Trick or Treat

It's Halloween today and I haven't really noticed it. Every day has been like Halloween for me since I started asserting my ownership of my blogs and songs. Stars who ripped me off or played a role in the crimes against me have been popping out at me from billboards and magazine covers and TV sets to shock and dismay me on an almost weekly basis for the last three years. I shun commercial broadcasts and I've still had to report a steady stream of this abuse since 2013. Taylor Swift, Jay Leno, SNL rejects, Dateline, George Carlin, Bill Maher, and Madonna, to name a few, erode my credibility by appearing on the public airwaves after I finger them as culprits. After destroying my image to clear the way for so much fraud, you'd think they'd give me a break from defending my honor now. I know it's hard to let go of a star who has grown familiar to you over the years or even over the decades. In my case, I've had no choice but to purge them from my heart. I do this by putting them altogether into one group, which I think of as belonging to a dying age, the age of television. I see my appearance as drawing a dividing line between the stars of the past, who were chosen by broadcasters, and the stars of the future, who will be chosen by the public through the internet. I wish someone else could have taken this uncomfortable place, but it seems to have been my destiny. I've been very busy writing new songs offline. Their quality is perhaps just a notch above my usual online effort because I have spent more time on them. I'm very confident that these new songs have the capacity to please a crowd and I look forward to being the first one to share them with the world from a stage. I hope to get the public to associate my music with its author, rather than have to face comparisons with the nasty fraud bands who the industry has been presenting in my place. I don't feel secure about appearing on a stage if I must still witness concert appearances with hyped up fanfare for the ones who left me to die in disgrace after building fantastic careers out of my music and/or comedy. But I'm still many months away from performing and maybe I can still dream of being able to perform my music under fair conditions. You can see how the ones who stole my work would go out of their way to interfere with my success now. They don't want to look foolish. They'd rather let me go on looking foolish from their abuse. I like to think that the most impressive element of my concerts is my music, as opposed to glitzy special effects, but I would not be averse to wearing a costume onstage. Costumes are fun. I have some cool ideas for them, actually.
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CBS the Schlock

CBS, I'm so disappointed in you. Aren't you the least bit grateful to me for what I did to NBC's late night schedule? Didn't I help to avenge your Letterman by getting that prick Leno incarcerated? And how do you thank me? By sticking that bitch Madonna on your stupid the Talk to assault my eyes when I went to the bank this afternoon. Shame on you! You're just as bad as the others! And I would have favored you out of my fondness for shows like Star Trek and MASH. I've left you alone. Why have you betrayed me? Readers, I know I said a few nice things about Madonna back in 2011, before I knew the extent of her role in the crimes against me. Please dismiss them all now. I was told that she went to prison in 2014 and that she would remain incarcerated until she learned how to play the guitar. For anyone who recalls that 2008 concert she did in Vancouver, which ended with her pretending to strum a chord on a guitar that looked like mine just before she left the stage, she waved at me. I guess she was waving good bye. In January 2008, I wrote Under My Umbrella (on the guitar) and erased it soon after. It's a nice tune, but I prefer my epic sounding rock, which is far more powerful and impressive to my ears. Did Madonna think that Beyonce should have it? That summer, I found work at the crooked staffing company, Nasco - read my post What Happened at Nasco (Statements Index) - which sent me to BC Place to work on the setup for the Madonna show. My very first day on the job, a WEA scout showed up and played a cassette of my 2007 songs on the loudspeakers to see if I remembered them. They sounded like my songs, but I couldn't remember the words because someone had stolen this cassette from my person almost a year earlier and I had moved on to other thoughts in the meantime. But then I swear I heard Madonna's voice in my head saying, those are your songs. So I bet Madonna knew exactly what was going on and just let it all happen. At her show, one of her crew sent me to collect something on the forklift and I heard Madonna's voice saying fetch, doggie-doggie! This should give you some indication of her real character. A stagehand told me that she lip synched all her songs. It wouldn't surprise me. She wanted me to lower a massive, fully loaded, sixteen wheel trailer that looked like a battleship suspended over our heads, using only four little forklifts, one operator on each corner, and I might not even be here to type this note if I had not refused. Finally, at the end of the show, she put my safety at risk again by making me spend five minutes forklifting a load from a high location and putting it back down again, with my forks extended to minimize stability. When I heard that a structure collapsed at one of her European shows later that year, injuring and killing[?] her workers, I wasn't surprised. CBS, why do you need Madonna? How long has she been a star now? Since 1985? Has no one else come along in all that time? If they did, maybe Madonna killed them so she could stay on top. I guess you support this kind of thing. I'm deeply disappointed. Really, I'm hurt. You wouldn't need such dinosaur stars and their mediocre songs if you had just a shred of respect for up-and-coming talent.
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For Buck's Sake

