Epilogue: Sneak Peek at My Unpublished Book

Here are the first few pages of the book I am writing. As soon as I recognized some of the analogies like the lightning rod politicians and the matador's cape, I realized I shared it as an essay in 2007. Therefore I have nothing to lose by sharing it again with updated examples from my experience. Did I see Dennis Miller on TV using words from the original post of this? Probably. No, the erased italicized entries at the bottom of this were not forced on me. The only thing forced on me is the unbearable nuisance of knowing about all the stupid lies people use against me on the web. Chapter One: They Love Hate Hate's Anatomy Generally held in a negative light, with some countries even passing laws against it, hate should be as rare as pagan idolatry. Instead it is the emotional extreme of choice for most people, especially youth. My experience in being hate's target, as I struggled against popular stars who stole my work, has taught me a great deal. While the hate of prior generations was sufficient to give us our bloody past, today's hate is harnessed by the practices of the mass media. Hate is obvious. We do not need to ask the scowling hater how he feels. This sets hate apart from other less visible emotions for being able to serve as an external marker for a planned emotional response to manipulation. The manipulator needs to see the impact of his actions to be assured of their success. Hate is pure. In experiments scientists often need to gauge their results on a subject by comparisons with an untreated or 'control' subject. By the same token, pure hate offers a means by which to measure the intensity of other emotions, which tend to be mixed and harder to define, for the purpose of knowing the full reach of emotionally manipulative methods. Hate blinds. The infamous Nazis of the 1930's and 40's were able to establish a brutal dictatorship over a free and enlightened people by submerging the state in the darkness of racism. I suspect that our leaders took a lesson from this sinister technique, ironically enough, with the well intentioned aim of avoiding the chaos that gave rise to the monstrous regime. Hate may very well be used to blind consumers and voters today, its destruction confined to remote targets which cannot threaten the establishment. Elected officials, for instance, may serve as lightning rods for public hate, keeping it focused on themselves to spare their peers or benefactors among the corporate elite. Since terms of public office are temporary, hate for politicians ever lacks sufficient time to build to a threatening level. TV villains like the 1980's JR Ewing may also be used to steer public hate down an impotent course, with viewers blinded to the faces of the real life villains who exploit them. And the mass media, by training on the 'sins' of the unemployed, blinds us to the much greater crimes of the overpaid. Hate is seductive. JR was heralded as 'the man you love to hate', implying that hating can be pleasant. For years gala events were organized to celebrate hate of me, my work's fans misled into believing that I was a fraud. Hate's intensity adds depth to the experience of living. Hate is divisive. Its uncompromising negativity helps us to clearly define ourselves as belonging to a particular group. One of the easiest ways to establish a bond with a stranger is by expressing a mutual dislike of an absent third party. Hate is immediate. We indulge in this emotion when we believe it is just, as when we are subjected to a perceived wrongdoing, and seldom do we examine its cause closely. Our eagerness to hate, then, agrees with any efforts made to provoke hate. Hate is thoughtless. As long as you hate, you don't think. The growl of an animal whose meal has been interrupted roughly resembles the cursing and swearing of a disgruntled worker. While it is momentarily empowering to indulge in wrathful hate, doing so traps the brain in a primal mode, impeding higher reasoning. And hateful intellectual cripples are easier to exploit than peaceful, rational philosophers. Hate's outcome is predictable. Just as the bull rushes towards the matador's cape, the hater is drawn to his hate's target. Apparently I had as many views on YouTube when I was hated as I did later when my reputation was [temporarily] restored. Broadcasters are often indifferent to hateful feedback, counting it with other responses as mere confirmation of their viewership. The results of hate's provocation may be accurately forecast and hate's targets zeroed in on with surgical precision, making hate perhaps the aptest tool for goal oriented behavioral manipulation. Hate's Parents Envy Hate is almost always born of another emotion. Depending on its source, it may be constructive or destructive. Further to that, its merits and drawbacks may transpose according to subjective peculiarities. For example, hate born of envy seems fair to an eclipsed performer but strikes others as unjust. It is envy's hate with which I am most experienced, my original material having been coveted by performers around the globe, and about which I may speak with authority. The root of hate's envy is egotism. One who hatefully envies is one whose overextended ego is painfully diminished by an inability to presume equality with or superiority over another. Those who hatefully envy talent are incapable of enjoying the work of living artists by whom they feel outmatched. Imprisoned by self love, such people can only despair over what was created to please them. They respond to talent's generosity with inappropriate putdowns, often isolating themselves amid a host of celebrants, and in extreme cases, they steal the work whose high quality taunts them and pass it off as their own to secure the acclaim they believe they are due. While it is common to be discomforted by any reminder of our shortfalls, such an experience need not result in hate. One may take inspiration from the majestic feats of another to improve oneself. When this option is not exercised it can only be from laziness and a lack of faith in one's own potential. This exposes yet another fault in the hatefully envious, self deceit, for the insecurities which fuel their hate contradict their egotism. The source of such egotism is often talent and/or money. Performers are notoriously self centered, though they may be excused for it onstage where they are called upon to dominate a large group. And the exclusive privileges of the well-to-do quite naturally endow them with a sense of superiority. The hatefully envious may comprise a small, unenlightened minority from this group, but the cruel societal tendency to shun living artists shows that the hateful envy of talent is not necessarily class specific. In my forced co-habitations with the underprivileged I have endured many rebukes over my talent, which must be traced, along with the others, to egotism. Here the egotism is harder for me to bear because it is unfounded. These fools who have nothing and wallow in a state of constant need, lacking the skills and the proper attitude for success, steadfastly persist in seeing themselves as somehow elite. A combination of low intelligence and narcotics use appears to make this possible, with every decent person in their proximity suffering for it. Fortunately, the character building experience of poverty limits them to a small but irksome minority. The competitive middle class in which I was brought up makes a good breeding ground for envy's hate. A middle class man's preoccupation with social advancement may turn all others who would rise above him into bitter rivals. The middle class ideal of job, home, and family was apparently not enough for the well fed, comfortable, loved employees who subjected me to their hate. While I longed for the tranquility of their modest success, they condemned me for my 'stellar' achievements and went out of their way to disturb my peace. Among workers normally deprived of the leisure time to contemplate their condition, such offenders again, mercifully, form