Stroke of Genius

I told someone yesterday who is having a hard time coping with stressful thoughts to avoid thinking of things that upset him. The anger floods his veins and can induce a stroke. I guess that's what's been happening to my body in these last seven or eight years every time I am reduced to a quivering mass of jangled nerves over this unbearable situation on the internet. And how am I supposed to think of something else? I would have to live another life to be able to think of something else. And how would I be able to live another life? Simple: give me my money. Those networks and radio stations owe me millions and millions of dollars and they don't want to pay me. Millions and millions of dollars would help me to get over this brutal crime. In the meantime, how do you suppose it affects my nerves to think about my marginal financial situation after millions and millions of dollars were made from my work and passed on to TV frauds? I'm headed directly for a massive stroke now. Did any of those clever criminals want to bash my comedy post yesterday? Do you think it's clever to turn the name Freud into Fraud? I don't. Too obvious. Who but mental midgets would need ninety-nine percent of their parody punchline spelled out for them before they could see it themselves? Actually, that post is a pretty lackluster effort, but I thought the line about Jude Suss was pretty good. Probably scored a few laughs, which is more than what that joke of a blog stealing comedy crew could accomplish between all two hundred of them over a ten year period. And I wasn't even trying that hard. I know that I can score better laughs by digging for my punchlines and struggling to find humor where it is not plainly obvious. But anyone who wants to jump on a name like Freud and turn it into Fraud is obviously a lazy, stupid fucker who only knows how to steal jokes that came from hard work and struggle. I wonder why such people are still on the internet, bashing my blogs, instead of locked up in a mental institution where they belong. I guess it's because we have no justice. So Mother's Day is just around the corner. Today I read through the train of emails that kept me in touch with my mother in the last two years of her life and I must ask why we don't have a Motherfucker's Day. I think our society likes motherfuckers who forced my mother to waste the last few precious years of her life praying for justice that never came more than mothers. 2:44pm: I was forced to come back here and argue some more, so here I am at the public library again to argue with criminals on the internet about my image. Was I trying to be funny by using the title 'Ellen Degenerate' in my statement about degenerate TV stars who steal my blogs and lie to their viewers and stir hate with it? No, I don't think that's funny. I am trying to be factual, not funny. If you want a funny parody of her name, try Sappho Asparagus - now that I reclaimed it from her after she had her legions of daytime fans calling me a hack for posting it in my name as its author. I don't care if she slept with K.D. Lang. That's not why she's a degenerate. Ellen is a degenerate because she commits fraud with beautiful works of poetry like 'The Widower' on TV and then she tells dirty lies about the author to all her fans. Her behavior is immoral. And that goes for the behavior of all the stars who stole my blogs and published them on TV. I'm sure they went to prison. And I doubt they 'ruled the cell block'. Instead, I think they may have learned graphically how my cheated girl fans have been made to feel. So who thinks it's funny to call me David Fraud? Or were they trying to be serious? Why don't you all get together and decide for yourselves. Take another summer. Give the person a few songs or blogs without my permission and see what happens again. Did I write anything funny in my statements? They prefer my statements in their bullshit comedy routines. How's Mister Dreadlocks from last year? He's the last blog thief I recall being on YouTube. Who's up next? Some bum I can't sue after he destroys my image on the internet for six to eighteen months. Read about last summer and the summer before that. Then you can get to the bum who ripped me off and ended up on Saturday Night Live. They tried to resurrect his career in 2013. I must remember this date for when I'm in the hospital from the next street attack caused by theft and fraud committed by strangers with my web posts and the media shunning it. Hey, why don't you read through my statements and see how many bums are already using it as comedy right now? These hateful pricks want their own NBC comedy shows in prime time so people can love and worship them. Or maybe they want to be movie stars. The networks have decided to declare war on their fraud victim to protect their image. How silly they and all their believers will look in a few decades when future generations learn about them from my blogs. Who'll boast that they slept with Mick Jagger then? Who'll want to show off their Jay Leno autograph