Typical Hypocrisy

We sure have a lot of productions in our neighborhood. Our neighborhood seems to have all the productions. And no one ever asks us if we want them, they just ask the City of Vancouver. It must be great for the stars to have a large section of the city where the people have no rights so that they can trample all over them with their productions. Does no one want to shoot out on their side of town? Why? It's just as urban as our side. Is it because the stars who live there find productions a nuisance? Do they not want to have to step over cables or to be told to walk around the block when they're only ten feet away from their doorstep? But they must all think it's okay for me to be treated like that. And who needs this production? I don't. I don't need anything from the TV or radio. I don't need their evil manipulating news broadcasts either. I'll live my own life, thank you very much. Maybe one day we can find something more productive for people to do in this world than to bullshit each other with cameras. Who says I'm humble? Why do you want me to be humble? I'm not humble, I'm just reasonable, but maybe a reasonable man looks humble in contrast to so many psychopathic stars who have outrageous delusions of grandeur. By the way, was anyone fooled by the face of Goldie Hawn, posing with her great grandchild on the side of that bus? When was Laugh In again? You know: Knock! knock! Who's there? Some asshole with a disappointing punchline! Wasn't that 1968 or 1969? Why hasn't her face aged in almost fifty years? Because she doesn't want to retire after being a star for almost fifty years. My guess is that she is over eighty percent polypropylene by now.
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Tyrants Fear Intelligence

I had to come down to another library branch because all the computers were taken from the other library I posted in today. Odd, a crowd suddenly gathered like that. Anyway, I've managed to calm down after seeing the face of George Carlin in four of my recommended videos on YouTube. The effect on me was so profoundly irritating that I must wonder if putting his videos in my face qualifies as some form of criminal harassment. If so, I hope the boys will move in and engage the culprit. At least he or she is helping everyone to see how this web crime with my posts was able to get so far along over there at YouTube. Certainly not my fault. These criminals really get to have fun with an innocent victim here, eh? They let that hotel owner try to keep me homeless in 2012 so another fraud band could prance around with the new songs I was saving to help me overcome the stigma of the Crystalids crime. Isn't it bad enough that I had to go homeless because I couldn't stand the noise in that hotel anymore? But they let this guy make it harder for me. This is pure sadism. It never ends. And you better hope you're not popular on YouTube if you need immediate medical attention for something as excruciating as kidney stones, like I did late last year. As if their backstabbing lies didn't cause me enough psychological harm, they let me puke my guts out with kidney pain for forty-five minutes to pay for my YouTube success. Now I'm stressed out from trying to quit smoking and they're making it more stressful for me by sticking faces of fraud stars in my face when I sign in to YouTube. Why don't they just come and nail me to the wall of my hovel and get it over with? That's how they like to treat talent. Oh, but the Shards steal Virtue from me and get on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno to play it the next day. And here's the author of the song ten years later, trying to save enough money to finance a tour out of his fucking disability cheque that he was forced to apply for when he has more ability than all of his goofy assailants put together and everyone admires them on TV as people of superior ability. Did you read all those instances of George Carlin's plagiarism? A lot of good laughs in all that, eh? I still like my joke about using 'water landing' instead of 'fiery death' for a flight attendant to refer to a plane crash. And what motive could I possibly have for saying George Carlin stole my blogs other than telling the truth? Yes, the truth! Does someone have trouble with the truth out there? If so, why? Why do you fear truth? The only people who fear truth are scoundrels. How's the corporate media? Have they thought of any new strategies in their war against talent? (To the media:) What's my crime again, corporate media? Is it the same one you told everyone last time or did you think of a new one? You know what's happening right now while you're putting so much effort into your personal war against an innocent poet? Some creep is assaulting a helpless victim in the street. And he'll get away with it because you have everyone looking at me. Not only that, he wears his hair short and puts on a suit and tie to look respectable - just like Ted and Paul. How many helpless victims are you going to sacrifice to him while you stay focused on your hate campaign to spare your precious egos? (To the media:) Do you think everyone loves George Carlin? God, you're clued out. Bill Maher is not everyone. I heard someone say 'he's the beast' today in reference to George Carlin. Sounds like she disagrees with you about George Carlin. Are you going to wreck her life now too? (To the media:) Why would anyone want to keep loving an old star like that after his crimes were exposed on the web? Do you think no one believes me? Do you think I'm lying? Don't you think that if Saturday Night Live could steal all those hundreds of my posts, George Carlin could do the same? Didn't he launch Saturday Night Live? Isn't he their buddy? Why are you protecting him? What good is it doing? (To the media:) I think I know the problem that you've always had with me, I'm good. I'm a good talent. And you fear the work of good talent because it stimulates people and makes them think. You don't want people to think. You want them to be listless zombies under your control. So when someone like myself comes along and posts the kind of work that raises the consciousness of the public and stimulates real thought, you desperately need to tear it all apart and pass it off as something rather less than what it was to start with. (To the media:) Let me give you an example with my latest YouTube post of my poem the Mammals. It's very creative and stimulates ideas. For instance, the words I wrote about Gladys the heifer might resonate with people who feel trapped in the routine of their jobs. But that won't happen if these words take a back seat to Tina Fey's face on the TV. Then the whole work is dismissed as a simple work of comedy with little or no depth. You don't want people to be stimulated by my work, you just want them to pay your stupid stars for it. And there are laws against that. Your stars were prosecuted and punished in prison. They got kicked off the air. And now I have a lot more new work to share and there is really nothing you can do about it. (To the media:) Do you think our society is great? If it is, it would be in spite of you and your efforts. What's so great about a minority of predators suppressing the masses by imposing restraints on free thought? This a fine hell you've created here for artists and poets and it's heaven for frauds and predators. Are you proud of that? Or are you only proud of the way you lie about it? I better end this note now. I'm too upset to think clearly.
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Wild Conclusion