a small minority. Envy's hate has been a recurring barrier to my success in the seven long years since I first wrote and shared a popular song, and given the widely reported, well documented horrors that fame has inflicted on me, has no basis. One in my stricken state should be pitied, not envied. Meanwhile, industry artists who boast enormous wealth are not envied but admired. Egotism aside, this plainly artificial effect smacks of deep and powerful psychological programming. Envy's hate can confidently be classified as destructive. Hate would be expressed in mathematics as having a negative value. As such, when it is applied to a positive value, it returns a negative result. By this rule, creative talent, being positive, is negated by hate. We envy assets and I submit my volumes of damaged work and their consequent expense to broadcasters and culpable stars as evidence of envy's harm. Indignation On the other hand, in Ethics Aristotle praised as a virtue the hate of indignities, separating it from hate altogether with the term, righteous indignation. In this instance, the negative value of hate is crossed with another negative value, an indignity, to produce a positive result. According to Aristotle, it is good to hate indignities, such as those imposed on the poor and the dispossessed, for only by hating them can we find the motivation to eliminate them and thereby improve our living standard. (I interpret him broadly.) All hate strikes its target as an indignity since we are, by and large, oblivious to our wrongdoing, so that a strict definition of an indignity is needed to rule out any other cause for its hate before such hate may safely be found righteous. To this end, I propose that at least three conditions be met: 1) The insult must be deliberate. The eclipsed performer does not suffer an indignity at the hands of a superior talent. The latter's goal is to please others, not to hurt them, and any pain they might suffer from his noble effort is accidental. But if discouragement of the lesser talent was the real purpose for the greater one's appearance, the act qualifies as meeting this condition for inflicting an indignity. 2) The harm must be unjust. The indignity's target must be innocent, in order to distinguish injury from corrective punishment. The poetic lampoons I aimed at stars who stole my work were provoked by their theft of my online posts. They deserved to be bashed for that. Indeed, they went to jail and prison for that. 3) The culprit must be aggressive. A social worker's role in the regular performance of her duties is passive when she is required to refuse aid to a client. The true aggressor in such a case is the government and, ultimately, the electorate. Again, at least all three of these conditions must be met. If the refusal is just or accidental, it is not an indignity. In my ceaseless struggles against the giant corporate entity that robbed me and nearly killed me before the eyes of the world, I often feel alone. My cause is just. My success would be shared by all artists and their crowds of followers. In a land where freedom and property rights are cherished, for an artist whose work was as severely violated as was mine to not only go uncompensated but suffer further abuses, as I have to the present day, threatens every man, woman, and child. When it comes to this 'good' hate, the same passion that freed our ancestors from their oppressors, it fizzles out today as a tasteless joke against a firewall of prejudice, arrogance, and deceit, and the poverty I am expected to settle for, after authoring works that generated millions of dollars in profits, is the most it can gain. So much for the American dream when the spirit of free enterprise is publicly crushed, sparking no effective protest, as the population is drawn by the invisible strings of modern mental manipulation towards a dead end of self betrayal - or so it appears to me. Fear Bonding us with the animals, fear rules as the dominant emotion governing our behavior. Its vital attachment to our basic survival makes it a prolific breeder of primal emotions. Fear is reported to be the favorite means by which to control mass behavior with techniques which I must assume factor in its tendency to produce hate. My personal fear is the risk of mass destruction posed by such reckless and irresponsible emotional button pushing. Driving fear's hate are multiple phobias, the most relevant to this discussion being fear of strangers, fear of foreign cultures, fear of change, and fear of death, all of which may be gathered into a broader category under the popular term, fear of the unknown. Fear's hate is extremely destructive, being the chief cause of war, and by my formula this suggests that the unknown has a positive value. Certainly by offering humanity the gainful pursuit of purposeful exploration, it is an asset which should inspire wonder rather than provoke hate. While enlightened thinkers have long adopted this mindset, the ongoing production of war weapons, the persistence of culture clashes, the stubborn maintenance of unpopular government policies, and the ever increasing human lifespan through medicine sadly show that the rest of us are far from overcoming our fear of the unknown and leaving the jungle of our primate ancestors behind us. My surprise success in the early summer of 2007 has been compromised in the years since by all four of the aforementioned phobias: my comparatively sparse performing experience estranged me from the music crowd, to the majority of my online followers I am a foreign national and my name is foreign sounding to locals, by musical and literary innovation I brought change, and at the hands of character assassins I suffered a kind of death. Along these lines a door has been left open for the fear of the unknown of what might happen if I ascend to the glory of stardom to be accessed by hate mongers. Having faith in the strength of my work, in these circumstances I wonder if I wouldn't be cornered in an alley and beaten senseless without my songs and stories to shield me. And has the population yet had a chance to make a fair decision about me, free of the undetectable persuasions of my detractors in the corporate mass media? Let's ask Ellen watchers. The wide array of religious and philosophic approaches to fear of death fractures the population deeply on the issue of the afterlife. It is unsafe to discuss religion at card parties where the conversation inevitably turns violent. Most religions promise a happy afterlife if we try to be good, and the race for riches would be dismissed as fleeting by the devoutest followers of most religions. The opposite seems to be the case for those in a world whose economy is structured around greed and where the persuasion to betray religious principles is constant. Those who don't believe in the afterlife may plunder the world's resources with a clearer conscience but lack the internal support of religious faith in times of hardship or crisis. They are also a minority, with most of us accepting the religious instruction to love our neighbors, however compelled we might be to do otherwise. (The discussion continues to the end of the chapter. Youth are mentioned as being the principle target of fear/hate campaigns because of the tendency for their behavioral programming to last through their adulthood. The next chapter, 'They Live on Lies', is about how a superfluous, destructive industry has been created for mass manipulators to give them something to ruin with their lies during peacetime, as has been the case with my music, my comedy, my image, and my reputation. When my songs were lies in the hands of frauds, they were all fit for the TV and radio and movies and it was safe for people to say they liked them. But now that my music represents truth, its author has a hard time even posting videos on YouTube. Because of my extensive knowledge of industry lies, I expect this new chapter to double in length my words on hate.)
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Time to Quit

