I'm With Manipulated

I should start by saying that I do not call my readers unintelligent. If I thought they were stupid, I wouldn't struggle to share my most sophisticated thoughts with them. Anyone who truly thought they were stupid would lie to them, expecting them to fall for lies. Who lied to you again? Maybe they're the same ones who want you to think that I think you're stupid. I've spoken of the harm that has been visited on me for merely sharing my work on the internet. A time of my life when I wrote hit songs and popular humor should have been filled with joy but was instead turned into a nightmare so ghastly that I can only remember it in fragments as I inadvertently reconstruct my past works. But the harm I've suffered is not limited to the all the starvation and pestilence I endured from others taking my royalties money and spending it on my destruction. Nor is it limited to the damage to my image and reputation they caused, which went on unchecked for so long that it has left schoolchildren with the habit of insulting me when they see me in the street. The worst harm they caused me with their crime was to spoil my faith in humanity's love. Think of what I've been through. The TV practically stole my whole personality and used it against me. The radio stole some of the finest works of my heart. That's pretty traumatic. Does anyone come forward now to offer any sort of comfort or compensation? If they had, I wouldn't be questioning humanity's love. Do you love your favorite bands? Why do you love them? Because of their music or because of their fame? Look at all the fans of my music around the world. Am I supposed to believe they love me after they threw those hate parties to honor the chief offender in the crimes against me? Why can't they love me right now? Is it because I'm not on the TV? Is it because I'm not rich? Well, what did they ever love about me then? Certainly not my music or writing. If you're going to leave a guy like me to walk around like a corpse among the living after you put out so much for the monsters who stole my life-work, I don't think you are capable of love. And whatever you think you feel for your children is essentially self-love. If you need those criminal assholes on TV to accept me before you love me, I don't want your love. Frankly, if that's the case, I think your love is worthless. The cruelest doubts that were placed in my mind were aimed at romantic love. They accomplished this by sending beautiful, irresistible women to lure me into traps. They have done this to me so many times that I have been forced to shun all advances from women, cutting myself off from a lot of potential pleasure. Not a very nice way to pay an artist for his beautiful songs.
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© 2014. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Flashback to 2008

How is that new song doing? I'm getting as much feedback from it as I did for Size and for Under My Umbrella. Those were songs I thought no one cared about and so I erased them. Then the corporate media got you all excited because The Crystalids stole Size and Beyonce stole Under My Umbrella. The corporate media told you all to love these frauds unconditionally and to honor them and pay them for my efforts. And that's precisely what you did. Where was I at the time? The memory is slowly returning to me as I reconstruct more and more of my past through this account. In 2008 I tried to add views to my music videos by taking some online advice and browsing through other YouTube accounts and offering supportive comments. For reasons which are now clear, my comment was unwelcome on the Martin Luther King video in which he discusses the 'maladjusted'. This speech struck a personal chord with me since I had recently applied for mental health support and felt righteous in my 'maladjustment' to what I sensed at the time was a dishonest culture. It may have been only weeks since Beyonce stole my song, gaining enormous attention on YouTube with it, and YouTube moderators had to send me a message saying 'we want YouTube to be a safe place for artists'. They scolded me this way as Beyonce lapped up all that love and admiration from stealing my song from my YouTube account and putting it in her YouTube account, turning me into a target for international hate. It seemed that I could say nothing right online. I praised the Russians for winning their struggle against the evil Nazis and received a warning from a Russian patriot that he was still prepared to fight to the finish to defend Mother Russia [against threats like myself, I gathered]. Not very appropriate, unless you factor in how shows like the Daily Show, which ripped off my work, broadcast my image to the world as though I were the next Hitler. I complained about people who thought TV villains like Gale Gordon's character on Here's Lucy were real. By the time the debate was over, the only villain anyone could see was myself for apparently launching an unjust complaint in defense of the late actor. The only employment opportunity I had was a tentative deal with the staffing company Nasco, which offers scab labor to assist with public events. I was released from the job after a handful of assignments. You can read about what happened to me there in my blog: What Happened at Nasco. I blast away at these stupid, arrogant broadcasters because I have nothing to lose from doing so. They've already crossed the legal line with their opposition to my success and hurt me far more than anyone ever possibly could again. I hear that holders of valuable copyrights are 'protected'. If so, this protection must be limited to protection from physical harm and incarceration because my psychological wounds continue to mount from sharing my work online, right up to the present.
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The Chick Magnet

