|
I've decided to erase the last twenty or so entries from this blog because I have been unusually pessimistic as a side effect of quitting smoking. There's no point talking to the world when you're depressed. I was totally abstinent from June 10 to October 10 this year, which deeply impacted my mood. (Fell off the wagon a tiny bit since then, though.) Going without cigarettes all that time showed me an abysmal new level of depression, which you may have noticed. But I've learned that my will is quite strong. I've been writing some comedy scripts at home in the last few weeks. Sharing comedy was a nice way to engage an audience. A lot of musicians like to engage the crowd with entertaining dialogues. That might be another reason why I started writing that show. I've written a few new episodes for that in the last couple of weeks. I just wanted to see if I still could. Maybe I'll add them in before the end of the year. Anyway, writing keeps me busy. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Thursday, October 26, 2017
Back to Normal
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Offline Rhythm
|
As long as I'm here to let you know my plans for the next couple of months, I should thank my astute followers for catching the fraud that has been committed online with my posts over the last couple of days. Yes, that's my pencil! Broadcasters, were you aware of this violation of my Color My Girl video? Why did someone need to commit fraud with it? Do you think it was so he could kill [my identity] and breed in my place with your support? And this morning I heard that those are my scars! My scars! Broadcasters, why would someone steal my picture of my poor carved up knee? That's a very nasty crime you've encouraged with all your support for crimes against my work and my name. But I guess you counted on me to kill myself by now so that you could pass off this kind of filth as legitimate work. I guess that's why I tell everyone that broadcasting artist killers breed fraud, because that's what you artist killing, fraud supporting broadcasters do. And who was that gang who beset me on my trip to the grocery store to buy tomatoes? What an excruciating walk that was for me. They're with you, right? They seem like the kind of people who'd think it's all right to put assholes who steal my music and poetry in limousines to be admired and leave me exposed on the street afterwards. If you're a subscriber to my blogs and videos, I'm leaving this note up to tell you that I'm saving my new creations for when I have an itunes account or something like that. I don't expect to have such an account for at least a year. I was also thinking of reserving my best sounding new tracks for an agent - also known as an entertainment lawyer. I'm sure that he or she will hear the potential of my music without it being on the internet getting constantly abused by frauds. I'm reading my Dostoevsky novel again because I didn't absorb much of it when I tried to read it in 2013. It's all just conversations really, just a bunch of crazy 19th century Russians all talking to each other, but I find it far more stimulating than TV or radio or the internet. I'm glad I'm back into my reading because it will help to keep me occupied as I travel over the next couple of months. Yes, I'm leaving Vancouver tomorrow and I'm not telling you where I'm going. All you need to know is that I won't be in Vancouver. So don't let those monsters here try to pull anything while I'm away. I won't add anything to the web anywhere except to this blog. Mark its URL: http://broadcasters-breed-fraud.blogspot.ca And I'll remind you that there are no live videos of me permitted outside of the ones displayed in my live videos slideshow of my Chronology of Recordings. It's URL is: http://chrono-dave.blogspot.ca/2014/11/my-live-recordings-2013-14.html I hope that's all I need to say until I've had a couple of months vacation. And to my good followers, keep up the excellent work with busting those evil frauds. Someone has to do it, after all. 4:49pm: Before I get back into my novel, I should say a little more. I don't hold it against the whole population of Vancouver for my departure, just against these awful production people who have me surrounded in the street and against the evil broadcasters who hyped all the fraud with my music and comedy. They don't have any moral problem with what they did to my sad music, delivering into the hands of spoiled rock stars like the Rolling Stones. The only pity they seem to be capable of is a kind of warped self pity which I tried to describe in my poem the Crybabies. They are such a poisonous, hateful presence in my sphere and have caused me so much harm that they've made me lash out in uncharacteristic violence with my pen here, at times. Regarding my earlier note about hearing someone say that those are your scars, the person could have also been saying those are your stars, which I would take to be a reference to my Copyright Issues page. Don't let anyone else get away with saying that they're the fraud victim, like that stupid band tried to do earlier this year at the Fortune Sound Club. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Friday, July 21, 2017
Who's Paying for This?