The first class Henrys were booked on a liner Third born expected in weather much finer Stayed home stuck, a reef the boat struck And for their good fortune they named the boy Buck As a young lad his pa took him gaming Buck hit a goose and it tumbled down flaming A murderous glint went into his eye His purpose was clear: to make living things die He killed the head chef, killed the headmaster Killed the chauffeur who refused to drive faster And once he reached responsible age His factories itched for the wars he would wage He killed with bombs and killed with legions Depopulated entire regions Finally the slaughter was done So he crashed a reception and killed all the fun Copyright 2007, 2014. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. When I first wrote the above in 2007, it was really just a lark. I thought it would be a laugh to write about a homicidal maniac who was born into the upper class and whose money gave him leave to murder hundreds of thousands of people. Naturally, the image of Dick Cheney, whose body count in Iraq had reached six figures by then, asserted itself over my work. My fictitious character's name, Buck Henry, resembles his name for that reason. We don't really know very much about Dick Cheney. He is a shadowy figure who tends to illicit fear. The last I heard about him in 2008 was that he owned large portions of the entertainment business. Popular music and clever comedy make excellent propaganda tools for war aims, and I'm sure his and Bush's war machine coveted my work in 2007. My Buck Henry is a fictitious character and I dreamed up his whole life. I also told everyone that Dick Cheney was my inspiration for this evil character. Did Leonard Cohen tell you the same in the seven years he was wrongly credited as this work's author? I doubt it if he was paid by Dick Cheney's record label to steal it from me. When I went online today to search for Buck Henry lyrics, I was hoping to find a surviving copy of my original work, which includes a few more verses than my current post. Originally, I stretched out the story with more murders. It's always a struggle for me to reproduce old poems from scratch and I'd just as soon avoid it by finding my old work online and copying and pasting it back into my possession. So far, I've not been able to find any of my old lyrics or poems before I already went ahead and inadvertently rewrote them. So those extra verses will have to wait until I have more time to work on them.
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A Price Too High

I can tell that there is something going on around what I posted yesterday about Leonard Cohen stealing my poem, Buck Henry. I went online today to search for the 'lyrics' to this song which I wrote and was informed that they were not available, at least outside of my blog, wherever they hid that in the search menu. But it looks like there is a performer who has adopted this name which I invented for my poetic lampoon of Dick Cheney in 2007. I'm sure this performer has the full support of the CBC. Someone at my building was playing a Leonard Cohen album this morning and I voiced my protest as I walked past. I wasn't just protesting the support for another prick who stole my words, I was also supporting her poor taste in music. Leonard Cohen can't sing. He has an awful voice, dreadful. I admired his poems and drawings, but I think he should have formed a band and let someone else sing his songs. In fact, his voice is so bad that I am suspicious of how he ever got picked up by the industry. Oh, wait, his dad cleared the way for him or something, didn't he? Bob Cohen or someone like that? No, wait, I'm confusing him with Woody and Arlo Guthrie. If Leonard was on his own, I can't see how the business would touch him unless he performed some sexual favor for them. The internet is here to stay and the TV and radio people really have a problem with it. The TV and radio people are used to holding all the cards in deciding who gets to be a star. And they took full advantage of their position. Did you ever read Peter Brown's book, The Love You Make? Peter Brown was Brian Epstein's top man and a true Beatles insider. In this book, he claims that John Lennon took a trip to Spain with Brian Epstein on the eve the Beatles phenomenal first American tour. According to Brown, Lennon offered his backside to the homosexual Epstein, in exchange for extra support for the band's success. While the Beatle's deserve full credit for their artistic success, Epstein is the one who pushed and pushed for them until they were finally signed by Capital Records. Capital didn't want the Beatles, convinced that 'groups with guitars were on the way out.' Epstein simply wouldn't take no for an answer. Without the Capital Records deal, the Beatles might have faded into obscurity a long time ago without ever making it big. Do I think that Lennon let Epstein sodomize him? I wouldn't have thought so until lately. If I put hit songs on the internet and the business ignores them, it tells me that the business wants more from me than my songs and 'laughs': it wants my ass. I didn't share my songs to be a star and I find the prospect of letting some greasy businessman fuck me in the ass repulsive. That could be why I'm still unsupported, but if it's why they support fraud, they're in deep shit. I don't really care about what Beatle John did in the bedroom and I still rank him among my favorite stars of the past. I would have liked the Beatles even if girls never screamed for them, which seems to separate me from the crowd. I liked the Beatles because they were artists, not because they were signed. Whatever John had to do to get a real artist onto a music label is understandable to me. And once they were rich, the band formed Apple Corps, which was intended to spare artists like themselves from having to make humiliating concessions for industry support. Considering their own sacrifices, this was most thoughtful and generous of them. There is another way ahead for one like me: lawyers. It's amazing what you can accomplish with the right lawyer. You know, I bet I can even get the whole CBC fired if I just keep at it. Maybe if I can find a good aggressive lawyer and supply him with the weapons he needs to incinerate these dinosaurs, they might finally see fit to let me have a little happiness out of all my hard work before I die. I hope I won't have to blow my lawyer. As for Withered Cohen, if you ask me, he's already dead.
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CBC Hurts Canada

