The Lunar Dimension

Narrator: Today on the Lunar Dimension, a dispassionate whaler is in for a hard lesson in humanity when his inflatable dinghy crosses paths with a paranormal dolphin. Whaler: Clear the way or be harpooned! (He takes the dolphin's reply for mockery and launches a spear at the creature. The projectile halts in mid-air and turns 180 degrees to face its astonished employer.) Dolphin: (in booming, echoing, masculine sounding thought waves) Surface dweller, your primitive weapons are useless here. Whaler: Jumpin' jellyfish! Dolphin: We've put up with a lot from you humans because we believed that you might be our distant evolutionary cousins, but that was just a 70's fad. Now we have had enough of your overfishing. And to top it off, predators like you, with your cruel metal hooks, invade our waters and commit the most ghastly atrocities. Whaler: (terrified) What are you going to do? Dolphin: It's time you learned how it feels to be hunted. (The harpoon sails back to puncture the dinghy.) We have predators, too. (The doomed whaler spots an approaching shark's fin.) Narrator: See another corrupt character taken for a really bad head trip on the Lunar Dimension.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Targets of Opportunity: Project Nitwit

(A board room.) Chairman: Now, my colleagues, if we want to stay in control of the country's military apparatus, we're going to have to do something about our image. I'm afraid we've bungled one too many invasions and taken the world to the brink of one too many conceivable apocalypses, but it isn't something that can't be handled by our propaganda department. Of course, our elected leaders will know better than to consult us on foreign policy, but we must still appear to be involved in the decision making process. Project Nitwit is a combined effort of the military and the CIA to win back public faith by the steady bombardment of mind altering broadcast signals. We want people to think that our bureaucracy is cool. We want them to think our staff is intelligent. And we would like them to use a Canadian artist as a scapegoat for all of our policy failures.
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Bronson Harly: Portrait of a Badass

Narrator: Bronson Harly came from the wrong side of town, where boys are not considered men until they pull their first bank job. (In his rundown home, Harly's mother watches her drunken son count up his loot.) Mother: You better put that away before someone sees it. Harly: Shut up! You know how much money we got here? Enough for a return trip to Disneyland! (He picks up a gun.) Mother: If you're going to shoot that thing, take it outside. Harly: That's where I'm going. Yee-haw! Magic Castle, here I come! (Exit Harley. Gunshots and hooting draw the attention of neighbors and police.) Narrator: Those who knew him say he was born evil. (Harly is remembered by his fourth grade teacher.) Teacher: Oh, I remember him all right. He was a bad little bugger, always getting into trouble. If he wasn't breaking into lockers, he was trying to start up a gang. The principal tried to whoop some sense into him, but it only seemed to make him more violent... (Harly follows slowly behind a team of sidewalk cleaners, littering in their trail.) Narrator: Psychology may help us to understand the social deviant, but we still have much to learn about the badass. Educate yourself with our documentary feature: Bronson Harly: Portrait of a Badass.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Diamondback?

I don't think that Nickelback was allowed to take my fully composed musical verses out of my This Fool's Paradise and try to build their own song around it in 2007. I'm going to count that as another violation of my copyright and add their name to my list of high profile offenders: Nickelback, Beyonce, The Crystalids, Taylor Swift, The Rolling Stones, Oasis, the band that stole my song 'Virtue', Coldplay, Madonna, Leonard Cohen, Bill Maher, George Carlin, Jay Leno, Ellen Degeneres, Jimmy Kimmel, Conan O'Brien, Saturday Night Live, The Simpsons, Family Guy, Jon Stewart, Dateline NBC, FOX News, CBC's David Frum, CBC's George Strombolpoulos, George W. Bush, Jonathan Torrens, Clint Eastwood, and Gene Hackman. You may have special knowledge of others.
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Crooked Are the Meek

