapse into a coma during the weekends. I suppose that I'm not truly a computer nerd. I spend most of my spare time during the week in the faculty computer room. I usually am reading the news on the Net or listening to NetRadio House. And, for the time being, I'm a Palm nerd.
A while back, I stated that "all a guy needs is a good computer." That is still true, provided that one can afford to buy software for the damned thing. The only software that resides on my beloved notebook computer is freeware. Most of it is Net-related. Thus, my computer is useless without my Net connection. My development software is all for Web design. Thus, the only reason that I own a computer is LoserNet (and the journal). I have devoted the last five years to the journal. It is now a ritual for me to write my daily entry. Otherwise, my day is not complete. The journal is also much more important to me than, say, finding a babe. Babes come and go, but the journal is forever. The journal also keeps me on track insofar as being a monk.
Every now and then, I peruse the vast wasteland of Web journals. That's what I did last night. I find that most journals are written by people as a way to kill time and lament about the unfairness of life until their perfect mate appears out of nowhere. I usually sense that fact after five minutes of reading. What I'm getting at is this — I can't seem to escape all of the romance mumbo-jumbo. I don't own a tube. I stopped listening to music except the occasional NetRadio stints. I don't observe holidays. That really only leaves the Net and ... well ... the same crap has festered this medium, too. I need some kind of Net Nanny software which can filter out all of that nonsense.
I spent almost all day working on my computer again. Once again, I felt as if my life was passing before my eyes. I just can't seem to relax. I've got to return to the salt mines tomorrow. The new term commences at the Asylum, so I won't have the mornings off as I did last week. Moms was at a religious convention all day. The peace and quiet was nice. Very conducive to computer nerd work. However, the weekends are just not the same without droppin' back a few cheap brewskis.
After much contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that I can get by with just my beloved computer. Heck, almost all other toys (i.e., consumer electronics) can be replaced by a computer. If that is the case, then I can sell my Bose Acoustic Wave. All I need is a good set of computer speakers to plug into my computer. New computers, even notebooks, also come with DVD drives. Now I'll be able to watch hurdy-gurdies on the computer as well. Just kidding! I could really do without my Palm IIIe but I have grown accustomed to it. Since installing Psycho on my Palm IIIe, I just can't seem to part with it. Sheesh!
Monday March 5
The first day of the new term at the Asylum. Same old, same old. I just hope that I can make it through three more years of this crap. All depends on whether I can put enough dough away. I seriously doubt that I will make my goal by then. I have established an unrealistic expectation given my low wages. I should start using Psycho (my Palm application), since I will need to track my psychotic episodes prior to losin' it. It's been running on my Palm IIIe with no problems. I made a few more changes to the application this evening. I will submit it to the shareware sites later this week, hopefully.
Anybody who knows anything about programming will laugh at my stupid, little applications. I'll probably have three or four of them designed before launching the new LoserNet Labs Web site. At least I know that there are no equivalent products out there, for what that's worth. Sheesh!
Tuesday March 6
Another day in the salt mines. I am still frantically working on getting everything ready to introduce my cheesy Palm applications. Strange activity at the House of Lolo last night. The young ho' returned home around midnight with a couple of losers. They were talking really loud. One of the losers was describing an altercation that he was involved in and how he evaded the cops. Later, the ugly ho' was yelling and cussing in her room with the lights off. Did you say, "Ice"? It's about time that I recommission my Nova Spirit into service. I may have to jolt a few craniums.
On an odd note, I believe that I'm pushing the envelope concerning the "dangerous" babes in my classes. Don't worry. I'm not going to cross the line. Those kinds of opportunities do not come up for the oversized cranium. What I'm talking about is something that I cannot even pinpoint right now. All I know is that, with each successive term, I have a wider rapport with the more "dangerous" babes and babes in general. This is extremely peculiar given the fact that I am a monk. I am concerned because I believe that I am unwittingly flirting with danger from some kind of unethical standpoint which I have yet to determine. All I know is that something does not seem right. Perhaps it is my apparent hypocrisy concerning the babes. Here, I preach that babes are dangerous and should be avoided at all cost yet, in reality, I am embracing their presence. What is even more disturbing is the trend that I may be overly partial to them. Not in terms of grading, mind you, but in terms of the attention directed at them. Of course, the reason could be that the "dangerous" babes are usually the only active participants in my classes. Last week, Pseudo-professor Robert and I were discussing the interesting phenomenon of the babes always displaying their wares in class. They usually do this in concert. He posed the thesis that the displaying of wares is probably coincident with female fertility and menstrual cycles. Somehow, I have a feeling that he's right.
Overall, the questioning of my own feeble position is a means of undermining the foundation of the monk lifestyle. The sinister kahuna is at work again. I am just a shell of a man. There is no substance or meaning to my existence. Everything I see around me make absolutely no sense. People are on an insatiable quest to seek pleasure at any cost. A perverse type of hedonism, at best. For me, it is a very disconcerting type of disconnectedness that I am experiencing. Not exactly part of the pleasure zone. Why are the babes so important? The primal forces are resurfacing. It boils down to da wild thing. One could become as a drunk or a glutton with regard to da wild thing. Disconnecting from babes (and, hence, da wild thing) causes derealization unless those ties can be completely severed. "If your hand betrays you, cut it off. If your eye betrays you, pull it out."
