Visions of Paradise

Hello down there! Rip Saint Michael here on Visions of Paradise, where we send our contestants to a paradise of their own description, as long it passes the ethics test. And we're going to start with Bartholomew Black, a coal miner from Saskatchewan. What is your Heaven like Bartholomew? Well it has lots of chicks in it and they're all my slaves. And everyone loves me and has to do what I say. And I get to live in the best houses and eat in the best restaurants and have the best cars and I get to look down on everybody. Everybody? What about God? We'll keep Him in a hole in the floor with a secret trap door that only I know about. Then where does your Heaven come from? From me. Mr Black, I'm afraid you just failed the ethics test. But how? If your Heaven came from you, you'd have already given it to yourself by now. Your Heaven comes from above you. Okay, fine, we'll release God and let him have the run of the house. I was talking about this show. I thought the Kingdom of God was within me! Yes, but it comes from above you. You'll never find it unless you make that connection. Now get the Hell off this stage so we can move on to our next contestant.
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Yawn?

I'd like to thank my music fans if I have any. The only thing they could like about most of my plain videos is the soundtrack. I give them credit for having the imagination to let the music stir up their own pictures. But if you took out their soundtracks, my videos would certainly be boring. What else is boring? How about work? For instance, working on a song might be boring compared to going out and living it up with the stars. Once you have a 'lifestyle of the rich and famous' you're never boring. But even though I might be boring, I'm not bored. As this six-year-long insult wears on I am too preoccupied with how I will cope from day to day. I'm engaged in a desperate struggle against ridiculously overwhelming and unjust opposition. Some listeners might be capable of hearing it in my music.
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Rec Room

Hi children! Boy, we're going to have so much fun on Rec Room today. We're going to play with toy trains and sing songs and dress up like engineers! But first I need to give you an important message from your parents. You know the tooth fairy? She has an enemy called the tooth gremlin. The tooth gremlin hides in your mouth and waits for your baby teeth to fall out so it can jump on your new teeth and drill holes into them. And for every quarter you get from the tooth fairy, the tooth gremlin makes you pay a hundred dollars. The only thing that can stop the tooth gremlin is tooth paste. So brush up. And use a toothbrush with a rubber pick on the end. That's for stabbing the tooth gremlin when he tries to take cover in the spaces between your teeth.
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Shame on Them

It's funny when shame is forced upon you and you're innocent. It's forced upon you by the overwhelming majority of people who don't know any better, so you have to accept it when you're innocent. Is this entry funny so far? I don't worry about my blogs being funny. So I probably would never take anyone's funny blog. But many thought I did because my writing made the people who stole it look so honest. Have you noticed how I might start a new entry with a few lines and it won't be that funny? I leave it up when it isn't funny so that I can try to expand on it. I am interested in creating original work more than I am in writing funny material. But these funny people all had the world thinking I needed to be funny like them.
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Behind the Scenes

We're here to audition for the play. We're not holding auditions. But you can man the curtain. And when you're finished go online and malign this Facebook page. What? And you can help unload the trucks. Then we need you to plant these drugs in the back seat of that car across the street. You mean narcotics? You! You'll be perfect to crash the wedding. Get up in front of everyone and announce that you've been having an affair with the groom. That's terrible! And we'll dress you up as a priest and make a lewd display of yourself in a park. Excuse me but we're actors not a production crew! Your want ad promised parts in this play! It did? Yes! It says 'characters needed'. See? That's supposed to say 'character assassins'.
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Enemy Agent

