How Many Years?

Another year passed. And I only wrote three songs this year because I was so busy writing those poems all summer, those poems that NBC stole for their comedy shows. And while I was struggling with that, it sounded like Nickleback made some sort of radio comeback this summer. Wasn't that a Nicklback hate song I heard coming out of someone's passing god damned vehicle? They sounded better with my music. Yes, everyone. Nickleback stole my music. Remember when I rewrote Fool's Paradise in 2014? It came out of my Capitalism Is Immoral blog. That's how I wrote it the first time. And they let Nickleback commit fraud with a song that condemns fraud as something more fit for a fool's paradise. And did you all want them to make a comeback after that? I would have thought that only the broadcasters would want their hate heroes to make a comeback after I already exposed their ugly fraud with my music for two years. Nickleback's crime's with my songs, their chopping out of my choruses and butchering of my compositions, predates the albums spanning fraud of the Crystalids. Who enabled the hours long music fraud if the Crystalids? Nickleback and their eager supporters on the radio and TV. Now it seems that these broadcasters can only feel good if a monstrous fraud is receiving sexual favors from my fans for stealing my work and lying to the world with it. This is the kind of thing that must sexually arouse broadcasters because they desperately need women to love the pricks who steal my music. The big labels and the broadcasters want every fraud in the world to have their own college sweetheart with something I wrote and shared. And of course, they want me to have nothing and they want to call me an ass when I complain about it. So that's two years now since I posted Fool's Paradise in Capitalism Is Immoral, but if you read to the events of this summer, you'll see that I was getting shortchanged in my transactions this summer, while Nickleback were being admired. So how many years am I going to have to wait for people to notice me? I first wrote the song nine years ago. It got a lot of airplay since then. I rewrote it two years ago. Is there some reason why it went from being hyped on the radio as a great song to being totally ignored? Did everyone only want to like it when Nickleback had it? I doubt it. I think that it's just the broadcasters who only like it when Nickleback has it and they want to spread their malicious, poisonous hate to all the people who tune in their broadcasts. How many more years am I going to put up with this arrogant, criminal hate from commercial broadcasters? It's totally fucking unreasonable. It's illegal, for Christ's sake. These lawbreaking assholes are on a power trip and they've been using my songs and blogs to destroy my fucking life for at least ten years. Do we let these snobs just trample all over us? Do you want me to give up and let them tear my work to pieces again? How many years has this been happening to me now? I guess they want to waste my entire life with their fucking pathetic lies.
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Staggering Vision

I've been rehearsing my song Stagger and it has helped me to think of the right imagery for its promotional video. We're going to need a good looking stunt woman for it, maybe someone with training, to handle the assault scenes. Her boyfriend can be played by just about anyone - not me, though. He likes to get drunk and smack her around, which I need very realistic footage of, while she only likes violence in the bedroom and nowhere else. The first verse can be a bedroom scene. He's sitting next to her and she's browsing on her ipad. Just when he's about to drive her, she shows him my song and hands him a guitar when she is topless and gets him to learn how to sing and play it. With his hands occupied, she avoids the assault. In the second verse he plays my song in front of a crowd and soon becomes a rock star while she enrols in a martial arts program. Everything's happy up to there, but then when the song gets to that middle part about being on a circular course, he's back into the booze. You can tell by the hazy music. Naturally, by the last verse, he comes home in a violent mood. He crashes through the door of his home and heads aggressively for her, crying 'your demolition will have no further cost!' But she made him and can also break him, which she proves with a reflexive and deadly thrust to his vertebrae, paralyzing him from the neck down. That's when I appear in the video as the new man in her life, knocking on the front door to install her new fridge. I unstrap the fridge from the dolly and then I strap her in with bungy chords and cart her away. The scene ends with us disappearing into the back of the delivery van and riding off into the sunset. Her unfortunate ex will have to adjust to his new life in a wheelchair on his own. If any models or actresses are interested in appearing in this production, it wouldn't cost them much. Just come and see me in person about it. I make all the important decisions about these things.
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The Heart of the Matter

