A Beautiful Target

I recall when I wrote and posted Blazon in 2011 that the cashier at McDonald's thought she should animate her gesture of handing me my bag of food with a 'move', in order to mock one of its lyrics. She spoiled it for me when she did that, and it's a better song than a lot of what the radio has since been offering in its place. I never know what kind of cruelty I will receive from the people I meet in my daily rounds. In 2012 I suffered violations of my new songs all year. By late August, as I began inadvertent reconstruction of my huge comedy blog, the Card Parties, I tried to play an open mic show at the Cafe Deux Soleil, but I was driven away by their sound man's put-down, which called my gear 'unsightly'. In 2013 you can see how long it took to clear the fraud monsters from the stage by the gap between my posts, Get Off the Stage and Have You Heard David's Innocent: a whole month of pure misery. And then you can see how my image was thrown back in the toilet for a new fraud star in 2014 by my post the Path to Infamy. Summer is always about stealing my things and maligning my image: from 2012's Summer Sucks to 2013's Fans of the Flames to 2014's What Do You Do All Day? to 2015's Summer of 2015 to last summer's Mature People Need Less Love to this summer's being called OJ Simpson by a cashier, as documented in my last post to Coats from the Lost and Found. This is the behaviour of people who want me to kill myself. I sure hope I can get better treatment outside this region. What did broadcasters call that singer who helped himself to four hours of my songs again? Oh, Jesus! Well, Jesus is the most beautiful person who ever lived, so they must have thought he looked very beautiful with his face attached to hours of my music. And what do they call me, the author of my music? Am I not at least as beautiful as the fraud who stole my music? Maybe you'd see it if you were able to look at my face for longer than five seconds without some new assassin coming along and covering it in filth. And are you getting sick of this? Well, are you getting sick of repeated violations of my image or of me defending myself against them? I hope it's the former. By the way, who told me in 2007 that no one's allowed to tarnish my image? When are you going to tell everyone else? What did you think I meant by the line beauty that needs complete replacing... in my song Fool's Paradise? Was that song more enjoyable for you when it lost all its meaning in the hands of frauds? There I was in 2007, sharing a song about how commercial illusions destroy truth's beauty, and it gets stolen and credited to Nickleback on the radio. I've been stating my case for three years now, since I inadvertently rewrote the song in 2014, but I still end up getting insulted by maliciously misinformed cashiers over it. The more beautiful something is, the more determined evil broadcasters are to destroy it. And, wow, did the TV ever shred my poetry. How many different TV shows had a hand in destroying the Mammals alone? When you take a tome like that, with its meter unbroken for sixty-four verses, and tear it apart to distribute its pieces among your accomplices, you are engaged in an act of all out destruction. And what is a poem? Is it not beautiful? So taking it and ripping it apart is a crime against beauty. But what did Tina Fey get called for this crime? She was called an artist. If she's going to be called an artist for my poems and Dean's going to be called Jesus for my music, I guess I'll just get stuck being called all the other names you can think of. But an artist is one who is concerned with beauty, right? And Tina Fey was only ever concerned with stardom and power. Incidentally, when I heard about a 'dirty fraud show' getting kicked off the air in 2016, did it have anything to do with my reconstruction of the Octiverse at that time, of which the Mammals comprises a mere eighth? Broadcasters think they can win you over with posters and videos of their bad bands, but look how much more attention I got by merely capitalizing some of the titles in my music index. It caused such a rush to my music that someone had to block it out. They need to resort to dirty tricks like that because they have no beautiful work to make up for all the music and poetry and comedy I've reclaimed through this account. They shouldn't be allowed to broadcast if they're just going to use their influence to inflict further harm on their fraud victim. And by making me suffer so terribly for sharing my work here, they've discouraged me from sharing my new creations with you. I have new recordings that already sound better than Nickleback, even with their vocal track missing, but I don't feel safe about finishing them and posting them on the internet. I also have new comedy scripts that would certainly make you laugh, but it's not my job to make you laugh and the ones who are getting paid to do it depend too heavily on my wit.