May 12, 2014: Important Technical Note: I left the hyper-text transfer protocol (http://) out of most of the links listed here in my initial post. I think I've fixed the problem now. Sorry for the confusion. Firstly, are you even here to see my post? Or have you been steered by your Google search to another page? Most of the links I checked on Google lead to outside accounts, so I'll post my URL's right here for you to check against the URL of whatever page you're viewing which pretends to be mine. Please copy and paste them from this page before it, too, is compromised by internet treachery. Back In Your Face: http://biyf-dave.blogspot.ca Songs That Don't Rhyme: http://dave-stdr.blogspot.ca Coats from the Lost and Found: http://coat-dave.blogspot.ca 150 Songs: http://150songs.blogspot.ca The Nefarious Broadcasting Corporation: http://nef-dave.blogspot.ca That's Not What I Meant: http://not-dave.blogspot.ca 2) My Statements: A-Z: http://index2-dave.blogspot.ca 1) My Scripts: A-Z: http://index-scripts-dave.blogspot.ca Good Repetitions: http://rep-dave.blogspot.ca Weapons And Entertainment Arsenal: http://dave-wea.blogspot.ca ljkghlk: http://kjgjhgkj.blogspot.ca The Film Scenes: http://dave-filmscenes.blogspot.ca Chronology of Recordings: http://chrono-dave.blogspot.ca Bear's Eat Goats and Toasty Oats: http://bear-dave.blogspot.ca I'm Free: http://dave-free.blogspot.ca Come Out to Show Them: http://newshowdave.blogspot.ca The National Bullshitting Corporation: http://nbullc.blogspot.ca Prove Me Wrong (Please): http://davewrong.blogspot.ca The Trimming of the Shrub: http://shrubdave.blogspot.ca The Card Parties: http://cp-dave.blogspot.ca E.M. Forced Her: http://dave-emfh.blogspot.ca Slow Agony: http://slowagony-dave.blogspot.ca Something to Dry Heave In: http://dry-david.blogspot.ca Cry of the Lemur: http://lemur-dave.blogspot.ca Misfire: http://mis-dave.blogspot.ca Pearl's Annotated Archives: http://pearl-dave.blogspot.ca Subconscious Rant: http://dave-subconsciousrant.blogspot.ca Diary of a Sad Man: http://dave-sadman.blogspot.ca New Blog: http://newdave-dave.blogspot.ca Tree-Blind Sloth: http://tree-dave.blogspot.ca Depth of a Saucepan: http://depth-dave.blogspot.ca Isthmus of Panama City Beach: http://isthmus-dave.blogspot.ca Monoblogs of Play Doughhttp://monoblog-dave.blogspot.ca Blog It to Death: http://blogdeath-dave.blogspot.ca Trail of the Marsupial: http://mars-dave.blogspot.ca It's All Right Mom: http://dave-mom.blogspot.ca All's Well that Ends Swell: http://allswell-dave.blogspot.ca Tobacco Use Can Make You Impotent: http://imp-dave.blogspot.ca Broken Smoke Alarm: http://smoke-dave.blogspot.ca Tales from the Dark Side of the Moon: http://tale-dave.blogspot.ca The Show Must Continue: http://show-dave.blogspot.ca I looked through the local links my from Google search and not one of the URL's matched up with the above. Astonishing that people are free to commit fraud like this with my work after I lost so much, after I was left to die from hate at the hands of filthy frauds on TV and the radio. Well, my work's fans are going to miss my new content because I save it in a notebook and keep it offline. I'm sure that when some greedy prick can only make a profit by helping me, I'll be able to share it and not get the shit kicked out of me for it. Hardly anything happens from generosity in our world, just from greed. If you try to be generous, you end up suffering like I do, with no one but your mother to sympathize with you. And everything in our world depends on lies. You have to lie to yourself and everyone else all the time, if only to shore up the value of the counterfeit currency. I wouldn't dream of bringing children into such a corrupt world. You might as well just damn them all to Hell. I'm going to quit blogging for a while. I don't know how long. I need to write a nice long story and keep it all to myself. I need to leave Vancouver. I need a break from all this stress. I still have my short stories to re-post and I have them on a disk. There are three hundred pages of them and you've probably seen their content scattered across a hundred TV channels with everything else I ever shared on Google/YouTube. Make them last because I may never return here. This seven year experience has been nothing short of a continuous nightmare. To think that so much unjust and horrible punishment could be inflicted on an innocent person just because he didn't have enough of an outrageous ego to believe that he was a star - and in the face of so much illegal interference on top of it! Maybe you don't love talent, you just love egomaniacs. Only time will tell.
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Damned Televangelists

