Sunlight captured in decomposed organic material, wind, rain, radioactive rock, steam vents.

Solar power.

Undiscovered, yet-to-be invented energy sources.

“The Life Of The Party” by Bennett Cerf.

The memoirs of Richard Nixon.

Not getting the copy of the nurse response times that my wife asked for and recording other issues here for permanent record.

For my wife’s mother’s health.

Sketches at an inquisition.

Stained glass smiling…rather, beaming in the sun.

Jeff Gordon in 2nd place.

Redirecting the hacking community toward more nonanarchic goals.

Building up rather than breaking in.

The first hacker-launched communications satellite orbiting the Moon, with terabytes of space-hardened quantum computing power far outside international lawmaker infuences.

Last thoughts in this moment of a dying man’s states of energy.

Moving on.

23 and me.

Cloning disc.

Disc golf.

Exclusive news and offers.

Putting seven billion people to constructive use rather than spend all my energy shredding the global banking “industry” into its nonmaterialistically immaterial antiquated pieces.

Making derivatives and commodity futures – any speculative manipulation of basic goods-and-services prices – illegal again.

Either that, or motivate the crowd to foment revolution.

I can go any way I please, all in the name of saving the species for my goal of saving the species from itself and for its participation in spreading life of Earth into the cosmos.

Off the top of your head can you tell me the temperature of Mars 10, 20, or 100 killometers below the surface?

I’m tired and impatient.

Am I supposed to say I’m glad we have VCs who’ve made their gazillions by jacking up the cost of living for ignorant peasantry in order to fund startups that’ll hopefully create the next generation of peasants’ artificially-induced desirables?

[Note to editor: strike “peasantry” reference in the last paragraph and replace with “middle class” – tell business/political leaders’ speechwriters to do the same.]

The elders on the Committee remind me that I need to back off and let people have their dreams, no matter how misinformed or misdirected they may seem to be.

After all, I grew up cheering for Richard Petty – a guy who sat in a metal cage and pointed the output of an internal combustion engine so that the metal cage rolled primarily in semicircles several hours at a time – signing autographs and bringing happiness to people most of the week.

That, in itself, will not get me on a cruise around the Moon, but profits from the sale of idolising gear and spinoff technology will.

Best wishes and prayers for those who suffer ill effects of natural disasters, those who live in violence-prone neighbourhoods and those who face illnesses alone in loneliness.

Time to meditate.

Only 14,193 days left – time’s a’wastin’!