Doubt with the Old and Sin with the New

They stole Hopeful? That's what I called Careful when I posted it in 2007. Oh well, as long as you know they stole it. Dave saw Davelies? Who's Dave? Me? I only heard about the title. That was enough for me to get lawyers prospecting for a libel suit. Speaking of suits, who was that Vancouver gentleman in the silver suit I reported here on the Sunday before last? The former mayor? It wouldn't surprise me, since the former U.S. president appears to be in on the crimes against me. Oh, and here's a good one: they unsigned his dick. I wonder how. Did they trace over it with a surgical laser? Folks, this information about genital marking is coming to me from outside sources. I'm not a first hand visual witness or anything. Something happened that looked like such a punishment outside my old building in the Spring of 2011, but I only glanced at a fragment of it. All I've reported since about these punishments has come to me from secondary sources. I would like to wish all readers who shun dirty network broadcasts a good morning. Thank you for sparing me from hearing about what they say or don't say about me on the networks. I thought I could avoid disturbing reports by shunning the TV, but the above speaks to the contrary. It looks like I've recovered yet another script from the same library DVD that I parodied in my last installment of my Canadian History series. In Episode Three of CBC's Canada: A People's History, The French explorer, LaSalle, lies to the French king to gain support for his second voyage. I just took that and played with it in my own special way, probably very much as I did the first time I shared it, just like most or all of my thousands of inadvertent reconstructions. [12:10pm:] It's worth noting that LaSalle lied to stay in business and that it worked for him. The king fell for the lie. (It was different from the one I gave my fictional character, LaBalle, from my script.) Thus are lies proven to serve business by this historic example. Therefore, we should expect the broadcasting business to support lies which protect their profits. They depend heavily on public support to set the rates they charge their sponsors for advertising space. This makes them very image conscious and afraid of admitting faults which might lead to a loss of faith from their viewers and listeners. Since I am a glaring example of their dishonesty, it follows that they would lie or distort truth about their violations of my work to sustain their false aura of infallibility. I'm sorry about criticizing the chronic TV viewers, but sometimes they seem to resent me and I don't think it's a coincidence. I gather that a lot of offenders have been caught in the last couple of weeks. One is said to have complained that I make people hate her. I don't hate, I just tell the truth. The truth is that she stole my love. I don't hate anyone, but I thought I was supposed to express myself here. If they're stirring up hate against me, it will deteriorate my good mood. My rare outbursts, which get held up and used against me, only ever occur when my image is under attack. My reaction to this peculiar stress is probably normal. I sometimes feel like a load is bearing down on my heart, but it doesn't trouble me. I recall the mountain I've climbed to the peak in my dreams as I reach for the next plateau. I awoke early this morning after a vivid dream. I was backstage at a suburban outdoor venue, scratching out my song list. I looked up and saw two young women at close range, a brunette in front of me and a blond beside me, but I needed to prepare for the show. I looked more closely at the blond and saw that she had an almost masculine, weather beaten face. She reeked of rum. The event organizer showed up just then and, sniffing, mistook me for the drunk. He angrily stormed off before I could proclaim my innocence. I was upset by this when another performer appeared and invited me to join him in trashing the stage. We came out from behind a band in the middle of a mediocre sounding performance and he kicked over the drum kit while I toppled the P.A. speakers and trampled them into the floor. The small crowd didn't care. Then we jumped into his van and headed downtown, feeling pretty good about ourselves. From that I rose peacefully to consciousness. I wouldn't behave that way awake. I don't like this focus on songs like Careful/Hopeful, which I don't intend to use. Maybe we should check my music posts from the last twelve to sixteen months to see if they've been recently violated. I'll mark the most current in red in my lyrics index after I post this script, which I completed at home, where I shun my free cable. [5:18pm:] Is someone using how I prayed for the workers and 'groupies,' like the ones I heard about who appeared on that November 2012 Dateline broadcast, against me? Are they trying to let themselves off the hook for their crimes because I showed concern for them? As the blind, repeat victim of their greedy, arrogant conspiracy to support continuous and widespread fraud with my songs and blogs, I thought I was just being generous by offering peaceful thoughts here on a Sunday morning. Their law breaking is their own affair. Who are they, by the way? I don't know any of them. They all know me though, since 2007, at least. I managed to get a new work of music started this afternoon. It will try to build onto my last two efforts, Denial and Epitomes. I don't dwell in the past very much, like the ones who had so much fun with their names on my music and humor. I'd rather let my memory fade of that evil time and focus on my future. My music still pleases me. My scripts and poems still enlighten and amuse me. I think my prospects are very good.
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