I've heard the latest accusations of me being the Devil. But Dean's Jesus, right? I just want to get this straight. How can people be so fucking stupid? Now then, let's talk about the Devil. Where did we first hear of this supernatural deity? The Bible. So let's examine the biblical description of the Devil and see if there's a match. First of all, let's look at who accused Jesus of performing miracles by the power of Beelzebub. I believe it was the Pharisees. And the Pharisees were hated by Christ for being wealthy hypocrites who made a great show of their piety, much like wealthy evangelists do on television today. Do you think televangelists are behind this new campaign against me? In Luke 4, Jesus is tempted by the Devil in the desert. The Devil says that all of the wealth and power of the world are his to give to whomever he chooses. I'm on disability. I've been poor all my adult life. In John 8:44 it is written: 'Satan is a liar and the father of all lies.' Who lied to you? Who is in prison right now for lying to you about my work? Not me. I told the truth. And who supported these liars? In Isaiah 14:13-14 Satan's arrogance is clear: 'I will make myself like the Most High.' What did I do in 2007 when my voices told me I had a hit song on the web? I erased it and went out looking for a day job. I wish I had found one before things got this bad. Milton also implied Satan's arrogance in Paradise Lost, where the Devil says to God: 'It is better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven.' Milton was a poet who wrote about Paradise. Dante was a poet who wrote about Hell and Purgatory and Paradise. So is it all right if I write about these things in my poems? Or will that make me the Devil?
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Science Today

