Bla Bla Bla

Well I have to keep blabbing here or they'll tell you I'm in jail. It's all right. I have a lot to talk about. But this blog is done, so I'm switching to 'Prove Me Wrong Please.'. You'll find it in my profile.
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Math Quiz

Could someone add up the combined bank accounts of Jay Leno, Tina Fey, Jon Stewart, The Simpsons (since '07), Family Guy, American Dad, and MAD TV, as well as the royalties from my songs on the radio from 2008 to 2010 and then again, apparently, in 2012? Is there enough there to get me a one bedroom apartment? This homeless life is starting to take its toll on me.
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What It Takes

I've been hearing a lot about how I needed to prove that I had 'what it takes' to be a public figure by enduring torture. Well, it takes more than that to be the kind of public figure that I have become. It takes money, like the money you spent on those people who stole my work. It takes practise. How am I supposed to practise in a Salvation Army dorm? But above all, and you constantly overlook this in favour of testing my resistance to torture, it takes talent: the talent that those fiends with my work did not have for the whole time you loved them. I know NBC wants you to think I'm weak, but I've endured enough torture over the last six years to start thinking of myself as some kind of superman. I'm convinced that I will survive to be compensated for the crimes against me, even if I have to wait until I'm in my fifties. I'm no longer interested in celebrating my work. You've already done such a thorough job of that WITHOUT ME.
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Give It Back

NBC, you stink! Where's my blog? Give it back to its owner! Come on! Hurry up! FOX, you stink! Where's my blog? Give it back to its owner! Hurry up! Come on! This bullshit of yours will not fly! Which reminds me, HBO, you stink! George Carlin's a sledgehammer but I'm a rapier, am I? Someone should take a sledgehammer to his gravestone. You American networks really stink. You sit there and tell everyone Canada is a wimp country. Then you turn around and pretend you own a Canadian artist's life-work because it's the only way you can look cool. That's a good chunk of Canadian culture you assholes helped yourselves to. The prime minister here has been informed. And if you don't give it back now, you're in deep shit. Great coverage of all those TV stars that got busted. Every time I go offline for a few days, people think I was incacerated for plagiarism. Why can't you wimps face the truth down there? You want me to fuck around with lawyers for the rest of my life? If this copyright thing doesn't produce some results soon, I'm switching over to defamation. Good luck defending yourself against that one. I could write a book out of all the nasty lies you've been spreading about me for the last six years to clear the way for your ugly crime. I'll soon be joining the musician's and artist's union. And as soon as we get that evidence, you're going down.
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Memories Suck

I just want to make sure everyone knows that I tried to warn you of violations against my work years ago, but you didn't believe me. Now that all my best songs have been ruined and all the laughs have been drained from my writing and all my money has been spent on parties for people who hate me, now you believe me. And that's only because I kept working through three terms of homelessness, welfare, disability, and a gauntlet of angry fans to end up where I presently am - the same men's shelter from which I first issued my public warnings.
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Kill Me I'm an Artist

People turn on their TV for information and what do they get? Manipulation. As a Salvation Army 'inmate' with no criminal record, am I out of line for pointing out that some 'respectable', well dressed people are criminals? Conrad Black was a well dressed and respectable media baron, wasn't he? I suppose you think he's the only one that belonged in jail. But how rude of me. I guess I deserved to walk the streets for years and take all those dirty looks from strangers after I tried to warn you all of this years ago and you told me to fuck off. Since then I'm glad I didn't get beat up for smiling at that little girl in her bathing suit. Good thing I didn't wink. Did Tina Fey pay a little girl to whistle at me? Must be nice to have my money. She's the one who told you that I 'sock' for so many years, right? That was so funny. Dostoyevsky said that children heal the soul. My soul could use some healing after your brutality, so make sure to keep the children away from me because some non-musician on TV thinks he's funnier than I am for stealing my blog. And does it trouble you now to see me in this desperate state? Why not turn on the TV or the radio and take your mind off of it? Is there a new band out? Great! I wonder who wrote their songs. Is there a hilarious new comedy on TV? Any forklift gags in it? I don't remember training Amy Pohler on the forklift, myself. God, you people have made my life hard. I don't know how an honest artist is supposed to survive the fans of so many lying, cheating sons of bitches. And I'd be surprised if any good at all can come out of the outrageously crooked entertainment business. I'm going to remove Preteen Queen from the web today. It can't be enjoyed by people who are too dumb to get the joke. Maybe you like it, but you're forgetting how stupid your television heroes are and how much influence they have on your life. Oh, I almost forgot. Sorry. I'm really sorry. I won't ever do it again.
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That's Not All Folks

