Willing to Help

You all know where my heart is, hopefully. But I don't need to talk about it here. It looks cheap.
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© 2011. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Forgive Them Not?

'How many times should I forgive my neighbours?' asked Peter of the Lord. 'Because every time I forgive them, they take it as an excuse to trespass against me some more. Is seven times enough?' The Lord answered, 'Not seven, but seven times seventy-seven times should you forgive your neighbour. That's five hundred and thirty-nine times, I think. That should be enough. After that you can damn them to Hell for all eternity.'
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Good Bye

I have a few things to say before I go. I'll try to keep it short. To doubters who ask why the resurrected Jesus only appeared to his disciples, maybe he didn't want to get crucified again. To those who think a loving God doesn't want us to suffer, loving has brought me my greatest suffering. To the shadowy group who killed the Kennedys and blew up the World Trade Centre, I can see why you might need to do those things: you're evil. But how could you let them steal all my songs? To all business people, I don't hate you. I only have a problem with the ones that ruined my life directly. To rich misers who think I'm making them unpopular, you have always been unpopular. Haven't you ever read A Christmas Carol? Haven't you ever seen It's A Wonderful Life? Haven't you ever watched The Simpsons? To anyone concerned about a nuclear war starting up, don't be. There are far more jobs in manufacturing conventional weapons. To people who think I shouldn't make waves, in a society as corrupt as ours, waves can only help. To people who hate me for being right, I'd rather be wrong. To people who want me to get a phone, I had one for years, but all I ever got were crank calls. To anyone climbing the stairway to fame and fortune, watch out for that last step. It's an elevator shaft filled with boiling oil. To folks who don't like my use of titles and honorifics, I'm just being polite when I say 'Your Majesty' or 'Your Excellency'. And I don't insist that anyone address me by my full title, Your Omnipotence. To would-be Facebook imposters, I have not used my Facebook account since June 2010 because I cannot remember my password and I am disconnected from my original email. To MySpace, the only online accounts I have are with Google and YouTube. To anyone who thinks I'm chasing stardom, I tell you, I only write my blogs and songs in self-defense. To anyone wondering about my sex life, don't worry. I have the most fantastic sex. It's fantastic because it all happens in my imagination. To people who eavesdrop on me when I grumble alone in my apartment or room, I often don't mean the things I say when I am possessed by the devil. If you think my insults are bad, you should hear them when my skin turns grey and I foam at the mouth, though you wouldn't understand them at such times because I say them in Latin. To the pastor who thinks I'm Satan, you have the wrong guy there. If I were Satan, I could play the fiddle at least as well as Charlie Daniels. To all those who thought a poet would not want to drive a forklift, what about one who writes poems about forklift driving? To the inventors of The Six Million Dollar Man, thanks a lot. If it wasn't for you making artificial limbs look so glamourous, I never would have consented to that knee surgery. To any women who feel bad for me that I'm still a virgin after all of this, thank you for your concern, but I'm sure I'll one day know how it feels to kiss a girl when she's only wearing a bathing suit. To my childhood priest: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been thirty years since my last confession and these are my sins. I forgot to tell you that when they gave me my hearing test in Grade Five, I lied on one of my answers. I should have said 'higher' instead of 'lower.' I did it for attention. And, also, I'm afraid that I coveted my neighbour's dog. It was a really nice German Shepherd. To the school system, what did some of you teachers have against me? Didn't I keep your faces in proportion in all those drawings that circulated around the classroom? To anyone setting up a writing contest, let me guess: the prize money is a small portion of what you receive for cashing in all the other submissions in your own name. And to teachers of courses on 'how to be a writer', if you taught your course honestly, your classroom would be vacant before the end of the first lesson. To the U.S. Federal Reserve: time to change the motto on your currency from In God We Trust to Don't Get Caught!. To the mother of the beautiful red-haired child from two years ago, why did you look at me with such horror when I told you that the gene for red hair gives her a higher tolerance for pain? I was just sharing what I read in the news. Ideas for the next few television seasons? Here's a horrible one, how about Vikings? Still haven't seen them produce anything with Vikings. Great comic potential there. Differences between the Vikings. You know, the British Vikings halt their burning and looting to go back to their longboat for a spot of tea, while the French Vikings...etc. And how about a sketch or cartoon about the Talent Thief: 'Larry, what happened to your jump shot?' 'I don't know, coach. There was a suspicious looking person in the hallway last night, just before I went to sleep...' How do you spot a talent thief? He's the only one playing the bagpipes with one hand, rolling a joint with the other, while figure skating on his head. To any fans who may have lost faith in me after I took down my first account, couldn't you tell from songs like Son, the World's a Shithole that I was also the author of Size? To Jesus, who said, 'Consider the ravens. They neither sow nor reap, they have no barn, yet God feeds them...', did you take a close look at what God feeds them, Lord? Puke and breadcrumbs. To the nice lady who felt sorry about my losing my king-size bed, grieve not. At least I have a king-size room. To the government, you cannot end unemployment by calling the Welfare Office The Ministry of Employment and Income Assistance any more than you can reform criminals by calling the prison system The Ministry of Corrections. The only job you create in both instances is for a bureaucrat with an active imagination. To manufacturers of plastic toy machine guns, why can't you make one that doesn't break when you use it to rifle-whip a stone gargoyle? And, while I'm at it, you could also take a few lessons in realism from the manufacturers of plastic explosives. To deep thinkers, you were never in heaven if it ends in hell. Good memories only add to one's hell. True heaven is for keeps. To people who mock how I say the word, question, I'm working on that: quesssssschun, quesssssssssssssssschun, quessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssschun... To anti-computer-virus software designers, how do you know how to kill those viruses when no one else does?
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© 2011. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Title: Whatever Doesn't Offend