(A police training facility.) All we know is that the enemy agent is one of the women in this group of cadets. Now Taylor is in top physical condition and goes for mysterious walks at night. She's my prime suspect. It could also be Hamilton. I heard her speaking on the phone the other day in what sounded like an eastern European accent. But there's no way it can be Parker. Parker's flunking everything. She's too much of an bumbling oaf to be a spy. Just look at her. (Cut to Parker aiming her gun at a target and dropping the weapon before she can pull the trigger.) (Headquarters.) Have you found out who the enemy agent is yet? No. The women I thought were the foreign agent all turned out to be domestic agents like myself. There's no one left but Parker. And it couldn't possibly be Parker. Yes, we offered her a job here as a records clerk after she flunked her basic training. She's harmless. Look at her. (Parker puts a sheet of paper into her typewriter and pushes the machine off of her desk as she tries to type. It hits the floor with a loud clang.) By the way, that reminds me... (Through his private line:) Parker? Can you bring me that list of undercover agents again? I need to look up one of their home addresses. (Sirens wail at a military base on red alert.) Who could have activated the Doomsday Device? I have no idea. There was no one near the thing except Parker. Well it couldn't be Parker. I know, I know...
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Celebrity Roundup

Basterson: Evenin' folks. I'm Marshall Matt Basterson and welcome to a brand new season of Celebrity Roundup! Out there in that plain we got some celebrity outlaws on the loose. And Dwight here is gonna tell us about one of them before he rides on after him. Dwight: His name's Clay Concrete. Basterson: Well now, that's the star who stole the show - by plagiarizing its content from the internet. Dwight: Shucks, I don't care about that. He stole a hundred dollars from my daddy and I'm a-gonna git 'm fer it. Basterson: Go git em Dwight! (Dwight mounts his horse and heads off towards the plain. He easily spots Concrete and pursues him, overtaking and lassoing him. Then he dismounts and hogties the fallen star. He drapes Concrete over the back of his horse, remounts, and rides victoriously back to his starting point. The host captures his finish time on a stopwatch and the fans cheer.) Good job Dwight! Your time will be hard to beat! (Addressing next mounted guest) Up next is Brandy Birch. Brandy, I hear you got a little dispute with a popular singer. Birch: That's right, Matt. That little hayseed, Windy Huff! Basterson: Isn't that the singer who recruited minors to smuggle drugs? Birch: I don't know, but she stole away my man and I'm-a gonna git her fer it. Basterson: Go git em Brandy! Matter o' fact we hear she cheated and took cover in the bushes so we're letting you take this hunting dog along to help sniff her out. Birch: Much obliged. (She rides off to the plain with the dog barking enthusiastically alongside. They approach the edge of the open terrain and the dog disappears into the bush. Canine growls and a woman's shrieks follow. The dog reappears with his mouth around Huff's wrist, leading her into captivity.) Commercial: 'The Heel Saddle' Sock Patch (A laundromat. A young man's socks come under the scrutiny of his fiancee.) Woman: The heels are worn out of all your socks! Haven't you heard of the Heel Saddle? Voice: The Heel Saddle sock patch fits snugly around the heel of any stocking. And the glue that holds it in place is as strong as aluminum. (The laundromat a month later.) Woman: (to man) Now your socks all have holes in their toes! Haven't you heard of the Toe Mitten? Voice: Get the most out of your socks with the Heel Saddle sock patch. (Back at the ranch, the celebrities are slung over the backs of horses with their posteriors pointed out and their hands tied behind their backs. Basterson, Birch, and Dwight, stand at a fire, heating their metal branding rods.) Basterson: We all ready for the branding? Dwight, what sign are you using for your star? Dwight: I'm a-brandin' him with a big capital 'H' for hundred, as in hundred dollars! Basterson: Well you just go on and brand that hide! Dwight: I most assuredly will. (Dwight brands Concrete's backside as the latter howls in pain.) Basterson: And Brandi, what are you gonna brand your star with? Birch: I was thinkin' I'd use this 'H' fer whore. Basterson: Fine, fine. Birch: 'Ceptin' I'd like to brand her face with it, you know, as a warnin' to all men. Basterson: Judges, can we allow that? (Pause) The judges say it's the first time anyone's branded a face but there's no rules agin' it. So you just get on over there and brand that face! Birch: Yee-haw! (Birch bypasses Huff's backside and applies the red hot branding iron to Huff's face. Sizzling is accompanied by a dreadful scream.) Shut up! I didn't ask for a song, you bitch!
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Great Expectations