Great success from bare survival might be brazenly divided Where the rule of Mother Nature to the gates may yield For advantage's pursuit to bring an outcome undecided Not the compensation owed the mammals in the field I said in my video today that this last verse from my poem the Mammals essentially says that animals have it harder than we do. Some of you might want me to elaborate on this; that is, if you see this as a work of poetry and not merely as an ordinary comedy sketch on TV. I scored a hundred percent on poetry comprehension when I took my communication test for my advertising course in 1984 and I am the author of this poem, so let me explain it better for you. Here in the civilized realm, hard work does not guarantee success. I worked my ass off on these posts when I first shared them, but a bunch of dishonest, spoiled celebrities enjoyed the success for them. That goes against nature. The way of the wild (generally speaking) is that when you work, you gain from your work. This is the compensation owed the 'mammals in the field.' By the same token, however, this law of nature condemns wild animals to a life of constant struggle, which is how I see the verse as indicating that animals have a much harder lot than people. While I had to work hard and someone else got paid for it, at least I can still collect welfare, unlike an animal.
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Bothered Man

When I was getting my slice of humble pie in the soup line earlier today, the music was Neil Young's Southern Man. It made me think of that confederate flag I put in that last Wally cartoon (Wally #9/Hotel Life) to help to illustrate my hillbilly marmot. What is a hillbilly? Isn't that someone who is totally out of touch with modern civilization? What better way could I illustrate that than with a flag that suggests he does not know that the Civil War ended with the South losing? I'm sure that most of you got the joke. And then the poisonous creeps who want to destroy me out of loyalty to the frauds who ripped me off want to try to turn me into David Duke with it. I guess I wouldn't suffer these problems if the broadcasters ever wanted to tell the truth about me in the last twenty years or so instead of letting rich stars steal my hit songs and popular blogs and then leaving me broke afterwards. And then they point to me as if it's my shame that they work for a crooked industry that steals from the poor to give to the rich. I posted a recital of my long poem the Mammals on YouTube today. You may view it here from its embedded location above the text of the Mammals (Complete) in my Storyblog. Please don't go to the people who steal my things for their side. They have no side. It's not their work. Let them talk about their own work - if they even have any work. I doubt it. They seem rather too lazy from all their thefts of my hard work to be capable of producing their own work. And I won't pity any suicides from among the ranks who were involved in this crime. The warped self pity of an unrepentant fraud could drive him to suicide as quickly as the misery of wrongful condemnation could have caused his victim to do the same. Lastly, I think that if that hotel owner's dollars were converted into brain cells and added to his brain, it would make a vast improvement. He's not out cruising in his limousine, stabbing me in the back with more lies about me to all the neighbors again, I hope, like he did when I was homeless in 2012 and Roxanna's noisy friends had all my new songs that I wrote in the Hotel Europe the year before. That's why I needed a charity to find me home; he destroyed my image too much to let me be able to find one for myself. We sure let rich creeps get away with a lot against poor artists here. And we let bullshitting actors rule us from the television while truth telling poets are pounced on and torn to pieces. I can't believe I'm still here to give hope to the faithful.
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Break Their Fingers