I practiced my songs again yesterday. There's no hurry to get me out on a stage with my songs, is there? Funny how there was such a mad rush to get those fraud bands out on a stage with them and now no one even notices that I have them. And when people were all excited to see my songs getting played on a stage, where was I? Oh right, cleaning off dried egg yolk from my window. Well, why should you want to get excited over my music now? I was thinking about what one of those violators of my copyrights was saying about me, since we all hear from these people all the time to give them the chance to defend their crimes with my work and my life, and he was saying that I'm a pussy. He must have read that post where I confessed that I broke down and cried. Yes, I cry - but only when I feel pain. This is the kind of pain that a person who steals my work would not know. I'm a sensitive person, very acutely receptive to various forms of pain. But this is not entirely a weakness. My sensitivity also gives my songs and blogs a certain edge. I am able to connect with others by being able to show evidence of sharing their feelings in my work. You must have a heart to be able to write my work. This heart forces you to feel pain but gives you the authority to express it well to others. All of the stars who stole my music and comedy are incapable of producing my work because they lack the heart to produce my work. Stealing music or poetry is the act of a heartless psychopath and it follows that none of these people could write the work they stole from me. They criticize me for being sensitive when my sensitivity is what made my music and comedy great. Why can't we just lock them away where they can't poison any more people with their fucking obnoxious hate? As for broadcasters, presenting heartless psychopaths as Jesus with my music and comedy may be the most unspeakably evil thing that has ever happened in broadcasting. Such hypocrites won't admit it after they were so keen to commit it. Well, I'm sensitive but I'm also tough. You should see my new leather cap. I wear it so I don't have to look like a pussy with an umbrella. I'm going to put a badge on it now and walk up and down East Hastings Street looking for trouble. That'll show them.
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A Pain in the Abdomen

I was thinking today about how many thousands of times my songs were announced by their titles on the rock radio over the last ten years and how every time a fraud was named as the author. They stole a lot of songs so this happened thousands and thousands of times. And now who is the radio and TV using to make you reject me? What new star are they telling you about instead of admitting their crimes with my music and comedy? They thought I'd have killed myself for them by now, treating me like such shit all the time, never letting me get an ounce of respect as long as I live. But I'm still here, eh? No thanks to them. And I'll be practicing my music more and more over the months to come. I still think people will want to come out and see a man in suspenders playing hard rock as long as they know he really needs the suspenders to take the stress off his abdomen - that it's not just to look cool.
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Still Practicing

Almost at the end of another year. I spent a quarter of this year working around the clock to rewrite poetry I'd lost from previous posts. I had to face down more music crimes from sharing my songs. Had to face it all down myself against wealthy rock stars. And the fucking rock station wants to talk about Keith Richards surviving another year. The billionaire rock star survived another year? That's amazing. They want you to be glad that Keith Richards survives because he needs love to keep him happy. He sure doesn't need money. I do though. But I didn't get paid for my music as well as he did either. And the radio wants you to love people who steal my songs because you can't do so without rejecting me. They want you to reject me. But you already accepted my music or you would have told those bands who stole it not to play it. You liked my music and now the radio wants you to reject its author. This is corrupt, irresponsible mass manipulation. If any rock musicians should be credited with surviving, it should be the ones who get regularly punched in the face by radio crimes and still practice their songs, like myself. This broadcast abuse adds more to my grief, but can take it.
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Plastic Enemies

I don't have much hope for the future with the way the internet is going. Computers are too good at pleasing us. Pretty soon those interactive effects are going to take over. Imagine the possibilities for an online sex hostess with the right remote control joystick. Men will stop working and just stay home with their computers as the internet gets more and more depraved. I think we can count on God to thoroughly obliterate such a civilization. Of course, this is just how things are going right now. They could change with genetic engineering. At some point our successors may get rid of their sex organs since they won't need them to reproduce. If they're going to be intelligent enough to survive the internet, it might even be necessary. Sex isn't smart. Sex organs often make poor decisions and are in constant conflict with the brain, like in that song Better run, girl/You're much too young, girl... At least it's not such a bad time in history to be single, though we could be paying for it with the dreary weather. (I miss those big snowflakes we used to get back east. You could make out their individual shapes as they lightly fell.) I hope I live long enough to be able to build my own army of fembots. I won't use them to take over the world, I just need them for myself. They look good and they damn well do what they're told. Until then at least I still have that song, With better curves than her Barbie/Woh-oh-oh-oh/Inviting men to be her Ken/Who-oh-oh-oh...
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Culture Shock

I couldn't make it to the end of my set yesterday because I got too drunk. Alcohol slows down my upstrokes when I'm strumming my power chords. But at least I tried. I got to the end the day before. Am I in trouble for publicly admitting that I got drunk? This is where we can open up a discussion of Anglo-American culture. Anglo culture is uptight. This is just the best word to describe it, except perhaps 'hypocritical'. It restricts drinking hours and condemns sex. English people still drink and go to strip joints, but they have to go to Quebec if they want the party to continue through the night. Maybe it has something to do with the money, but Anglo-American people frown more on fun. In Quebec it's okay to have sex on the bus as long as you cover yourselves with a blanket. People understand. And if you need booze, you don't have to travel farther than the convenience store. You can walk around with a bottle in your hand and a girl wrapped around your waist and wave hi to all the neighbors and no one gives it a second thought. And girls are encouraged by the government to start mating early. Their government wants to try to catch up with the English population over the next four generations. As for me, I don't know what I'm doing here in Vancouver. They have a nude beach here and it's expanding into my neighborhood. They better let me keep my clothes on - if only for the children - or I'm going to have to find somewhere else to live.
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Happy Reformation