I do not write of my ownership of my work from pride but from necessity. It is not my job to tell people about me. I'm supposed to be free to entertain them. But if you want to know who has too much pride I think it's all the people on TV who don't want to admit they made a mistake about me. And if you want to know who is 'cold', ask yourself what kind of people could profit from imposing tortures reserved for serial killers on an innocent artist and then try to blame him when they can't get away with it. I enjoyed watching a Sanford and Son video from the library. At the end of the show they mention its source in the credits, a British sitcom called Steptoe and Son. It didn't hurt Redd Foxx to name his sources. And Richard Pryor is listed as one of the show's writers in a couple of episodes. I guess that's because Richard Pryor didn't write music so he was allowed to take credit for his comedy writing. If I had that evidence that they tried to use to make themselves look honest, I would have sent those bad stars to a long-term incarceration. I would have prosecuted them for more than one count of fraud each out of the grand total of possibly four thousand. And I would have had the cameras on them as they were being arrested and led away. It's important to inform the world as soon as a trusted public figure is caught lying. Don't forget that I wasn't expected to rewrite my old work. And that means that the Crystalids were expected to stay on the radio with my music. Maybe my new song would be on the radio right now - only they expected that it would have come from a prison cell instead of a room. After I served a year of my multiple year sentence, they'd give me a guitar and a camcorder as a reward for good behaviour. The resulting new song would be confiscated naturally. Something else that wasn't expected was for a person classified with a disability to prove that he had any value. Once you are entered into the system they've written you off. Now they no longer encourage you to succeed but bank on your failure. Your achievements can only cause trouble you're expected to be a failure for the rest of your life. I gather that few people expect anyone past the age of forty-five to reach for any sort of goal. If you haven't made it by the time you're thirty, you're expected to give up and just wait to die. And now if it's true that some recently unemployed workers are blaming me for their misfortune, I should say that such jobs owe their existence to artists like myself. And I should add that it must have been nice for each of these workers to get paid to work on each of their shows because I remain unpaid after working on all of them. And as insiders do they know how their superiors spent all that extra time I saved them by writing those scripts? Maligning me with false accusations? Bashing my blogs and songs? Defacing my image? Harassing me with crank calls? Or were these chores interfering with the social schedule too much and assigned to a worker? How's that ex-NBC actor turned CBC pet? We all know that he put his name on my writing, and everyone seems comfortable with it, but is it true that he also tried to put my name on his writing? Do we all support that kind of thing now? Because I got the impression this morning that a few people think this character assassin deserves a pat on the back for braving the stage! Sure, bravo. By the way, how many cast members does SNL have? What are they paying them for? Does CBC miss being able to play my recordings of Pure and Harmony and use a joke name for their author? It looks like a lot of decent respectable people expected me to do their jobs as they took all the money and credit for it and told everyone I was a monster. And if the corporate media wanted to be heroes for helping me, they had their chance six years ago.
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Justice by the Riverbank

Judge: Hello children! I'm Jumpy the Kangaroo, the judge of this assembly. Today Gus Guinea Pig is on trial for breaking into Gerry Gerbil's house and chewing up all his barley. What have you to say in your defense, Gus? Defendant: He's a rat! Judge: No he isn't. He is clearly a gerbil. Defendant: He fondled a ten-year-old girl! Judge: That was his owner. And she fondled him. Defendant: He killed a crow! Plaintiff: I did not! Defendant: Yes you did! I saw the mangled corpse on your front lawn. Witness: Excuse me, your honour, I think I can clear that up. Judge: Who are you? Witness: Cornelius Cat. Me and my buddy Sylvester wanted to play badminton on Gerry's lawn and we didn't have a birdie. Then I saw this crow, but Sylvester said he saw it first. And, well, when we were finished fighting over it, we didn't want it any more, so we left it there and went home. Judge: Gus Guinea Pig this court of animal law has heard your evidence and finds you guilty. You are hereby sentenced to have your body donated for scientific research... Defendant: That's nothing! Judge: ...while you are still alive. Take him away.
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Caution