Possibly used as content for an earlier post of the D.S. Show, though I think the commercial may be new. (Joined in progess.) Host: We're back with our guest, Hubert Smiley Jr, whose father invented the first antidepressant. Mister Smiley, where did your father get the idea? Smiley: Dad was fond of science fiction. He read a book about a future society that kept its population happy with miracle drugs and liked it a lot. Host: You mean Brave New World? Smiley: Yes, I think that was it. Host: Mister Smiley, the point of Brave New World was to show the oppressive side of controlling human behavior through science. Smiley: So? Host: So by developing this drug, your father would have deeply offended the author. Smiley: You think so? Oh well, I'm sure it's nothing that can't be cured with the right medication. Commercial: Bottoms of Despair How would you like to suffer from a terrible illness and be laughed at for it? Well, hundreds of victims like myself suffer from cancer of the ass. I'm not talking about rectal cancer here. That thought of that one makes people wince. I'm talking about the whole ass. This punishing disease can make sitting down next to impossible. With an infected cheek swelling up to over four times its normal size, even putting on a pair of briefs can be difficult. Before we can seriously address this problem, we need to all stop laughing about it. And that can only be done through expensive media campaigns. Bottoms of Despair is a non-profit group that wants to sensitize the public to the pains suffered by victims of ass cancer through education. Help us nip this problem in the butt with a donation today. Bottoms of Despair. Your ass may be on the line. Host: Alex Raymond is here to talk about his new invention, a telescopic lens that can see through walls. It is in great demand by both police and the military. Tell us, what gave you the idea? Raymond: Well, I was reading this book about a whole population that was kept under constant electronic surveillance and - Host: You mean 1984? Raymond: Yes, that was it. Host: Mister Raymond, 1984 is a cautionary tale meant to spare us from brutal totalitarianism. Raymond: So? Host: So? I can't believe this! So your invention has seriously undermined his literary efforts! Raymond: Hey, look, I'm not an author, I'm a scientist. Host: You're a menace. Anyway, we're going to try one last time after the break when we speak to a former Swedish tennis star who has invented implants which he says can increase out abilities and help us achieve a collective consciousness.
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Enjoy Your Slavery

You know, I'm really sick and tired of having to struggle all the time with work that was obviously popular from the very beginning. Why didn't anyone simply approach me for this work when I first posted it? What a stupid fucking system. They leave me in the dark with zero views and then they punish me because I wouldn't listen to my head voices. Can you imagine my outrage? Look how much work they stole from me. Shouldn't I own my own TV network by now? What's the holdup? Are they afraid my network would dominate the airwaves and take away all their viewers? Are the sponsors only interested in sponsoring crime? I could expand all these dialogues into full shows. I am an artist who can detect talent in others. I bet my network would be a smashing success. Isn't that what America is supposed to be all about? Are they afraid in the home of the brave? Too bad I'm Canadian. That means that when I get into a dispute with American TV stars, my countrymen all take sides with them against me. But did everyone see how Americans supported their stars against me and how Brits supported their stars against me? Wasn't their patriotism touching? Oh, hi America! How are those murderers in your highest offices? Did they learn to write their own speeches yet? I've often told my mother she had too many children. I was trying to tell her I didn't want to be born. You all have helped her to see my side. She's eighty-seven. I bet if we rounded up all the people who committed fraud with my work in the last seven years, we could fill a stadium. Some great prospect for my future. Is NBC on the air? Is CBC on the air? Oh, how nice. Just like when a pedestrian is run over on a busy street, they have to clear the body to keep the traffic going. It's a good thing I have strong intuition. No one tells me anything. They leave me isolated and hover over me like buzzards waiting to pick my carcass. If you're going to support these creeps now, don't even pretend to be free. They own you. Enjoy your slavery. I hope it makes you nice and comfortable.
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The Demagogue

Voice: As a child Jason Bartlet was incorrigible. (A principal's office.) Principal: Was your gang responsible for torching those school buses? Bartlet: I'm telling you, it was the Brownies! Instead of sitting here, we should be rounding them up! Voice: As an activist he was fashionable. (The lights go out in a mall during peak shopping hours.) Bartlet: (Through megaphone) This shopping center has been claimed in the name of the People's Army of Liberation. With the power off you are free to reclaim any wealth which you feel has been swindled from you by our oppressors. (The shoppers engage in a frenzy of looting.) And break a few windows while you're at it. (Glass is smashed.) Voice: As a political leader he was abominable. (Bartlet delivers a speech in front of a rioting crowd.) Bartlet: Cheap foreign labor drives down the living standard. Artists drain the welfare system. Seniors crowd hospitals and the unemployed sit in classrooms. Children eat up all the candy and dogs won't pick up after themselves... Voice: Don't miss the disturbing tale of Jason Bartlet, better known as The Demagogue.
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Mysteries of Evolution

I'm Irwin Charles and this is Mysteries of Evolution. Why are Northern Europeans big and tall? Is this the recent result of the eugenics so zealously practiced there in the 1930's and 40's? On the contrary, their superior mass is documented in the historic record dating right back to ancient Rome. The warlike ancestors of these giants used to settle all their disputes by mortal combat. Could that have something to do with it? Operating on a hunch, I researched African tribes and learned that the warlike Zulus were also big and tall. When a Zulu boy approached manhood he could not mate until he returned from the jungle alone with a freshly killed tiger whose teeth were used to fashion the jewelery for his wedding ceremony. Probing even deeper, I looked for the root of the genetic mutation which gave rise to the first big bully and located a uranium cave in the vicinity of the former Zulu empire. An asteroid collision which is believed to have caused the Ice Age in Europe filled in the last piece of this fascinating puzzle. Clearly the Nordic people were Zulu migrants whose skin and hair was bleached by radioactive fallout from the fallen asteroid. Over time their language and customs changed, but they faithfully retained their passion for war. Smaller peoples like the Romans eventually overcame the size difference with technology and elephants, but if some globally destructive event sent us back into the Stone Age, the big, tall Northern Europeans would likely come out on top. To avert this potential outcome we should be swamping them with midgets and dwarfs. Don't say I didn't warn you. For Mysteries of Evolution, I'm Irwin Charles.
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In the Name of Confusion