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Making the Least of It

I've been made acutely aware of how little freedom I have since my work got popular on the internet. If you never do or say anything to stand out, you may confuse your invisibility for freedom, but I know better. My choices these days are almost nonexistent. I may step outdoors to be surrounded by whole brigades of assassins or I may stay in my room where I must submit, day and night, to the ceaseless signal of my neighbour's TV like a character from Orwell's 1984. And while I finally managed to quit smoking, which is an impressive demonstration of my free will, the non-smokers who so severely chastised me before can't seem to find it in their hearts now to offer me even the slightest courtesy. I wrote earlier that power is the enemy of freedom. By this logic, freedom itself can be an enemy of freedom, depending on who has it. What is a corrupt broadcaster's freedom, for instance? It is the freedom to broadcast my comedy and poetry as his own and to make the world think that I'm a fraud. It is the freedom to continue raising suspicions about my copyright claims even after his stars and staff go to prison. And what was Mick Jagger's and Keith Richard's freedom? It was the freedom to be the stars of my songs so they could stay attractive to young girls in their old age. And look where their freedom has left me after ten solid years on the internet. Much of what I share here in my little Blogger account is plainly obvious and yet it stands out on the internet. This is because no one ever wants to admit it out loud or even in silence. We blind ourselves to such troubling facts as those I've been forced to discuss, in order to trick ourselves into thinking that we're well off. Commercial broadcasting helps us along with this self deception, ever painting rosy pictures of happy endings in our shopper's paradise. Parents don't want to tell their children that they are due for painful suffering. Neighbours don't want to admit that they're counting on me to commit suicide. Women don't want to admit that I cause them to become intensely sexually aroused. And by closing our eyes to all this truth, we confine ourselves to an intellectual prison cell. 3:14pm: I'm dragged back against my will to add more to this post about the scarcity of freedom in our world. On the way here I had to steer my eyes away from billboards that taunt me with reminders of who owns everything, as I retreated into the silence afforded by my silicone earplugs to escape the unwelcome comments of malicious strangers on the industry payroll. Who needs Plath's bell jar in a place like this? And this is the life I get for expressing myself freely on the internet when I criticize stars and broadcasters for stealing my property and assaulting my image. They sure make me pay a high price for my freedom in this free society. Freedom suits me because I have a mind of my own. There would be no point to my freedom otherwise. Free people like me think for themselves. And we tend to rebel against authority because we don't need it. I doubt that truly free people would allow broadcasters to dictate news stories through the TV and radio. Nor would they wish to conform like foot soldiers to fashion trends. So why do we behave this way in the free world? I think it is largely out of fear. In school, for example, trapped amid countless peers, a student feels overwhelming pressure to blend in. (Yes, freedom takes courage.) After graduating, other pressures may arise to negate his freedom, such as those of wedlock. Is freedom desirable? As far as I can gather from Genesis, Adam and Eve were prisoners of perfection in the Garden of Eden. They enjoyed a blissful ignorance, very much like the animals which surrounded them. Then they exercised their free will by eating of the forbidden fruit of knowledge and look what happened: everything turned to shit, and it's been nothing but wars and plagues for us ever since. We can't even skinny dip anymore without getting into trouble. I sensed my freedom most under attack by the crimes committed against my works of the heart: my music, comedy, and poetry. This is because my heart is the holder of my freedom. When I review a video of myself reciting Part VII of my poem, the Mammals, for instance, why am I invaded by the image of Tina Fey? This is a serious breach of my freedom, a poet's freedom, and I am far from the only one to be hurt by it. Without the freedom for a poet to simply say he wrote his poems and songs and blogs, as those wicked broadcasters would apparently prefer us to be, we may have no freedom at all.