I saw an article in the paper today showing how Boston Pizza, in order to stay in business while the Vancouver Canucks compete with the Boston Bruins for the Stanley Cup, have changed their name from Boston Pizza to Vancouver Pizza. It's a wimpy move, but an understandable one. Business often has no choice but to wimp out. Things like this come up and they have to 'adapt.' It's like they can't afford to have integrity - another beef I have with the money system. I'll tell you straight up now that I support the home town team in this competition. Everyone knows I've had a rough time out here, but it's not the town's fault. I'm not the greatest hockey fan in the world, but I still know the words to their song about 'root-toot-toot for the home team ... if they don't win it's a shame' - one of Stompin' Tom's finest compositions. And I agree with his lyrics one hundred percent. To the kid who said I should leave town if I don't like it, well, even if I wanted to, that costs money and, well, everyone knows what happened to all my money. Besides that, you little brat, I've been living here since long before you were born. I've said lots of nice things about Vancouver here. Just go back and take a look. I'd rather not repeat myself if I can avoid it.
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The Bill of Victory

Okay, Lord, I know you just want to remind me of those Stanley Cup resolutions I made before you let my team win. Did I not offer enough? Kids! Kids, get in here! Tell you what, if we win this hockey game, I'm paying for break dancing lessons for all four of you! Now, what else? I know! I'll finally pay back that student loan! Sorry, Lord. I forgot about that. And I'll volunteer in the old folks home for the next six months. Maybe they can use me to help out with the Bingo games... And- What's that? We won? Oh no!
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Holiday Spirits

Evil spirits. Can they be cast into the abyss? Only by the Lord. I can transfer them from one living thing to another, but, you know, I practice. I try to do it maybe two or three times a day. It's great fun at church and at family gatherings. And it makes that trip to the zoo all the more special. When casting evil spirits into plants, you should not stand too close to the target, or it will reach out with its vines and try to choke you. When using an animal host, pick a plant eater. I leave broken spirits alone. You're not supposed to move them.
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The Writer Did It

I'm enjoying a trip into the past with my Columbo: Season One DVD box set. 'I knew it was you ever since you asked me to make that phone call. And I know you did it for the money. So I just thought I'd stop by and mix myself a drink while I told you all this, and that you will not get away with it. First thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to the authorities and ... AH! ...' 'I should have known I couldn't get away with it with you around. Here. I've brought the blackmail money, and a couple bottles of wine for us to celebrate your cleverness! You know, as I drink this booze with you and see you growing more and more helpless in front of me, I'm starting to think that the whole reason I killed her was just to be able to pay you all this blackmail money and see the satisfaction it brings to your face ... THUMP! ...' 'Now look, I'm the only one who saw you get into that car with her, so you better treat me with respect. For starters, I think it's I who should be making the decisions around here and ... Umph! ...' To be fair, the first season was a little awkward. Quincy hadn't joined the team yet, so Columbo was on his own in the lab. I like Columbo because he is so damn smart, even though he doesn't dress smart and he doesn't talk smart and he smokes and drives an old beater, so that by the end of the show he has usually lost patience with everyone for not believing he is a police officer and starts roughing people up. And I like the way he toys with the killer as he builds up the evidence he needs to convict him or her. Peter Falk does a great job in this role. There was a character in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment who reminds me of Columbo. Porfiry Petrovich (Порфирий Петрович) I wonder if they based Columbo on him.
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Sacred Kow