Now's a good time to give my thumb a workout with the bar chords because I'm drinking a lot of vodka. That will kill the pain until my hand gets stronger from practicing guitar. It's those bar chords. They have to be sustained by pressing down longer. But playing leads is physically easier because you don't need to press down on the strings much when you're dancing your fingers up and down the neck. Don't worry, I won't get drunk from the vodka. My Polish ancestors made sure of that. I can drink vodka by the gallon and nothing happens. I can only get drunk from Polish vodka. They don't have it in the liquor store here. You have to go all the way to Toronto for it. How do you like those Bloody Caesar's? Every time you drink one of those you get a warm buzz from the thought of Julius Caesar writhing on the floor from fifty-two stab wounds, drowning in a pool of his own blood. Is there a midnight mass tonight? I want to go to a midnight mass. I haven't been to one of those in a long time. They make an excellent Christmas event because some drunk is always guaranteed to get up in front of the congregation just before the service starts and declare himself to be the Lord Jesus Christ and have to be dragged from the pulpit by undercover police officers. I've been getting back in touch with my faith by reading the BC Catholic. Here's a newspaper I finally can read. Looks like Bill C-36, the law against prostitution is getting some attention. I think they should give a break to hookers who wash our feet with their tears and dry them with their hair though. Ah, I see that the successor of Saint Peter, the Pope, is the Sovereign Pontiff, the visible head, the holder of supreme and absolute jurisdiction, assisted in administration by the Secretariat of State, the College of Cardinals, and the 50,000 strong Swiss Guard. The Jesuits form the security and intelligence arm of the Holy See. Of course, the church has had a couple of thousand years to get organized by capable men who stay free of addictions - except perhaps for wine. There's a new science-faith book out, Particles of Faith. Delightful. Oh, is there a popular Gregorian chant out? I don't care much for modern Gregorian chant. Not enough castratos. You need those castratos to blast out those high notes with authority. Yes, and after 500 years of bloody war, the Catholics and the Lutherans are getting together to admit their faults to each other. The Catholics can start by saying, okay, we shouldn't have locked you in your church and set it on fire. That was wrong. But we needed that dome. Domes cost money. You think it's just Rome's dome, it's everyone's dome... Midnight mass is where a Pole like my grandfather might meet an Irish woman like my grandmother and make it possible for them to unite on a bold experiment. The Catholic Church told them to have as many children like me as they possibly could, even if they already had six. And now I just mostly have my music to show for my presence here on earth. So I better have another drink and practice some more.
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Can I Play My Songs Yet?

So you people who still want to tune in the new rock stations, I don't hate you. I want you to like rock because that's my specialty, which you may have noticed on your favorite station at some point in the last ten years or so. So what I have to say here is strictly observational, not judgmental. The radio makes you people hate me. A lot of you took my music into your hearts when those rock stars had it and now you want to be able to cherish your memory of it. And of course, I stand in the way of this. Whenever I hear the new rock station playing, I always have to prepare for some sort of unpleasant experience. I spoil radio listening for people who want to tune in a station that stole hours of its content from my 2007 YouTube account. These bands went out and played my music like you wanted, right? While I stayed home and fended off angry mobs from my patio. I'm practicing my music seriously now. I have a lot of songs now and I feel confident about bunching them up into stylized sets. I'm practicing my music with the intention of performing it. So I hope I don't have to suffer too much more hate from the songs I didn't get a chance to perform last time. And I hope I don't hear the voice of one of the offenders of my music blasting out at me from a venue or a speaker, especially if it's of someone less talented than I am. I think my singing has a lot of heart. How was the above embedded Nonchalant sung when it was illegally playing on the new rock station? It's supposed to be kind of loose and creative, the way I'm singing it. And it's supposed to have a lot of heart and passion, the way I'm trying to sing it. Is that how it sounded when it was illegally playing on the new rock station? If so, you wouldn't need my version, I guess. I'd just have to write another good song, instead of being like Nickleback and having all filler songs around another person's good songs. You sure are easier on them than you are on me. I'll be playing this music because I have nothing else to do with my time and it's fun to play. I'll be putting together some new live videos soon to add in my newer songs. I also want some kind of minimum standard on my live sound. I might rent a studio this time.
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Countdown to Destiny