Host: Welcome to Crooked Are the Meek, where soft spoken liars are exposed through modern techniques of interrogation. Strapped into our electric chair and ready to suffer for any inaccuracies in his statements is Clarence Caldwell, CEO of Caldwell Consultants. Mister Caldwell, is it true that you sponsored a paramilitary group to invade and take over an island republic on behalf of a banana importer? Caldwell: We just want what's best for the people of that region… (A sudden jolt of power makes him clench his teeth in pain.) Host: And judging by the look of discomfort on your face, that was the wrong answer. We won't fall for your propaganda here, sir. Now, is this corporate client of yours also a chief importer of narcotics? Caldwell: We believe that children should 'just say no' to drug users. (Another pulse of energy passes violently through him.) Host: There you go again. What does it take to get a straight answer from people like you? And are you currently advocating the use of a lethal toxin to accelerate the production of artificial houseplants? Caldwell: We do our best to operate within conventional parameters... aa-aagh! Host: God damn it, that's not an answer! (Losing his temper, he seizes Caldwell by the throat and shakes him fiercely.) Why can't you ever tell the truth? How are we supposed to feel good when it all depends on lies? Why can't you...
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

The Bliss and the Agony

Narrator: Today on the Bliss and the Agony, Emily's secret affair with Kevin causes shockwaves when Jacob comes home from work early. (Jacob hears voices coming from the bedroom, grabs a weapon, and puts his ear up against the door.) Emily's Voice: How can I convince you that I love you? Look, here's Jacob's picture. There, I spat on it. Good enough? No? Well then, here's a love letter he gave me when we first met. (The sound of Emily loudly blowing her nose makes Jacob flinch.) Now do you believe that I love you? No? Look, I'll even tramp on it and grind it into the floor. See? This is what I think of Jacob's love letter! Now do you believe that I love you? No? What does it take? I know, here's the ring Jacob gave me. I'll just spark up this blowtorch… Narrator: Is another marriage about to end in a murder/suicide? Find out on the Bliss and the Agony.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Domestic Forum

Host: It's Monday on Domestic Forum, when we hard working gals like to descend on an unemployed bachelor and really let him have it. It's easy to lure them in by telling them they'll be looked at by women and making them think they'll be TV stars when they don't even know how to pay their rent. And today we have Melvin, who refers to himself as 'self employed'. I didn't know your mother's basement was a business, Melvin. (The crowd of women boo their disconcerted guest.) Melvin: That helps me save on my overhead. Host: Overhead! On what? Your empty pop cans? I can't imagine what you're up to while honest, decent parents are out working to provide an income for their children. Melvin: I do my share. Host: How? Melvin: I volunteer at the hospital. Host: As what? Melvin: A wellness counselor. Host: Oh my, aren't we the valiant little candy striper! Did you hear that, ladies? Melvin's just as sweet as a schoolgirl! He wants to be a nurse when he grows up. (Derisive laughter.) Melvin: Actually, I... Host: You won't fool us like you fool your mother! Now sit quietly and listen up. Who wants to go first? (She deserts Melvin on the stage and joins the studio audience.) Did you have something to say to Melvin? Woman #1: Yes I did. (To Melvin) It's your fault that I have to work two jobs to pay for my daughter's piano lessons. (Cheers of support from the crowd.) Host: Yes, people like Melvin are a tax burden, aren't they? (Approaching another woman) And you, what would you like to share? Woman #2: (To Melvin) It's your fault I can't get a seat on a transit vehicle. (More cheering.) Melvin: Hey, come on! What is this? Host: Silence, worm! (To the next woman) Go ahead and speak your mind. Woman #3: I think it's time Melvin earned his keep by getting up on his chair and giving us a dance. (Roars of approval.) Host: Good idea. Melvin: Surely you jest. Host: (Producing a gun) Don't make me use this.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Control Those Beasts

Once again I am encountering some sort of interference as I attempt to modify my posts with important data and improved navigation. Why does this happen? Is it some arrogant criminal who thinks it's fair that he should now boast to the world about the crime he committed with my music or writing? Or is it one of his obsequious slaves in the media, cheerfully supporting him? That's what crimocracy is all about. Hey, why don't you let the criminals who stole my music and writing and committed fraud with it flag my post about crimocracy so I can suffer interference as I try to improve my layout? I would like to go back and finish what I started there now - if I'm 'allowed' to do that, that would be just swell. (After trying again) Looks like the account won't produce any of my posts when I go there, just that little whirling icon telling me that someone out there needs to waste more of my life. Why don't they make fun of my age now since they can take credit for why it takes an honest artist forever to have any success in this 'business'? I guess I'll just give up and go home for the day. What a fucking criminal joke. The blog I was working on was Nothing to Lose and my work has been interrupted from approximately 3:30 pm to the present. Have a great day.
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Targets of Opportunity: Religious Freedom