Temporary Note: I've added more to 'Take It Down' and 'The Dirt on Dateline' for interested readers.
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Get Behind Bars

Maybe the men's shelter needs a bar. Those unruly types wouldn't be so violent if they were passed out drunk. The guys don't have a lot of money to pay for the drinks, but they might have things that they could trade, things they find in dumpsters and alleyways, like brand new bowling balls, fishing gear, and pedigree cats. These items could be used to stock the thrift shop with quality merchandise. We must be careful not to overlook the proactive solutions to homelessness.
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Aunt Sally Doesn't Want You

I'm glad to be at the Salvation Army this time. It's better than the Salvation Navy. Last time someone at the Salvation Pentagon made a mistake and checked off 'castaway' on my form instead of 'outcast'. I didn't fit in with all those pirates and boat people. I was too much of a landlubber. And I had no tall tales to share with the fishermen - just true stories about how Oasis cashed in my song ('Fortune' by its author) and how roadies cashed in my LP's on the radio while Jay Leno and Jon Stewart and Tina Fey and Family Guy cashed in my writing on the television. Plus there was always someone hurling into the toilet from seasickness - a terrible thing to listen to when you're trying to sleep. They didn't think I was a musician because I haven't had sex in the last eleven years. I think they would rather have bunked with the guys who stole my work if they wanted to hear about sex and parties.
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The Power of Torment

No luck escaping my problems with Dostoyevsky. Right away I must read a conversation on the power of torment. It's becoming increasingly harder to control my emotions in this situation. It's bad enough that I have been left without money, but I must cope with all of this dreadful feedback. I don't care how much the television presents itself to you as being on my side, the television resents me. Their trusted shows and performers were disgraced over my online work. If you're wondering why they leave me unpaid, it's probably because it makes me look bad. And there are a lot of so called fans of my work who are quite quick to reject me if they think I will not be rich. They think I missed out on the celebrations with them and Jay and Jon and Tina and the band. Poor me. The television made fools out of them, but the television wants to pin it all on me for innocently posting my own work on the internet. The television dictates their every thought and action. Why aren't we celebrating the victory of truth over lies? Because television is too embarassed to be on the losing side. And they still want to make losers out of everyone who trusts them, instead of owning up to a horrible blunder, apologizing, and above all, compensating their victim. What's that? You already celebrated this victory? Where was I? You were only celebrating the continued impoverishment, marginalization, and unjust punishment of an innocent artist. The television wants you to think of me as some kind of sacrificial lamb. But I am not their only target. You and your children are targets. The television made song stealing scum and plagiarizing jerks look like heroes to your children for God knows how many years. And now it wants to make the rightful owner of that work look like the bad guy. This can only ultimately cause you more harm. I think of my true fans as people who boycott commercial television and radio on my behalf. What's love without sacrifice? These kind of people are the only ones I would want to party with. If anyone is doing this right now, I hope I will be able to reward them for it at some future point. Until then, the only one I trust is Dostoyevsky. Back to my reading. I'll try to think of something funny to make you feel good as I wait in agony.
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Dear Mister Prime Minister