I've re-posted some old drawings from 2004 at this link: Illustrations from 2004, in order to stop people who don't know how to draw from claiming them as their work. These kind of people really help me to see why envy is one of the seven deadly sins. These untalented creeps have caused so much ruin to my life with their thefts of my work and the ugly lies they tell to support their ugly crimes. (I only call vicious jerks who steal my art and tell dirty lies about me untalented.) I wrote one of those stories a day for about two months back in March and April, 2004, and then I found myself watching an NBC show where they interviewed an 'author' who said that she shared a story a day and that each one was like a prayer. I certainly hope she was talking about her own stories when she said that. If you watched the Simpsons much in the last ten years, you might notice how they drained the amusing parts out of these stories for their show, such as when Lisa got into crosswords (Read my short story Who Programmed That One?). It certainly was a funny cartoon. I wonder who wrote all the humor for it besides myself. My guess is that a talented artist left behind a large volume of comedy scripts before he killed himself from Matt Groening's abuse. Glad I don't need his dirty show for a laugh anymore. Now I just make myself laugh when I need to. After I shared my short stories on my Blogger account in 2004, I erased them from my account and moved back to Vancouver to take a job in a recycling plant. Any time I posted a funny script on my Blogger account after that, such as 2005's Debbie Downer, it was immediately stolen by a show like Saturday Night Live, while I helplessly slaved away at my industrial job. Is the title of this too aggressive? Maybe you should have a look at my 2015 Evolver blog, in which I first started reconstructing old cartoons. I talked about this creep who burst into my home and let me think he was with the Georgia Straight while he told me to 'hurry up' on the printing I was doing for a new cartoon. I gave him the cartoon and he left without a word. Then I called the Vancouver Police about it and they didn't seem to think it was a serious problem. And after I shared this note in 2015, that son of a bitch said 'hello' to me on the street and managed to slip past me before I realized who he was. I think these kinds of dangerous criminals should have a strict restraining order on them if you're going to let them maraud around at large on the street instead of incarcerating them in an 'expensive' prison where they belong. Then maybe their neglected victims wouldn't end up fantasizing about splitting heads open with an ax when they're trying to sleep. Anyway, I've started another new Wally but I'm running out of rhymes for him. Looks like I will make it into the double digits with my posts of this character, at least.
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True Success