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Shallow Reflections

I'm tired. I wish I could take a break from this writing, but that just invites more vicious assaults on my image. I wonder if I'll drop dead of exhaustion from being forced to post work every day just to prove I'm not in jail; just to defend myself from the same transparent lie that has been told and retold and retold over the last ten years by a big ridiculous gang of celebrity frauds who want to be the stars of my music and comedy. What a hopeless world affords them prominence. Have you found something more constructive to do than watching TV or listening to the radio or playing a video game today? I won't count on it, though reading this post is a good start. Just as my smoking habit turned out to be a lot less binding than I first imagined, I bet most of you could abandon your favourite dead-end electronic diversions with little difficulty. You don't really need them, and, at least for the time being, they seem to be doing you considerably more harm than good. I used to love watching TV as a youngster. In fact, my script Boob Tube Brain could be a snapshot of my boyhood. In 1973 I knew the broadcast schedule so well that I could predict the commercials. When I recall this period, I see my school engaged in a tug of war against corporations for possession of my mind. With tedious homework up against the flashy fare of televised prime time, the winner was inevitable. As a teen I later rejected television, though probably too late to avoid its consumerist influence. I also used to like video games and I shudder to think of how much time I wasted on them. Video games are even more dangerous than TV because they are interactive. They enable their players to immerse themselves wholly in the two dimensions of their computer screens, a full step beyond the secondary role-playing offered by TV shows and movies. While their imaginary flights of fancy were fun and compelling, they also left me feeling somewhat more dissatisfied with my real self. I loved my mother but I think she liked TV too much, especially light comedies like the Loveboat. I'd turn and glower at her at the predictable end of such a show, dismayed to find her beaming with delight. She hated cruel reality and thought she should discourage me from facing it, but life is tragic, and a responsible parent would have wanted to prepare me better. My mother wanted me to be comfortable, but I'm not sure if she wanted me to actually be alive. We'd argue about it. Too much detachment from reality clears the way for people to extend their fantasies to pretending ownership of my songs and blogs. Since all my work came from shunning electronic diversions - outside of blog posting, of course - I think it is all the more destructive when a person's internet connection gets more credit for producing it than I do. As for facing life's tragedy, the last thing my mother told me before she passed away in the hospital was that I was right. 1:53pm: Yes, Google, that was me trying to sign into my account from those outside computers this afternoon. I'm sorry I don't have a mobile phone yet, but I thought you could tell it was me by the unique way I always type in those password characters. You know what I mean, right? I sure hope I don't get stuck outside my account like that again anytime soon. It was rather scary.
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Look Away

So, I've now spent ten solid years authoring and sharing poetry, music, and delightful little comedy sketches. And all it seems they ever want me to get for it here in Nickleback's and Goldie Hawn's and Telus' and CBC's Vancouver is a room in a nuthouse and a public library crowded with online malefactors. What a shame that I must live in such a hostile, oppressive environment when I might be a big success as early as tomorrow by simply going out on a stage with a few of my new songs. Each day I must wait to build up the money to leave feels like an eternity in hell when I am innocent, but dirty creeps who steal my beautiful work and lie to children with it take the express train to the top here. They must know that they lack the talent to win your attention fairly when they resort to blocking out my indexes and stealing my posts and assaulting my image. And with no work of their own to offer you it shows that they only want to be stars for the power. They're tyrants in waiting, expecting the full support of apparently corrupt commercial broadcasters for violating my image and my copyrights. Their arrests and punishments are kept secret so they can stay at large with their filthy lies. They've made a desert out of what should have been the fullest, happiest decade of my life, and now they'd like to extend their harm into my old age. I create and share work that pleases people and all I ever get in return is nasty hate, thanks to them. And wherein lies the appeal of this work of mine they so madly covet? I live in seclusion and confine myself to a small area. I shun the radio and TV and newspapers. I seldom socialize. All I do is sit around and write most of the time. Maybe it has something to do with the intensity of my life experience. I recall reading a war story about a spy who'd been led to think that she was about to be executed. It boosted her senses, delivering her perceived last few moments on earth in rich detail. When you live in truth, with your eye on your mortality, you notice interesting things. Then if you're like me and possess some authoring skills, you may wish to apply them to the faithful documentation of your observations. But that gang on the TV wants to spend their whole lives with their backs turned to such reality, and that's likely why they can't produce any good work. The unsightly reality which they refuse to face is the same one they immersed me in by making me the sole victim of all their pretty stars. I must live every moment of my life with unspeakable crimes staring me in the face and it certainly wears on my mood. And look what happened when I took this horror and used my talent to spin it into an appealing work of music, like Fool's Paradise: they credited Nickleback with authoring it! Held up to the light, as it is in this account, their cruelty appears most unbecoming, which forces them to retreat deeper into their pathetic recess of illusion. To sustain an innocent image they resort to every manner of online treachery against me, then before long I'm hearing about a new copyright violation. 