People mean well to offer me advice, so I appreciate it. Anyone critical of my bad habits, for instance, is just trying to help, and I wouldn't dream of telling them to take the log out of their eye before they notice the speck in their brother's eye. To the person who advised me to stay humble, thank you. You are so much wiser than I am. After all, being humble helped me so much in '08 and '09 - right through to about this time last year. When you're a humble artist, it's easier to handle getting the shit trampled out of you by performers who think more highly of themselves. But I will stay modest because that is how a person brought up in a large family with no room to recognize a genius among them - and his earning potential - is programmed from childhood. Did you know that Nostradamus prophesied my coming? I'm right in between Hitler and the next Antichrist, except I'm a Prochrist. I won't let it go to my head.
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A Talent for Your Thoughts

Don't you love stories that make you think? Some of those classic Star Trek episodes are good for that. I am again reminded of the one called Plato's Stepchildren, (terrible title) about the colony of psychokinetic Hellenists. Their mental powers were limited to individual use. As such, the one with the highest level of power could not be challenged by any joint effort from the others. I wonder if creative talent is like that. All the brainstorming in the world by roomfuls of bright people could not outmatch the singular effort of one person with superior talent. Probably not. Talent, as I see it, is a gift from God. Jesus may have had talents (not the ancient unit of currency) in mind when he shared his parable about the workers. Some of the workers only worked for two hours but received the same pay as the ones who worked eight hours. His disciples, hearing the parable, thought he had left out the ending. Jesus had to say, 'No, that is the ending. That's how the Father gives. His gifts are his to give as he pleases, and he is not bound by our limited concepts of justice.' Then Peter said, 'But Lord, isn't that kind of like socialism when everyone gets the same pay, regardless of effort?' And Jesus answered, 'I speak of inequality, not equality.' Then Bartholomew said, 'What is the moral of the story then? It pays more to have faith?' Christ, now frustrated, shouted in reply, 'No, the moral of the story is TOUGH SHIT!'
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© 2011. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Two Much

For those of you wondering about my under-eye circles, they are the result of a childhood injury. When I was a boy, before the advent of ergonomic design, I tripped in my living room and caught my right eye in the corner of the coffee table. A couple days later, I was about to fall and reached for a broom handle for support. My hands slipped and I was poked in the left eye. The next week, I was hanging up my coat when I fell forward, face first, into the coat hook, poking my right eye. I mixed myself a cup of Nestle Quik to help me feel better, but I left the spoon in and jabbed myself in the left eye as I brought the cup to my lips. The week after that, I had just finished putting the candles in my nephew's cake for his second birthday when I fell forward, face first, into the cake. Luckily the candles weren't lit. The following month I fell, face first, down the stairs. I hit the edge of the first step with my right eye, then I nailed my left eye on the next step, then... Why am I not blind? Because my eyes are tough. They may be unsightly, but they are fast healers.
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Armed to the Teeth

I am careful to inform myself before I form an opinion. My distrust of the unborn, for instance, came not just from seeing Rosemary's Baby, but from consulting a series of diagrams on fetal development. Hey, I know what I saw. And as silly as I might look, walking down the street with my coffee mug, I do so for very serious reasons. I do it to avoid styrofoam consumption. I used to think styrofoam was harmless until I had this job in a waste management facility. One day I noticed an ant dragging off a used styrofoam coffee cup. Sure, it had sugar in it, but that wasn't why. I followed the creature to its colony, where vast stockpiles of the substance lay everywhere. I got a bad feeling from those ants. Not only had the symmetry of their architecture improved drastically, but it appeared that they were constructing some sort of wonder weapon right under our noses. It dawned on me that, by careful and persistent chewing, ants might be able to convert styrofoam into something far stronger, like armour-flex(TM). Imagine hordes of ants sweeping through the cities of the world with their own safety footwear, their tiny little indestructible tanks causing noticeable erosion to our picnic tables and porches, as the children run helpless and scream even more than usual. Go ahead and use styrofoam if you must, but don't say I didn't warn you.
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Circumcise Me