Like all humans, I occasionally break down and lose hope. My whole adult life seems to consist of one continuous insult directed against me by the misuse of my work, and now that I am about to turn fifty, I can see my future shrinking by the day. Nonetheless, I will survive this horrible ordeal and live on to happier times. As tempted as I am to commit suicide, since I would expect even Hell to be a better world than this one, I want to be a source of hope for others and I can't achieve that from the grave. You may take my Coats from the Lost and Found blog seriously, though I am not a preacher. This blog is intended to reach out to other persons of faith like myself and show them how I use my personal faith to help me face and overcome life's difficulties. That is all it is. It is not an outline for a new religion. Germans, it is not an attempt to found a cult. It is just someone explaining how his faith works for him. That's it. And there is a note at the top of that blog explaining what it is and inviting non believers to read something else. I want no part of their silly debate. My faith is personal. There is no room for debating it. My work is also personal. My work used to be the source of my pride until I shared it on the web. Then when it was stolen by CBC's friends, they turned my pride into shame and humiliation. It's remarkable how they managed to take every nice thing I shared in sixteen years and turn it into a bleeding wound. My back has more knife holes in it than Julius Caesar's. How powerful they are: as powerful as a plague bomb. But I think that Canadian culture is in very big trouble with such irresponsible people holding the keys to our national legacy. When I speak of Canadian culture, some Americans may laugh out loud. Why is that, CBC? Why do they they think the idea of Canada having its own culture is humorous? Did you CBC staff read that newspaper story about the 'world's funniest people' back in 2008 or 2009? It put the U.S.A. at the top, with Jay Leno listed as the funniest man on Earth. Many of the other names on the list were violators of my online copyrights. I'm not sure if Canada even made the list. CBC, I'm Canadian. What's your problem with me? If you people did your jobs right, it would have been Canada on top for a change, but you sold me out to foreign nationals for your own selfish gain. What do you suppose Mick and Keith's hurt fans might have said when I tried to lay claim to my Nothing but Ashes? They probably said something like '...a Canadian isn't clever enough to write lyrics like that.' CBC, do you see how your crime hurt Canada yet? Can you see past your own faces in the mirror yet? Are you still trying to pin your shame on me? How long are you going to be able to keep it up? I'll blog here for the rest of my life if I have to. The longer you deny your culpability, the more I will write against you, so that by the time I die, all that will remain of your memory will be my account of your abominable behavior. You think it's bad now? I'm sure I've been holding back the very worst of it, in the interests of good taste. CBC, I'm a Canadian poet like Leonard Cohen. You love Leonard Cohen, don't you? Did you notice that he stole one of my poems? If a poet like Leonard Cohen wants my poetry, he must think I'm a poet, too. Why don't you assholes treat me with the same respect you show other Canadian poets? If you hurt a Canadian poet, you hurt Canadian culture. And if you hurt Canadian culture, you hurt Canada. I can't believe I have to explain this to people who are entrusted with broadcasting our national news. I may take up residence in another country before I die, but I have made no secret of my Canadian background and that means that my accomplishments will honor this country. And it will be no thanks to the CBC. If I were a newly elected prime minister, I would launch a comprehensive investigation of the CBC to root out every last rotten egg among them and expel them from broadcasting for the good of the country.
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Seriously Murderous