1:05pm: Broadcasters must want us to be in a constant stupor, never opening our eyes for a moment to gain any real information. All they ever put out are stupefying distractions and they found my enlightening observations threatening. Apparently starving for substantial work, you were drawn away from them by my bitter but elegant truth, which forced them to seize it and render it all into yet more impotent distractions which fit neatly into their programming schedules in the grabby hands of their frauds. And now, after they handed frauds everything for my work, I, the victim, plod down a path that is ever lined with malicious strangers instead of cheering fans. On the way home from the store earlier today, for instance, some ass with an ipad taped a cardboard hate sign onto a post for me to see in front of the busstop on Venables at Clark, which I ignored. These are the only kind of people I ever encounter on the street in Vancouver after the whole population got together and filled stadiums to cheer for the crime of fraud with my music. I desperately want to leave. A couple of young mothers were in the store when I posted the first five paragraphs of this. I wonder why people with remote internet access like that would not also have a home connection. Anyway, whenever I see such young parents I can't help but think of how their children might be doomed. Do you want your child to be talented? Do you want your child to know how to draw and write music and write poetry? If so, in the light of all I've shared here in the last eight years, I think you're pretty sadistic. Frankly, all children, talented and untalented, are in for a miserable, suffering time, as the horrible looming realities of the present are allowed by willfully distracted parents to swell to intolerable proportions by the time today's children reach adulthood. Maybe your children are doomed because their parents are too cowardly to stand up to evil corporate broadcasters and make the world safe for honest people like I'm trying to do all by myself. Hey, why don't you turn on your TV or radio to help you forget about it! 2:30pm: And am I too bitter? Well, I'd like to bury myself in my new recordings but there's no point in finishing them because I can't share them. And I have some great new ideas for comedy scripts, but I better not share those either. Should I draw? No, I better not. Well, what should I do then? Gosh, I guess I can't do anything but focus totally on my misery and try to defend my image and my work while I'm doing it. Not a very cheerful occupation. And how many millions of dollars have been lost by my repossession of my popular work from the TV and radio? How many millions more are being sacrificed now for discouraging a commercial author? You broadcasters know best, though, right? Or should I ask how much love has been lost? Not to worry, I'm sure your superiors can replace you all with machines that have more heart.
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Bad Examples

I've tidied up my grammar in my last few posts. I'm going home to write today's post. It's too crowded here at my neighborhood library branch to work comfortably, but I bet that the much larger central branch downtown will be almost empty when it opens. Will corporate support for crime win love or just more crime? 10:17am: While some Americans may see their state as a modern day Roman republic, it is unwise to emulate the ancient Romans very much beyond their ingenious political system. I personally find it vulgar to equate Hollywood movie stars with the gods and heroes of ancient myths - though I love Harryhausen. Of course, the ancient republic was fascist, with a connecting neoclassicism favoured by both Hitler and Mussolini, but aside from putting well proportioned nude women on parade floats, I consider their style to be a dangerous throwback. When admiring the success of the ancient Romans, we may fail to duly credit the conditions of their time for it. They inherited a world that was uncivilized, at least by our standards. Things like infrastructure and education were largely nonexistent in the tribal domains of their surrounding neighbours. By spreading their technological and civil progress into the lands they conquered, the Romans rightly viewed their expansions as positive and helpful. Today, however, it is not so clear which people are fittest to advance civilization. America is great, but why? Is this greatness merited by a people of superior character or merely of superior wealth? Money is nice, but it does not answer every need. Albert Speer commented in his memoirs on the reading materials of the Spandau guards. He noted that the Russian guards had far more sophisticated taste in reading materials than the American guards. Wouldn't Western style pop culture, which draws us away from well written novels to make room for TV and comic books - and blogs - actually lower the quality of life for such typical Eastern Europeans? Fast food strikes me as culturally regressive. Fast food's contempt for cuisine may infect our people with a general contempt for productive labour. Fast food not only deprives us of the culinary enhancements afforded by taking the traditional steps to cooking a meal, but fosters an unreasonable expectation for instant results. Such instant gratification may be behind the behaviour of all those who expected to copy and paste their way to stardom with my songs and blogs, heedless of the love and labour I poured into my work's construction. (Nonetheless, I love my 7/11 pizza - always ready in well under ten minutes.) 