Anyone with my original blogs would notice the link to my YouTube songs on my original shows. I'm sure they knew all along that the Crystalids were a fraud. And they were trying to get them to play on Saturday Night Live. Anyone who collaborated with these people to mess up my birthday last year should know that I can get them back for it.
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Notable Effort

I enjoyed reading Dostoyevsky's Notes from the Underground. I found myself sympathizing with the narrator's alienation from society. He talks about the average worker's fear to oppose their unjust exploitation and how some of them pass it off to themselves as 'good sense'. In my family my decision to work on my music and writing was not supported for most of my life - though it seems to be supported for the moment. There was no need to ask my relatives about my talent because they did not believe in my talent. They thought I should get a real job and be like them. They thought so for twenty years, all the way to when I wrote that batch of songs in 2007. So if I never needed to ask my relatives about my talent, why did a major network need to ask them? Maybe it's because the people on the network all have real jobs and they don't know what it's like to have condescending relatives telling them to quit their music for twenty years. It's a labour of love to create music, but it is still labour. My latest song took me twelve hours to compose and record. It is listed by Garageband as My Song 187.
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Holy Cow Restaurants

Try our delicious new Holy Burger made of one hundred percent sacred beef imported from India, including the vegetables. And here's a satisfied customer to tell you all about it: Saint Thomas Aquinas. Saint Thomas what did you think of your meal? Illuminating. I was just about to give up and go atheist when I tasted it and realized that there must be a God and this was His burger. So it saved you? It sure did. I saw the light and I realized that it was coming from myself, from this halo. Oh ha ha. I'm sure that's just the glow of good health. Anyway, there you have it folks. I'm sure he'd swear it on a stack of Bibles. You can trust the taste of our new Holy Burger from Holy Cow restaurants, available until Friday.
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The Return of Bionic Bigfoot

(A group of extraterrestrial visitors in human form discuss our technology from their mountain hideout.) How are humans able to build stadiums when they don't have a giant hairy robot to do the heavy lifting for them? They use a thing they call heavy equipment. Ha! Primitive humans limited to crude heavy equipment! What's heavy equipment?
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Real Scripture 1

From the Book of Jeremiah the Bullfrog: They divided my sketches among them and of my songs they cashed lots.
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How to Escape Justice

(A doctor's office.) Patient: Doc, I'm rich. If I die I will have to part with my money and spend eternity in a soup line. You must help me escape justice. You must make me immortal. Can you do it? Doctor: Yes. Patient: That's a relief. How much will it cost me? Doctor: All your money.
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Emotional Intelligence

Good afternoon, and welcome to Emotional Intelligence. Wrapping up last week's program, when someone slaps you in the face, don't kiss him. This is an inappropriate reaction for harmful stimuli. The right way to react is to cover your face with your hands and ask him to stop. And if he doesn't, knee him in the stomach and punch his face on the way down. Today we're going to talk about jealousy. There's nothing wrong with being jealous. It's quite normal. But emotionally intelligent jealousy is directed against an appropriate target. Are you still jealous of the man next door because a pretty girl said hi to him? What about rock stars? Pretty girls do a lot more than say hi to them and yet you admire them. What kind of life does the man next door live? Is he as poor and miserable and lonely as you are? But you envy him and admire rock stars who are pampered and never have to spend a moment alone...
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Kill the Talent

We're back for the final portion of Kill the Talent. So far Dylan has performed well as an artist and a humourist. With this alone he can visit the poison gas chamber behind Door Number Two, but if he proves himself to be a musician in this final test, he'll make it all the way to the exploding car behind Door Number One. What are you going to do, Dylan? Give me that guitar. (Applause.) Did you hear that, folks? He wants to go all the way! All right, here you go, (handing over the instrument) and good luck. (Dylan plays one verse of Mary Had a Little Lamb with no singing. The host is moved by the performance.) That was beautiful. So what do you say out there? We have an artist and a humourist and a musician, one of our most talented contestants yet! I say he's earned these car-keys. (Dylan raises his arms in triumph as the crowd cheers wildly.)
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Fans of the Flames