Bad broadcasters may want you to chuckle when I refer to their crimes as murderous. Let me share a few of the close calls I have had since they decided to make my detractors into stars with my own work and let you know why I call their fraud murderous. The most glaring example of the murderous nature of their crime is in how my workplace safety was compromised when I went to work as a stagehand, blind to the wholesale theft of my music and comedy that was taking place around me at the time. My employer, Nasco Staffing, was in on the crime. One day, as I labored to stack sheets of stadium glass vertically onto a gurney rack, the inexperienced forklift operator, who I now understand was put in the forklift to humiliate me, made an error in judgement that sent the thousand pound stack tilting outward. It was too late for me to move out of its way, so I put my arms up to brace the load. I only needed one more arm to steady it and push it back into position and I screamed for help, but when I looked behind me, the other workers just stood there with arms folded, watching me struggle and waiting for the glass to fall on me and kill me. A passer-by ended up offering a hand at the last possible moment or I would not have survived. Now that I know what was going on at the time, I can picture CBC's George Strombopoulos practically pushing the stack against me and waving off anyone who would have come to my assistance. And if that was a Crystalids concert, everyone would have celebrated my death at the hands of lying, cheating broadcasters that night with some of my finest rock compositions. Murderous. I could have been crushed by silly shenanigans at the Madonna production in 2008, as well, just as I have already stated. I wonder how much you'd admire her if she tried to kill you. Did I ever tell you how I almost cut my thumb off in one of these day labor jobs they left for me after they cashed in my heart for millions of dollars and the love of millions of fans? I slipped with my box cutter and cut the tip of my thumb off. I showed up in the emergency room with my thumb in two pieces and the doctor told me that I had got lucky and that the tip of my thumb would eventually grow back. An inch lower and I might never have played the guitar again. And that would have pleased the murderous fuckers who stole all my music and comedy because they wanted to take all the good stuff for it and leave me with a world of misery in its place. Such an injury would have made the recovery of hours of my music over the last five years impossible. I imagine that a lot of my more popular songs would still be playing on the radio to give jobs to people who hate artists and want to kill them with their own music. Is capitalism only amoral or is it murderous? Then there was that harrowing experience at the Hotel Europe in 2011 and 2012. Remember when I posted that blog about how all my suicide attempts ended in failure? I was telling the truth about one of them, the one in which I almost hung myself. You see, when a solitary man who has suffered assaults from thousands of vicious strangers for decades has to sit alone, night after night, and find out all the details of the hate parties and sex parties that were thrown against him over the years, it can greatly erode his will to live. I didn't really want to commit suicide, but I set up a noose that I could use to 'go through the motions' of suicide whenever I found myself overcome with despair, in order to gain some partial satisfaction from the constant urge. On one such occasion, I rose from my bed too fast, and as soon as I got the noose around my neck, I feinted. I awoke on the floor in a daze and saw that the rope around my neck had snapped. Otherwise, I would have accidentally died in a way that looked deliberate. The way I see it is that if I made people happy with my music and humor, I should have a more positive pastime than putting a rope around my neck and staring death in the face. The way I see it, people like Dateline's crooked host and CBC's David Frum practically put that rope around my neck with all their fucking hateful, destructive lies and support for fraud with my work. They are evil, murderous pricks, and as long as I languish in obscurity, I would be highly suspicious of any performer they want to hold up as a star. [4:57pm:] Since I went home and ate, I thought of a few more examples of murder attempts. In early 2010, I must have been the most hated man on Earth. Why was I so hated, CBC? Why did I need to call you so much when I was in tears, Suicide Prevention Line? Oh, right, because the Crystalids were big rock stars with my hit songs and they told everyone I was a child rapist. Can I ask you police a question? How long is an innocent man expected to live with the wrongful accusation of a sex offense against a child? What would kill him first: an irate stranger's ax in the middle of the night or his own hand from all the inexplicable hate and stress? If trusted public figures falsely accusing me of raping a child isn't attempted murder, I don't know what is. Did I tell you about how they sabotaged my car? Good thing it conked out on me in the driveway or I would have died on the road. That's attempted murder. Did I tell you about how the Crystalids wanted to put an end to my inadvertent rewriting of old songs in early 2010? They wanted to bust through my front door and push me off the balcony. They had a great location to stalk me through the upstairs neighbor, a dedicated fan of my music. My music fans have helped bands like the Crystalids and the Shards to inflict a great deal of pain on me over the years. I don't hold it against them but against the irresponsible broadcasters who lie about me. As far as I'm concerned, it was FM 102.7 The Crystalids who wanted to push me off of my balcony so that their heroes, the Crystalids, could keep all the songs they stole from me. Imagine how hard it is for me to cope with their giant billboard outside this library, flaunting its name as though it had something more to offer than a bad memory. What a fucking insult. We call ourselves democratic but it seems like rich people get to trample all over me and my rights. Who the fuck sold my original posts to Dateline so they could use them in a sensational star busting series that ended up inflicting prison tortures on me in November 2012? Wasn't it the wealthy president of Google? Yeah, he's rich so let him fucking wreck my life. Let him give away my future to the same pricks who already stole my past. Yeah, they're rich so let them take my work and give me nothing so they can be richer and I can suffer some more. That's piss poor democracy and that's probably why they don't want to talk about it on TV. The TV wants us to believe in the system that lets them have the power to destroy our lives like they destroy mine every day. Just in case some half wit tried to make a joke about auto-erotic asphyxiation, I should remind you that George Carlin stole every word of that from my erased posts, along with everything else he said in front of cameras in the last few years of his life. He snorted too much coke, burnt himself out, and then turned to one of those rich people who get to trample all over ordinary citizens for the right to be the star of my erased posts, which the rich person clearly granted him. I'm glad I don't have children because I'm not rich and so I would not be able to offer them any kind of hope in this capitalist Hell. But I don't have to worry about having children because all my girl fans are usually preoccupied with the bizarre sexual needs of little boys who steal my music and writing, thanks to the rich people who like to make a mockery of property rights whenever such rights protect someone else's property from their disgusting greed. Great fucking life they've prepared for me here. I'm sure all the worst scum in the world who steal music and poetry and laughter are very happy with it. But there's no place in this capitalist Hell for an honest person except a hole in the ground, unless he wants to live like I do.
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Ugly as Sin