I Googled my image yesterday and stumbled on an image in the top row that led me to a link in Sarasota, Florida. I was not aware that there was any other person in the world with my first and last name until I checked this link. My last name's spelling has been altered since my great grandfather came over here from Poland. There is only one U.S. family with the same last name and we are not related. Do they have a David in Sarasota, Florida? I know that my brother Bernard lives in Florida. Did he name one of his sons after me? I doubt it. I have Googled my name and I must protest that of the three images displayed in the image row under the text findings, the middle shot of a fat, bespectacled man on a couch with an acoustic guitar is not of me. But at least we've made some progress since 2007 when such image searches would turn up Jay Leno's image first in the uppermost, leftmost position. That only took seven years to clear up. In the meantime, does anyone want to tell that guy on the couch with the guitar to get the fuck out of my image search results? My own face is hard enough to cope with. I've always been skinny because I seldom get enough to eat. Tell that well fed prick to take a hike. I don't mind my niece Katie being mixed in with my pictures. At least she doesn't cause any confusion.
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The New Client

(A Spartan office. A new client of social assistance sits anxiously as a worker goes over his application.) Worker: Do you own a car? Client: No. Worker: Bicycle? Client: No. Worker: Skateboard? Client: No. Worker: Do you own any large appliances? Fridge? Stove? Client: No. Worker: Does your home have any copper wire in its walls? Client: No. Worker: Do you have a girlfriend or spouse? Client: No. Worker: Do have any friends at all? Client: No. Worker: Do have any dignity? Client: No. Worker: Now this is important. Do you have a Swiss bank account? Client: No. Worker: Perfect. (She stamps the form and adds it to a folder.) Client: When can I get my check? Worker; Not yet. Could you stand on those scales please? (The confused applicant gets up to comply. The worker takes a measuring tape out of her desk and goes over to read the result.) Two hundred pounds. (She takes his height with the measuring tape.) Six feet and one inch. You are at least five pounds overweight. I'm afraid that disqualifies you. Client: Please, I really need this check. Is there anything I can do? Worker: Well, I may be able to make an exception for you on one condition. Client: Name it. Worker: Get down and give me a hundred sit-ups. Well? What are you waiting for? Let's go, tubby! You want the check, don't you? (The client lies on his back and gets to work.) One ... two ... three ...
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Junior Predator

Hart: Good day and welcome to Junior Predator, where young aspiring business persons receive guidance directly from their idols in the industry. I'm your host, Allan Hart. Robbie Barns is twelve years old and wants to start an advertising agency. Good for you, Robbie! We've invited Clarence Ogilvy, the- Barns: (Interrupting) President and founder of the world's second largest advertising firm. Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. (Robbie extends his hand to Ogilvy who shakes it firmly.) Ogilvy: I see you've done your research. Very impressive. How did one so young get interested in advertising? Wouldn't you rather be a star? Barns: No, sir. When I see celebrities in commercials promoting products, it tells me who really has the power. Ogilvy: That's a most astute observation. So you want power. Barns: Doesn't everyone? Ogilvy: I suppose they do, but not all of them are cut out for advertising. Tell me, what's your favorite cola? Barns: Pepsi. Ogilvy: And if its competitor wanted you to promote Coca Cola instead, how would you do it? Barns: I would think of all the things I like about the flavor of Pepsi and attribute them to Coke. Ogilvy: Good answer. But what if a Coke drinker at another firm did the same for Pepsi? How would you stay ahead of him? Barns: (After thinking) I'd pay someone at the Pepsi plant to put mice into some of their bottles. And I'd see that the scandal was widely publicized. Hart: Isn't he something? Ogilvy: He's more on the ball than half my staff. But what if your rival did the same to Coke with dead rats? (Silence.) Aha! Nice to know I can still teach you something. Poison, Robbie. Nothing fatal. We're not criminals. Just something bitter enough to spoil the flavor and make Pepsi impossible to swallow. Barns: Of course! Poison! But what if they try to poison Coke the same way? Ogilvy: That's when you must beat them to it. Set up a fall guy to poison the Coke and alert the authorities so they can catch him in the act. It'll make Pepsi look so bad no one will want to drink it again. Barns: Wow. I guess that's why you're the big boss. Ogilvy: Don't worry, son. You'll get there one day. Hart: Well, there you have it. Another young visionary is well on his way to an obscenely profitable future. I'd like to thank both my guests, Robbie Barns and Clarence Ogilvy, for being with me today for this enlightening discussion. For Junior Predator, I'm Allan Hart. Voice: This installment of Junior Predator was brought to you by No Name Cola, the brand that saves you money by using boring labels.
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An Artist's Proposal

