The Cult Of Matthew Berdyck Is Slowly Growing
You've probably never heard of me but I am a filmmaker, activist and journalist that has traveled over six-hundred thousand miles to well over two-thousand five-hundred cities, meeting tens of thousands of people and I'm slowly becoming grassroots famous, in spite of the fact that fame is actually the last thing that I want.
I do many things. I'm the founder of SuperfundResearch.org, an environmental investigation firm that investigates and exposes cancer clusters, conducts FOIA projects to expose previously unreleased EPA records, fights the redevelopment of still-polluted Superfund toxic waste sites and fights to clean-up toxic groundwater plumes.
I'm a filmmaker that has created numerous solicited TV pilots for Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. I've made music videos for Grammy Nominees, created short films and I created the first ever first person documentary about homelessness, in which I lived on the street for 18 months of my life - almost dying in the process - to show what homelessness is really like, called Blame Reagan.
I am also the publisher and writer for this media outlet, covering hard-hitting stories that the media will not cover, like the 5,200 Uranium clean-ups in the United States, The Morris Operation, the nations only permanent storage facility for high level transuranic waste from nuclear power plants and even venturing into near-madness to crack the code of the absurd concept of gang stalking.
The reason that you've never heard of me is simple; the media will not write about me and Hollywood proper has all but turned its back on me, not unlike how Metallica was treated before they broke through and became the biggest rock stars on the planet. It's not just one media outlet that has denied me access to me, or ten. It's thousands.
In the last seven years of my career, I have managed to generate exactly one positive TV news piece about my battle to educate the public about the 1,300+ Superfund toxic waste sites in the US.
In the converse, I've also generated dozens of attack news articles, a web of angry-loser bloggers and even my own personal vigilante group called MBVR, who work to demolish everything I do, again, just like Metallica pre-Black Album and the idiotic parents groups that fought them.
It drives me insane that Hollywood has all but turned its back on me, at least in public. Behind the scenes I've been all over The Palisades, to the point that when I see Ray Liotta on YouTube saying, "I'm Ray and I quit smoking with Chantix," I can tell you that they filmed it at his house and can drive you straight to where he lives.
Not that I know Ray or anything, but I do have enough friends in Hollywood that I'm partially on the inside and know someone who lives a few houses down from him. Of course, who I know means absolutely nothing, in terms of building my career, as I have learned.
It was only a few months ago I was at dinner in Thousand Oaks, with Frank McDonough, who manages legendary audio producers, like Mike Clink and Joe Barresi, when he slammed his hand down on the table and tried to embarrass me in the middle of the restaurant.
We'd had a meeting about Frank representing my film career. When he learned I was fighting for the health and safety of all Americans, this was too controversial for his blood, so he slapped the table, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant when I wouldn't accept his refusal to represent me, on such cowardly grounds.
On other occasions, filmmakers represented by William Morris have met with me, for dinner in Santa Monica, interested in producing documentaries about my life and career, only to turn around and tell me they needed me to hand them $100k to make the film - then asked me to pay for dinner because they're broke - which just adds to the ever-growing pile of lowlifes in Hollywood that have tried to exploit me as I am running active campaigns fighting to educate people about the plumes of Trichloroethylene in the gound groundwater in San Fernando Valley.
I'm risking my entire career to educate members of the TV industry who won't stand up and fight for me. The irony that I have gone to bat for people who absrudly abandoned me is not lost.
In fact, one of the few people to actually attempt to stand up for me was Justin Morritt, simply because his friend John McTiernan has had such a hard time with the FBI. I too, because of my efforts to expose corruption, have been repeatedly harassed by FBI agents.
In fact, the FBI actually raided the office of this media outlet only six months ago, after we tried to expose corruption in the media, elected officials, and local government, in St. Joseph, Missouri.
Even more interesting, me, a man surrounded by people who have endured public controversy, the most steadfast supporter I have had over the years is Tareq Salahi, the infamous White House Gate Crasher, who has become a lifelong friend and has been nothing but amazing towards me, standing behind me no matter what has happened, because fame is fame, famous or infamous, to him.
In spite of such a prolific and vast career, one which has earned me millions of dollars, while being so closely connected to Hollywood, the industry has done nothing for me but leave me for dead, just like the media, simply because both industries are filled with spineless cowards.
In spite of this, I keep getting more and more famous because after 10,000,000 readers, what else would one expect to happen?
There are dozens of interviews out there about me, from Diane Diamond, the false news artist that exposed the Michael Jackson allegations, to Erin Brockovich's water guy, Bob Bowcock, where he hilariously tries to claim that I am a homeless person and my career isn't real, among a hundred other bold-faced lies, just before surreptitious reminding people it's OK to beat me to death.
All over the country benefit concerts are being held to raise money for the corrupt elected officials I have fought. Music videos are being made to attack me. A half dozen Facebook pages, blogs, and Twitter accounts are being run to devour me.
One filmmaker, Peter John Ross, a loser from Ohio who has been stalking me for over seven years - and the man beind the vigilante group - is even producing a documentary about me just because he enjoys bullying me and says "I can do this because no one cares about him, not even his mom."
Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of people all over the country have voiced opinions about me, claiming I am a nobody with a fake career, with no sense of awareness that if I wasn't famous, they wouldn't be talking about in the first place.
And as I slowly get more and more famous, or infamous, it becomes more and more absurd that the media and Hollywood have completely failed to support me and highlghts the pure awfulness of the people I am counting on to protect me.
All of this leaves me wondering how long it's going to be before a celebrity or studio executive sees the profit potential of my story, one which is nothing more than the tale of an underdog speaking truth to power and getting slaughtered for doing so, or Erin Brockovich times ten-thousand, where one of the bad guys in my movie actually turns out to be Erin, herself.
The reality is that I'm controversy waiting to happen, a man whose life and career have been buried by the actions of bad people, especially this fat, ugly, talentless clown, Ross, who actually brags about his local Emmy losses as if they are accomplishments, the kind of guy who'd come to Hollywood acting like he's a big shot and you'd toss your car keys at him and say, "Try not wreck it when you park it."
This controversy does nothing but translate into profits and when someone in Hollywood figures this out, this is when I will break through. And when it happens, I'm ready and have earned it, hands down.
Until then, I will be out here fighting the good fight, standing up for the little guy, doing the job that no one else has the courage to do, as the ignorant masses continue to work to wreck my life because they're too stupid to see that I am actually fighting for them, while the industry and media strugle harder and harder to pretend I don't exist.