Wednesday March 7
I was in a bad way for most of the day. I suppose that it really had something to do with the "situation." Pseudo-professor Robert was in the faculty computer room when I returned after a full day of classes. In a somewhat convoluted fashion, he asked me about what the prospects were for poor, older guys to find suitable babes. I suppose that he was referring to the both of us. As a monk, I really didn't have much of an answer. However, I simply reiterated what I've said before. "It all depends on your own expectations," I told him. "One has to try really hard to remain single." That's probably not what he wanted to hear. As the conversation progressed, I had an odd feeling that I knew the real story. The "dangerous" babes in his classes are serving as unpleasant reminders of his own singularity. He is, in essence, battling his demons on the issue of mortality.
I know what he must be going through. Perhaps that was the reason for my own fatigue and lethargy today. The "dangerous" babes in my classes were looking particularly attractive today, although only one was displaying her wares. None of this should be an issue with me since I am a monk. Perhaps I am battling my own demons as well. I doubt that any of it really has to do with babes. I'm more concerned about my precarious future. I have no idea where I'm heading.
Thursday March 8
Most of the Palm Developer's site has been down for days. I attempted to e-mail Palm Technical Support but my note was rejected because I am not an official (read: dues paying) developer. This experience leads me to believe that Palm will lose the battle in the PDA arena. It is insensitive to the needs of the small developer. Not to mention, the new Palm M-series design look more like an ugly shoe. Well, that's how the cookie crumbles. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Not to be deterred, I submitted the first of my applications to the various shareware sites.
Pseudo-professor Robert was in the faculty computer room again. I have learned that he is interested in a babe who also works for the legal aid society. She is a senior at the University of Hawai'i, so there won't be a conflict of interest. She must be in her mid-twenties. Although I believe that he is playing with fire, I urged him to take action. It's either that or he'll kick himself in the ass later. "Be sure that you are strong enough to handle rejection," I warned, "If it was me, I'd run the other way." I knew better than to proselytize about the monk ways. A couple of days ago, he had told me, "Why bother going to the gym? There's no need to look good if you're a monk." Remember when Jimbo had told me the same thing back in Convalescent City? I don't go to the gym and work out just to impress babes. I just don't want to end up like Dick Cheney. My only goal is to produce a few more useless Palm application.
Friday March 9
An uneventful day, at best. I'm just happy that the weekend is finally here. I ended up at Murphy's after my last class at the university. I had to attend a reception for the Asylum faculty. Fortunately, there was a lot of good food there. I really wanted to go to the gym instead. However, it was made clear to me that I must attend these "dog and pony" shows to remain in good standing.
I plan to spend most of the weekend at my beloved computer. I have a few more Palm applications to develop. I also found a few typographical errors in Psycho which I will fix. Why don't I check these things properly? I have already submitted the application to several shareware sites. Sheesh! The Tucows site rejected Psycho because it is "not suitable for family entertainment." I suppose that those games involving the killing of so-called "aliens" is much better suited for "family entertainment."
Moms is preparing all kind of food to cook in the kamado again. I'll be privy to seeing the Ninja Turds again. Looks like I've got a make a trip to Long's so I can buy a 12-pack of Keystone. I should be thankful since I haven't seen the Turds in almost three weeks. There really is no end to this stupidity. Moms has bought into the act. Any casual observer could see what was going on within ten seconds. There's no sense in fretting over this crap. The Turds are going to get everything they've wanted.
Saturday March 10
I was spared the agony of a visit by the Ninja Turds. Moms packed up the food and took the bus to visit the Turds. It's too bad that moms must not only buy, prepare, and cook the food but she must also deliver it. I know this may seem selfish, but I was happy that moms had gone to the Turds' place since I was in no mood to see any of them.
I have continued to work on my Palm projects. I finished Hurdy-Gurdy today, and I'm now working on Moronic Roommate. The Palm Developer's site is still down. I'm not exactly sure what to say about a company that has left an essential server down for almost two weeks. Does this make business sense? Of course, with so many of the high-tech firms posting tremendous losses these days, one has to wonder. The whole of society pretty much resembles a toilet bowl anyway. Sooner or later, someone is going to pull the plunger.
A few days ago, I was wondering about why all of the new cars have such stupid names to match their ugly, bulbous designs. Why not badge a car with more suitable names? Ford Putz, Chrysler Moron, Honda Ho', Hyundai Cheapskate, and Mercedes Snob come to mind. And what's with all of these crazy numeric designations? Let me suggest using something like BMW 10Log5 instead. Sheesh!
Sunday March 11
I have come to realize that I should not have distributed my Palm applications as freeware. For one thing, "free" normally implies no value. Savvy software developers price their products in-line with consumer expectations. Perhaps it's my lack of confidence in my ability to create anything useful. Or, it could stem from the whole LoserNet concept. The applications seem stupid on face value. However, I really do believe that they serve a niche market and, by inference, are extremely useful.
