More than a Weakling

I'm not sure if I heard right last night that someone was 'taking apart' my laughs, but I don't need to be funny, so I don't really care. If you depend on my comedy, you should care, but I only shared it because I sensed a demand for it. Whoever is doing this is the one who needs to be funny and whose own comedy isn't funny enough without first attacking and diminishing my comedy. After my experience, I think we should exterminate all people who need to be funny, and I'm not saying it for a laugh. The broadcasters' cowardly aversion to reality is apparent in their shunning of my existence, following my widely visible repossession of vast portions of their programming schedules in this account over the last eight years. If only they could get those juvenile delinquents to ignore me as thoroughly as they do, it would make my life a lot easier. And why are these youths obsessed with me when the TV and radio treats me like a nonentity? Probably because I'm a very large presence in their world, in spite of being ignored by broadcasters. And if I'm popularly admired for my intellect in scholastic circles (I'm only hypothesizing here) it would make me hated by the intellectually insecure deviants among them. Why must I still face this kind of hostility when I'm old enough to be their teachers' father? In my poem the Cocoon I depict reality as a terrifying monster. Reality makes cowards of us all, in one way or another. We think we are better off by shielding ourselves from it, but this only feeds the monster and makes its impact even more destructive. The bravest among us confront such terrible realities and struggle to abide by them with uncomfortable compromises. The weakest bury their heads in the sand of commercial broadcasts that tell us all is well, letting corporations dictate every artificial step of their behavior, in order to secure a cozy place for themselves in the mainstream. Broadcasters are the greatest cowards among us because they do not merely fear reality but actively oppose it. The mind altering signals put out by their great transmitters spread their fanciful illusions worldwide, as though to reinvent reality to fit within the confines of their tidy, corporate mindset. Their cowardice combines with arrogance and deception to make something far more evil, for which no word yet exists in our language. They live entirely within appearances and consider themselves the authors of our reality. Thus their greatest fear is to appear otherwise. 12:40pm: Let me digress for a moment to report that I am still a non-smoker. I no longer smoke and I do not miss smoking. My health has improved immensely, with my sexual functionality perhaps receiving the greatest restoration. At the risk of being funny, I should say that my reproductive organ is ready to compete with Olympic archers. You may even move the target back. I'm sure I'm not alone in finding the deception of commercial broadcasts harmful. Bad information like theirs impairs brain function. If they must spoon feed our information to us like this, can't they at least keep it accurate? They're already doing enough harm by supplanting the mental exercise of reading that might otherwise keep our brains fit. Indeed, the physiological effect of prolonged mental dormancy is a literal atrophy of the brain, a condition from which there is no chance of recovery. Would broadcasters damage our brains to make us easier to commercially exploit? I often find their illusions insulting to my intelligence, most notably those which depict aging stars like Goldie Hawn and the Rolling Stones as being young. Apparently their stars fear being old. I think I'd find this even more insulting if I were young because I would see it as a trick to gain my confidence. As I am, I find my advancing age to be an improvement, since it forces me to live more responsibly, and I have no intention of ever pretending to be young when I'm not, so I think Goldie Hawn and the Rolling Stones are fools. I plan to grow old with dignity and accept the limits it imposes on me with grace. And if some nubile woman still wants to sit on my lap for a thrill, let her be the pervert for it! (Sorry, I hope that wasn't funny.) 2:02pm: Nubile women, you know I love you and I would only call you a pervert in a playful, loving way. And did any of you give your knickers to the grandfather aged Keith Richards out of gratitude for my music in the last few years, so he could boast about it on YouTube? I think his little joke of giving his guitar a smoke is extremely obsolete now, myself. What a fool. And would anyone be trying to suddenly make me look like a hormone for talking about my improved health that comes from quitting smoking? I would have thought I deserved kudos for quitting, compared to Mister Nicotine boasting about his share of knickers when he's more than two decades my senior. So why don't you ask these web zanies the following, who wrote these songs and who wrote these poems and who wrote these scripts and who drew these cartoons? Ask them why they're not on the TV and radio anymore and then ask them why they need to make fun of the badly victimized author of these works. That might shoot down their stupid joke. If you do that for me, thank you very much. Don't worry, I don't need your knickers for my music as much as Keith Richards does. 3:15pm: Well, I'm back to my unbearably sour state that I guess I'm supposed to stay in at all times. After all, see what happens when I step out for even a brief moment of levity? It calls to mind another harmful effect of broadcasters' cowardice: the destruction of artists and poets. Artists and poets possess special insights which tend to conflict with commercial trends. As an artist who suffers along these lines, I used to be able to share this burden with others like myself. Now they are gone, two of them by suicide. The last one left a note apologizing for being weak and asking me for forgiveness. If any broadcasters are reading this, I might ask them why a good artist like that needs superhuman strength to simply be himself. While we all fear death, we may have a lot more reason to fear it if we toe the corporate line to swallow slogans such as those which praise the saving grace of money. Such reckless misguidance might cost us our souls. It might also be apt to mention how evil frauds have been rewarded by the TV and radio while yours truly, their victim, continues to suffer isolation and social rejection. Maybe the final reality feared by corporate broadcasters awaits them, their stars, and their subscribers in the fiery furnace of hell. 3:56pm: WHO BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? WHO BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? WHO THE HELL BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? VANCOUVER POLICE, WHO BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? VANCOUVER POLICE, WHO BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? VANCOUVER POLICE, WHO BLOCKED MY LYRICS INDEX? IS IT ONLY BLOCKED ON THIS COMPUTER OR IS IT BLOCKED ON THE WHOLE WEB? I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHY I RECEIVE A K-9 ALERT ON MY COMPUTER IN THIS STORE WHEN I CLICK THE LINK TO MY LYRICS INDEX WHERE IT SAYS 'SONGS' IN THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH. DO THE VANCOUVER POLICE KNOW WHO MIGHT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS CRIME AGAINST MY FILE STRUCTURE? WOULD IT BE SOME COWARD WHO MUST RESORT TO TREACHERY TO SUPPORT HIS FILTHY LIE ABOUT HIS CRIME VICTIM? 4:35pm: It looks like my lyrics index is back. That really upsets me when these criminals block out my links like that, but I guess I straightened it out with a direct message to K-9. Time to go home now and soothe my frazzled nerves. Good thing the liquor store is right across the street. 6:52pm: I see no interference with my links to my indexes at the public library system. The public library system is always reliable. But who would suddenly have a motive for blocking my music index from my web page visitors after three uninterrupted years of it being on the internet? Have I said anything lately to diminish the appeal of any new bands? Check my web posts from the last couple of days to answer this question.
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