I just thought lawyers might be interested in a proposed change to legislation defining a parody from fraud. When I saw lawyers in 2007 and 2013, they first told me that SNL was parodying my work, not stealing it. I parody work, myself, and I don't object to anyone parodying my work, but I think that people should know that it is my work which is being parodied before anyone parodies it. In 2007, none of the locals knew how much of a sensation my songs and blogs were causing around the world and many TV viewers still had not discovered my online account. A parody can't be a parody if no one has heard of the author of its source. To stop further copyright violations of new artists being defended in the name of the parody, we should amend the legislation defining the parody accordingly - if it is required. To me, if no one knows my work was the source of an imitation, the imitation is not a parody but an infringement of my copyright.
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Business Assholes Lie

Do you think those business assholes who tell you to work hard are being honest? I worked my ass off to produce volumes of content and they made stars out of the lazy jerks who stole them and used them for play. Lazy, lying fuckers like that lack the character to handle the power that goes with stardom. These business assholes created monsters by making the unfit into stars and wouldn't suffer the tyranny imposed by misplaced power because they stood above their monsters. All of us were left to suffer instead. I suffered first. Then when you found out about the fraud, you suffered. When are they going to suffer? Maybe we'll have to wait for God to answer that one. I've heard of working hard and being left unpaid. It's horrible. How about working hard and being slapped in the face for it? Hardly anyone knows about that. It's much worse. It's the kind of thing that can drive a body to suicide over time. Take my word for it.
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Mister Speaker

Mister Speaker, since this is the first speech of this parliamentary session and the first of 2014, I would like to wish all members of the House a very happy new year. I hope this year will bring lots of interesting, relevant debate. With this in mind, in order to address the problem of unemployment, we first must deal with the explosion in the porcupine population in northern Manitoba. These varmints are destroying back yards across the whole Canadian frontier. At least five families have reported losses of carrots and potatoes, with one sent to a hospital after he was accidentally shot by his neighbor who mistook him for a porcupine. The problem is spiraling out of control, Mister Speaker, and I would call upon my honorable opponent to tell us what he and his party are doing about it. Mister Speaker, honorable members, we have devoted ourselves from the outset of this crisis to finding a solution that would be favorable to both sides involved. While pioneers deserve protection from property damage, the rights of porcupines are also protected in the Canadian Wildlife Act of 1969. The species lacks natural predators because of its prickly covering and eludes our nets with cunning and agility. We can't burn them out without risking a forest fire nor can we use chemicals without poisoning the ecosystem. Mister Speaker, hundreds of thousands of citizens across the country stand in unemployment lines waiting for our government to take some decisive action on this issue. Victims lie in hospital beds, lingering on the edge of death, hoping against hope, and all we hear is this flimsy excuse for negligence! Mister Speaker, it appears to me that my opponent has adopted an 'out of sight, out of mind' policy with respect to the pressing concerns of the pioneering souls who populate our remotest regions. Is he planning to wait until hordes of wild rodents are gnawing at the Senate door? (Background Voices: Here! here!) Mister Speaker, while we would like a quick end to the porcupine problem, it is not the only national crisis that demands attention. A housewife in Saskatchewan has a clogged sink and the Canadian Union of Hairdressers is threatening to go on strike. Our resources are stretched to the limit.
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Thelma Addison's Confusion: Sleeping Pills

Hi again! I'm Thelma Addison. I had this great dream last night that I was at a party and someone handed me a joint. I was just about to take a puff when I woke up. Now here's what I want to know: if I had stayed asleep and kept on dreaming, would I have gotten stoned? Instead of spending all my mad money in the dispensary, I might be better off to stock up on sleeping pills. Speaking of money, since I was a little girl I've seen the price of a loaf of bread quadrupled by inflation. But the price of a gram of choice buds has stayed fixed at ten dollars for as long as I can remember. Apparently all we need to do to end inflation is hand the economy over to dope dealers. Why hasn't this been done? It seems irresponsible to leave the economy as it is. Anyway, my friend blew my mind the other day when he explained that the Magellanic Clouds, visible only from the southern hemisphere, are dwarf galaxies whose size exceeds their distance. I don't get it. If they're as big as that, shouldn't they fill the sky? They should at least be visible in both hemispheres, I think. Maybe my friend is wrong. Well, I'm feeling a little tired now and I think I'll take a nap. Wish me luck! For Thelma Addison's Confusion I'm Thelma Addison.
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Locating the Tyrant