If you're a regular reader of my blogs, you can now see the kind of life I would have had in 2008 and 2009 if I had kept all my work online: constant thefts of my posts accompanied by false accusations of fraud, violators of my copyright invited by local broadcasters to come here and commit fraud on my doorstep, standing in soup lines, going homeless, etc, etc, etc. I already spent a lot of years facing these hardships before I managed to secure a comfortable home in an apartment building and I would have done almost anything to avoid having to go back to such a cringing life, which was largely why I dropped my online posts in 2007, whose criminal abuse turned them into a source of pure misery for me, and started looking for an ordinary job, until I ended up blindly applying for part-time work at Nasco Staffing, the 'employer' that played a direct role in the crimes committed against me by broadcasters. But now I've had to sink to such a miserable level of survival that I have nothing to lose by staying online and bashing crooked broadcasters for the rest of my life. If no one wants to do anything about them now, maybe one of our children will be wise enough to put them out of business in the future. I detect a certain amount of class discrimination in how I have been treated by local CBC staff who believe that every last person in a soup line is a total failure with no prospects of advancement. I might have been able to advance by at least a million dollars if networks like NBC paid authors for comedy scripts like Flames of Compassion, which came to me from standing in a soup line and jonesing for a cigarette, instead of paying their comfy cozy frauds a thousand dollars a script to steal them from half starved authors like myself. How much of a sanctimonious hypocrite does an applicant need to be to qualify for a job in broadcasting these days? Let's talk about beauty. To me, the greatest beauty is abstract. Physical beauty is inferior: the young grow old, cars rust, even babies need their diapers changed, while conceptual beauty may be flawless and permanent. My beauty - if I have any - exists in my poetry and my music and in the charm of my scripts, statements, and stories. And who got loved for all that beauty? So much of it! Thousands of posts! Who got praised and loved for my beauty, CBC? Wasn't it all the stars I've named in my profile? And wasn't it yourselves for supporting their crimes? And what did people think of me when they thought that jerks who stole my work possessed my beauty? Gee, I guess they thought I was a disgusting creep. Is that acceptable to you broadcasters? It must be if you still want these assholes on a stage now. I give out so much of my beauty, and crooked broadcasters make sure that I receive nothing but nauseating ugliness in return. My room is a disgrace compared to the kind of plush accommodations that were bestowed upon the ugly, hateful frauds who 'took my place.' And how many of them are there? Imagine if I could have enjoyed all that love myself, being the sole author of my work. You could multiply my happiness by their number and figure that I would have had a much better time than the one I've been reporting every day here for the last five years. While I didn't share my work necessarily to have a good time, I wouldn't have refused to be loved. Those frauds who broadcasters like to help so much are far more selfish. They want everything for nothing. They belong in a cage, not on a stage. Apparently, it's more important to broadcasters to subtract as much happiness from my life as they can before I die of old age. This seems to be their priority and they have been obsessed with me from the outset. They can't tell me otherwise, after they turned fraud committed with my songs and blogs into a worldwide trend for several years. And why wouldn't they be paying close attention to me now, when their futures may depend on the information I share with the public about their crimes? I think I'd sooner have the undying attention of a King Cobra.
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Altered Statements

Perhaps the evilest aspect of the broadcast fraud with my words is in how the perceived change of ownership practically reversed their meaning. For instance, poems intended to lampoon culpable TV stars like Ellen (Sappho Asparagus) or Jay Leno (Jackie the Pro), were used to make them look cute and lovable. In their hands, they appeared to be harmless little gags, but in my hands, they illustrate my anger and my protest of how they have treated me. I also expressed my resentment of NBC executives in scripts like the Assistant and the Job, which were not stolen from me to make you laugh but to deflect the derision they were due. If broadcasters needed to steal these scripts from me, it was because they didn't want the questions I raise about network responsibility to be taken seriously. As for my statements, I'm very displeased with how they were used as stand-up material when they were intended to make a point.
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So Much for Levity

There's nothing at all selfless about performers who stole my blogs and used them in their shows and standup routines. This was a selfish act. They took my personality and used it to take my supporters' loyalty so that they could take money for things that I was freely offering on the web. It was totally selfish, on top of being dishonest and manipulative. Did marijuana advocates look up to Bill Maher as one of their leaders? A good leader is selfless. Why do you think Maher went out on his atheist, marijuana smoking campaign? Do you think he was brave and selfless? I think he did it because I did it first with my blogs on the internet. The progress I made with my blogs must have showed him that such a campaign would not only be safe but profitable. And every dollar that went into his pocket for it subtracted from me, to the point where the same fans who enjoyed the words he stole from me looked upon me as their enemy. He took me from them so that he could take my success from me and leave himself looking selfless. As long as we're heading into another Saturday night, let's talk about Austin Powers again. I created this character in a 2006 script. The idea was to have a talk show with amusing guests. The simplest way to make a character amusing is to make him unfit for his calling. A spy is supposed to be discreet and unobtrusive, which is why I made him extroverted and dressed him up like Louis XIV. I also put his defining catch phrase yeah baby in his mouth. Isn't this the whole character? This is what I created and shared from my Blogger account in 2006. And how much money did Mike Myers gross from a trilogy of three blockbuster movies made out of my creation? If you throw in the DVD sales, I bet it's over a billion dollars. A billion dollars for Mike Myers, great. What did I get for this? What would have happened if Myers had solicited my property legally through a lawyer? He could have still had a success, I think, even if he had to mention my name in the authoring credits, only maybe I would have got paid. Do you think Myers is selfless? Even if the cheap prick had offered me a crumby .01 percent of his gross profits, I'd be a million dollars richer right now. Instead, he and his friends left me to live in low rental housing where I face my living conditions with good humor. This spirit of mine shows in scripts like Pestilence Anti-Pest Pellets, The Shot Wall Syringe, and the Roachademy, the Space Suit, and others. And then who turns around and steals those? Oh, Mike Myers's friends! Right. And the public go ahead and buy DVD's of my detractors performing my scripts and I'm left to write more funny dialogues about life in low rental housing. Great. And has anyone turned my statements about the military approach I take to exterminating my numerically superior foe into a stand-up routine? Make sure it's someone who could not bear the 'shame' of having to live in an infected room. And make sure he passes on his hatred of the poor through the popularity of my own personal expressions as a starving artist. In fact, try to get the poor hating themselves with my work, right? What's left for me after these pricks on TV have stolen away all the good feelings I was saving for my supporters? Just sneers and hisses. I would have been better off keeping my good feelings to myself if they were just going to be used to turn my world into a nightmare. I would have actually been happier with nothing from these greedy pricks than with the fucking endless misery they and their fucking broadcasting helpers have imposed on my life for the last eight shitty years. I'm glad I have my eye on a pleasant afterlife because corrupt stars make sure that all heavenly rewards on this planet are reserved for lying, cheating assholes. And before anyone can thank them again for what they did to me, consider this: what if I had been able to supply other actors with my scripts? How do you know you wouldn't have liked their performances better? You weren't given the chance to find out. Your brave stars were too afraid to let you decide such a thing for yourself.
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Broadcasters Bug Me