Are you a nerd, looking for the fast track to a better love life? Check out the Chick Magnet. Just flick it on and let its invisible signals find their way to the nearest chick in your vicinity. You can sit back and let her come to you. (Knock on the door.) That's probably her now. Come in! (Enter a young woman, chewing gum.) The Chick Magnet bombards the pleasure centers of a chick's brain with a love beam, cutting down on the need for conversation. So don't wait to procreate, get the Chick Magnet now. (A knock on the door.) Excuse me. (Answering the door.) Who are you? I'm with the vice squad. My badge pulled me to this location.
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Passion

Could have chose the wrong thing to forget And been misdirected from the outset Ended up admitting I was lost As paths crossed So I put the differences aside Whenever we're not standing on the same side If in the end together we belong It will not matter who's right and who's wrong We can still be friends Treat each other kinder We can still depend On faith's cheerful finder In the open when the truth came out Kind of news that was inclined to raise doubt And now there might be too much to admit Can't face it Tentatively from this point commence Maybe one day it will plainly make sense Until then there is a lot to get Places remaining unvisited yet No spite to intend Old gripe long behind her Changing situation Bringing hesitation Less than menacing from over here Don't see anything that could arouse fear Have to wait to set the record straight Make the adjustment before it's too late No time to amend Let the tale come after Passion more to spend On bliss or disaster Fully comprehend All, however minor Pleasing to the senses Leaving no defenses
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Cycling Towards Disaster

I wonder if any of the women out there can help me with a personal problem. Every month there's a certain time that I become very emotional and irritated and it doesn't stop until I spill my feelings out in a song. This month I'm late, so the emotional tension is building up to an expressive explosion. I'm asking the women for help on this because they're more compassionate and more likely to take this problem seriously.
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Clearing the Airwaves

Where have I been for the last twenty-four hours? I've been at home, working on a new recording. Why do we let our media lie to the world about talent? They wouldn't let them get away with that in Russia. They don't call that newspaper 'Truth' for nothing. In Russia the media are only allowed to lie about the government's achievements, not about the achievements of artists. And they wouldn't waste any time pulling bad shows off the air. Dateline Moscow was raided a while ago. Their studio was surrounded and attacked with smoke bombs and Katyusha rockets. Authorities terminated all the network offenders in one operation. Machine gun bursts ruptured the night. The next day, there were new faces on every channel of the TV and no one knew the difference. Why can't we do that? And I think that eighteen is old enough for capital punishment. Once you're eighteen, you should know the difference between right and wrong. Too late for that 'I didn't know what I was doing!' routine. I know it seems like a waste with so many years in front of them but the law is the law.
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The Daily Epitaph

(Open with the cheers of a predominantly female studio audience.) Host: Thank you for joining us this afternoon on the Daily Epitaph. Today we're going to explore the question of why certain internet musicians can't make it. And with me are some rock groupies who belong to just such a musician. Girls, why can't this guy get ahead? Girl #1: I don't know. I don't care really. I'm indifferent to him. Host: How about you? Girl #2: He doesn't do anything for me either. Host: Well if that's the case, there are some other stars who might like to meet you after the show. Girls: Great! Host: When we return, we're going to talk to some roadies to find out why a roadie musician isn't making it. (Commercial. Open with cheering crowd.) Host: So tell me, why can't your co-worker get a break after you all ganged up on him and stole all his hits? Roadie: Because he's a goof. Host: Of course he's a goof! He's with you, you degenerate! Why don't you help him out? Roadie: Because we hate him. Host: How could you hate him just because he chose to drive a forklift and abandon his music after you were all ready to buy new motorcycles? You workers are the lowest. I can't believe he works with you. Coming up next on the Daily Epitaph: we're going to examine depictions of web musicians as dogs on leashes, being spanked, and covered in skin diseases and try to find out why they're not making it.
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A New Beginning