If I wrote a letter to the prime minister about my predicament, I might put it something like this. Dear Mister Prime Minister, My mother still has the picture of you posing with her on the sixtieth anniversary of D-Day celebrations. She was thrilled to meet you. Are you aware of what happens to Canadian talent on the internet at the hands of foreigners? It seems that my Canadian work has been used to reward foreign fiends for stirring up hate against me here at home. I thought hate crimes were illegal. If I were prime minister, I would ban foreign broadcasts until I was paid for my work. And I would tell the RCMP to round up all the poisonous creeps who spread lies about me on the internet and trample them under the hooves of their horses. Mister Prime Minister, I went to lawyers for help on the violations against my work when I first noticed them in 2006 or 2007. With my views and comments blocked I was unable to prove my popularity. Left to believe that I was going mad, I removed my work from the internet and pursued an ordinary life. Six years later my work has made its rounds through commercial radio and television, making my detractors rich. And now it has fallen into the hands of American reporters, who are using it to boost their ratings with sensational trials around its ownership. So for the second time, IS THERE ANY LEGAL HELP FOR ARTISTS WHO CREATE COPYRIGHTED WORK OR IS SUCH HELP ONLY AVAILABLE FOR BUSINESS OWNERS WHO EXPLOIT COPYRIGHTED WORK? I am currently embroiled in a legal struggle over comedy sketches that I posted in 2007. I erased them from the internet at the end of that year, but I did not relinquish my ownership of them. As soon as they were erased, they were seized by non-artists and cashed in on commercial television. Since I posted them, the most intimate details of my personal life have been turned into dinner conversation for strangers who won't even greet me as they pass me in the street. I can't apply for a job like a normal person, and I must often depend on men's shelters for a bed and a meal. At the same time, I am often left with nothing to think of but the fun party everyone had with my music and writing and the lies about my intelligence and sexual preferences that kept the media away from me the whole time it was going - three to six years. And when someone on TV tells women that you are a sex offender and that you steal your art, you'd be lucky if women will let you even look at them again for the rest of your life, no matter what. The business has decided to let me stay unpaid and semi-homeless for the last three years since its crimes against me have become public knowledge. With my true story I fit right in with the delusional crackheads. Since I have not been incarcerated for asserting my ownership of this work online, I must assume that the offenders have been caught and prosecuted. What evidence was used to prosecute them? Why has it not been made available to me so I can be paid? A man in your position must agree that paying me for my work and compensating me for the crimes against me is the right and honourable thing to do. My mother and I would appreciate any effort you might make on our behalf.
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© 2007, 2013. Relived scripts by David Skerkowski in Ottawa. All rights reserved.

Moral Minute

People think that if they believe in God, they won't be able to have fun any more, but that's not true at all. Believing in God turns fun into a sin, which makes it much more fulfilling. Think about it. If you're an atheist, you are not sinning by having sex outside of marriage, you're just following your animal nature. But believing in God turns this act into the sin of fornication. (Drooling) Fornication. I'm getting hot just thinking about it. How can you get the most out of pleasures of the flesh without being able to betray God as you indulge in them? You atheists don't know what you're missing. That's all we have for you this week on Moral Minute. Until next week, I'm your host, Lucinda.
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Metaphysical Fitness

Hi everyone! And welcome to Metaphysical Fitness, training for your brain! We're going to start our workout with some deep mind bends. Are you ready? One...two...three... What came first? The chicken or the egg? If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? What if our universe were just a grain of sand in someone else's universe? Why do bad things happen to good people? What is the meaning of life? And stop. Okay. Time to check your blood pressure by placing your index finger on your neck. Anything under twenty-five beats per ten second interim is within the normal range after a workout of this intensity. Is it safe to continue? All right then, let's try some smarten ups. First we'll weigh ourselves down with an complex intellectual question. Do thoughts originate in the brain or in the mind? Some philosophers argue that since thoughts are non physical, they must have a non physical origin. This arrangement would relegate the brain to a secondary role in thought production. Each of us lives in an abstract world of our own construction, without which there would be little to live for but the dull passing of time. We may be confusing the physical world around us with the abstract world which produces it. Furthermore, the possibility of this abstract world opens the door to the possibility of immortality. Now, if you can comprehend all that, can you still remember your phone number? Let's hear it! Good! Good! No shortage of theoretical brain cells in this group! Moving on to verbal gymnastics, we'll start with Hegelian somersaults. Are you ready? Thesis - Synthesis - Antithesis! Antithesis - Synthesis - Thesis! Thesis - Synthesis - Antithesis! Notice how the mid-section synthesis stayed in position. I'd give that at least a 9.5. We'll follow that up with a Descartes tumble: I think therefore I am. I'm not so sure about you. I think therefore I am. Very good everyone! Let's end our routine with a Spinozan vault. Better spit on your hands and rub them together first. Okay. Ready? Go! Peculiarity - Existence - God's existence - God's peculiarity - GOD IS EVERYTHING! - God's peculiarity - God's existence - Existence - Peculiarity. And try to land on your feet without falling forward. Excellent.
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Working Too Hard