I added five more songs to my practice, fifteen more minutes of music. I'll add five more when I go home later. Increasing my sets to hour long sets ends up using most of my day. I need to go over my songs ten to twenty at a time and that always takes at least a half an hour to an hour. It doesn't take long to get to the end of the day when you have to play hour long sets. I put my thrashiest songs together in my metal 'a' list but I'll put together a bronze set of daytime songs later. Now that I've started practicing my music I can see how I might not have time to come to the library and post blogs next year. Maybe I've posted enough blogs now. About my guitar instrumentals, they are always built around vocal ideas that I didn't finish the words for. My surfer classic Leg It Up, for instance, is structured around the popular ditty Kenny Cracked Corn: Kenny cracked corn by the light of the moon/Kenny cracked corn with a stainless steel spoon/He cracked from early morn all the way until noon...Kenny cracked corn and it blew in the air/Kenny cracked corn and it got in my hair... And so forth. You get the idea.
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Made in Canada

I always feel more patriotic when my country helps me get drunk at Christmas. I figure our government can't be all bad if it helps me get drunk. And it makes me reflect on my nationality and realize how Canadian I truly am. Three quarters Celt with a Polish name. The comedy. Relatives in Quebec. Picture of grandfather in an RCMP uniform. I'm as Canadian as they come. An immigrant might roll his eyes at me and say, 'the only problem with Canada is that it has too many Canadians'. When I said I voted for benevolent dictatorship, that was actually a somewhat Canadian remark which is more moderate than it is radical. In fact we do have a dictatorship outside of our elections, the dictatorship of the wealthy elite. They support the moderate parties who let them stay on top and stop us from reverting to all out mob rule. Let's face it, people, if it were up to us, we'd have that guillotine operating around the clock. We need the rich to save us from ourselves. So that's the only kind of dictatorship I would vote for, the one we already have: the one I'm familiar with. In Canada, the government is the big boss, especially if the prime minister is a Trudeau. Nothing happens in business here without government funding. In the U.S. the private sector does more of the funding, I think. Anyway, as long as the government is nice enough to pay for my booze, I find it an ultimately good government. I've already spoken of my Canadian naivety, masquerading as a Jew in the heart of northern Germany, but did I also touch on my Canadian modesty? This is a lesser talked about Canadian quality. I think the U.S. media is trying to stamp it out, but Canadians have a strong sense of social equality. We reject stars and would be the last ones to think of ourselves as stars. I know my people, okay? If we wanted stars, we'd have stars, rather than the CBC. We don't want stars here, we kick them out to the United States. They fuck up our equality with their class divisions. And any stars around here can consider themselves on notice of eviction - except Lindsay Wagner. She can stay if she wants. She's down-to-earth. All the rest of them are in big trouble as soon as I get back here from the United States. Now when it comes to Canadian food, we have our very own bacon here and it is available by the slab for a very fair price. I usually buy the ends. You know where the end of a pig comes from right? It's a little grissly but it digests well as long as you chew it up. Lots of iron, almost as much as cream of wheat. And it makes the ultimate compliment to eggs, or chicken ends. I hope these notes are helpful to my country's request for feedback about our democracy. I'd share it there, but I only have so much time to type with all the songs I've been practicing these days. I think I'm onto something with that Motown metal. Denial (above embedded) is another one like that. My metal songs are usually either blues metal or Motown metal. The bluesy ones like Mayhem or Nonchalant are good for drinking and the Motown ones are better for dancing, I think. So I start my set with a blues-metal one to help the crowd loosen up and then I go straight into the Motown metal from there. Otherwise they'll be too drunk to dance well. I can't stand the sight of drunken dancing. As you can tell, I'm gathering the discipline to be taken seriously in my musical ambitions. And now I better get to that liquor store. Hope there's not too long of a queue.
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Commercial Broadcasting Is a Sex Offender