Just a quick note to let all know my room is clean. I've been working on it, cleaning, spraying, puttying, and painting for over a week. It is repainted from floor to ceiling, with a coat of oil on the floor. The curtains are washed. The bedding and mattress are new. I think I can keep it clean with a little extra effort.
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Outcast

Right now I notice a marked difference between my behavior and the behavior of the crowd. I believe that by shunning broadcast programming, I have singled myself out among my fellows. I haven't always avoided broadcasts. Whenever I worked in a full-time job, I found them useful as a recreational tool and a source of information. Broadcast programming offers a sure escape from the brutal reality of the workplace. And I lacked the energy for more productive pursuits, having used it all up for my employers. I do think that Plato was pointing to a benevolent dictatorship as the best form of government in his Republic. By dictating the mindset of the population, broadcasting has the potential to lead us in this direction. However, in criminal hands, a network transmitter turns into a fearsome weapon of tyranny. When America last went to war, it appears to me that broadcasting was used to reward its consumers with my music and my humor for supporting a rather cruel philosophy. They used my words to make people laugh about bombing civilians and they used my music to turn me, a critic of their policy, into a figure of public hate and ridicule. This is extremely irresponsible. At the moment, they are causing harm by shunning important news in an attempt to cover up a massive fraud with my work. In the process, people may grab my work and go to jail for only having my statements to give them the facts of the matter. People are less inclined to believe what a person says about himself than they are to accept it from someone else on his behalf. To protect themselves, broadcasters put many others at risk. I'll be glad when I can safely watch the tube again. In the meantime, I'm glad I don't.
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Earning My Pay

I feel no guilt from drawing my pay from the public treasury. I've put millions of dollars into it from all these incarcerations. When they incarcerate these rich, spoiled fuckers, they must pay an enormous sum to get out of there. That money goes into the public treasury and ultimately finds its way to my welfare check. The U.S. is a separate country, politically, but it is economically tied to Canada. In the end, I wind up losing quite a lot because the money they spend on bail might as well have come from my own pocket with all their violations of my copyrights and their fraud. But I'm not going to sit and cry about money. That's their trip.
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A Whole Lot of Nothing

Sometimes I think my subconscious is psychic. I was just about to fall asleep this morning when I heard a really whiny sounding voice say: 'nothing is here.' Does that ring a bell with anyone out there? And I linked it immediately to the title of this very substantial blog and got quite upset - so upset that I couldn't sleep until I came here to respond to it. So let's talk about the content of this particular blog. In this blog, I updated my list of stars who broke the law with my work to include Madonna and Beyonce. The biggest new items must be where I said that Madonna went to prison and that Beyonce also was incarcerated. What is the media trying to do to you by leaving this news unsupported? I guess they're hoping you'll try to steal something of mine so you'll go to jail too. Aren't they thoughtful? Those broadcasting people don't like me calling them pricks. Maybe pricks is a little misleading. Pricks have balls. These people are cowards. They've led you on to think that I fear my fame when the whole time they feared me. They are terrified of me, not just because I tell the truth, but because my work is popular and I don't watch television or listen to the radio. And how many make up their group? Ten thousand or so? Ten thousand against one. And look at the things I've done to them all by myself, just one guy. Do they confront me? Do they challenge me? No, they go behind my back and mumble their lies directly to you. But maybe the word 'cowards' is also too limited to describe them. Given the documented evidence of their crimes over the last four years, I think 'broadcasters' is just about the most obscene word in the English language. That will do. I don't want to hear about poor Dean either. My very good friend, who was innocent, ended his suffering with a rope. Dean is as guilty as sin. Do they want to see if he survives the hate? Karla Homolka survived the hate. I guess they think that makes her a good person. I'm not worried about this voice bleating 'nothing is here'. Everyone knows he's a liar. It'll probably just attract more readers.
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How I Do It