I'm a little worried about the TV and radio fans. I know that they are often exhausted from their labours at the end of the workday, which deprives them of the energy they need to critically analyze the information they get from their TV's and radios. When I hear things like 'They made you famous by stealing your work,' I worry for them. It's up to me to explain that 'they' wouldn't have had any work to steal if I hadn't busted my ass to produce it all. A lot of overworked people won't take that extra step to figure it out for themselves. They just automatically believe what they are told. I'm sorry if making this point insults the intelligence of some of my readers. I didn't leave this rebuttal up the last time, but I guess I will be forced to this time. Pity. It's not the slightest bit humorous. Lies are dangerous, especially coming from someone you trust. Lies fail to provide ultimate answers and tend to lead a body straight off the edge of a cliff. And when a trusted public figure has been caught in a lie they should never be heard from again, if only out of respect for the innocent victims. To spend years afterwards debating over the crime as though such a monster had some valid position to defend is pure sadism in my books. Yes, and the television ripped me off. So why don't you check the television to see what it has to say about it?
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Take It Down

I don't care much for those videos of me singing in the Backstage Lounge anymore. That was back when everyone had me thinking that I was no good. I often sang in my low register, not nearly as impressive as when I belt it out. But I guess there are still people who need to try to make me look ordinary. And they are pining for the days when crooks ruled the airwaves with my songs and I was everyone's favourite target. (To hear the contrast between my low voice and my high voice, listen to the live video Sad Anger from start to finish.) I never wanted to share my performance of Without You. There was only one copy of that video. [Allegations against a person with known access to my old computer, who may have a criminal motive to defame me.] I can perform my good songs now. But it isn't safe to take the stage until all the creeps who stole my work are safely out of the way. If you're a fan, I hope you're patient. There seems to be no end to them.
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Making Sense

I think the business showed its hand a bit when it made stars out of thieves with my music. The business knows that I have made great sacrifices, such as how I am now living, to give people a musical product that they could trust. It came from an honest life. It was written from a pure motive. They can't get that from an artist who sells out to them. On the other hand, they like the attitude of someone who sells out to them. The best setup for the business is to have music (or laughs) written by someone like me recorded and performed by people who are more interested in being stars than they are in being artists. And if the business is conscious of it, it can be their secret joke on the whole public - 'privileged information'. My work has already been a success, and some people think I should just be happy with that. But I suffered for that work and I was never paid. How would you feel if you worked your ass off and didn't get your paycheque? Instead, maybe you were told of how someone else got your cheque and cashed it in and used to to rent hookers and throw a party on your doorstep so they could disturb your sleep as you lay awake from hunger? Would you be happy? That's not even a fraction of what happened to me. Besides, if I don't pursue some sort of legal settlement, everyone will think that I didn't get paid because I committed some unspeakable crime. I've learned that well in the last three years.
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The Optimist

(A prison cell.) Inmate: No matter how bad your life gets, you need to look on the bright side. Look at me. I'm sitting here on death row, framed by my own daughter for crimes against humanity, and I still find life desirable. All you need to do is look around you. Look over there. (pointing) A beautiful spiderweb. And down there. Rat droppings. And you know, since I've been staring at these walls, I've come to distinguish twenty-seven different shades of battleship grey. (Enter a priest and two guards.) And today must be my lucky day! Visitors! (He gets up and follows them out of the cell.) Hi guys! Did anyone catch the football game last night? Guard: Dead man walking!
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