Back to my statements today. I don't want to get too sidetracked with humorous comments on the unusual Vancouver snowfall. Yes, I was just joking about being flown off to Switzerland in my drunken slumber. I often think of humorous things to say, don't I? And the TV stars who steal them rarely think of anything humorous to share on their own - unless, of course, it apes someone, which is a skill they share with all the little Grade Three's in elementary school. But none of them can draw, though they like to be called artists. And none of them write poetry or music, though I've had to remove their names from whole volumes of my poetry over the last seven years. This blog is read around the world, eh? So how do you treat sex offenders in your country? Do you cut their genitals off? Do you put them in a cell and make them wait for a bullet in the back of the head? If so, I must commend you on your excellent justice. Maybe you have less money than my country but at least you can have justice in your life to more than make up for it. We don't punish sex offenders here. The TV and radio turns them all into worshiped stars with my songs and blogs instead. And no one in our population seems to see the sexual aspect of this broadcasting crime. What is rock? Isn't it sexy music? So wouldn't stealing a man's rock be tantamount to a sexual offense against him? How did they use my music? Oh, to have orgies that mocked the author of the music being celebrated. Doesn't that strike anyone but the victim as perverse? Only when someone besides the victim is complaining about it, I guess. The TV and radio don't breathe a word about their sex crimes. They only want people to love frauds when they steal my work and then forget about the crime when I have the person incarcerated and punished through my copyright protection and lawyers. The TV and radio don't want anyone to fear an artist's copyright protection the way they want everyone to love a fraud for stealing from an artist. This is quite clear to me now and I don't know why they are allowed to continue their broadcasts in this hateful, irresponsible capacity. All they did was venerate frauds for ten years and now they want to spend the next ten years humiliating their fraud victim to explain the massive loss of content on their syndication schedule that had to be returned to its owner. What was that Austin Powers plot again? Oh, Austin Powers lost his mojo, did he? You mean he lost his sex appeal? Now where would they get an idea like that? Do you think maybe their victim might have complained about how he needed his songs and his blogs to help him be more desirable to women? Yeah, well I'm not some great industry stud like those lying frauds, but I have managed to score with a handful of women before I went on the internet to share my personality with a gang of greedy, envious, lazy, TV and radio supported superstars. Yes, I do believe that all of the five or so women with whom I've been intimate told me they fell for my sense of humor. My sense of humor made me desirable to women all the way to 2002. And then I started sharing my sense of humor with the world on Blogger. And you can gather up the next fourteen years by my Chronoblog, which is mostly a repeat post of my first seven years online. But Mike Myers wanted to be the one who got the sympathy for losing his mojo while he was stripping my blogs bare of any content that might help to improve my love life. And this was just fine with the commercial broadcasters, who now want you to keep loving and admiring Mike Myers after his filthy, perverted fraud with another man's wit. These industry couples are the worst when it comes to holding this sanctimonious view of how the loot from their gang rape of my work being used to rape teens and to rape and poison college girls at the Vancouver Community College somehow makes them more decent than their victim. I mind my own business when I practice my songs in my room. I only practice my own songs and I don't push them on anyone. I'll try my luck with them in front of a crowd and it will just be between me and the crowd. But they reach into my home when I'm alone and minding my own business and steal my songs and tell dirty lies about me and fuck up my life so bad that it takes years and years to recover from it. If they had their own music or comedy to focus on while I'm so busy producing and practicing my work, they wouldn't need to violate my peace so thoroughly. But pretending to hold the moral high ground after participating in the kind of foulness that would make priest vomit is not just an act of sanctimony but of total hypocrisy. These are the very same people who were howling for my blood when I was innocent because they thought it was so dirty to steal songs and blogs. Why can't they apply this logic to their own behavior? All I want for Christmas is justice. And I'm not the only one who is extremely dissatisfied with the TV and radio making stars out of perverts with my work and then shunning the punishment of their criminal heroes afterwards. Concerned parents are upset at the examples being provided for their children. They know how badly every child wants to be a star and they don't want their children going to prison like Jay Leno and having their genitals marked for fraud just because the media refuses to report such facts. And my lawyers are also quite upset with how the media have been leaving their victim alone to report criminal punishments that reporters find too embarrassing to admit. And the average, decent soul out there is also on my side or I'm sure I would know it otherwise. In the meantime, I am surrounded by industry people on the sidewalk who want to create the illusion that I am as easily dismissed by the crowd out there as I am by their smug selves with their crime loot to hold up as evidence of their decency. And they're holding hands. How nice. Maybe they'll have a child who can grow up and get his dick signed for being a star with stolen work. This is the perfect environment to breed a hate child. You can smell the hate sex in the street as you walk by their homes. If You Can't Admit It, Don't Commit It 2:15pm How do you like that title? I'm good at coining titles, eh? That's the mark of a true author, which is why those stars who stole my blogs can't do it. This title is meant to be read by our corporate media, in order to offer them moral guidance. You see, the corporate media can't admit their support for offenses with my comedy and music that qualify as sexual assaults because it is too embarrassing for them, but they were obviously quite comfortable about committing these offenses. I think that if you can't admit an offense, you should not commit it. It's similar to not doing the crime if you can't do the time. But this kind of advice is useless against incurable hypocrites, quite naturally. They're Also Attempted Murderers On the way home today I heard a put-down that I thought was extremely inappropriate. I was called a 'pussy'. Tell me out there, when they catch a sex offender raping a victim in your country, do they let the rapist on the web so he can keep on bashing his rape victim? I bet you have better justice than we do here. Here it looks like we've sold all our justice to corporations in exchange for a higher material standard of living. Anyway, I might as well defend myself against this ridiculous put-down, if only to make sure the jerk who said it suffers. Well, big cool tough guy, where the hell are you with your tough talk? I'm here at the Vancouver Public Library for the afternoon. Couldn't you prove your point better by coming and addressing me in person to make me shake in my boots from your manly display? And you must think it was manly for those cocksucker bands to gang up on me and steal my songs behind my back when they outnumber me a thousand to one. Is anyone else this stupid? You didn't think I would survive having to tell the world all by myself that the great Rolling Stones stole my music and the great TV stars stole my comedy. But why are you so interested in my music and comedy, which expresses my heart, if you think I'm such a pussy? If I were a pussy, wouldn't I write pussy music, like that horrible song the Crystalids tried to write for themselves to stay on the radio after they were caught stealing my music? When I think of pussy music, I think of boring love songs like 'Turn Around Bright Eyes', not my rock. Do you know why you still thought I was a pussy when my work is the work of a brave artist? Because you filled the logic gap in your argument with your own outrageous ego. But if you take your ego out of your thinking process and examine my work, you'd realize that it is hardly the work of a pussy. Pussies don't face down whole stadium crowds by themselves from a little hovel in east Vancouver. And you think it's manly to gang up on one person with thousands of friends and attack the guy behind his back. You must think your cowardly put-down makes you manly when I don't know your face or your name and I've never probably said a word to you in my whole life. What would a real pussy do if he were thrust into my position? Is that what you expected me to do, commit suicide? Do you need your 'pussy' victim to commit suicide to make you look like you did the right thing by stealing his party and celebrating your unspeakable hate with it? You're such a coward, you don't even have the balls to kill your fraud victim so you can get away clean with your crime. And you're so high on yourself, you can't figure out that your victim has more courage than you do. I won't need anyone to hold my hand when I go onstage with my music, like those wimpy cocksucker bands or like little brats like Justin Beiber with Seal to hold his hand backstage. I don't have a big crowd of friends to offer any support for me when I decide to take my music on the road, the way these ugly frauds did. But I survived your cowardly attempt to murder me by my own hand and I think your behind-the-back put-downs are just more evidence of your lack of character and lack of fitness for use as a public role model, especially with my music and/or comedy. I'll stay in the library to add some more to my indexes if this big cool tough guy wants to prove I'm a pussy. I won't hold my breath waiting for him. To my loyal readers, my musical practices are turning out well. I practice ten songs at a time and I'm starting to get good at playing them. Sorry I can't get on a stage with them as long as the local broadcasters still want to support performers who steal my music and comedy. They turn all the venues against me when they do that.
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Don't Be Fooled