Welcome to Religious Freedom. I'm George Hoffissrocker. I don't want to pay taxes any more because I started a new religion that rejects our political system. All you voters out there are discriminating against me, but I'll put up with it if I get my tax break. I need the money to open up a farm where I can tend to the women in my flock. I know that secretly each one of them would surrender her equal rights in a second for a nice sunny field that offered abundant grazing. I know that the government will support my bid for acceptance as a legitimate religion because if it doesn't I will curse this land with horrible plagues. We've been able to avoid such catastrophes up to now by bowing to the modest needs of persons like myself.
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About that Song

After listening back to my latest recording, This Fool's Paradise, I think it may be another one I first shared in that prolific year of mine, 2007, the conditions of which were, more or less, the same as now from my perspective. If so, I'm glad I reconstructed it because it is a good musical composition. Also, it is important that the meaning behind the words of this song is not distorted by its potential use for fraud. For instance, I would not be calling the world a fool's paradise if I enjoyed the financial rewards of the music business. It's important to know the true source and inspiration of songs like mine or they become misleading and harmful.
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Please Stand By

I know I pasted in the same copyright date of 2011 for all my lyrics in my 150-song blog today. This is the temporary result of a change in the structure of my navigation system. I'll return their correct dates of creation and original titles information over the next couple of days. In the meantime, my Chronology of Recordings is still accurate.
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Targets of Opportunity: Fun Numbers

It's time for Fun Numbers, the show that celebrates the joy of applied arithmetic. Now, some people can be measured by using numbers. Politicians, for instance, can be measured by their numbers of supporters. When a politician this right-wing network likes is only supported by ten percent of the population, subtraction is necessary in order to let the voters who like him win the election. We can start by barring single mothers from the polling stations. And arithmetic doesn't just win elections, it creates fortunes. Let's look at this ten dollar bill. Suppose I told you it was only worth about fifty cents, what would we need to do? That's right, we'd need to add zeroes to the banknote. So now it's not a ten dollar bill any more, it's a thousand dollar bill. Isn't this funner than just coloring numbers with wax crayons and giving them credit for sponsoring the program?
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Targets of Opportunity: Like Killer, Like Son

Abdul was exceeded in brutality only by his son, Rabbeen. (Creepy music, close up of young brute with an evil grin.) Abdul only had people run over by cars to protect his rule; Rabbeen ran them over for sport. Abdul rewarded loyalty with gifts; Rabbeen rewarded loyalty with life. Abdul used banned weapons; Rabbeen developed new banned weapons. (Rabbeen swats the air to chase away a flying pest.) Rabbeen is a creature of pure violence. If anyone deserves to be dragged out of his palace and guillotined in a public square, it is this incorrigible offspring of the tyrant, Abdul.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

This Fool's Paradise

They say that it is time for rejoicing When the life of the party has been put down And that a fear is only worth voicing As the punchline of a cruel and shameless clown Deigning to make endless corrections To a truth with which they strongly disagree Then blaming love's resulting defections Without any apology On people as poor as me They can't wait to put on their very best outfits And in glory arrange by crowds to be seen Aimlessly attempt to further outwit All the cogs inside their complacent machine Taking pride in such destruction Countless grows the already appalling toll Secure from every last repercussion But the illusion of their control Until we are in a hole To thank the world I've long been trying But the party it threw for me wasn't so nice It seems that the empty rewards of lying Was the most they could give in this fool's paradise I know I wouldn't find it fulfilling To engage in a constant game of make-believe Nor would I call the trip extra thrilling When from home I did not even have to leave I wouldn't gain the slightest pleasure From an old thing returning to me as new What they mistook for their shining treasure When they sold it straight back to you Proves they never had a clue Because applause was plainly wasted And no one listened to my advice A lifetime lost when thieves erased it Emerges again in this fool's paradise The pot of gold they have us chasing Would come at a most unacceptable price By beauty that needed complete replacing By something more fit for this fool's paradise
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© 2007, 2014. Words and music by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