I spent most of the afternoon doing my yardboy chores. What I mean by "yardboy chores" is using the WeedWhacker to cut the grass. It always takes me several hours. Fortunately, I had my cheap brewskis chillin' in the fridge. That's my definition of "livin' large in a small way." I'll be returning to the salt mines again tomorrow. Wheeee!
Monday March 12
Yet another bad day in the stock market. I can't even estimate how much dough I've lost. Well, I didn't have much to begin with. I have no idea where I should put my IRA contribution for the year. I may have to find a bond fund. The small guys never wins. Sooner or later, the money changers will squeeze every last dime out of us. I can safely say that the people on welfare are doing far better than I am.
The Palm Developer's site is still down. I am completely puzzled by this. Haven't these clowns heard of hardware redundancy? I wouldn't be surprised if someone's old desktop computer was being used as the server. This bring a whole new meaning to the term "mission critical." If I ever purchase a replacement for my Palm IIIe, it will either be a Handspring model or I may just switch to a PocketPC device. I have received no feedback about my Palm software. Perhaps they weren't as useful as I thought. I cannot list my latest creations with the usual shareware sites until I can obtain valid Creator IDs for them. So pathetic.
I am having more bouts of derealization. That's psycho-babble for "losin' it." I am also sunburned from doing my yardboy chores in the middle of the day. I cannot really pinpoint the source of the derealization. Perhaps the discussions last week with Pseudo-professor Robert are the reason. He and I lead very parallel lives. Both of us are in our forties. We both live at home with moms. We both should have better careers than we do. We only differ on the point concerning the "situation." However, it really doesn't matter because I am a lowly monk.
Tuesday March 13
I performed my usual ritual of depositing money into my checking account for the automatic payment for my loans. That's also how I make my monthly gym payments. The performance of the ritual drives home the point of how little I earn. The Asylum has officially denied me a pay raise. No surprise. I truly hope that I will no longer need to put up with crap at the end of three years.
Wage slavery has never been my forté, primarily because of the mental midgets whom I must deal with daily. Case in point. I had to cancel one of my classes at the university yesterday because the multimedia projector in the classroom didn't work. This particular model does not start up again if it has been turned off within the last hour. I reported the incident to the multimedia "technician." His response? "Well, if no one reports that the unit is malfunctioning, then I assume it's working," the brain donor said, with a straight face. I repeated myself twice and received the same response each time. Finally, I gave up.
A few weeks ago, I had seen one of the meatheads from the gym walking around with a babe. He was wearing a security guard uniform. I recalled this little tidbit when I was reflecting on what Pseudo-professor Robert had been discussing with me recently. Of course, I was at the gym and happened to observe other meatheads in the company of babes. I must have forgotten what I had observed five years ago when I was in Convalescent City. Babes are not interested in intellectual eunuchs. Pseudo-professor Robert is on a wild goose chase to nowhere. Babes appear to love that meathead troglodyte behavior. And, really, that's the way most guys are when they are in the company of babes. I observe them hamming it up like performing chimps. This monkey act is the typical modus operandi for guys. There are many guys who believe that they are above all of this when, in effect, they are just trying a different angle. It all started a few decades ago with the ill-fated "sensitive man" façade. The bottom line is that guys are willing accomplices in this game. And, it truly is a game. Those who want to try the "nice guy" approach are just asking to stomped on. And, they deserve it because they know better. My advice to guys who want to stay in the game — go with your ape-like instincts. Or, just become a monk already! Monk or monkey. Get it? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!
Wednesday March 14
Mark and I met for lunch at the Paradise Café. I'm surprised that we even ate there after we were asked to leave a couple of weeks ago. The food is okay. I can't say that I'm impressed with paying $6 for a small pasta salad. Sheesh! Later, as I walking to my afternoon class, I felt someone grab me by the arm. It was "Dangerous" Jennifer. Actually, I had seen her from the corner of my eye. I was trying to be as invisible as possible but that didn't seem to work. I talked with her for a few minutes. She had a very dangerous outfit on. I can safely say that "Dangerous" Jennifer is far more dangerous than any of the babes in my classes. She makes them all look like rookies.
After class, I returned to faculty computer room to find several babes running amuck. Pseudo-professor Steinman was up to his old tricks again. I don't really know the guy because he is kind of a prick. He always has his entourage with him. Mind you, none of them come anywhere close to "Dangerous" Jennifer's league. However, students aren't really allowed in the faculty areas. I ran into Pseudo-professor Robert at the bus stop later and gave him the low-down on Steinman. He was somewhat perturbed, so we may see some action.
Pseudo-professor Ralph has been trying to persuade me to obtain my doctorate again. We had a brief discussion yesterday in which he pointed out all of the advantages. I was not convinced.
"Well, how will I be able to earn any dough to pay for this?" I asked.
"Just rack up more student loans," he told me. "And, classes don't start until after 3:30 in the afternoon. Do you teach any classes at that time?"
"No, but when will I study?"
"In the evenings and whenever you have any spare time."
"So, when will I sleep?"
"Well, that could be a problem."
You know what I have to say about that ... sheesh! Where's "Dangerous" Jennifer?
To be continued ... Go to V.05
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