Circumcision is an ancient practice. It's easy enough to figure out why it is done. The Jews do it for hygiene. The Catholics do it for the pain. Today I thought I'd offer some help to religious dog lovers who would like to bring their pet with them into heaven. You don't need a veterinarian to circumcise your dog. All you need is some ether, a pair of pliers, and a good sharp cutting instrument.
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Cents and Respectability

(I am on a bilingual keyboard.) Just wondering about some of the weird stuff that has been happening to my computer, and about some of the coincidences around my new and here-to-for unshared songs. Are we sure that everyone is sorry about what happened with my music(question mark) Because if everyone is sorry, I should not have to worry about such a crime reoccurring. I do intend on sharing these new songs, and when I do, if there are any similarities between them and something else out there, given that I shun popular culture, I hope we can use the occasion to administer some severe justice. I have finally managed to resolve the issue of how to handle this problem in accordance with the Lord, after watching my Jesus video again last night. The answer came from seeing how Jesus handled the question about taxes. He said to render unto Caesar what is Caesar(apostrophe)s and render unto God what is God(apostrophe)s. Because my songs are to me a gift from God, by stealing them from me, the thief is essentially stealing from God. Anyways, I should get money.
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Majority Fools

So it's the day after a federal election and I'm going to be a conformist and write about the results. The Elks won. Now they have a majority. In Parliament, it's possible to rule without a majority of seats. It just takes a little co-operation from the opposition. That's the kind of government we've had here for the last four years or so. It's called a minority government. But I guess the voters out there were impressed enough with how the Elks have handled the economy. Our dollar is strong and taxes have improved. (I didn't vote, myself.) If the losing parties would like a little advice, they should try not holding back unpleasant facts about themselves from the public. That's only the kind of uptight behaviour we expect from the Elks, not from the Sasquatches or the Abominable Snowmen. Once you admit your flaws, you may be surprised to learn that the public believed far worse things about you all along. For instance, if you tell them you smoke tobacco, one of them might say, 'Oh, I thought you snorted crystal meth...'
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A Dying Man's Wish

I'm happy to say that I'm still turning out the tunes. I'm no longer able to share them on the web without a home connection, however. I was just noticing this ad on my pack of smokes that says smoking harms babies. You know, the more I smoke, the more I hate smokers. We should round up those no-good, baby harming sons o' bitches and take 'em to a deserted park at night. You know that disaster in Japan? I'm sure there was a smoker behind it - probably a smoking seismologist.
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On Guard

It might be wise to limit rights for the unborn. We can't trust them. They're not even human half the time. They go through every step in our evolution before they even start to look halfway like us. First they're tadpoles. Then they meet an egg and become a like a little pac-man or something. I mean, they don't even have noses and mouths yet, just eyes - and you want them to have full rights? And what about that period just before birth when they turn ever so briefly into swordfish? So go ahead and call me a bigot. I have my reasons.
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Chromozones Disease

I can't figure out why I haven't had more success with breeding up to now, if only for my rare DNA. Most people have either XX or XY, but I have XYZ. It's the next step. And people with my DNA are also the only ones with Type ABC blood. They're after us for donations.
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Maple Relief

This Easter I'm thankful. I'm especially thankful that I don't have to go out and make my maple flavoured cream cookies from scratch. Mine use real Quebec maple syrup, so you know what that means, getting the sled all loaded and the dogs all hooked up and going out into the middle of the Quebec woods in the wintertime to drill a hole in a tree - make sure it's not a poplar. Then I'd have to build a snowman or something to scare off critters while the sap accumulated in its little bucket. But even if I got the ingredients right, I'd mess up the shape of those biscuits. I'd need some high-tech cookie cutter for that.
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That's Corny

I was just having my can of chicken corn chowder and thinking how lucky I was that I didn't have to make it from scratch. It's such a pain to have to go chase down the chicken (make sure it's not the one that lays eggs) and decapitate it somehow, if possible without getting blood on the ceiling, then yank out all its feathers and so forth. Then the corn. You have to pull all those niblets off the husks. It must take hours. Thank heaven for modern conveniences.
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Bombs Away