For the Recording

I'm pleased with the results of my latest recording and I'll try to have it up for you by tomorrow. I guess I'll have to be 'irresponsible' and be unpaid for it, like I was unpaid for all my hits and unpaid for all that TV content they stole from my erased posts. By being left unpaid for this work of proven commercial value, people like my Dateline siblings can continue to feel secure about the modest success they've been shoving up my ass for thirty years. I want to touch up my new song a bit more first. You'll notice that I've needed to add words to my lyrics. This is a common step in my process when I'm working outside of 4/4 time. It's important to spread the words across the whole measure, so that there are no predictable gaps caused by the extra beats in each measure. The whole point of authoring outside of 4/4 time is to produce songs that are less predictable and, therefore, more enjoyable. I also had to correct a typo from my first draft: 'a treasure' should have read 'their treasure'. Sorry for the confusion, which I'm sure the thousands of pricks who owe me money and remain online to make my life impossible were able to 'exploit'.
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The Logic of Folly

All finished my latest musical creation: This Fool's Paradise. I wanted to post the lyrics here and send you to an i-tunes account to hear the music, but I can't open an account because my parents don't trust me with their credit card. This is because of how my siblings have been discussing me to them in my absence all my life, as one who is irresponsible and incapable of making money. This, in turn, is because I didn't last in my nine-to-five jobs the way an artist is supposed to in our cheap consumer culture. I can't think of a dumber society than one that insults talent they way ours does. I must consider myself privileged to be among some of the finest artists and poets in history who were also insulted by the people of their time. I was able to complete this new work because I am a musician who thinks about music, rather than being obsessed with what's 'hip'. I don't mind posting my lyrics separately because they are good. On the other hand, if I were illiterate, I might choose to bury my poorly chosen words behind a wall of pretentious noise. I was also able to compose my new song because I have something real to say. This time, for instance, I need to talk about how unrewarding life must be for people who, for purely egotistical reasons, have rendered themselves incapable of properly appreciating beauty. I bet my current life is better than their grandest party, in spite of my complaining. I'll have the music for my new words posted for you soon, so that liars can tell you that I hacked it, as they have been saying consistently through the last four of my online song posts.
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Targets of Opportunity: The Eagle's Eye

Get ready to see the war zone through the Eagle's Eye, as we bring you on board one of our fighting helicopter gunships for a cheerful lesson in the mechanics of depopulation. Private Rudy Hammond loves his work. Through our split screen, you can see his targets on the ground perish, one by one, under the hail of fifty caliber bullets from his deadly mount. See how ecstatic he is? That's the joy of killing. Oh, look, there's a dog. Better take him out, too. Could be booby trapped. And now that foolish child is laying on his back with some kind of bazooka. How was he able to fit that giant, expanding balloon into the barrel? (Suddenly the screen turns to snow, followed by a network notice of technical difficulties.)
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Party of Fun

Time for a little break from the creative writing to address some more unjust accusations. Leave it to criminals who only know how to attend parties to accuse their victim of having 'bad manners' for defending his reputation in the absence of any support from the broadcasting industry that robbed him. Why didn't Milli Vanilli accuse his critics of having poor manners? He wasn't given the chance to defend himself. And now he is dead, and no one but his mother is crying over it. But these brazen frauds who stampeded all over my image and reputation with my own works of music and comedy are still allowed to spread their criminal influence into the population by still having a voice on the radio and TV. Is corporate hypocrisy any more thoroughly obvious than in the corporate broadcast media? They want to say I'm the 'party pooper'. But whose party was crashed first? What about the party we're enjoying right at this moment, my gentle readers, the same party we exclusively enjoyed seven years ago when you first embraced my work? Just because we're not all gathered together in some wealthy Satan worshiper's mansion doesn't mean we're not having a party. And you want to celebrate with the source of the work you love, not with a bunch of pretentious fools who think they're more talented for stealing it. And this party of ours was not only very rudely crashed, but the culprits want you now to thank them for crashing it.
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Targets of Opportunity: The Cosmic Christ