1:56pm: I think stars make poor role models. Frankly, the ancient Romans knew better than to glorify performers, who all too often fall for their own illusions. (I wonder if the ancient Romans own cultural mentors, the ancient Greeks, kept women off the stage to contain an already menacing grandiosity.) Too few stars embody the late Bruce Lee, mindful and protective of their real selves. Do you think Mick Jagger is Lucifer? I doubt it. Lucifer wouldn't let me get away with bashing him as consistently as I've been bashing Jagger and the Kidney Stones since 2007. Self proclaimed deities like Jagger could be in for an excruciating eternity if Part VIII of my poem, the Masterpiece (The Judgement), turns out to be accurate. And good heavens, where would that leave his multitude of fans? As critical as I might be of America, I greatly admire her. She is prosperous and strong. Her people are kind and tolerant and God fearing. As a Canadian outsider to their civilization, I am specially positioned to offer them cultural insights in their own language, or at least in something resembling their own accent, and I think they have been most generous to me with their attention. In my heart of hearts I consider myself an American, one whose pioneering ancestors dared to cross the Atlantic Ocean and stake out a bold claim here in the wild and unpredictable New World. May final success in my struggle against a host of rich and powerful adversaries ultimately prove America's fitness for supremacy among the nation states of our age, as a great champion of truth and justice and as a true beacon to happiness. 5:45pm: When I speak of a true beacon to happiness, I'm not just waxing poetic, but trying to specify the ideal political domination. Good hope is the beacon to happiness, for wherever good hope may exist happiness is possible. While my condition may appear at first futile, opposed as I have been by so many wealthy, high placed stars, consider that I am still here to continue the fight. Being so gives good hope to countless exploited workers like my late parents, whose worst nightmare would be for their children to fall into the clutches of greedy predators like the twisted stars listed in my Copyright Issues page. Beyond that, imagine the euphoria of my surviving the humiliating present to ascend to my own stellar success. Such dreams may only be possible in America. And Nasco workers: if you want to betray yourselves and your children for twelve dollars an hour when I would have paid you a hundred dollars an hour, just wear your Nasco black and keep standing in my way!
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Broadcasting Illusions

The wealthy elite are richer today than they have ever been in all history; their vast fortunes have made them secure enough to aim beyond the mere accumulation of financial profits. No longer can consumers use their shopping lists to impose their will upon the upper class. And it seems that a disgraced network like NBC can stay on the air indefinitely even without its sponsors. I believe that this is because our money is less important to capitalists today than our love. When I first learned about how establishing brand loyalty has become more important than increasing sales to modern advertisers I did not think about it very deeply. On the surface it looks like a more roundabout, less detectable way to increase sales, but it really isn't. A man's brand loyalty does not require any support from his wallet, only from his heart. Super rich corporate advertisers don't need your money anymore, they'd rather just hear you whistling their jingle. While we all like money, those who have the most of it would most keenly feel its limitations. They would see it less as a source of power than as a means to it. Power is the aim of any ruling body, with vast sums being spent along the way if necessary. And what greater power exists in the world than that which rules over the human heart? This is far more desirable to the upper class than their otherwise inert piles of money. How do they win your hearts? With powerful illusions broadcasted as music or comedy or pleasing imagery. The bands who stole my songs were loved. The comedians who stole my blogs were loved. Later, the reporters who exposed the fraud were loved. All of this love was passed on to corporate supporters. As long as your love is desirable to our corporate overlords, the broadcast illusions which deliver this love to them will be sustained regardless of financial losses. As such, TV and radio will make imposing barriers for me to overcome in my quest to secure my due recognition as my work's true author in the years ahead. 