Thursday, July 20, 2017
A Rigged Game
|
Before I start, I'm getting another flash of memory from 2007 that tells me I talked about my 'Olympic penis' (12:40pm note) ten years ago and it ended up on TV. Looks like my brain is going to rewrite every word they plagiarized out of the thousands of pages I had online ten years ago. Hey, broadcasters, why won't my brain let me get on with new posts? I've been trying to write new things for eight years now and look what I've done instead: duplicate the thousands of pages of posts that your stars stole from me in 2007! Why? Why won't my brain do what I want instead of forcing me to relive past experiences and rewrite past works? All you broadcasters who presided over the theft and scattering of my thousands of posts from 2007, why am I forced to rewrite every damn word now? I want to write new things! Why can't I write new things instead of rewriting old things? You know why! You all know why! The only reason I'm still around to fight for ownership of my work is because I was prepared for this fight from childhood. The overwhelming adversity I face now was all anticipated and a path charted around it long before most of my enemies were even born. Even this note I'm typing now was predicted and factored into my rise. My mysterious protection, which lets me face down whole legions of evil production scabs by myself, hinges on the billions of dollars I'm worth in the future. Many thousands of lives are depending on me to follow through with my career and generate that wealth for them. Such future dependents are all betrayed by their broadcasters in the present. Do you think I'm insignificant? Why are you here reading this? Do you need to ask me my name when you see me? Do you really? How long have I been online with this account now, busting superstars with my songs and blogs? But you don't recognize me, right? You need to ask me my name so you know what to write on my order. Oh, and then you forget who you prepared it for as soon as it's ready. Yes, talk to your cue ball of a friend instead. Don't worry about disrespecting me. I'm unimportant. Too bad all your other customers can't get the kind of mistreatment you reserve for insignificant people like me. Maybe that's why stars get others to do their shopping for them. Maybe that's why they need to hide behind tinted windows. Maybe that's why artists go running to the business to beg for help to escape the brutal glare of the spotlight, but I think the business should offer their help freely to me since it's their fault I'm famous. And if they don't, I'm just going to try to make it as an independent artist. How is everyone liking the new music on the rock radio? As long as it sounds terrible, you know they didn't steal it from my YouTube account like they stole: All My Money, Arise, Assault, Beguiled, Canopy, Chair, Decent (as Kneel to the Power), Easy, Ectomorph, Fantasies, Fool, Fool's Paradise, Fortune, Free, Goddess, Godspeed, Harmony, Lifeless, More Sold Out, Natural (offline), Nonplussed, Outside, Prone, Rusty, Size, Smile, Spoils, Therapy, and Virtue, as well as Bad News, Mischief, Nonchalant, and Nothing but Ashes. I'm sure I'm leaving out many others, but as long as the goal of today's broadcasters is the same as Josef Goebbels', to unite the population with hate, they don't need songs of good quality like mine: they just need more untalented assholes who want to be stars. 1:47pm: When George Carlin was talking to you about the game being rigged, folks, he was plagiarizing an earlier post of mine like this one. When Saturday Night Live stole my Treachery script, it was not just to make them look funnier than they really were, but to make my script lose its meaning by disconnecting it from its author. These broadcasters are totally treacherous and I can tell by the way they've been trying to argue against my points with vicious put-downs. For a couple of recent examples, I might ask them who wrote my song Mischief. They, instead of admitting the truth and saying I wrote it after they told everyone that Blue Rodeo wrote it, respond with a blunt reference to my urine. What does my urine have to do with my music? Nothing at all. It is a simple mind manipulation, intended to make their followers reject me by applying disgusting imagery. Go back to the song before that and ask them who wrote Nonchalant. Instead of admitting it's my song, they hold up a billboard of toe fungus. And if I turned this paragraph into a comedy script, like I did with Treachery, they'd put it on a sketch comedy show like Saturday Night Live to bury its meaning and confuse my readers. It must be nice to have your own powerful broadcasting transmitter to support your crimes against talent like that. Do you wonder where these TV shows got all their comedy? Look how much they stole from me alone! Do you think the Simpsons wrote all their first seventeen seasons on their own? Isn't it more likely that they stole them from other unsolicited authors like myself? It sure looks that way to me. It looks like broadcasters use every dirty trick in the book to seize the high ground on an extremely warped playing field. No one, however, possesses higher ground than Almighty God. 5:55pm: So that's thirty-two songs up there that I heard on the radio. That's an hour and half of music. What do I hear in response? Hick? Is that all? What kind of a stupid answer is that? And what's this hideous talk about my genitals? Can't we stay on the subject of who wrote my songs? See how they take my songs and put them on the radio as the property of their friends and pets, and then, when I accidentally rewrite my old work, they call me nasty names! And how many years has this been going on now? Are the police reading? If so, I might ask them if we have any laws protecting honest citizens from this kind of cruelty. Are any judges reading or are they all in the back pockets of the corporate perpetrators of this outrageous fraud with my web posts? These people want to make my life as loveless as they can. My siblings were able to retreat into the love afforded by their own families after my parents died. Look at the social desert broadcasters left me in in exchange for all the gratitude offered by my sweet music fans over the last ten years. I can't believe how empty this world is without my fans, my friends, and my mother. And they want to call me rude names on top of it. Were it not for divine intercession - as I see it - I'm sure I'd be dead by my own hand now, as I expect is every other author to whom they owe vast sums of money, but I'll survive to teach them that no one can rig a game better than God. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Licensed to Steal
|
