All Treachery, No Talent

On the night before my old friend killed himself seventeen years ago, as CBC was giving my first plays to their friends, he advised me to kill myself. He believed that I was an artist and that an artist is 'noble.' He believed that this foolish world was unfit for artists, which makes an artist's suicide forgivable to God. I've often thought about him in the wee hours of the morning, whenever I had trouble falling asleep with some fresh new crime committed against me on my mind, as was the case last night. I have been discussing the crimes of big stars with my music here consistently for the last eight years. Blue Rodeo's is the most recent, in posts like What Did Blue Rodeo Steal? and What I Heard about Blue Rodeo. Madonna is mentioned in the Stars They Support, What Happened at Nasco, and Madonna Went to Prison. I talked about Seal in Ghoul and To Be Like Seal and Steal. I discussed Nickleback in Diamondback and Facing Truth Alone. I talked about AC/DC in Wrong as a Life Crime. I talked about Beyonce in Under Whose Umbrella and More About Beyonce. I alluded to Dwight Yoakum in Together Against. I complained about Coldplay in Do I Exist? I complained about Oasis and the Rolling Stones in I Don't Want to Be Oasis. I complained about Taylor Swift in Happy Canada Day Taylor. I exposed the Shards as frauds in Virtue Lyrics Quiz and complained about their appearance in 2007 on the Tonight Show in the YouTube description of my live video for that song. And as far as I know, all of the music I reclaimed from these bums has been removed from the radio playlists, just as all the scripts I reclaimed here have been removed from the TV's schedule. And after all that, Vancouver Police, I still wound up in this very library just a few days ago, falling prey to some chunky whore with the brutal face of a prison guard and her God damn cellphone (was it provided by Telus mobility?) as she gleefully showed the vipers who occupied the seats around me how she paralyzed twenty-five percent of this account's file structure with a blocking program called 'K-9' that blocked out my lyrics index and falsely accused my good music of being suspicious. (I've amended my profile information to alert you to any future assaults of this nature.) And does no one but me think that the TV and radio are suspicious? It deeply hurt me to see the force of years and years of my honest labor neutralized by a mere couple of clicks on a stupid software program. Do you believe in the work ethic out there? Do the majority of you agree that we are saved by hard work and thrift? If you do, then why are the copying and pasting shortcuts of online scoundrels rewarded by corporations for years and years of my honest labor? Seems to me that I am only ever damned by my hard work and I'm doubtful that I will survive under these outrageous conditions to gain anything from my thrift. I won't bother to ask the name of this latest assailant. I don't know any of their names, do I? I don't get to find out their names until they've been on the TV or the radio for a few years with my property, telling everyone I'm a monster. But they all know my name, don't they, Vancouver Police. Yes, these vicious assailants all know my name and face and I don't know any of them. Why didn't YouTube warn me of this before I shared my music with them ten years ago? See the way to get ahead in our society? Don't try to improve yourself, hurt me! Hurt me if I'm a better author and that way you can lower the general standard to your level and be a star! My friend said that God forgives artists for committing suicide. I believe him. And I also think that when God forgives an artist's suicide, He damns the ones who drove him to it. 12:00pm: I'm at the central library branch now, across from CBC, and I see that they're having some kind of outdoor event there. Why isn't anyone picketing them with signs that say CBC BREEDS FRAUD or CBC LIES TO CHILDREN or CBC CHEATS ARTISTS? Am I supposed to do that all by myself? On top of posting all these copyright claims? I know you're all reading my posts. Do you just read them so you can ignore them? When I weigh my superhuman, solitary struggle against the effortless copying and pasting and lying of the army of frauds who were rewarded so richly for my work, I hear the voice of my deceased friend telling me, David, kill yourself. I'm still doing without my nicotine and marijuana. This is my sixth week without a puff. Smoking was my only serious vice and I seem to have overcome it. I am always struggling to improve myself because I know I am far from perfect. When I think of how arrogant and corrupt these monsters are who stole my work and how they were presented to you as heavenly angels or even as Christ, himself, while I, their victim, must still suffer from constant image assaults, I hear the voice of my old friend telling me, David, kill yourself. Wow, I could sure use a vacation. Of course, I must stay online practically twenty-four hours a day to defend myself from backstabbing copyright infringements and character assassinations. Even under my constant attention, this account stills fall prey to crippling malice like that described in the third paragraph above. And what did those comedians and bands do after the broadcasters told you all that they wrote my songs and blogs? Did they have to spend all their time defending themselves like I've had to do ever since I first shared them on the internet? Who called me an idiot in 2010 for erasing my accounts in 2007? Gee, look at what I get now for keeping them all online in my name! When I think about it, I hear the voice of my late friend saying, David, kill yourself. And people find me funny when I scream in pain from this endless cruelty. Then they pay comedians to pass it all off to them as comedy when it's my suffering life. When are they going to tie me up and get some real laughs? That seems to be all I can look forward to if I don't heed my late talented friend's advice. Well, I guess I better add those statements to my index now. That way that mean bitch can block them out along with all the other thousands I've posted here by just zeroing in on one page. (She should be turned into a big star for that, right CBC?) Then I'm going home to take a nap because I barely slept a wink last night from all this intense abuse I'm always telling you about. And with any luck, I won't wake up. Maybe they'll copy and paste this page somewhere else to confuse you while I do that. After all, it's their only real talent. 5:53pm: I woke up in this world again. Too bad. On the way home from the library earlier I heard a voice say that I showed them that he stinks. I wonder if it was telling me about some ass of a backstabbing comedian who still wants to cash in on my pain when I don't even know him. I'm sure you'd have the good taste to reject him, as long as you knew what he was really up to. You can't trust the broadcasters to share your taste, though, I'm afraid. They love their treachery. They hope you will laugh now as they have been laughing at me all along, gaining pleasure from the destruction of an artist by his own work in the hands of thugs. They want you to cheer for the rich predator swooping down and slicing open the poor innocent victim on the ground. Don't expect their comedians to be good. And don't expect the radio to suddenly fill up with great music from bands who up to now were bumped out to make room for hours of my songs on its playlists. Cheering for them now is like telling broadcasters that it is they who hand out the talent and not God Almighty. You oughtn't to do that; they already believe it enough without you. 6:13pm: I better get the hell out of here now. Vancouver Police, a guy in a black t-shirt is really causing a distraction beside me as I try to work here at the Strathcona branch. I think he's on meth or something. If you want to know about that site blocker with the cellphone, I mentioned her in my 2:35pm entry of my earlier post to this blog entitled Poor Sportsmanship.
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