Some people think I have psychic powers but my process for finding information that is concealed from me is not so far fetched. I arrive at my conclusions by a combination of intuition and extrapolation. I post them as questions first. Then I can tell if they're right by the reaction of the crowd. I have an advantage over others in being able to trace the source of the offenses against me because I know I am innocent. This allows me to eliminate myself as a suspect and speeds up my investigation. I also know who my enemies are and am able to easily interpret any words or gestures that come from them. Anyone who used to work for Nasco, for instance, like the person who lives across the hall from me, is someone I know I can not trust. Last week he turned up his TV extra loud and forced me to hear some fake screams and the opening arpeggios of a guitar player. As he did this, he triumphantly said: 'There you go, Dave!' Since everyone now knows that Dateline has been my mortal enemy for the last seven years and since the time of day matched the broadcast schedule of Dateline and since Nasco workers who hate me would probably support Dateline, I concluded that this silly sounding spectacle was a Dateline broadcast. If it was, beware their treachery. Why does a gossip show like Dateline need to put a guitar player on a stage and plant screaming girls in the audience? Why does Dateline now want to pass themselves off as the Ed Sullivan Show when everyone knows that their purpose is to tear down celebrities, not to launch their careers? I think this is more meddling with my music and my online following. I think it is a transparent attempt to either sap my web popularity or undermine it. Don't be fooled by studio audiences. They can create the illusion of popularity where no popularity exists. Saturday Night Live, for instance, probably receives regular hate mail and would be taking a great risk by letting just anyone into their studio for a broadcast. With twenty people in their cast, however, they can fill their seats with their friends merely by inviting ten friends each. Maybe Dateline borrowed a few of them for their broadcast. On another note, to you who clamored for me to get out on a stage, was Under My Umbrella still playing on the radio up to last week? What kind of chance would I have of success when someone who stole her hit song from me still holds a place above me in the business? Not a very good one. I wonder what they're still hiding from us.
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Enough Already

Would someone flag that Davelies video for me? I don't want to track it down. I'm afraid it might make me vomit. I don't need to see the whole thing to guess its content. Let's see. Davelies. Sounds a bit like Dateline. Sounds like an association between myself and a fucking criminal news program that I never fucking watch. So that's misleading. And, gee, 'Dave' and 'lies' associates my name with lies. That's libelous. So for fuck sake, instead of gawking at the piece of shit, will someone do the decent thing and flag it down? Tina Fey will be out of prison and back spending my money on her parties soon enough if she's not out already. Isn't that unjust enough? 7:59 PM. I hope this disgusting display of defamation has been removed from the internet. I want the police or whomever is holding my evidence to support my intention to ban this ugly video and all videos like it on the grounds that they were posted by criminals who have since been incarcerated for stealing my work.
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The Oddest Proposal

There is a way for the networks to broadcast the truth about the crimes they committed against me that may let each network save face. Rather than accepting blame for their own offenses, they could each blame a rival network. CBC and FOX News hate each other. FOX News could broadcast its knowledge of CBC's role and CBC could tell the world about FOX News's offense. NBC could point the finger of blame at Comedy Central, while Comedy Central pointed to HBO. Then the print media could bash all of the broadcasters and the broadcasters could expose any culpable newspapers or magazines. I don't really care how the public is informed and it would sure be nice if I didn't have to wait until every last person on the planet found my blog on their own and read the whole thing. That could take years.
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May God Bless You

You don't have to feel too sorry for me because I don't pity myself that much. I live in a neighborhood filled with suffering people and I know that I could be much worse off than I am. The poor have been very generous to me in offering me this gift, which lets me forget my own misery. If all these pricks who steal my songs and scripts noticed how much poor people suffer, they would be counting their blessings instead of envying me. I don't envy the people who got rich with my music and writing. I wouldn't want to get rich like that. I'd rather have a clear conscience. A clear conscience is priceless. I would rather have it than all the money in the world. Take Beyonce. Can you imagine how lousy she must feel these days over stealing that song from me? All the money in the world can't make you feel good about yourself. The most it can do is perhaps buy you crack to trick your brain into believing you're a good person. And then what do you do once you've spent all your money on crack? I'd rather just stay poor if the only way to get rich is by kissing Satan's or Dick Cheney's ass.
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Why I'm Happy

