Kill That Idea

This blog was meant to end with my frustration driving my stuntman to a suicide death, but people didn't get it. That's all right. My fault.
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© 2012. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

You Know?

I had some thoughts about time and how we pass through it today. I was thinking that we might pass through it in different ways that overlap. We generally perceive the passing of time through our physical senses. It is constant and has certain limits, like the speed of light. But what if there are other senses outside of the physical body? Would such limits apply to them? There is the self of the physical body, and then there is the abstract self or sense of self. Would it be stretching it to suggest that the latter were truly capable of sensing? Its sensory process would not depend on physical laws because it would originate outside of the world of matter. It may relate its information subconsciously, so that we react to stimuli emotionally without apparent reason. Reason exists, but we aren't consciously informed of it. Where precisely is the dividing line between the physical and the abstract in our experience? My dreams can be quite convincing. My body reacts with rapid eye movements, but where is the part of me that is experiencing the dream? I wonder if we do not pick up a lot more information subconsciously than we may be aware of. We know things that we don't know we know. Appearances are often deceiving. As I type this paragraph, the initiative appears to be coming from my hands. When you move your thumb, you think it is moving freely. It is not. Your thumb is only the last step in a sequence which starts in your brain and runs from your shoulder all the way down to your extremities. Perhaps the brain's thoughts, which appear to initiate our actions, are again the last step in a sequence which is hidden from us; a sequence which begins outside of the world of matter.
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Seriously

I remember watching Papillon as a boy. I love that part where he hooks up with that tribe of native pearl divers. He tattoos their chief and marries one of the young, topless girls. Paul Gaughin moved to Tahiti to pursue his painting. He produced beautiful images of topless natives with a rich, tropical palette. I'm not French, but I wouldn't mind moving to an island right now. Go find some bamboo shoots, build a hut. Make a hammock out of fishing nets. Next thing you know, you're cooking your own coconut cream pies. Which of the islands around here is populated by topless native women?
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© 2012. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

Frown of the Day

And now for some of my famous suicide humour to prove my point. Those of you who appreciated the cartoon series Cat of Nine Deaths about the nightmares of a suicidal cat - Sigh! - might like these. Said the Scottish cat who could pilot a starship to his first mate: There's as saying in the old country: Kill me once, shame on you. Kill me twice, shame on me. Said the cat with a grimace, inserting a hose in the patient's wet, gaping mouth: This sucks. Said the newt to the witch: Why not take all of me? Said the superstitious black cat to the pedestrian: Shall I walk backwards? Said a witness to the cat's execution: Serves you right for being curious. Shouted the badly deformed cat when cornered by a mob of gawkers: I am not an armadillo! Said the cat that was used as a test subject in the Bikini atoll in the 1950's: This is much worse than a hot tin roof. Said the confused crow to the cat: Which way is east-northwest? Replied the cat: As the crow dies. Said the first cat in space upon its safe return: That was one giant leap for a cat. Said the elderly cat to the welfare worker: What am I supposed to live on? Catfood? Sang the cat to the extraterrestrial to communicate friendship: Meow-meow-meow-meow... Said the cat to the bully: My cousin's a leopard! Said the psychiatrist to the cat: You may suffer from a snagglepuss complex. Said the cat that applied for a job in the beds department: I'm an expert on napping. Said the cat that was a famous general: I shall come back.
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© 2007, 2012. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

The Season of Bewitched

I had to stop my DVD in the middle of a Bewitched episode this morning. Darrin had stayed up all night working on a layout and couldn't come up with anything good. Then Samantha took a look at it and made a few brilliant suggestions. He thought she cheated, using witchcraft. But she said she simply used her own imagination. Essentially, Darrin called his wife dumb. Then he called her a liar. She should have dumped him right then, but I guess the show was still only in its first season.
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Swing Low

I am a swing voter who does not vote. And I simply can't afford to get mixed up in politics if I want to proceed with my music unimpeded. So put that telescopic rifle back in its attache case. I know it's an election year.
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© 2012. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

A Night to Dismember

Women who fantasized about me when I was hated, I can't wait to go out with you. You can take me to a fancy restaurant and pay to watch me eat like a pig, with no shirt, in my bare feet. Then I can put you in the trunk of the car for a nice drive-in movie, and you better not make any noise back there. We can top the night off with a nice long drive to the remote woods for a little blindfolded group sex with myself and several of my favourite corpses.
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© 2012. Scripts by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.