Self Respect Is Priceless

Self Respect Is Priceless


7:24pm. I'm back to grab some material to help catch up my home files with my online ones. Nice to have all my material in this account organized offline for when I want to move to a safer location. By the way, I've not been adding to my statements index until I can book some time on a computer that doesn't make me wait ten seconds for every character I type into its source code. I'll try to have it up to date by the end of this month.

To that slum lord, this is a threat: when I visit you in your cell, I'm not going to be as light on you as your cronies are here. I'm going to make you suffer proper.

As for the next assault, bring it on. I'll bend over and drop my pants for you. You've already counted every hair on my asshole for your fraud stars. You can pick up where my mother left off. Yeah, kidney problems since my early thirties. Gee, I wonder how that happened, eh, Catholic Church? Now the media has brainwashed a whole large crowd here to beat me to death and I look forward to dying so I don't have to endure their company any longer.

I just checked and my slideshow is still compromised by some filth's filthy code. You're going to miss me after today. And you can pull off your fraud gigs here in Telus land, but you are hated for it outside of their region.

12:52pm. I walked by a club called the Juke on Keefer on the way home from posting the below and saw a queue for a show. Since frauds love to flaunt their crimes in front of me here, and since this club is just one block over from the Fortune Sound Club, which served to promote fraud with my music in 2017, I hope there are going to be some copyright cops in the audience for any live shows involving comedy or music - 7:24pm. ...or poetry readings, if I interpreted the woman who said, 'why did you have to show that you're a poet?' correctly. Did she survive? So did I. Future American lawyer, someone here may think that it's okay to steal my poetry because the news won't talk about Tina Fey. Let's mark this page. I also checked my slideshow link and it still has some damaging thing interfering with its function from the top page.

Have we done cleaning up all the damage to my account and to my reputation caused by that assault from two weeks ago yet? I'm pleased that you punished and incarcerated the offender[s], but it looks like their extensive damage was left behind for their poor, blind victim to clean up. How am I supposed accomplish this task alone when I can't even see my views from here? Why isn't anyone guarding my pages online? That ugly thing they stuck on my Chronology of Songs - WHICH APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN ASSAULTED AGAIN SINCE YESTERDAY - 12:04 PM - BECAUSE IT'S SUPPOSED TO WORK AS A SCROLL - to interfere with my slideshow program, wasn't that the second time they attacked me with it - TO ADD TO THIS THIRD TIME? - 12:10PM? Why was there a second time - AND THIRD TIME - for such a harmful assault on my music and reputation? Can Google be held criminally liable for negligence at this point? Why was there a first time for it since 2010? And what's your answer to all this going to be? Some one-word push-button command for a horde of exhausted workers who would rather automatically react than struggle to think? This technique of mental manipulation seems to work very well for you, with your destruction gleaming like a trophy for it. Google, you've done a very poor job of guarding my content on your Blogger site. You can't even keep my pages clean for 24 hours. Terrible.

Vancouver, how's your wealthy benefactor, the slum lord? Is he out of jail again? Is he in his limousine, cruising down East Hastings to recruit a new battalion of minions to use against me from the broken sidewalks of his slum kingdom? Funny how everyone looks at his crime as some sort of enterprise because of the loot it produces. If I ever got rich, it would be for creating work, not destroying it. Rather than turning my environment into a slum with my success, I would make the world a more beautiful place. That must make him jealous.

The version of Dante's Inferno, which I, as a child of ten, found in the basement with my oldest brother's university text books, was one of the best things I have ever read. The translation to English wasn't as accurate, but this was in order to present it in rhyming triplets, which was the style Dante used in his original Italian. If you're an anglophone, I'd recommend this version over the others. It may have set me on a course to write my own long works of rhyming verse, the ones that made all those stars feel so stupid that they had to steal them all and use them inappropriately in their broadcasts. But I don't write poems to be smart, I write them to express my thoughts and feelings and to indulge in my imagination. People who have no thoughts or feelings or imagination wouldn't know that.

Nor do I write computer programs to be smart. I write them out of necessity, to help me stay on top of a three thousand page Blogger account which has suffered innumerable assaults from every corner of the planet. It's only people who have no such concerns who would want computer code to make them look smart.

I must wonder about people who feel deprived of the ability to create original music and poetry like my own and hold it against me. They don't deprive themselves of the brain crippling broadcasts that hold them back intellectually, even when I tell them, over and over, that I don't watch TV or listen to the radio. But they want to 'have their cake and eat it too'. They want to enjoy their comfortable lounge with their friends at the same time as they stand out with some exceptional achievement. They're a lot like the SNL jerks I parodied in my poem, the Cinnamon Gang.

And some minion approached me yesterday with a word about money. He seemed to think he had a point about something. He doesn't. All he has is a pocket full of money that doesn't belong to him because it came from stealing an artist's work. If you want a point about money/respect, I'll give you one right now, a strong one.

I could have had the whole world's respect easily by now if I did not value my self respect more. I know that others with children must sometimes compromise their self respect and I understand that. But I have no children to worry about, and so, my self respect is very precious to me. It is worth more to me than all the money in the world, and I proved this by avoiding the kind of stardom which would have won your respect at the cost of my own, one that would have had me appearing on Saturday Night Live as a musical guest on a show entirely comprised of my own scripts and poems. You may all disrespect me at once, but I'll be damned if I disrespect myself along with you. Have a good weekend. 		  
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© 2018. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

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