11:19pm: In my poem the Lover I recount personal experience to show how love is seldom true: my anomalous talent caused a gap to my father's love, which centred on the perception of his son as an extension of his ordinary self; women tend to fall for riches; and stars are more loved for their appearance than their substance. I end the poem by stating that being deprived of true (sacrificial) love along these lines made me closer to God. Along the way, however, I showed how God's style of selfless love is far from being the only love. This may cause problematic distractions for those in power. In George Orwell's novel, 1984, the ruling class has done away with all love but love of their party, known as Big Brother. They made it illegal to enjoy sex, with children enlisted to spy on parents and report any suspicious activity to the police. We call romantic partners lovers, though their love is strictly contained and reflected within their relationship. From within their cozy cocoon they feel safe in sharing their dislikes, especially those of authority. In the novel's totalitarian state there is no room for such outside love interests. Orwell took his inspiration from the fascists and the communists of his World War Two period. He wanted to make sure that nothing like their brutal totalitarianism ever rose up again. Perhaps he was successful, but his contemporary, Aldous Huxley, alluded to a more insidious power grab in the novel, Brave New World, one in which the slave unwittingly chooses his slavery. This seems to be closer to what is going on at this moment. Orwell spoke of television sets that would be illegal to turn off. Instead, more attuned to Huxley's vision, we have people today freely choosing to leave their TV's on. People may read my words today and think their hearts are safe from corporations, but the corporate logos on their clothes, the soundbites they choose for their ringtones, and even the bulletins they share from news broadcasts tell me otherwise. If they had to shun all commercial media - broadcast and print - as I've done, they would be at a painful loss for how to fill the gaping void that would emerge in their world. 1:08pm: After hearing again of some woman who is in possession of a hit, I am reminded of another aspect of this love you may unwittingly have for corporations: it brings me hate. I've never known such intense hate in my life as that which has been heaped on me by fraud committed with my music, poetry, and comedy on the TV and radio. You think you cause me no harm by tuning in their broadcasts when in fact I consider myself lucky to still be alive in spite of it. I almost jumped off a bridge from you all watching a Dateline broadcast behind my back. It's a good thing I survived to defend my honor and the honor of my parents, whose graves would be getting urinated on right now if corporate stars like Tom Hanks had had their way with my intellectual property. If corporate overlords want you to exclusively love them for my work, it is quite clear to me now that you would all end up hating my guts for it. 5:00pm: In keeping with this post's title, let's close by smashing a few of the wicked illusions which have been cast by the misuse of my work in the last ten years: The Crystalids' Dean is not Jesus: Songs from the Truck. Tom Hanks is not a war hero: Fighting Stance. Telus is unfriendly: Unfinished Business. Taylor Swift is a poor role model: Taylor Daft. Jon Stewart is not sweet: When FOX News and Jon Stewart Unite. The corporate media are not trustworthy: You Can Trust Us. Jay Leno is not funny: Jay Ego. Dateline NBC is not knowledgeable: Thanks for Nothing. FOX News is unfair and unbalanced: FOX News Hates. The Shards were not virtuous: They're My Disability. Bill Maher is not rebellious: Real Slime. MAD Magazine is unsafe for children: MAD Magazine Commits Fraud. And to the gang of crew people that tried to intimidate me on the street outside this library branch on my way here this morning: I AM NOT WEAK! 7:46pm: Boy, we really have some stinkers around here. I wonder when I'll ever get to meet these nice fans I keep hearing in my head. Let's start with this latest violation of my music. I'm sure that most of you reading this find new violations of my music insulting to your intelligence since you are well aware of my songs from following me online for the last eight years. To anyone else, do you enjoy being lied to with music? If so, why don't you get your idols to lie to you with your own music and leave me out of it? I want nothing to do with the commercial trends around which you structure your life. And do you want us all to be stupid? Do you want us to confuse ten years with twenty years and Joe Blow with Jack Frost? That's the kind of wish that might get answered with an ambulance ride. Next, I should ask my readers if I reached any of them with the above breakdown of my poem, the Lover. Did students sense any truth in my referral to the 'confinement' of parental love? Did women laugh at my mention of their materialism? (They're usually pretty cool about it.) Above all, did music and comedy fans agree that they love a star more for appearance than for substance? That last point is important to me because it explains why I might be less impressive right now than all those creeps who stood on a big stage with my songs. Please, I'm not just writing all these things for style. And speaking of stadiums, stadium rock is loud and I have a loud voice. That disturbance from last week that some people complained about in the wee hours of the morning - though I've fallen silent since - is the sound of an artist, one whose music they paid others to sing and play in stadiums, surviving overwhelming pressure to commit suicide. It ruptured roughly the same hour of the morning that TV stars like Jimmy Kimmel once occupied with stolen portions of my blogs. And lastly, to those joggers, one of whom thought her mate was 'funny' as they jogged past me in the street: the reason why the stars you think you love need limousines is to escape your cruelty. And I bet that joke you were laughing at was stolen out of my blogs: probably one of my rejects.