If you think I'm aggressive, you must be listening to the evil corporate pricks who committed so many aggressive crimes against my image and copyright on TV over the last eight years. I should never have listened to the corporate media. It's influence on my life has been utterly destructive. But when they tell you to abandon your dream once you surpass a particular age, you should take that seriously. Any attempt by you to defy their statistics results in their ganging up on you to try to stamp you out for all the remaining years of your life. I don't know what you expect me to think of these broadcasters who want the public to worship frauds who steal my work while wanting me to be rejected and hated. You can tell they had what it takes to commit their evil crime by how they treat me in the present. I'm glad I don't pay them any attention any more.
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Looking Not Bad

What's with people who want to mock me for being isolated? A person's social life depends on his image and I have had to spend most of the last eight years defending my name in he face of thousands of violations of my copyright. These TV stars have fucked up my life from the very beginning by making my neighbors think I steal their content. And what kind of creep would steal his words from popular TV stars? Oh, let's let them answer that for you behind my back with lies about my intelligence and false accusations of sex offenses. How many years did the world think I was a disgusting subhuman monster? That takes us to the present, where the assholes who committed this crime are allowed to stick their faces on buses and billboards all around me to make me their victim look crazy. They can't incarcerate me because I'm telling the truth, so they try to do the next best thing: discredit me. And this has been going on pretty steady for the last two years at the expense of further harm to image. What do people use to socialize again? Oh yeah, common references, like favorite TV shows and movies and bands. Yeah, right. Well one thing they might all have in common is a history of hating my guts. If I wasn't the wrongful target of their hate, now I'm the target of their disappointment. But they are again being steered in this direction by corrupt information. I have had to be incredibly strong to withstand my knowledge of the crowd's disposition towards me through this experience. I think they've been pretty fair to me by leaving me more or less alone. I think they can sense my innocence, but I'm not rich and famous enough to impress them as much as those frauds. But I can't help writing songs and I like the ones I've been recording lately. I keep them to myself for now and I look forward to sharing them from the stage, along with some tasteful selections from my online repertoire. It might help to at least partially restore my badly disfigured image.
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Pieces of Heart

So the Liberals won the election. I don't know what I vote for most of the time, because they won't tell me, but like most voters, I know what I vote against. I wonder if I'm the same age as the prime minister. Let's hope we have more luck with the son of a former prime minister than the U.S. did with the son of a former president. If anyone saw that last script about the public school student on TV, I was its author. I can't clearly recall sharing it in the past but I well might have. I watched a documentary last night that flattered eighteenth century pirates. Their plunder once drove the whole world economy, even deciding the outcome of wars. These pirates didn't steal music and humor, they stole gold that came from Spain's brutal conquest. Given the shady source of their plunder, there was something almost legitimate about their work. A pirate's 'pieces of eight' bears no resemblance to the pieces of heart, my heart, that were stolen from me. Who wrote that Janis Joplin song Another Piece of My Heart? Did she write that? Great song. Now but now but now but now but now but I write in a totally different vein. How we express ourselves in words is very personal. I love poetry, so my rock often has a refined, epic kind of lyrical appeal. How I phrase my dialogues is also critical to their effectiveness as works of humor. I recall in 2007 how TV stars would grab my posts and butcher them while they were still online. They know that it takes more than a funny idea to write a successful sketch. But they started plagiarizing me outright almost as soon as I withdrew from the web in November 2007.
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High School Sacramental