I don't feel like hitchhiking home just yet. Might as well stay where I am and get some good clean mountain air. Have you ever wondered about science fiction? Why do we have this genre? Is it just to fill the imaginations of nerdy children or does it have another more sinister purpose, such as passing off existing technologies as science fiction in order to keep them secret for our government or military? If they are using science fiction to hide the truth, maybe that episode about Spock's brain is about a real computer. They're using something to help them make the big decisions, I just know it. It's too hard to keep track of everything when you're working for hundreds of millions of voters. But they always seem to stay on top of it. People who build computers know that the circuits on their own are lifeless, without the capacity for good coordinated independent thought, such as what we would want from a thinking machine. A computer would need to interface with a human brain to make the most of its processing power and those technicians knew it from the beginning. So that's what they went ahead and built without telling us. And it can predict the future. They must have used the brain of a Gypsy. I bet they came up with it in the 1940's. And they've had this contraption for decades and they have been making improvements on it since then all the way to the present. God knows what it's capable of now. Then I come along and blow the whistle on them and all they have to do is point to Star Trek and call me crazy. Oh yeah. Nice setup. Well I've seen every episode of that show and they're not fooling me with that anymore. I damn well believe in astrology too. Those alien pyramids aren't pointing to the stars for nothing. Do the scientists say it's nonsense? What are they trying to hide? Listen up, whoever you are out there, I'm onto you, okay? And I've seen every episode of Star Trek about fifty times and now they're finally starting to make sense. You haven't heard the last from me about this.
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© 2016. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

A Yodel in the Dark

Okay these Christmas pranks are getting out of hand. It's not April Fool's yet, is it? Who flew me to Switzerland when I was passed out last night? You captured every detail of my Vancouver location except for one: when I called for a cab I got a Saint Bernard with a sled. I'm going to raise a whirlwind over this when I get back home. Damn crazy college kids, who's turning them all into such merry pranksters, anyway? This is the influence of the damn internet! I've been practicing my songs in ten song groups to help me catch up with my newer songs. It helps me think of better words when I play along to my videos too. Now I realize that in Redundant I should be singing looking upon things I have drawn. Improvements like this take time to discover. I was trying to think of a name for my style of rock and I think the newer songs from 2015 fit neatly into the category of Motown metal. Perhaps the best example of Motown metal is the above embedded Epitomes. The metal guitar is filling in for the background singers, creating a more disturbing, decadent kind of feeling, but the overall mood is upbeat and vibrant. Last December's Bad News may also be defined most accurately by this genre. Oh well, I'm going to make the most of it while I'm here. Hopefully I'll find a pair of those tennis racket shoes that fit my feet or maybe I'll find cross country skis in the closet. The Swiss would have a lot of those lying around. Back in Vancouver they're all surfing to work in their sunglasses and swimwear.
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Moonlight Kahlua