In one of my posts in The Show Must Continue, I offered a link to an Aldous Huxley interview rather than a link to one of my songs on YouTube. In it Huxley voices his protest of how the psychological manipulations of the mass media undermine democracy by forcing behaviors upon the population rather than letting them make a conscious rational choice. Clearly nothing has changed since this interview aired in 1960 and I would offer my own experience as clear evidence to support this statement. My mother didn't want me to be an artist but she thought that a nice safe job in a creative field like advertising would suit me. That's how I ended up studying techniques of advertising in college in 1984-85 and learning the most effective techniques of what they call 'the art of persuasion'. Naturally a job in advertising appeals to anyone who craves power, but I knew I was in the wrong class when we started learning about Pavlovian conditioning. Pavlov was the famous researcher who trained dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell by ringing the bell every time the dogs ate. Such mental associations are equally effective on humans and I simply had no interest in controlling the public in this somewhat unfair way. With my knowledge of this promotional technique and what I can gather of how my songs and blogs must have first impacted the public in 2007, a time which eerily resembles the present in terms of how ordinary and invisible I appear to those in my immediate sphere, even as my posts dominate the internet, I can form an educated hypothesis of how my erased posts were treated by the business. We must recall the conditions of that time: an unpopular president and a controversial war. I think that a lot of protesters turned to my online accounts as a kind of sanctuary. In my music they found what was missing from the songs offered by the radio and they agreed with much of what I had to say as it was illustrated by my dialogues. They trusted my music and writing implicitly. In late 2007, from confusion brought on by a rogue television program that its dishonest employer still insists on broadcasting, I erased my posts. But before the business could capitalize on this apparent windfall, they needed to create a new mental association for my music and writing in the minds of its adherents. The trust that people had in my work because it opposed what they considered to be an unjust war was twisted into trust of the establishment and of the corporate media. In my dialogues, for instance, instead of me bashing them, they made it looked like they bashed themselves out of magnanimity. And my Bird of Prey, a song which was intended to show the dark destructive side of the subconscious mind, was [am I right?] sold to MacDonnell-Douglas, the warplane manufacturer. Bits of my insightful statements ended up in the mouths of the media as the content of their phony banters which fill the space between their reports. In other words, they used my work to make you think they were me and that they could be implicitly trusted. No one can tell me that the band that stole the lion's share of my songs was not loved. I received the flip side of that love for the better part of three years. And because this band was so loved and trusted, these monsters were able to lead the crowd into the most unfortunate trend that may have ever been spun from media dishonesty: cruelty became hip. Hate parties are so tasteless that even when a convicted serial killer goes to prison, no one turns it into a party, but hate parties were cool when this band had the support of the business. Those girls who picked on that poor old lady on the bus might well have been fans of one or more of the frauds who illegally built their success out of my talent. And picking on an old lady like that is not much different from Bush's and Cheney's picking on a third world country like Iraq. Yes, it all makes sense to me now. If I'm ever standing in front of a crowd of fans, I hope that each one of them will have made a free and conscious choice to support me. The artificial love of a manipulated crowd would only leave me feeling like a failure.
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Alternative Listening Choices for Umbrella Fans

Beyonce fans, I liked Under My Umbrella when I heard it on the radio, having forgotten that I wrote it, and would have blindly counted myself among you at that time. Sorry I didn't recall authoring the song right away but I have a lot of songs and many of them were stolen from me. Even though I won't be using Under My Umbrella, I don't regret writing it. I'm glad people liked it. I also caught a few of the women dancing to it on YouTube and thoroughly enjoyed their interpretations of this music. For me it brings back memories of an extremely troubled period in my life. I must have looked like a total wreck on YouTube in that live video in 2008, playing and singing that sad song. I played and sang the whole song as it was later heard on the radio, not just 'a verse'. Why would I share a mere verse? I still consider the song undeveloped because it still has that gap in its chorus filled in with gibberish: 'eh eh eh'. In spite of my being 'dead', I would like to offer Umbrella fans a few other choices which might suit their musical tastes after the demise of Under My Umbrella as a 'legitimate' (gangster endorsed) pop hit. The three that spring most readily to mind are: Magic (2012), Nothing but Ashes (2007), and Rules (2012). Hope you enjoy these songs.
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Killing Me Softly with My Song

