What Happened at Nasco

Since I deleted my original text concerning this subject, I have heard nothing but lies about what happened at Nasco. That's because everyone who knows played a role in the crime. So I'm going to re-post my version of those events right now. I went to Nasco in perhaps mid 2008 or early 2009 - after I forgot all those dozens of songs I wrote within a five month period in 2007. I had just been approved for disability benefits and I needed a way to supplement my income so I could afford food in my overpriced apartment. I heard they had an opening for a forklift driver. I went to see a very nice lady with an English accent there and I showed her my resume. She hired me as a temporary worker. My first day on the job was extremely weird. As I tried to work, they played a recording of what sounded like me singing Frenetic through the loudspeakers and observed my reactions very closely. I didn't recognize myself in the recording. Then, for the rest of the work day, they played song after song. The more convinced they were that I had forgotten these songs, the worse they treated me. They also quizzed me on my blogs, asking me questions I couldn't answer about my goddess and my angels. I couldn't remember anything. (I remember it all now, though.) By the end of the day, one of them accused me of having just gotten out of jail after being beat up - insinuating that the dark circles under my eyes were bruises. One person stood out as some kind of authority. He wore glasses and seemed to be in charge. He said, 'I want to hear Size.' He played the music for Size with no vocal track and waited for me to sing on command. I thought that if I could sing at that moment that I might get a job as a singer, but I couldn't think of any words. The next time they played music for me, it wasn't my voice on the recordings but the voice of a visiting 'musician'. Everyone sat down and watched me struggle alone while they enjoyed this recording. It lasted about an hour. The only hint I had that it was my work was Satellite Sam because I wrote a short story with that title and I still remembered it. It made me suspicious enough to approach the V.I.P. 'musician' about it, as he sat on his chair, but he just laughed away my concerns. That day ended with Gowan's Criminal Mind blasting out through the speakers. I guess it was meant to shame me, but all it did was confuse me more. People seemed to respect me when Madonna was in town, but then they turned around and started hating me as soon as she left. When I worked the U2 show, I could tell that I was hated. I worked on a handful of productions and changed the floor out at UBC's Thunderbird Arena a few times. While working at UBC, a girl approached me with a page of my writing (Safety Rules/Hide the Forklift) but she ran away when I asked her where she got it. And a couple of girls dropped by one day on the set of Julie Andrews' Tooth Fairy while I was complaining about my wisdom tooth pain online. They asked me what the title of the movie was. I told them 'Tooth Fairy' and they thought it was endlessly amusing. I reported all of my earnings from Nasco on my disability stub and they were not large enough to cause any deductions from my disability cheque. By mid 2009 I was so hated on the job that they looked for any excuse to fire me in disgrace. That's probably why they took my comment on Plato's Republic about men and women exercising naked in the gymnasium together as 'sexual harrassment'. I recall posting a video where I discussed this online. I was called in for maybe two more five-hour jobs at UBC's Thunderbird Arena, where the students loved to mock me, and then that was it. They invited me to the Christmas party that year, but it was just so that their hero band could humiliate me behind my back while I was there. I didn't go. I was back into my music, trying to prove that I didn't suck as much as everyone said I sucked, so I told them that my roadie days were done and I never returned. But that wasn't the end of my unfortunate association with them because we all know what followed shortly after in mid 2010. The first sign that I was on the way up was kicking that comedy star off of Saturday Night Live after I inadvertently rewrote some old blogs that turned out to be the material for his popular stand-up routine. (Did any of you know that he was kicked off SNL because of me? Of course not! That would have impressed you and made you trust me when I say I write my own blogs! I didn't even know myself until recently.) As soon as it looked like I might impress people with my creative authority, Dateline NBC stepped in and made it look like they were the powerful ones, working on my behalf. (The media in general has been going out of its way to make me look unimpressive and to intercept or divert glories that were coming to me. That's why I'm glad I'm responsible for my own progress now. No one can say Dateline helped me with that comedy jerk this time.) That's why Dateline NBC had the cameras on the ordinary workers and my comparatively ordinary relatives, too, though my older brother George is really nice: to make me look ordinary. I erased this content from my earlier posts, thinking that if I gave my adversaries a break, they would give me a break. Obviously they had no intention of returning the favour. There was a circus going on on Powell Street, under the window of my room at the Hotel Europe. A lot of Nasco workers were involved. They stopped by to beat me up one night, but then they all turned and ran. So strange. And that guy with the glasses showed up with false promises of money and power. Luckily I didn't fall for it because he was probably just trying to get me into a car - if you know what I mean. And Nasco workers participated in the punishment of that band. And after they punished the band, they said, 'Now you're all going to work for Nasco.' I honestly had no idea it was such a crime to work there. Why do we need Nasco? What good is it doing? Isn't there a union that already works on production sets and concerts? Is Nasco some sort of gateway job for newly released convicts? Isn't that a little hazardous for artists?
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