Ulcer Time
(Don't forget to check my YouTube account for tampering today - if you have time. I can't go online and see if anyone is assaulting my image with damaging video responses. It's up to you, I'm afraid.) About getting called a thief last night and today, I think you're probably listening to another violator of my music copyright out there. Why don't you flag the music and send over the police to resolve it? Or is a distant, transparent frame job all that is needed to get those songs of mine back on the radio station before I'm finished here? They never would have left if that station didn't have such a preference for lying psychopaths over talented artists and poets. No blood yet this morning. I've had this problem before. I think I'm feeling better. Wait minute, why did this idol tell you I was bleeding? Oh, oh, I feel it getting worse again. I think it's an ulcer or something. I'll have to be more careful with my health. Maybe I'll have to slow down on these stressful defences of my work and my image and just let the frauds and their crowds surround me here and stone me to death. Is my new song Simper still mine? I had to write it so people would believe I wrote all my other songs. Each of perhaps all my other songs was also needed to reestablish my ownership of my remaining songs at the time it was written, after a lie had circulated that I had stolen my songs. That makes a few hundred repetitions of this damaging lie over my songwriting period. By this scheme, the more songs I share, the worse my reputation seems to grow, especially if I don't share a song in a while. (12:08pm: For instance, did someone 'stitch' my organ now?) This irony is a lot funnier for bystanders than it is for the victim. The people who always say I stole my songs want to steal my music. They've been assaulting me in this fashion for eleven years. They work as roadies and covet the rich rewards of stardom. They first assaulted me in 2007 and I used them to help me invent the sordid villains in my poetry, who fantasize about sexual sadism in the Herald, who rob and defame an artist in the Masterpiece, and who plot to murder a songwriter in the Tunesmith. Did Saturday Night Live not tell anyone that? And people who want to frame people think everyone wants to do it. They think I only write music as bait to lure innocent predators and trick them into committing fraud. I hope I've proven finer motives for my music than that over the years. And how do we frame people? Don't we have to stalk them from a distance and gather information on them from their Blogger accounts? When have I ever had time for that in my life? Since the last time I erased blogs of this unpleasant topic in 2012 to spare my readers, here are a few of their cruelly provoked replacements. July 2017: All Treachery/No Talent July 2016: Mature People Need Less Love July 2015: Hearing I'm Dead When I'm Alive July 2014: Adding Insults to Injuries September 2013: Lies About a Face |
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© 2018. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
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