Huxley Browne was an outsider in a public school system that despised his religion. (A schoolmaster addresses a class of uniformed boys.) Schoolmaster: History faults the evil Pope Leo for causing the break with Rome. His wicked scheme to sell money lenders get-out-of-Hell-free cards to pay for his outrageous gambling debts ultimately led to revolt and bloodshed. Yes, what is it, Huxley? Browne: Sir, I thought he was under pressure from the high construction costs of the new cathedral in Rome. Schoolmaster: Yes, and that was because he installed a secret brothel behind the alter, concealed by a state-of-the-art hydraulic door. And he dug out a cavernous underground casino, complete with showgirls. And he... His gloating peers pushed him to the brink of starvation. (The cafeteria. Browne stands at the counter with his tray.) Browne: Do you have any fish and chips? Cashier: Friday is pork day! All the meat you can eat! Pork chops, bacon burgers, pork sausage, chicken fried sweet n' sour pork balls... Browne: It's only Thursday. Cashier: Close enough. But they could not crush his will to rebel. (The classroom.) Schoolmaster: And that was how Queen Mary came to be known as Bloody Mary, a drink that is popular among Catholics to this day. Who has their hand up? Browne? Put your hand down at once! Did you hear me? I said lower your arm! I'm tired of your disruptive cross examination. I have a lesson to teach. Boys, if you want to learn more history, I suggest you have a word with Master Browne, here. (The boys grumble their disapproval as Browne holds his arm up in defiance.) It's classroom suspense at its most riveting on High School Sacramental.
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© 2007, 2015. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Friendly Chat

I'm dong well with my recording these days. Nice to have a song or two to myself, at least for now. I recall why I started writing talk show dialogues in 2006 now. It was a tool I used to invent characters. By creating a simple situation for them, it helped me to define them. I meant to use some of those characters in cartoons but the TV stars got to them first. I did not write it out of any admiration for talk shows or to compete with talk shows. But I had fun writing it, both times, until apparently it drew the attention of irate talk show hosts. I learned how to write advertising copy in college in the 1980's. People probably liked my commercials, which would have been unpleasant for ad people whose work is usually unappreciated. This might help to explain the mistreatment I've received from the broadcasting industry. And yet, I share their skills and could have conceivably wound up working right next to them as their friend. Perhaps a gap of estrangement has grown from my years of comparative isolation and the intense experience I report online. In person, however, I think I appear friendly to most others. [6:35 pm:] Speaking of hostile strangers, I meant to add a note about a mystery woman who has mocked me out loud in the library the past few days. The day before yesterday, she said something about 'this beautiful gift'. Possibly the same voice today said something about being 'inspired.' She uses the same smarmy tone that I recall getting from one of the Nasco office workers back in '08. If you're her friend and she's pretending to address these unwelcome remarks to you, could you tell her to shut up for me please? I don't know her, but I think she has dreadful manners.
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Common Dread

