Top of the Dung Heap

My latest recording effort has stirred some unpleasant memories from the past, telling me that I shared it in 2007. I was both sharing and developing Therapy at the end of my streak in 2007, when I decided to evacuate the internet. The next day I turned on the 'rock' radio and heard the opening chords of my recording playing on the air. Then the music ceased and the guitar playing and authoring was credited to some stranger in the broadcast studio. Does he strum with his thumb too? Because if I tried to catch all those upstrokes with a pic, it would just fly out of my hand. So this character who stole my song Therapy in October or November of 2007 is named 'Rob'. And guess what Rob's job was: he was the boss of all the Nasco production workers. Fine example to look up to. And the indecent behavior of the broadcasters in this affair might also be understood in the context of their superiors. The convicted criminal and former media baron, Conrad Black, for instance, would go out of his way to hire spineless sycophants and would avoid real journalists like the plague. The last thing men like Conrad Black want is for anyone to know the truth - especially when one of his critics gets popular on the web with a hit song. I always write new songs with the hope of burying the past under beautiful new music, but I'm not too disappointed with inadvertently rewriting Therapy. Therapy is too beautiful for the likes of 'Rob' or Nasco or a bunch of corrupt news people. I think that if people are ugly, they should look ugly. And I think if people want to look beautiful, they should try to be beautiful. And these 'stars' that broadcasters lined up for you with my popular music and writing are the most untalented, ugly pack of hateful shits who ever lived. That conmedy creep who tried to take possession of my blogs by banging Tina Fey? He couldn't even write a knock knock joke to save his life. And everyone hailed him as a fucking genius. And bands like the Crystalids have had their chance to prove they could write their own songs. They never deserved such a chance after they deprived me of my chance, but my music made people love them so much that they let them try their luck with their own crappy composition in mid 2010. I think it was called Swan Song. What an added insult to an already horribly violated author. The ugliness of this crime against music and poetry and comedy highlights the true unspeakable face of capitalism. Capitalists spend their whole time on Earth blinding themselves to their ugly greed and heartless acquisitiveness so that they can pretend that their fortunes make them heroes, which is why they are reluctant to let their broadcasting networks openly admit fault in this enormous crime. Capitalist self delusion is a disease in our culture, largely fostered by corporate broadcasters. But I will hold their foul crimes up for everyone to see to my dying day if necessary. I'm surprised that I seem to be the only one who might be interested in preventing this crime from ever happening again to someone like you or to your child.
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© 2015. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.