My window faces south so I had that full moon all to myself the other night and I was listening to my above Yardbirds inspired chant and playing along and that's all I remember. I woke up in my underwear outside in a ditch, but I just looked like an ordinary part of the Christmas crowd. Words really help to define a melody and to me they are the hardest part of a song. The words in this song are about my feelings towards upper class women when they try to get smug on me. They resist at first but they settle right down once they get used to their bridles. When I say upper class women, I mean nurses and people like that. Anyone making over forty dollars an hour is upper class to me, but if your wage is only thirty-nine an hour, you're nothing special. Then when people see my dark side in my music, they can understand me better. The women can know what I expect from them without me having to tell them. None of this fake friendship routine, 'hey, buddie, nice tits!' We can just get straight down to business. It helps to speed things up with one woman so I can move on faster to the next one. I'm doing it for them. It's all right, they deserve it. They think that it's fun to bleed for everyone's complete amusement. Pretty cold attitude if you ask me.
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Matinees in Paradise

Even though I complain about snobs a lot, I must confess a certain admiration for the ones who can substantiate their superior posture. It must be nice to have the money. It's the snobs who don't have the money who I mostly have a problem with. I wouldn't use my talent to make any arrogant claims. It wouldn't help. When it comes to my talent, I just want to work. But if people notice or like my work, it's fair for me to say that I'm not wasting my time with it. I've had some contact with the upper class because of my music. I can sense their horror of my working class background. These people grew up with masterpieces hanging on their walls. We had Dad's Lion's Club vest, loaded with brass pins, on one wall and a license plate stamped IT'S EXCITING TO BE POLISH above our TV. I understand how that could frighten upper class women, who I find very sexy, by the way. It's a turn-on to know that they are clean and they smell good and know how to act and all that. The only reason I have to talk about my stardom is to explain why my songs and blogs were stolen. I'm forced to discuss it to defend my honour. I recalled pleasant memories this morning, the two times they showed me I was big on YouTube. Have you ever seen those videos that tell you how to get featured on YouTube's front page? They give you all these elaborate instructions. Actually, the simplest way to get featured is if someone popular clicks on your video. At least, that's how it looked to me. Around the time I shared Size on YouTube in 2007, I went looking for the kind of video that I would be all alone with. I found this dusty old 1950's TV series with two views on the page. It was an episode divided into three parts. When I clicked on part two it showed twenty-four thousand views and it was listed as a featured video. I thought, 'what a coincidence!' I finished watching that and then I went looking for Grizzly Adams or something obscure like that which wouldn't be the first choice for most of the younger web crowd. Sure enough, I found it with less than ten views, split into three parts. Part two had over fifty thousand views and was a featured video. I scratched my head in wonder after that and went back to check my songs and their views were unchanged but they were always in rotation with other songs that had millions of views. And that's when those stars grabbed all my music and writing. And I ended up getting called a thief for every bit of it as I reclaimed it piece by piece over the last nine years. Normally, from here, my songs are not even shown in rotation with any other other songs on YouTube but strictly by the text of their titles and in rotation with unimpressive videos. It's almost insulting. But you can't really put anything solid together without the money. This was why my father said I should keep my art and music a hobby and get a real job. In an upper class family my father would arrange a stadium gig for me. He'd look at those web results in 2007 and see the dollar signs. But it was out of working class modesty that I abandoned my music and blogs later that year and went looking for a real job like I'd been raised to do. I'd dismissed this peculiar web experience and forgot about it as much as everyone else as my music and writing took over the TV and radio. The years went by and then in the summer of 2010 I rewrote Size and posted it on YouTube. About a week later, I located a vintage British black and white sci-fi classic and selected it. It showed about fifty-five views. As I watched it, I felt like I was on a movie date with thousands of girls. It was so vivid and pleasant. I used to like sharing new movies with my girlfriends. It's stimulating. When I signed out, I saw that the video had been featured and showed over a hundred thousand views. And then I remembered 2007. Since that year, I've ended up putting my effort into my music and poetry rather than at a full-time job. I think they show my effort. And my volume speaks for itself. And when I say that I've put a lot of time and effort into it, I'm reducing consideration for my talent. I'm offering my struggle to explain my success rather than arrogantly saying it was my birthright by virtue of my talent. But that crowd that stole my music and comedy always dismisses my effort. They can't imagine effort. They think I had my hits handed to me the way they so easily received them. They want to say I'm bragging when I'm forced to discuss my popularity to help people understand how so many of my songs and blogs ended up on the radio and TV. I don't browse on YouTube anymore anyway, so I'm never signed in where people around the world can check my channel and watch videos with me. That was a very pleasant trip though, one of the nicer things I got for my music in my life. And it has kept me well motivated to practice my music.
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A Word from the Wise

