So this is my San Diego story, also known as that "one time I was pissed on by dogs and what came of it". So I went to San Diego in 2023 because I was attempting to make money as a web developer living in an apartment in Bloomington Indiana (after all the shit that went down in New York City - I should do a fuck New York City page just for the hell of it, but that's going to be a wild fucking ride) and if you had no idea there's essentially no way of making a living making web pages on like fiver - I had Russians offer to farm the shit out if they could use that I was a US developer and then pipe a botnet through my account and I said "yeah...no". So I ran out of money and my parents said they wouldn't pay for the 1000 a month it would take to not live on the street in Midwestville. Because they're I don't know. Assholes? In the 2020 to 2023 time frame I was living in Bloomington I searched for a job while I went to therapy with the bullshit therapist I was assigned to (I'm going to buy a cat and name it Steve and give it a diet of nothing but catnip - fuck you Steve.) because I was fucked up in a shelter in NYC. I flushed the risperdol down the toilet because I like having my dick work.

Oh and just so you don't think I'm a total prick (speaking of) I applied to every retail position in town including at CV fucking S which had an online timed test which they give to people where you have to count change on a fucking timer in such a way where it's impossible to do. Which they would give to people they didn't want to have a job. And fucking Best Buy. There was a flower orchard or garden or some shit that finally hired me and they would hide gloves covered in red paint above my workstation and skeletons around where I worked. From what I could understand the schizo disease was most likely prevalent and they were attempting to weed out the people that are "scared of death" - to this day I doubt that COVID is a thing and it's just a way to find all the people that are scared of disease and then cripple them with a whole bunch of other comorbidities like antibiotic resistant staph infection. Fuckers. And my parents are in on the whole thing and my friends abandoned me. Because they assumed I was a pedophile or I was branded as a criminal - as in an outcast not able to operate a cash register. Something. Anyway, not that it matters but at the time I wanted to go to San Diego to work with this guy on philosophy because I spent my time during the "we're going to have a pretend disease or some such" studying philosophy because I think highly of my family members and (used to) take them as role models - and one of my uncles is a philosopher. I also spent years traveling the world and having had a few experiences figured I could come up with a philosophical position given that a plague is an introspective type situation.

It was either that or freeze my ass off on the street and die while my parents live alone in the woods in a 3 story house and all of my friends couldn't be assed to help me find even a retail job to pay the rent. Oh - and while I was living in Bloomington, I let a homeless man live with me for two months rent free just because. Which I've done multiple times before. For no reason other than to be kind.

So I take a greyhound to San Diego and figure worst comes to worst I wash dishes and live on the beach. I had a tent. I've done this shit before trekking wise so it couldn't be that bad if I did it for a few days and then wash dishes in a restaurant while I look for a job (oh there are plenty of "dish washer" jobs in San Francisco and I'll be followed by assfuck that are talking about how easy it is to get one while I have crippled hand disease now from plague monster - fuck you). I ended up working at this Krishna Temple that wanted people to put on a loin cloth and join a monastery going around and banging on a gong rather than begrudgingly pay me $15 an hour to wash dishes only occasionally. They had free food which was nice I guess. I wanted a fucking job and a place to live, not join a cult. I did "the worm" there or whatever the fuck they call it (they breakdance for prayer sometimes, who knew?) so there was that. I'm a when in Rome guy and the Krishnas are good about feeding the poor but holy shit are they bad at the whole "yeah, no thanks I don't want to shave my head and dance around the street looking like an orange".

Every single university professor ignored me and absolutely no one would offer to pay me to work. The Krishnas may have taken a hit out on me - "don't touch this dipshit, he's ours". So if you're looking for charity stay the fuck away from those assholes I guess is the lesson here. Dicks. Anyway, I was sleeping on the beach on Ocean Beach and they were holding these concerts. At some point I'm under a palm tree in a sleeping bag because the beach was too windy and someone would just have their dog piss on my sleeping bag while I was sleeping. Wonderful. Who fucking does that? Assholes that's who. So I start sleeping in doorways up and down Ocean Beach and one time I slept in a doorway on Voltaire across the street from Run For Cover Books. I don't know if you noticed, but Google Maps isn't exactly totally on top of updating the software in an efficient way. So I'm across from this place right - and the mailbox is full and the store is derelict. And I'm like that's weird. It's a store in the middle of one of the richest neighborhoods in San Diego and it's empty and it's a book store (at this point I believe that brain disease is so prevalent that people have simply stopped reading and are dying so maybe it's not so weird now). This is when I was eating uncooked pasta out of my backpack and shitting out bow ties after I had run out of propane. So I have nothing to do right? So I go...hmm fuck what to do. So I go and I ask everyone I can what happened to the bookstore. The neighbors. The other fucking bookstores in town (all of them). Nobody knows. The website was empty. And there's this empty bookstore with a mailbox full of mail. Like did the bitch die? What?

So what I do then is I go to the capital building and I look up who owns all the buildings. All property is listed in the capital building which is one of those useful facts to know. So hmm...Ok. You know who owns it? Some douchebag named Steve Yeng. Along with most of the rest of the property on Ocean Beach. This asshole infused peanut butter into whiskey and somehow sold out to the second largest whiskey producer in the world and bought up the entire neighborhood. Yeah. Bullshit detector goes off immediately - any asshole can do that. The guy is clearly a front for money laundering. Which is like, who gives a shit right, not my money and assholes are born once a minute. Problem is this bitch is missing, Google maps and her bookstore don't show where she is and I'm learning to cook angel hair in my lower intestine and it's coming out like silly string. So I want to talk to the guy. If you own all the property in a neighborhood and people start going missing then you have some sort of obligation or something at least in my book. Speaking of books I want to *buy one* so I have something to distract myself while I'm sitting here starving to death, if only to distract myself.