I liked the HBO series Rome from 2006 - or possibly earlier - and that's probably why I parodied it in 2007 and again last week when I borrowed it from the library. I hope they have more seasons of it available here. Don't worry about the repeated scripts from the past. They will eventually give way to new work and this time we can hit them hard as soon as they try to steal it. A lot of work went to waste before I could enjoy this security. Too much, I think. If an artist has to surrender his first five LP's and the first two thousand pages of his writings before he can share his work without interference, it isn't likely that there will be anything left for him at the end of it. It's really a stupid, destructive policy that stands to discourage future talent from creating and sharing new work. Fucking pricks should all be in prison. (May 2, 2014:) But I don't want to get too sidetracked with what I need to share of the thoughts provoked by watching this production. The first season focused on the legacy of Julius Caesar. Here was a man who was intelligent and who loved the people. As an insider to the power scheme at the time he knew what needed to be done to return Rome to its former prosperity after too much money and power fell into too few hands in the Senate. The senators were envious of Caesar for outmatching all of them with his achievements in expanding the Roman Empire into Gaul (France and Spain) and for winning the love of the common people. They accused him of tyranny because he wanted to force them to hand over their wealth to paid employees instead of letting slaves do everything. He wanted the senators to pay for large, expensive public projects to help revitalize the Roman economy and improve the living standard of all citizens. And he stacked the Senate with new appointees, diminishing the power of the standing ones. Most Romans would praise Caesar before they called him a tyrant, but the senators had enough money and influence to sway an army to their side. Caesar crushed this force but he did not execute his vanquished opponents. Instead he offered them friendship. In return they stabbed him to death on the Senate floor. Here in my country we had a prime minister who declared marshal law in his first term of office in the early 1970's to control an uprising in Quebec. He kept winning elections right into the 1980's. To me a tyrant must be first and foremost unpopular. A man who is loved by the people does not 'make himself king', as the Roman senators feared. The people make him king. And if the Roman senators cared about the people as much as Caesar did, they would have let Caesar pursue his benevolent dictatorship. The Roman senators had their own private interests at heart with every accusation of 'tyranny'. Today I believe that rich men still fear anyone who independently wins love from the population. I should elaborate on my earlier reference to 'riches' as the tyrant, to explain why riches are not popular. Riches derive their value from scarcity. Their payoff goes to the fewest hands possible. This makes riches unpopular by simple arithmetic. On the other hand, things like military success or great works of music or comedy pay off the whole dependent population. So I got a lot from watching this series. And now I know why Caesar was vulnerable on the day he was assassinated. It's because Lucius Vorenus wasn't by his side to protect him. This newly appointed senator with superior fighting skills abandoned Caesar after someone whispered a terrible secret in his ear about his son's true father. He had to go home at once and push his wife off a balcony. Otherwise, Caesar might have survived to accomplish many more great things.
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The Human Era

Hello. I'm Professor Stanford Hume and this is The Human Era. What gave our Cro-Magnon ancestors the edge in their wars against the Neanderthals? The secret lies in cave art from the period which proves conclusively that the Cro-Magnon had supernatural powers. The savage prehistoric culture must have favored the kinds of irrational practices that unlock paranormal abilities like E.S.P. and psychokinesis. Club wielding Neanderthals didn't stand a chance against the Cro-Magnons who were armed not just with clubs but magic spells and curses. Mystical knowledge that helped to extinguish a whole race of rival hominids eventually developed into powerful magic described in ancient records from the rise of Egypt to the fall of Rome. Then the church banned all ancient arts but astrology and face painting on the grounds that Jesus had rejected magic for making life too easy. Over the generations, in the absence of eyewitnesses, reports of impossible achievements became unbelievable. And magic is too inexplicable to be taken seriously by the rational thinkers of today. That leaves it up to ground breaking researchers like myself to restore this vital facility to my fellow homo sapiens, starting with the viewers at home. First we need an offering. While it must be living, it need not be moving, though animated life makes a more impressive sacrifice. We can achieve a common aim like protection from natural disaster with the simple gift of tea leaves to the prevailing god of thunder and crops. The leaves are boiled in water and the potion is sipped to show good faith. Like this. (A pot of tea and a cup hovers in from off camera. In mid air the pot tips over and fills the cup. Hume then takes the cup and puts it to his lips.) Not hot enough. (He puts the cup on his desk and zaps it with a bolt from his index finger before taking another sip.) That's better. Who knows how many people have died needlessly in storms and earthquakes since such resourceful practices were so rashly condemned? And outlawing the burnt offerings of key medicinal herbs has left us defenseless against incoming asteroids. It may already be too late. For The Human Era I'm Professor Stanford Hume. Good day and may the gods be with you.
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