I have just arrived from the polling station. Don't worry, Jenny, you got my vote. It looks like you'll need it by the sparse turnout this morning. It would have been a close call between you and the Marxist-Leninist candidate until I heard that he was an atheist and a Bill Maher fan. As apparently the only Chinese candidate for my riding, I think you'll probably win. If so, I agree with the rechinafication of Chinatown, as long as I don't have to pay for my cosmetic surgery. However, I think we should have a referendum on Bill 451F. Some people think the gassing of pigeons is too radical. We may only need to starve them. Are there any Bill Maher fans here today? Did they come here for a laugh? I would have thought they'd be all laughed out from Maher's hilarious performance. Did the police get a chance to interrogate Bill Maher before he left the country? As a close friend of the late George Carlin, he has a lot of information about the crimes that have been committed by stars with my blogs over the years. Some comedy fans may make the mistake of disassociating me from my former posts as a staunch atheist, which extended from 1999 to halfway through 2007, before the criminal interference put up by broadcasters, which bears an eery resemblance to their current behavior, drove me from the internet almost clear to 2010. You all witnessed what happened in the years between. I've spent every day of the last five years trying to recover from their countless crimes against my work and image. I started out as a staunch atheist who thought I was helping the public to think more clearly by eliminating God from their minds. That was when I first came up with the material George Carlin stole from me and used in his standup routine on the topic of atheism towards the end of his life. (I hope he stayed an atheist on his deathbed.) He didn't just steal the bit about how a loving God wouldn't punish us, word for word, straight from my erased posts, but everything he said on the topic of atheism in the last three years of his life. Yes, including that line about how creation looked more like the work of an office temp with a bad attitude [than of a perfect divinity]. Yeah, cute. Look at me now. I reject it all. And I've posted some very powerful arguments to explain how a loving God could indeed punish us and that it is for our own good. I wish I had never shared my less informed opinions on the subject and I could have been spared a lot of silly arguments with these bad comedians who must feel more secure in a Godless world. This kind of humor clashes with the blogs I shared in 2007, when I had a very similar spiritually transforming conversion experience to the one I reported in 2010 in my Coats from the Lost and Found blog. My original Coats- blog held most or all of my Christian humor, which was stolen by a local jerk who CBC staff thought was delightful. They thought he was so delightful that after he got kicked off of Saturday Night Live, they helped him get back on a local stage for a Shakespeare production in 2013, which he used to get himself a gig to commit yet more standup fraud with my posts. The next thing I heard about him was that he went to prison in 2013. I wish I could remember his damn name. These are the kind of performers that broadcasters like CBC have bent over backwards to hand you with my work for as long as I've been freely sharing it on Blogger. In spite of the lies you must be told to support such horrible fraud, I must repeat that I am the author of both Carlin's atheist routine and this other prick's Christian routine. I'm not interested in a career as a comedian and at least I can keep my music offline. I've added another completed music project to my unshared set. It's not quite as sensational as my last unshared work, but it makes a very good, intelligent dance number. I hope I can write enough music in the next while to be able to face my first crowd with all new songs. It seems to be the only way I can stay ahead of all the web fraud. Do you think I'm tooting my own horn when I call my own song sensational? Actually, authors of hit songs possess a special gift known as 'ears'. We can detect hit songs without having to see them listed in the charts first. This is a well known and documented industry fact. When I say I wrote a sensational new song, it's because my 'ears' told me so. It's more objective than it looks. [1:29 pm] After overhearing some fellow commuters on the Skytrain talking about 'politics and religion' as though they were taboo topics, I wish to remind all that we are not here for a tea party. I think it is also worth mentioning that many crooked performers made a lot of money from my discussions on politics and religion by selling my work as stand-up comedy to adoring crowds. I have been inundated with taboo subject matter since the corporate media withdrew its support for my copyright claims in retaliation for my prosecution of a culpable Dateline host, one of their precious own. They must consider my mention of incarcerated stars and punished broadcasters to be an indulgence in a taboo subject. You'd never know about their offenses if it weren't for my own brave, solitary efforts here on Blogger. Speaking of punished broadcasters, I should amend something I wrote earlier about a formerly incarcerated offender. I heard that a certain George had went to prison and stated the offender as being possibly either George W. Bush or George Strombopoulos. It turns out that this George was George Carlin in 2007. Now I recall my first post of my poem Shorty Suffuse. This lampoon of a dishonest performer was inspired by an earlier report that Carlin had been incarcerated. That was when I learned that he had a heart condition, which helped me to construct a fitting ending for my poem. In 2014, however, I ended the same poem with retrospective information. Judging from Carlin's prominence since 2007 with material he stole from my blogs, Bill Maher must have kept the news about the incarceration of his friend to himself. He'd make a fine NBC reporter.
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We Have a Winner

The first part of my blog this morning is addressed personally to Bill Maher. Bill, do you think you're brave coming up to Vancouver's Queen Elizabeth Theatre for a show? I think it makes you a coward. You know damn well that this local population has yet to accept me as anything special and you want to take advantage of it to try to suppress my rise to prominence. Bill, where did you get that line you liked to use so much at interviews about 'sometimes wearing khaki'? Did your friend George Carlin hand that to you after plundering my posts? Where did you get your opinions about how young people may lack certain knowledge from inexperience? Do you think of such things on your own after you smoke a big fat joint? I doubt it. Bill, who wrote your show through the writer's strike? You said it was the stars and the stars were all ripping off my erased posts at the time. Weren't you prominent among them? Bill, why are you a celebrity? Your talent is mediocre. Your act is a yawn. You're the perfect attraction to any crowd who would celebrate a performer's contacts over his talent. And were you ever incarcerated for violations of my copyright or image? I think it's a good question after Jay Leno went out in front of TV cameras with a signed dick. Yeah, have a great show. Get that crowd of yours hating my innocent guts, you criminal asshole. I'm looking forward to performing in your country - after I visit new lawyers. It's election time here in Canada and that's when the corporate media does what it does best: making us betray ourselves. No better example of this could exist but in how they tricked my readers and listeners into rejecting me by the misappropriation and misuse of my own words and music. Some of their gang like to visit the library to taunt me, as if to admire the destruction they have caused to my image and my popularity with their crime. They like to point out my solitary figure in a crowd and try to shame me for not standing out more. What do they prove by such actions but their destructive obsession? The stars and the broadcasters kept their crime democratic, making sure their thousands of counts of fraud were confined to as few targets as possible, so as not to offend the majority. I guess they're counting on my readers and listeners to hate my guts for no good reason now. I recall in 2007, shortly after my first post of Size, a remark made to me by a store clerk. He told me with glee that I had won the lottery. That was before we all learned the extent of crimes committed with my blogs by corrupt broadcasters who get to keep broadcasting after they commit the most murderous crimes. I know what he meant by the remark now. He meant that by sharing a hit song on the web, I had as much as won the lottery. Yes, I know what lottery I won with my popular, ORIGINAL online posts in 2007: Shirley Jackson's lottery. Good luck with your vote. I even donated money to the NDP back in '08, but I think they valued George Strombopoulos's Tommy Douglas tribute more than my measly three hundred dollars. Good luck with your broadcasters. I hope you never find out, as I did, how much they truly hate you.
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