The Red Baron is a great movie for anyone interested in history and in one-hundred-year-old flying machines. It's about the life of the famous German fighter ace from World War One. My father, who fought with the Canadian army in World War Two, said that if I ever joined the armed forces, I should join the Air Force. He said he and his army comrades would be trudging through the muck and decomposing bodies while the planes flew indomitably over them. (I added the word 'indomitably.') Pilots, who tend to be the most intelligent of soldiers, had a kind of gentleman's code between them. They wanted to shoot down each other's planes, but avoided killing each other or punishing each other too severely on the ground. This code was still in effect in World War Two under Goering's command of the Luftwaffe. (Goering had been a World War One ace.) Indeed, the softer treatment of allied airmen was blamed for the Great Escape from a Luftwaffe POW camp made famous by the 1960's film. Captain Roy Brown, the Red Baron's Canadian challenger, makes several appearances in the story in his Sopwith Camel, but Snoopy, in his flying doghouse, is nowhere to be seen. I thought it was a well done film, but the German accents of all the actors were unconvincing.
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Paintings of Jimmy

I know I've been kinda whiny about things. What do you expect? The more blogs and songs I write, the more money I learn I lost. And now a local charity on which I depend will be closing its doors while my money appears to have been spent by a bunch of strangers in the pursuit of self-glorification. What do you expect? But last night I realized I wasn't the only one who got cheated. I feel terrible for what happened to all those music lovers. It must suck to find out that your favourite band is a sham. Leave it to some ruthless profit seeker to break everyone's heart so he can have more money in his pocket. What a world. So I guess it makes us closer, since we now understand each others pain. Maybe we can salvage something positive from this, after all. I know about the pictures of me. Did you know that an artist has copyrights over his image? About the dog picture and the spanking picture, these are libelous images of me and I will sue over them if I can. I'm practising up and planning to get out and perform soon. Gonna polish up my act on the amateur stage and hope for a shot at a pro gig. I'm sure I can have a few productive years in the music industry before I have to retire and maybe start up a TV variety show. We could have interesting guests, like Velona from Good Times. If I had Velona on my show, I'd ask her if Jimmy Walker really did those paintings himself. At last the world would know the truth.
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That's Snuff

I think I've added two pretty solid compositions to my repertoire. My vocals are a bit drippy, but it's not from crying. It's just my allergies. I might need some Reactin tablets. Or maybe some of that stuff you squirt up your nose. You know, that mist? It smells kind of medicated?
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The Wrong and the Shameless

Brad lived in a country where apologies were avoided because they show a loss of face. As a public relations manager for a crooked politician, it was his job to face the media in the event of a scandal. He'd just returned from a press conference to find his boss eagerly awaiting him and sitting behind his desk. He stayed on his feet as the other opened up a new line of questioning. 'What did they want?' 'An apology.' 'Did you offer them one?' 'Of course not.' 'What did you tell them about the poker losses?' 'I said you'd owe them.' 'And what did you tell them about the crack pipe?' 'I said you found it.' 'And the hookers?' 'They looked like hitchhikers through the tinted glass of your limo.' 'And shooting my popular competitor?' 'You only meant to make good on your public promise to bury the competition.' 'And blowing up the packed football stadium?' 'Population control - for their own good.' 'But you didn't apologize?' 'No, sir!' 'Good job. Well, we'd better be leaving.' 'But I just got here.' 'I know, but this country is no longer ours. We all have twenty-four hours to vacate. Damn! That's the last time I bet on anything lower than a full house.' 'Are you sorry you made the bet?' 'No.'
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Little Sheep

Little sheep, who shags thee? Little sheep, who shags thee? He is fat and he is bald He is smelly and ribald Grips thee by thy wooly neck To compensate for disrespect Little sheep, stop squealing Little sheep, stop squealing
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May the Beast Men Win

I noticed today that there is an election this year in my country. It occurred to me that some of my readers might not know very much about Canadian politics, so I thought I'd devote this blog to a short description of my country's system. Canada has three main political parties, the Elks, the Saskwatches, and the Abominable Snowmen, as well as numerous fringe parties, like the Water Buffaloes. They may differ on superficial issues, like how to spend tax money, but they are all agreed on putting an end to hunting season. After an election, the winning party gets to sit on the side of the giant log cabin closest to the washrooms. With their superior numbers, as they legislate, they may drown out the opposition with an overwhelming chorus of animal noise, which, if loud enough, may affect the migratory patterns of the herds in the surrounding forest. This carries on for four or five years until the next election. It's real democracy, letting voters be ruled by unpopular leaders only until they can be replaced by new unpopular leaders.
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