Broadcasters Breed Fraud

Since the assaults on my work and image increase when I try to withdraw from the internet, I've opened up this blog to stay in contact with the world, as I struggle to save the money I need to support my music career. Let's start today's discussion by talking about me being called a hack. I want to be a musician, so why would I need to impress anyone with my blogs? Whoever calls me a hack is simply trying to get away with stealing my blogs by accusing me of stealing them. After ten years of this, does it still fool people? And who accuses me of stealing my songs? Why, it's people who steal them from me! After ten years of this, with me surviving all the way to the present, does all it take to undo my progress is a little support for Nickleback or Blue Rodeo on the dirty old song stealing radio? The ones who steal my work, and who support their crimes by accusing me of stealing my work, hope to become big stars like the Crystalids and Mike Myers. And broadcasters hope to profit from such crimes. But none of these people cares about who will produce my new work; they don't think ahead that far. They think my work would just come from anyone after I drop dead from their abuse. And they have killed a lot of artists like me, which is why I'm so alone and isolated, getting creamed daily by copyright violations and image assassinations on the internet. They think my work is produced only by talent, and ignore my sensitivity. How else would I get so upset by something as innocuous as measurements if I were not sensitive? All those issues over which George Carlin faked distress in his stand-up routine were stolen examples of my sensitivity. I am sensitive, which lets me feel things passionately enough to motivate me to produce my work. Frauds like Carlin envied my talent and conveniently shunned my sensitivity. Broadcasters knew about the suicides of my sensitive artist and poet friends here and wanted the same end for me. Their brutality towards me is apparent when you look through my indexes and see not just how much of my works they plagiarized but the kind of brutes who were credited with authoring them. They must want to destroy all real talent in the population so that we have nothing with which to compare a song like Aqua's Barbie Girl and find it lacking in quality. They must want to kill human songwriters like me and replace us with heartless machines to increase their profits. But worse, along the way to achieving this foul goal, they must want to breed more frauds to do their evil bidding. What a tragic waste of my fine music! Maybe before these frauds grew up to commit their crimes, someone should have twisted their little heads off in their cribs. Instead, broadcasters furnished them with my hit songs to help them reproduce themselves. And are the results of such unions 'cute' children? You can't blame me for finding such children disappointing. But I will survive to defy their evil plot. As possibly the last sensitive artist left alive on earth, I consider exposing their evil to be more important than my career as a star. 12:08pm: Oh, hey, good one there, junior, with the melon. Ha ha ha. You got that from Grampa Simpson, right? How original! And which poor sensitive artist did Matt Groening drive to suicide by plagiarizing it? We might never know, thanks to dummies with your attitude. I think I get more out of being online as I am than I would as a so-called star. I think about this prison bound train of fools that the broadcasters use as pawns against me and how they can't have normal sex because they know they are lying to themselves about owning my work. I think I'm better off like this. I'd rather have no sex than their abnormal sex. What's so great about making a big stupid pile of money? Do you need a bunch of fake friends or something? And how about fake fans who would turn around and hate your guts if they knew you stole your hits from me? The only way they could please you is if you constantly lie to yourself, and when you lie to yourself, you know that you are lying. This mental illness seems to be spreading from the TV and radio, which infect their subscribers with a false need to be a star. I'd rather just be myself - if these web frauds would ever stop stealing my identity. Last Friday, the day after those freed convicts pulled that ugly stunt in front of my home, I fled the TV noise of my downstairs neighbor and took my blanket to the park to read Charles Lamb's Essays of Elia. There I felt the sun and the wind and smelled the flowers and listened to the birds as I turned the pages of my book. It was a very rich, sensual experience. A couple of hours later, I returned to my room and heard my downstairs neighbor's TV blaring away unbroken. I thought of how he must have sat in front of his set like a zombie and thought he was alive the whole time I was in the park with my book. These broadcasters are turning people into protozoans. And sometimes my close quarters with their subscribers feels like being tethered to a galley slave. 6:56pm: Did I hear some sort of put-down coming at me from the outdoor CBC stage earlier this afternoon, speaking of 'just one person'? Well, I'm the one person who wrote all these comedy scripts, which CBC credited as being written by their star friends, if that's what they were talking about. And now I think the CBC gang better stick together at all times to avoid going to the hospital in separate stretchers. I added another idea to my offline list of new comedy script ideas, which I will later expand into full works. It made me think of how I might have gotten kicked out of Heaven and ended up here. You see, I loved to make the angels laugh; their laughter sounds like beautiful music. But I might have offended God by making them laugh at one or more of my ribald parodies, such as Little Sheep. My latest comedy idea is in equally poor taste, but I'm exercising my privilege as a flawed mortal to indulge in it. I dreamed my mother visited me last Sunday morning. She played with me like she did when I was a little boy. And then she showed me her JavaScript program. Mom always said she wanted to learn another language. 8:20pm: Crazy or not, I'd be in prison if I were lying about my copyright ownership of my work; I'd be in prison and this whole account would be erased. Instead, what shows and stars have disappeared from the TV and radio since I shared my claims online? What happened to the hit songs on the radio that I said I wrote? What happened to all the repeat TV broadcasts which resembled my content? And what would a bunch of treacherous, fraud supporting broadcasters tell you now to save their skins? Perhaps you already know. Anyway, I'm sure I won't be flipping out in my room anymore, as long as I abandon my career designs to devote myself entirely to defending myself from violations of my work and image on the internet. And don't bother to try to shame me for not having a girlfriend because I'm fifty-one years old and no longer ruled by my hormones. Besides, I think single people are more interesting than couples. Couples talk about their partners too much.
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