Once again, everyone, I'm not dead. The people who want you to think I'm dead planned on me being dead by now. They plan ahead too far and when the future doesn't unfold as they expected, they try to change reality to fit into their plan. I think they look really pathetic with this new stupid lie.
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I Wish I Weren't Here

Happy Sunday worshiping. If you're involved with the crimes against me and you still call yourself a Christian, don't forget to make a big show out of your appearance in church today so you can get the Lord good and pissed off at you. I had to come by today to slay a few rumors that have popped up in my three day absence as I labored to repaint my room and clear it of all unwelcome occupants. The first one involves me and a little girl. No, I didn't rape her. I hope no one fell for that one again. No, I have been stretching out my break from being online because being online is such hard work and it never brings me anything but grief. Now to you Americans who like to brag about your truth and justice, I've noticed that when someone tells you a lie, like 'buy ENRON', they only have to tell it once, but when I tell you the truth, like David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, I have to repeat it over and over again. Are you sure you love the truth down there so much? As you're making your mind up I'll just repeat that truth for you: David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella, David Skerkowski wrote Under My Umbrella. Is that enough? Well, it might hold you for twenty-four hours at least. Oops, I almost forgot: Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella, Beyonce committed fraud with Under My Umbrella. And one of my music fans wants to know why I have such good songs all on YouTube instead of on the radio. That's a very nice question I don't mind answering. That's because the music business is owned by people who don't care about music and only care about power. When I shared my music the first time, they were eager to gain power from it but I just wanted to write good music. Then when I erased it, they thought I could never write any other good songs because they thought that their experience of listening to it was what made my music great and they hadn't heard anything I had not yet written yet so they thought it could not be as great as what they already heard. Now that it appears that my best songs are the ones they hadn't heard yet in 2007, they don't know what to do because they planned their whole future on the songs they already heard. That future demanded my death by this point in time and I am still alive. I hope that explains it for you. Now go sit in front of your TV and expose your subconscious to more of their infernal manipulation.
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Hits Not Theirs

I've had my hands full with cleaning and repainting my room over the last couple of days. Nice to be able to take my mind off of the songs that were stolen from me. People thought it was only the rock stations that stole my songs but Under My Umbrella was a pop hit. Its style is a lot like my Magic, a newer song that perhaps Beyonce has been patiently waiting for me to erase so she can record it and sell it, herself. Don't be so sure that the country station is innocent either. I was quite depressed from 2008 to 2010 and when I'm depressed I sometimes express it in a country song.
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David and Behemoth

I believe that envy is the root of my struggle against the behemoth of the broadcasting business over the last ten years: envy of my talent. Envy breeds hate. Milton lists it as one of the seven deadly sins. Those who steal my work envy its quality. It follows that they hate me. A lot of top stars have stolen songs and scripts from me in the last seven years and there's more to the harm they have caused me than meets the eye. People trust their stars. They vote them into public office in some states. Stars have a strong influence over the public. When someone who hates me is a TV star, a movie star, or a rock star, it sets their fans against me along with them. Even though I have been able to overcome much of this hate by my steady presence online, the criminal rationale that justifies crimes against me in the minds of those who committed them has been transmitted directly into the brains of millions of trusting television viewers and radio listeners and still asserts itself against me from too many of them. This usually happens when I'm out for a walk. Two recent examples are a woman who at the sight of me could only turn to her friend and say 'bedbugs' and a man who wanted to mock me for needing the financial aid of my mother. Both of these slights were meant to rub my nose in my poverty, something that human beings who know my situation would not normally do. This is the influence of bad stars who stole my work. It is clearly immoral, for only an offender would find fault with a victim, and I think it makes the mental impact of watching certain television programs these days compare favorably with the effect of chronic crack use on the brain.
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