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Lights Out

I said yesterday that smoking was my greatest vice, but that was not altogether accurate. I would say that my greatest vice is a lack of discipline. My good friends tried to warn me of it, telling me I should buy groceries, for instance, but like most others, I thought my fault was acceptable. I no longer think so, and that is why I have quit smoking. Next I will try to discipline my behavior in other ways: staying quiet when I'm upset, being more careful with my money, etc, but I can only focus on one problem at a time. [8:55am There's suddenly another customer in the store with me. It's kind of early for anyone to be using the computers here, but I passed a CFOX pickup truck on the way here and it is parked just down the road. I just wanted to alert my online monitors of this to check for anything fishy with the system here as I type.] That stunt which was pulled to block out my lyrics index got me thinking of tyranny this morning. My assailants are allowed to block out my music index and call me suspicious when I am innocent, but I can not block out their radio stations and TV networks for being truly suspicious after they have clearly proven by their Nickleback promotions and Blue Rodeo promotions and support for corrupt TV stars like Ellen or Matt that they are still in illegal possession of my property. That is an extremely unbalanced control structure which smacks of tyranny. I was joyfully enlightened by Plato's discussion concerning justice (my title is meant to poke fun at the confusion caused by Plato's speaking through the character of Socrates) to learn that there are good sound reasons to reject the law of nature which dictates the rule of the weak by the strong. Power is not merely justified by strength but by character. A leader may be rich, but he may also be a fool. A leader may be brilliant, but he may also be arrogant. Plato described the tyrant as a light which shines in on itself. So is television. (Radio is a megaphone in a soundproof echo chamber.) Why would someone want a job in front of a TV camera or a microphone? For the power. I finally have the answer to the only question that stumped me on my entrance exam to my college advertising course, why do you want to work in advertising? For power! Of course! That's what I should have said, but I didn't know myself well enough yet. I totally flunked that portion. And what do I now hope to gain by sharing my work on the web? You guessed it! Wanting power is quite natural for all, but gaining it is somewhat more rarely justified. Broadcasters obviously don't ponder such questions at length or they wouldn't have made stars out of roadies with my music, out of extras with my comedy, and even out of reporters with my justice. Doing so turned these creeps into monsters of Sauron like proportions. Broadcasting staff erred greatly in expecting their hate for rising talent like myself, from the ranks of the 'ordinary' masses they prefer to suppress, to be shared by their subscribers. Instead they broke the hearts of millions with their cruel fraud. Their folly with my property also cost them considerable profits, at least since I returned to the public eye in 2010. 11:17am: So, now that I've established that we all seek power, when is power justified? Hopefully you have gathered that it is when the proverbial light shines outward on all; in other words, when it benefits its subordinates. Perhaps the greatest example to illustrate my point is the supreme power of God. (I need you atheists to stretch your imaginations for this.) God is great because He gives us free will. We live as we choose to live here, even when that choice hurts God. This limitless measure of freedom is commensurate with the measure of God's fitness for power. In my particular faith, the measure of Christ's fitness for divinity is His willingness to serve. Christ tried to explain this to the apostles when He washed their feet at the Last Supper, and I tried to elaborate on it in my poem, the Servant. So the corporate media were wrong to criticize me for being too humble to be a star; they should have instead praised my humility. The corporate media has the potential to be a force for good in our world by their well known freedom of the press. Some of their more outstanding figures from the past, like Edward R. Murrow, used this freedom to challenge and defeat the evil of their time. Now it seems that they use this freedom to tyrannize us, though they may be more and more held back by the restrictions imposed by monopolistic media magnates. The result appears to be an influential media that freely pans my existence in the face of my unquestionable fame. I hope media people don't hate me too much because I am more like them than they might think. I could easily have ended up in an advertising agency, working right alongside them, if I did not envision such a special future for myself. I now submit this vision as my grounds for power. It is a vision of hope and beauty, which promises to benefit all of my followers, including those who work in broadcasting, at least as much as it does me. 1:47pm: I've corrected the above reporter's name to Edward R. Murrow and provided a link to an earlier post about him. It sounds like there might be some more shenanigans going on with people who need to power trip with their cell phones, but I invite you to call the police and demand protection from their crimes. If this is true, you should let the police know that crimes against my posts hurt the whole population and not just me alone. My protection is otherwise irrelevant to yours. And see if you can straighten out who wrote this hit I keep hearing about. I'm sure it wasn't anyone from the abysmal sounding radio I was forced to listen to in the liquor store today. 6:14 pm: Yes, power is evil, but it is a necessary evil. It lets us organize into an efficient collective. Yes, power is corrupting, but that is why it must be reserved for people of superior character. (As for my character, I think I deserve credit for staying calm while listening to the cackle of a production worker watching a YouTube comedian violate my copyright as I typed this.) Handing power out to fools, as broadcasters so casually did with my popular works, was disastrous, not just in terms of breaking hearts, but inflicting terrible financial losses. Their arrogant refusal to admit this fault may well send them and their children to the poor house before they see my point. The wealthy stars they've been propping up will certainly abandon them in their hour of need. And while their power of illusion is impressive, they cannot fake their profits.
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