Voice: He said he would come again, but he wanted to wait until we encountered strange new life forms. (A bearded, robed man, holding a staff, beams aboard the busy bridge of a starship, interrupting a critical maneuver.) Visitor: Peace be with you. Captain: Who are you? Visitor: I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Spring and the Fall, the truth or the consequences... Captain: Well, whoever you are, get out of the way! We're in the middle of a war! Visitor: Why do you attack your Cardassian neighbors? They only came here to mine for gold. Store your treasures in Heaven, where no alien can get to them. Captain: Will someone get this madman off my bridge? Visitor: Don't make me teach you the hard way. (He raises his staff, bringing a loud message from the engine room: 'Core breach imminent! Nuclear containment pod will blow up in approximately two point four minutes...') Voice: He's back and he means business this time. Jason Shepherd is the Cosmic Christ.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Targets of Opportunity: Seniors at Large

Narrator: By the year 2040, bachelors of retirement age will be the only ones left who remember the Vietnam War. (An elderly man addresses a classroom of students.) Man: Back in them days, my cousin Nate was what they called a 'hippy'. He didn't want to fight. He wanted to grow his hair and sing protest songs. In fact, he was the first musician to wear a jean jacket over a turtleneck sweater. But he got caught smoking hemp seeds. His joint went off like a firecracker as soon as he lit it, giving him away to an undercover cop in the movie theater. If he didn't join the army, they threatened to send him to prison, where the inmates would have made him perform gymnastics. So that's how he ended up in Vietnam. Student: Then what happened. Man: He died. Probably should have gone to prison instead. Student: Was he shot by an enemy sniper? Man: No, he was decapitated by a chopper blade while helping to evacuate the wounded.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Targets of Opportunity: The Treaty

The peace talks in the sunny resort of the Azores Islands, thousands of miles from the bloody fighting, got off to a strong start when the first five proposals of a new agreement were unanimously approved. 1) They will let our warplanes fly over their territory if we let their submarines lurk in our harbours. 2) They will recognize our right to build a global empire if we acknowledge their right to establish a world government. 3) We'll stop arming their neighbours with tanks if they stop arming our neighbours with helicopter gunships. 4) To accelerate postwar repopulation, nubile women will be herded into large, government administered breeding facilities. 5) The maximum force of a thermonuclear warhead is to be lowered from its current level to that of mass extinction to the tenth power.
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© 2007, 2014. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Targets of Opportunity: The Assessment

(An army psychiatrist visits his patient in the hospital.) Soldier: Doctor, when can I rejoin my unit? Psychiatrist: I can't declare you fit for combat until I'm sure you've recovered from your captivity. Soldier: But there's nothing wrong with me! I feel great. They didn't lay a hand on me, they just helped me to see that it's wrong to kill my fellow man. Psychiatrist: I'm afraid you're going to need a lot of therapy.
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Targets of Opportunity: Blight Unseen

Bassett: Hello. I'm Wilbur Bassett. It's time for Frontline Feedback, where we bring you live inspirational accounts from the men and women actively serving in our armed forces. Today we connect conveniently by satellite to Captain Chad Everest on his tour of duty in the Arctic Circle, guarding the northernmost interests of our global empire. And Captain Everest, you must be having the time of your life up there with all that snow. If you don't feel like skiing, you can always go ice fishing. And if you need to wind down, you can take a steam bath in one of those warm volcanic springs. You're lucky. Everest: (A snapshot of a dancing snowman supplants the video feed.) Volcanic springs? There's nothing like that here. Bassett: No spas? Everest: No, that sounds like government propaganda. Bassett: No skating rinks? Everest: No, we're not holding a winter festival up here, we're fighting an ugly war. See for yourself. Bassett: We're not allowed to show your position to the enemy. Could you describe the scene for us? Everest: How could a camera shot give away our position? The whole region is a frozen wasteland with no landmarks. The landscape is flat and covered in sheets of white snow - except for the pink stain of that enemy minefield… Bassett: We heard shooting and figured the enemy were near. Everest: That was our own troops committing suicide, desperate to escape the nagging hunger and the bitter cold. Bassett: Well you just hang in there, captain. In a couple of months it will be Christmas and you'll be the first to get presents because you're the closest to Santa's workshop.
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