How many counts of fraud was Tina charged with? I make it several hundred. What's the current sentence in the United States for several hundred counts of fraud? Two weeks? What was the fuss I heard last night? Another challenge against my claims? Is Jay Leno still on TV? Wasn't he charged with fraud? Did they do anything about Jimmy's Friendly Frauleins? No? Is Taylor coming up for another show soon? How did everyone like the last one? Do people turn to the corporate media to learn about the social media? I thought it was supposed to work the other way around. I thought no one could trust the corporate media because they're on the payroll. I haven't heard a radio report since the 2011(?) hockey finals in Vancouver. An announcer said that Calgary fans were chanting 'Anyone but Vancouver.' Why did they choose to share that story here? Because the corporate media will say anything to provoke a response. They don't care how much it upsets you. Are many readers tuning in to see the corporate media legitimize my claims? Do they make you wait through the whole broadcast night after night without doing it? Sounds like they have you on a hook. It's not your fault or anything, but that puts me on a hook, one that makes me feel sorry for worms. Were any groupies offended by that last attempt groupie humour, The Groupie Farm? I erased it. Sorry. I'm sure no groupies out there ever accidentally offended me. Sure would be great to go out and sing my songs at a venue around here. Is it safe to do that? How many bands are in this now? Is it just Crytalids fans, Oasis fans, Taylor Swift fans, and Rolling Stones fans who have been turned against me with my songs? And is it only Saturday Night Live fans and Simpsons fans and Family Guy fans and Tonight Show fans and MAD TV fans and Daily Show fans and Dateline fans and Jimmy Kimmel fans and Conan fans (remember 'Dagwood'?) and other fans of televised comedy who have been turned against me with my writing? Irish fans, sorry for complaining about the U2 show. It was a good performance of their own songs and nothing for anyone else to complain about. How's Dateline? Did they come into close contact with Dean in early November last year? Did they need to get him to write something? Lyrics perhaps? What kind of a pen did they give him? Was it one of those shiny gold ones that might be used to sign a serious business contract? Because I lost a pen like that. I think it might have fallen off my window ledge and landed on Powell Street outside my building a year and a half earlier. I want my pen. I found it on a mailbox and it's mine. If it isn't returned to me in twenty-four hours I'm calling the cops. Let me tell you how I feel about Mick Jagger: I loved him. I drew a flattering portrait of Mick and Keith when I was in High School. Ask my art teacher. Ask my niece about the book I gave her in 2004: The Simpsons and Philosophy. Ask anyone how much I used to enjoy good comedy on TV. I remember writing something very nice about Oasis, too. And I remember writing about how I wanted George Carlin in my Heaven with Jesus. I guess they didn't feel the same way about me.
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Survival Fool

Survival is not my favourite topic, but I'm aware of some readers who are interested in knowing how I survived all this trauma. I think my sense of humour saved me. I am sensitive and I often get hurt, but I have learned to search my pain for a laugh. Some of my best punchlines came from intense suffering. Take the Soundproof sketch about a suicide line that coaxes repeat callers to suicide. It arose from some of my worst personal experiences and darkest contemplations. When you suffer, you have a firm grip on the absurdity of living. We laugh at the absurd. I'm not worried that any future success will make me too happy and comfortable to produce funny material. I think I will always suffer. But even if an easier life does slow down my productivity, I still have my songs. I hope my funny writing doesn't interfere with my musical success. It was meant as a bonus to my music, not as a detriment.
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The Business of Starving