Imagine how stressful it was for me to cope with posting all this creative work in such rapid succession from my Telus home connection (with its connected email account david147@telus.net) back in 2007. I'd post a great new poem or script and see it immediately end up on a TV show with some star like Ellen or Jay Leno or Tina Fey claiming it as their work. No one would believe that I wrote it, which forced me to write another script or poem of similar quality to prove my ownership. This new work would, in turn, be stolen by the TV stars to uphold their dirty position against me. And this continued on until hundreds of my posts had been consumed by their stupid fraud by November 2007. They stole all my best posts while my original Blogger account was still online in 2007 and that damn evil president just sat back with folded arms and enjoyed the show. Then after I erased my Blogger account to try to stop the crime, their theft of my posts from work they had already downloaded and saved, or perhaps recovered from that infernal Wayback Machine, ran into the thousands, resulting in whole seasons of broadcast fraud from 2007 to 2010. The fame offered to me in 2007 and, apparently, again in 2011 was the kind that would please most people, who are not artists attached to their own creations and who would just want to impress the crowd with their performance. The deal, as I understand it now, was for me to go out on stage with only some of my songs and let those corrupt stars claim what they already stole. I'm sure I would have 'impressed the crowd' by sharing the stage with big bands like Nickleback and Coldplay, but I would have been unhappy with that arrangement. And I'm sure I would have impressed the crowd by appearing as a musical guest on Saturday Night Live, but they wanted that particular show to consist entirely of my own comedy scripts and poetry - with Tina Fey listed as the show's head writer in the credits. I would have been most unhappy with that arrangement. If I'm going to be a big star, I don't want a bunch of frauds running around with my hits, drawing my fans away from me with my own work. And there are other aspects to my copyright ownership which might even have brought me real physical discomfort by such an arrangement. So I'm probably much happier right now than I would have been if I would have played along with their plan, even though I'm far from feeling euphoric. Sure, stardom looks good from the outside. Seeing stars getting all that attention on TV may make you want to be in their place, but I have learned better. Stars who need to plagiarize and lie are basically unhappy with their lives. They are miserable losers. They can't find true happiness in their artificial star world. So instead of wanting to be a star like that, you should just simply want to be happy. Let's look at my own example. All these jerks who don't know how to create and were hailed as 'artists' with my music got more respect and love from the crowd than I did. Their happiness depends on other people admiring them. If I were like that, I would have hung myself ten years ago. My happiness depends strictly on having a clear conscience and a strong personal relationship with God. And I hope I never change. If I do end up becoming some kind of a broadcast star, I hope I never get as pathetically addicted to public acclaim as the monsters (see my Copyright Issues page) who needed to steal my good work to try to 'stay on top.' I hope someone shoots me in the head before I ever get like that. I do my best to persuade the crowd to see things my way, but I'm up against big billboards and buses and broadcasts that all want to contradict a fraud victim. I can't put my slogans on bus stops like the ones who wanted everyone to know that they're in the business of music for business. I can only write my retort here and hope that people come to read it: a business which profits from talent owes talent a fair share of its profits. Sound reasonable? More reasonable than they are, at least. I'm holding out nicely with the gum. I've only had four small 'puffs' in the last three days - so far. And with my earplugs I can hear my breathing and it sounds like my lungs are clearing up nicely. My earplugs may have saved me from cancer. We'll see.
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Traumatic Loss

Are you familiar with the effects of severe trauma? One of them is memory loss. I suffered that back in 2007 after all these thousands of pages of work appeared to fall into the hands of industry supported frauds. I was so troubled by thinking about my good work and how it might be used against me that I couldn't stand to think about it anymore and ended up forgetting the whole year all at once. It was like I woke up the next morning and I couldn't remember a thing. My memory loss bumped me all the way back to 1999 when I first shared my work on Blogger and has forced me to retrace every step of my life since then. So now its 2017 and my account is about the same as it looked at the end of 2007 - just before it was torn to pieces by those fraud stars on TV. When we suffer from trauma, we're not altogether responsible for our behavior; we're not ourselves. We lose sight of basic priorities like being careful with our money. I think the trauma of this crime added to the trauma of my friends and parents all dying on me in the last ten years has made it hard for me to stay on track with my savings. I'm so miserably depressed from this crime and all the constant lies that are told about me to support it that I am constantly looking for comfort either from a can of beer or a joint. While I don't spend a fortune on them, they do deplete my savings. Another problem has been the cost of my cigarette smoking. A smoker finds quitting smoking very stressful and the last thing I need right now is more stress. Nonetheless, I'm into my second day with nothing but gum in my mouth and I'm holding out. I just wanted to explain why I've been having problems saving my money. Does it sound reasonable? So my bank is the Bank of Montreal. I must commend them on their generous donation to the VPL, as it is presented for me here on the home page of the library's website. $150,000.00. Nice. And it was right after I checked my savings account to make sure I still had my forty dollars that I was saving for groceries and saw that it had been removed to penalize me with service charges. Forty dollars a month. That's what my trauma has been costing me at my bank every month. And I've had my account there for twenty-two years. So forty dollars a month times twenty-two years comes to well over ten thousand dollars of service charges on my account. So where did the bank get $150,000.00 to donate to the library? Maybe they got it from fifteen customers like myself who've had accounts with them for over twenty years. I'm staying with the BMO because it is the people bank. As banks go, it's one of the better ones, with respect to customer service. However, I think it is only fair to tell them that I am going to be quite rich one day - extremely rich. As it was put to me, I am going to be rich enough to have my own jet. This was told to me by a voice that has been one hundred percent accurate with everything else it said about my future up to now, so I believe it, even though it seems to defy all the signs around me at the moment. And when I'm rich, I'm sure my bank will want me to keep my money in their vault, but I will have the memory of how I've been treated over the last twenty-two years to remind me of their true disposition towards me.
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