Right, so I look up his address of his main residence on file which is this little white house on a hill which happens to have a for sale sign. Weird. I ring the doorbell and a lady answers the door "Oh - Steve he no live here anymore so sorry." Well, shit. Case closed. Trail goes cold there's nothing I can do. I'm not made of judge Dredd and justice sauce. I'm just a guy that wants to wash dishes and read a book.

So after I've been starving during October I start eating the candy they give away for halloween at the stores and shit. I can't find a job (there are none - probably because they're all owned by a rich douchebag that's a front for money laundering - go figure - and even if I go to another neighborhood I'm now branded as "nosey") and after starving for a week I tell some people to fuck off in front of a pizza shop. So what happens is that the cops pull up in a squad car and they aim an AR15 at my head in front of these open windows - you see those - there's no glass in them. If the idiot missed while they handcuffed me he would have shot up a pizza parlor and killed a couple dozen people with his fucking machine gun.

A couple minutes earlier they had a couple guys with a camera crew go around and film me for some movie or something and I had waved. And then all of a sudden this squad car comes around and does this to me with a dozen police officers. Hey, granted I was saying "cute shirt dick, buy someone a piece of pizza who can't get a job", but it almost got a pizza parlor worth of dude bros capped. So while I'm sitting on a squad car in handcuffs they have a couple of SUVs come and shine a light in my face and some rando in the back of the guy said "yeah that's the guy officer". The guy for what? Brandishing a pistol. I'm in military style fatigues because they're the only pants that don't rot and there's the largest naval base in the country here and the clothing is cheap. And I'm supposed to have a gun? Anyway they put me in jail for 72 hours (or I could come up with ten thousand fucking dollars bail) and I'm supposed to pick which group of idiots I share a room with. I choose the white guys (because it's fucking jail - and it's between them and the MS13 type dudes, a guy covered in Russian prison tattoos, or a bunch of Biggie Smalls black muthafuckas - I pick the white guys I must be an awful person) and I had to decide between the guy that thought that Facebook could talk to him through mind control and the guy who has a German flag tattoo and is reading this mastapiece. So I pick the latter and then soon leave San Diego for San Francisco because I had a sister here who I thought would get me a job. I show up at her house covered in scabies and needing a place to stay and work. Her husband answers the door and waits for my sister to come home who runs to the bathroom without looking me in the eye because "she cut her finger after falling off her bike" to hide. They give me $300 and tell me my scabies just needs "athlete's foot cream remover" from a gas station. If I took their advice I may have died. I offered them books for Christmas and I was left for dead on a subway platform after someone mixed DMT in pot and smoked it around me before abandoning me on a train platform. The last time I was at their house the stairs had been removed and my nephew had broken his leg (somehow?). They called the "CAT team" which is some paramilitary asshole division that puts people in the back of police cars with no door handles that they've slapped the word "CAT" on - just like the "HOT" team does the same shit with ambulances - this is in Oakland. Oh by the by, if you take a hospital ride with them to get your various incurable weird hobo illnesses checked and freak out because you're in a police vehicle with a couple of guys that work for a private security firm and haven't read you your miranda rights then "you must be crazy" and they'll 51 50 your ass and you get to sit three days in a hospital room. You *must* be crazy to do that right? Or claustraphobic and not like a city run by gestapo with lesbian haircuts. I made sure I was nice and quiet and polite which is the sort of thing that comes from the Zen Buddhist training they give you in San Diego so their cities finest doesn't go on a murder spree with assault weapons. I suppose you learn a little bit of everything, even from the dumbest fucks on the planet. The converted car thing is some sort of "you don't like cops" so there's fake cops that are similar but with less oversight which is the same shit as how the "HOT" team has ambulances? It's fucking sick. As in you have problems San Francisco/Oakland sick.

To this day I still think that the whole San Diego horror show was to get me to pick a gang that must like me so we could all be friends and hate the other guys. Fucking morons is what. So I could wash dishes and write philosophy? What are you fucking five?

But now I'm getting into San Francisco and you already know how refried dogshit this herpes sore is, so it's not worth regurgitating the abortion as it were. While I was writing this in the library a group of latinos go around with their sick kid on their shoulder with shirts that show that he's sick with plague (a scary looking bunny with the eyes cut out). Right? And who is paying for the hospitals? Who is doing anything to make sure that any of the shelters don't have disease as opposed to have shelter staff members poison people? How much of this plague shit is from people who come here illegally - or from people *fighting* people coming here illegally by using crippling illness, as opposed to paying a police force through taxation and representation? Yeah, your kid is sick. Have you considered a *hospital*? If those don't work have you thought of fixing them? This is me starving to death on a beach in San Diego before I came to this city fighting corruption and attempting to find a missing woman without pay while being pissed on by dogs. What more could you possibly want oh holier than thou? Oh - and I just warned everyone that ever reads this blog that if you go to the Krishna temple in Ocean Beach they'll take advantage of you and won't help you get back on your feet.