Among persons with the talent to become stars, it is unusual to find one who is not in a rush to make it big. The pull of success on my eager peers has left me entirely alone to study my situation and write a comprehensive account which I think will be of use to artists in the years and centuries to come. The internet is, after all, a recently erected monument, which stands to link the faces of the present with the people of the distant future. And when those people look all the way back to the dawn of the internet, just as we look back now to the dawn of recorded history by consulting the first ancient scrolls, they will find my face prominently displayed. And I even have poetry to share with them, just like the author of Gilgamesh. Jesus said that a prophet is seldom recognized in his own time and that it is a great honor to be rejected by one's peers, as long as it is for the sake of truth. That describes me rather well. In fact, there is much more to me than just my singing and playing and joking around. I am a very serious author who is alone fit to prepare the stars of the future for the life that awaits them. I'm the only 'star' - if you'll permit that term - with the skills and disposition to be a teacher to other stars. These old radio stars and TV stars are dinosaurs. The internet is here now and it is capable of making any one of us a star. Old dinosaur stars were prepared for the effects of stardom by their dinosaur auxiliaries in the broadcasting business, but when these new web stars get famous, no one will be around to tell them how to handle it. That's where I come in. As the only star at the moment who is apparently capable of thinking outside of his own selfish interests, I must devote myself to the task of teaching web stars how to handle the effects of stardom - along with following through on my own career. While words play an important role in this lesson, my example will be just as important. Just simply surviving the brutality which I report here so frequently is a part of the lesson I am teaching these artists of the present to the future. They must know that they are secure with their copyright protection. They must be able to walk down the street as confidently as I do and endure vicious threats. They must be unafraid to face a whole host of wealthy stars when they are alone as I do. No one else is going to be able to give them the kind of hope that I can. And I practiced my songs again this afternoon. They're coming together well. I enjoy playing them. They're fun to play and I'm going to have fun performing them. Now about people who issue feeble threats from passing hatchbacks, why don't they give up? I've been around since 1999 on the web and I would have made it by 2010 if only someone like myself had come along to give me hope before the dinosaur TV and the dinosaur radio and their dinosaur stars went nuts from envy and stole everything I had online. But I had to teach myself first, I guess, before I could teach anyone else. I'm going to be successful now. Here is another lesson for the stars of the future: when you state something strong, you may be forced to repeat it over and over to convince people you are serious. Everyone knows you don't get away with lying about stars stealing your work on the web. Everyone knows, for instance, that if I were lying about any of the claims I have made in over my copyright, this account would be offline and I would be in jail or prison. But in my case, the TV shows and TV stars I said were stealing my posts have disappeared from the TV. And the songs I said were stolen from me by commercial bands have disappeared from the radio. And now all my enemies have is their arrogance to fight their battles with. They have no music or comedy of their own. They just have feeble threats like 'I'm going to cut your tongue' or dead end insinuations like 'someone should do you harm'. But I can repeat their words for public examination and ask for detail, which puts them on the spot. And if they contradict any new statements I make, I can repeat them. For instance: I think I should be allowed to pistol whip Nickleback's arrogant face to a bloody pulp after they stole my music and had an orgy with it on my doorstep for nine years. And what song or songs of mine did Blue Rodeo steal in 2007? Do I have to rewrite them from scratch or can I just have them tested for anything that sounds better than their own? And is Justin Beiber in trouble for that song he didn't write about being a man, the only good song I ever heard him sing? And is Seal in a cell for stealing Beguiled and Bad News? And is Mike Myers in prison for stealing Orcastra and Austin Powers? Stars of the future, you have nothing to fear by protecting your copyright like I am doing by these statements now. And don't erase your creative work, no matter how unpleasant the envious ones around you make your life. Don't erase it even if you don't like it. If you're feeling the kinds of effects I have been discussing in this account, it is your destiny to be a big star and erasing your work will only slow down your inevitable success, adding to your discomfort. That's it for now, I guess. And my hearing came back to me last night. Got full hearing restored to my right ear and almost full hearing in my left. Hope I don't have to jam them with silicone again anytime too soon. I like listening to my music as loud as possible in my headphones. Hope you liked that last script. Can't recall if I shared it in '07, but I thought I should post a little dialogue today since I haven't done one in a while. Back to the old statements index. It's almost caught up to the present now. Won't have much of a song chronology to write this year, though. 2016 was mostly a poetry year.
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