Mark Twain said that money is always more respectable than virtue. Of course, he was a humourist. It wouldn't be funny if it wasn't so absurd. Banks don't think bank robberies are funny and artists don't think that music fraud is funny. When money is used to attack virtue, say, by being put into the hands of a slanderer as payment for defaming an innocent artist, it ceases to be respectable. I hope the higher-ups in this business will ultimately agree with me on this. If I come across as occasionally resenting business people, it may be because of our clash of attitudes. I am a free thinking artist. I have the imagination to picture a beautiful paradise on Earth where money doesn't exist. Of course, they love money and they think I am stupid for not loving it as much as they do. And I try not to pass judgement on the suffering of others because I think everyone suffers. But they don't have any problem eating their meals and living their comfortable lives while they pass judgement on others who don't get to eat much or to have very much comfort. These are normal business attitudes which I have noticed over the course of my life. But then when you consider business people paying others for my suffering, it dismisses my suffering as worthless. Very upsetting. And when a business person pays someone else for my talent, it takes away my beauty. I have long cherished my talent as one of the few things I had going for me. And people were surprised that I wasn't hideously ugly in my live videos. They'd gotten used to seeing my beauty in Dean and in Tina and in Jon and Mick, which left me looking like an ordinary loser with nothing to give and who needed attention. The global 'hate Dave' party wasn't the average person's fault. Such people were misled. And I hope I'll give my parents some peace by erasing the family information which I should never have been forced to write. My family is irrelevant to my work. And I haven't laughed at funny faces since I was six years old. I wish NBC would stop trying to make me look ordinary after they turned those jerks of theirs into beloved stars with my blog. But don't feel bad about it. I want you to feel happy that I have survived their brutality. They don't deserve their cushy jobs. Too bad we can't fire them.
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Don't Ask

Does it still say IN GOD WE TRUST on dollar bills? Why? Doesn't that make the one with the most bank notes the one who trusts God the most? Does everyone believe that the banks trust God the most? I thought God was the one who said THOU SHALT NOT STEAL. How many God trusting banknotes did Saturday Night Live get to turn my blog into fraud for three years? How many God trusting banknotes did the Crystalids get to record and perform my songs? How am I supposed to live my life without the comfort of these God trusting banknotes they gave to others in order to make my life harder? And now I hear that I'm not the only one who suffers. I hear that these God trusting banknotes are used to attack my innocent supporters. ARE THERE NO LAWS IN THIS BUSINESS? They can just come to my building in the middle of the night and try to lure me into the car with false promises of a recording contract? They can just knock on my door if they want to throw me in jail? No one will ask any questions? But what happens when they go to jail? It seems like they get right back out and are then free to start an unjust campaign against me and against my innocent supporters. They already had a big party with my blog and they got you to thank Tina and George for it. And we've already seen how awesome my music sounds through a loud system and they got you to thank the Crystalids for it. But now I have my work. And it looks like I'm supposed to save my welfare cheques to pay for my own sound system and my own filming gear and crew. In God they trust? Fine. Just don't ask if God trusts them.
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Dirk Longjohn: Ram of God

Voice: He's a star ship captain with an aggressive new style... (The ship encounters an asteroid.) Officer: Captain Longjohn, if we hit this asteroid with a probe, we should be able to alter its trajectory sufficiently to avert collision with our home planet. Longjohn: Never mind sending out a wimpy little probe. Navigator, ramming speed! Prepare to ram! Officer: But captain! Longjohn: You heard me. (The ship crosses paths with an enemy.) Enemy Captain: (through viewing screen) If you do not leave Nebulian space at once I shall be forced to open fire. Longjohn: I'm sorry, captain. I'm not reading your transmission well enough. Could you move in a little closer? Enemy Captain: Oh all right... I said - Longjohn: Ramming speed! Voice: But for all his celestial invincibility, his heart could still be broken. Girl: Aren't you getting tired of the same old game? Why don't you let me ram you this time? Longjohn: No, I'm afraid this just won't work. Voice: He's Dirk Longjohn, Ram of God! Coming soon to a star base near you.
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