Yesterday evening, as I attempted to drink myself to unconsciousness with my broken fridge roaring like a Maserati, I heard a woman's voice say that I was in prison. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, when I went to use the toilet with the window left wide open by another tenant, I heard the same voice falsely accuse me of being a hack. Did we get that all straightened out for another day? Whoopee. These constant false accusations of crimes committed with my own work are all I get for giving others pleasure. It's made me discover a level of bitterness so deep that I no longer recognize myself in the mirror; I feel like a loser for not killing myself. These zany imitators want me to write funny blogs for them out of this increased bitterness so everyone can keep thanking them for my suffering, but now I rephrase my words to keep the humor out of them. Were my index links blocked again? What good is that blocking program doing? It could only serve crime. When someone is caught committing fraud on the web, as NBC was caught with their YouTube videos of my comedy sketches, they are forced to erase their offending posts. That's how we deal with web fraud. Offenders, on the other hand, are always looking for some way to pin their fraud on their victim, so I think this 'K-9' site blocking program should be kicked the hell off the internet. I've suffered more than enough harm to my image for an innocent man. The broadcasters seem to have every creep in the world trying to build a career in show business out of stealing my posts. People see me receiving no support and get the message from all the glory handed to my assailants that the path to success is to steal my things and lie about me. Why are broadcasters allowed to bring so much harm to an innocent man like myself? Why aren't their broadcasting licenses revoked to discourage any further crimes? They must be licensed to steal. What would Dick Cheney or George W. Bush do to someone who falsely accused them of assaulting a child? I bet they'd only have to suffer such a false accusation once. They'd use their money to silence that lying prick and no one would dare take his place. But look what happens when it's you or me who gets falsely accused: it just goes on and on and on, with a new liar stepping up to replace the last one, for ten miserable years, branding us with the face of a pervert, regardless of our innocence. That's because we don't have the money to have any real justice in our capitalist's paradise. Do you think these horrible things couldn't happen to you? How precisely would you avoid your songs getting turned into fraud if the big broadcasters wanted it to happen? Do you think your friends would stick up for you? Ha, that's a good one. They'd sell you out in a second. Do you think your family would defend you? That's even more of a laugh. And judging by how broadcasters stay in business to add to my miseries now after already causing me so much harm, I'd have to guess that they aren't just licensed to steal, but to strip us of hope. I wonder if they're allowed to do anything good. 1:23pm: All these shaved heads I see around me make me think of my Austin Powers cartoon. Are they expressing support for my hero or trying to emulate Mike Myers' villain? You know that I also invented the characters of Me and Mini-Me, right? I invented them in a James Bond parody that I shared on Blogger entitled Goldmember. Myers seems to need someone else to dream up his characters before he can be funny with them. But I'm not a comedian, really; I'm a musician. So the fact that my comedy has brought me nothing but sheer misery, right up to the present, on the way to delivering lying comedians their greatest pleasures doesn't trouble me as much as the question of who received all the pleasure for my music. Let me now ask the radio stations who made all that money from broadcasting my music about who got to feel good with my music. We'll start with my most current posts and list them in reverse chronology back to 2013. Who got to feel good for Mischief? Who got to feel good for Nonchalant? Who got to feel good for Bad News? Who got to feel good for Therapy? Who got to feel good for Beguiled? Who got to feel good for Fool's Paradise? Who got to feel good for Virtue? Who got to feel good for Nothing but Ashes? The answer to all of the above is not me! On the contrary, I spend my days and nights howling in pain from the misery of my condition. Broadcasters are licensed to take away my pleasures, which are meant to reward my hard work, and hand them over to their friends and favourites as a reward for committing fraud. Who was it that told me I'd be happy later to endure the agonizing conditions of the moment? When was that? Two years ago? So how much later is later? Do you know how fucking horrible I feel? Do you think it's worth it for me to live through this for what feels like eternity and let it turn me into Jack the Fucking Ripper so I can be happy later? I think you care less about my feelings than my late friend who advised me to kill myself. 5:03pm: I'd rather be dead than have to contemplate the hate that motivated so many crimes against my music and poetry and comedy, a hate which may be born of self-love's sense of being diminished by another person's beauty. If you don't write elegant rhymes, for instance, you may need to break up my most impressive rhyming verses, as was done to my Octiverse. If you don't write appealing music, you may feel more comfortable with my best songs in the hands of twenty-five different bands than with them all together in my name. If you are intimidated by cleverness, you'd possibly get more fulfillment from a stand-up comedian's thefts of my posts than you would by rewarding me with your laughs of support. I'm telling you, I'd rather be dead from suicide right now than contemplating how this crowd around me may have cheered more out of hate for talent than out of appreciation for beauty when they packed stadiums to support crimes with my work. I'd rather be dead from hanging myself than wondering if our broadcasters nurture this incredibly destructive mass psychosis. Seeing how some people make themselves laugh for the most kindergarten level insults now tells me that they may never have appreciated my wit or my imagination but just their own vile hate. If so, wouldn't stardom only demean me? (The next morning:) I had a rough night after I went home from typing this. My life has been made unlivable here and I invited the Lord to sense it for Himself. I think He agreed that my suicide death from this pressure would be judged as a murder at the hands of an evil business. I woke up strengthened this morning. I'm not sure I want to blame the whole crowd here for the behaviour of their broadcasters, production scabs, and a few stupid cashiers. As long as I don't die of disrespect over the next year, I hope I can follow through on my plan to play my music outside this Telus owned region, where I might receive fairer treatment from the crowd. Now that I'm back to normal, I think my words on Adam and Eve are rewritten from the past. Don't let the person who plagiarized me get away with calling me a hack. What's everyone suddenly laughing about at 9:35 am this morning? I'm glad I don't know. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
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. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Monday, July 17, 2017
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. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2017. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)