then? I've already achieved this victory and I'm not even rich yet. Imagine how much worse life would be for them if I were successful. The networks and music labels have an obvious motive for supporting fraud with my work now, in order to silence their victim, and I'm amazed that they're allowed to go about it so openly. Anyway, if people want to be hated by their grandchildren, it's their choice. I don't waste my life on TV anymore. It's just a big barren desert. I get more stimulation from staring at my ceiling. You should read back over my posts from the last three summers and notice the same sickening pattern. I'll remember today's date for when I'm in the hospital in September and refer you back to this blog to show you how I predicted it. I hope that will give me a little break from posting. I could use it. 6:27pm: I've noticed an error in the program I was using to hold my page to my account. I'll be working on fixing this for the next hour or so. 7:07pm: I've repaired my page holding program to the point I started using it in March. Google should be on the lookout for https crime now that we have https here. Did those pages need to be yanked out of any criminal file structures over the last two months? Probably, eh? These fucking strangers who call me an asshole think it's okay to take my words without asking me. What fucking creeps. I hope the cops catch them and beat the shit out of them again. Last time probably wasn't enough. They want that music business pussy. They want that pussy that only the corporate broadcasters can give them. And NBC wants us to worship them as stars. Leave me alone in the fucking library to deal with their fucking criminal hacking. What if I didn't know JavaScript? How many people do? Just another thing they don't know how to do that they want to get paid for. (Dec 2016: I had to abandon my experiments with JavaScript's 'location object' because they screwed up my file structure in Blogger too much.) Someone asked me if I believed in Jesus today and I said yes. And she said she did too and I congratulated her. Jesus saved my rock. I thought He might not like it but I wouldn't have it now without Him. He is my Lord. It doesn't matter what you call a vastly superior intelligence. Call it holy or call it technology that is beyond our comprehension. I believe in an intelligence that is as high above mine as mine is above a dog's. A good dog is an obedient dog. And I want to obey my God. I don't want to question Him. That's why I would never lie with music or laughs or poetry. I think it is a mortal sin that would be profoundly punished by a vastly superior intelligence. On the other hand, I think that such intelligence is capable of delivering pleasures far exceeding sex. Such pleasures would well serve a music business victim like myself. I hope this is my last post for a while. I want to break the summer cycle of horror. 7:27: I'm taking my code out of my pages until I can figure out what's going on with it. Fucking ridiculous. I shouldn't have to write it. May 6: I'll add today's note here where people can be reminded of the fact that rich people on TV owe me millions of dollars. We must not forget this when we assess my words. I stayed home for forty-eight hours this time and didn't smoke. I'm lasting longer and longer with this plan, though I broke down today and bought a pack of Pall Malls. I like the name. I think it is an honest name for a brand of cigarettes: pall as in pallbearer and mall as in the misspelled French word for sick. Yesterday, I wrote my own version of the tortoise and the hare. I was thinking of my painfully slow progress on the internet these last sixteen years. The last time I may have thought of this was the last time I had years and years of work showing in my Blogger account and was still unsuccessful. It talks about how the tortoise fell behind the hare until they came to a lake. The hare had to make a long detour while the tortoise plowed across the waves with the speed of an Evinrude. Sound familiar? These highly original thoughts (I know someone plagiarized that story in '07) come from writing about my personal experience and confining myself to a unique environment. I have almost no influences in contemporary culture. I block them out and submerge myself in past periods that offer me an escape from my current misery. Right now I am fascinated by 1940's London. Seeing what those poor Londoners endured for six years stops me from feeling too sorry for myself. I kind of like the hits from that time, especially The King Is Still in London. I can't get it out of head. It's so catchy. George VI might have talked funny but he was genuinely brave. It's the first time I've seen the full destruction of a city whose Saint Paul's and Covent Garden I visited in 1988. If the Germans would have struck while I was visiting, they would have blown me to pieces. But almost all the footage of the Battle of Britain focuses on its air war and shuns the shameful destruction below.
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