stupidity

Romance novels, plagiarized? The hell you say!

2008-01-15T19:48:33+00:00

Lunch with Wendy today led to a snicker-filled discussion about a flap in the publishing world I hadn't heard about yet. Apparently a prolific romance novelist, Cassie Edwards, who has authored over a hundred romance novels, was outed as a plagiarist by the romance-novel review blog Smart Bitches Who Love Trashy Books, whose contributors used Google Book Search to spot numerous similarities between Edwards' work and other works.

If you're curious, check the site; Smart Bitches has posted transcripts. (Ouchie.)

The real winning moment, however, comes from this article in the New York Times:

"Ms. Edwards told an Associated Press reporter earlier this week that she did not know she was supposed to credit her sources. 'When you write historical romances, you’re not asked to do that,' she said." (emphasis is mine)

Then again, I'm guessing after about the first fifty instances of writing the story of the hot, studly, yet psychologically wounded Native American warrior who kidnaps the innocent white woman (wearing a strapless gown) and then does carnal things to her on the harsh prairie, all while ignoring the lack of indoor plumbing and supermarkets ... well, I suppose I can understand why an author would start lifting source material.

I'd ask in exasperation "How many times could you write something like that?!?" and "How many times would someone want to read the same story over and over?" but apparently the answers to both questions contain numbers larger than I'm prepared to comprehend.

Maybe I should write a romance novel about romance novelists who plagiarize romance novels. The thought of the recursive plagiarism thrills me ... well, not quite to no end, but for at least long enough to go down the hall and fix myself another cup of tea before resuming coding.

Even I got THAT hint

2008-01-15T15:52:09+00:00

Dateline: New Westminster, BC.
(Note to self: Go see the old one sometime.)

As I've retold this story countless times in the time since I've returned, I figured the least I could do is share it here as well. I suspect it loses some of its boozy, imperative nature when committed to the written word, though; I think it's probably far funnier in person.

A cultural difference worth knowing: I was raised to hear pretty words, but not to take all of them at face value. An invitation to come stay with someone, if not repeated or mentioned again, was very likely someone just being polite -- not something to be acted upon. It turns out this is not true of everyone: some people issue an invitation only once, really hoping you'll take them up on it, and then shut up if you don't act on it. Ah, North versus South, are there any gaffes this cultural divide can't inspire?

Fast-forward.

Several drinks into the night, I was remembering exactly why Brad and I always got along so well, and marveling at how much in common Alice and Melly and I seemed to have, when Alice crooked her finger at me over her Mug Of Tasty Beverage and said, "Come back to the back. We need to talk."

I thought, "Oh, boy. I don't know what I've done, but clearly I've done something wrong here." When an outspoken woman with a drink in her hand and deelyboppers on her head tells you to do something, you do it; obedient, I followed her to Melly's bedroom for A Chat.

Most of the conversation—well, that's suitable for a private entry really—is probably best not repeated. The part worth retelling, though, was when Alice set down her drink, leaned over to me, stared me straight in the eye, and said slowly, deliberately, and very emphatically:

"Amy, we have not seen you in about five years."
(Pause.)

"We live IN HAWAII."
(Longer pause.)

"WE HAVE A GUEST ROOM."
(A pause with a very direct stare.)

"Do you understand me?"
(Followed by a very impish grin.)

Shortly after coming home, I said to Jeff, "I think we should go to Hawaii for our birthdays this year."

See? I can be taught.

ominous scawy storm clouds booga booga!

2008-01-10T20:05:47+00:00

Weird. It's not spring yet, but the chickens have all gathered outside and are screaming their fool heads off while staring at the skies. Everyone in Huntsville seems to have gotten the memo that the sky is falling. However, I feel obligated to point out some obvious things amidst the frantic clucking.

The Huntsville city schools closed at 12:30 today, provoking a mad scramble among my co-workers who are parents, in order to make arrangements for all snowflakes to arrive safely home (or to the loving eyes of caregivers elsewhere). The only problem with this scenario?

THERE AREN'T ANY TORNADOES.

Look, I understand the idea of being prepared, but you know what? I write this at 1:50 p.m., having just finished my delightful deli lunch, having looked at the weather map, and discovering that the storm line isn't even in Alabama yet.

Say it with me kids: they closed the schools for a storm system in Mississippi.

Now, let me be honest. There is no disputing that we'll get storms today. They are coming, and they're going to be heavy at times, and the unseasonable warmth means tornadoes can happen. On the other hand? Look at the map, and look at how fast the storms are traveling. The storms won't get here before 4:30 at the earliest. They'll be home and demanding dinner before it starts raining hard, much less storming.

So, apparently "ominous scawy storm clouds booga booga" are now a reason to close school.

Maybe Darwin was harder on us when I was in grade school. I remember learning tornado drills in hallways when I was a kid. There was none of this "send the snowflakes home in case we all die" nonsense.

However, I'm thinking those chickens outside might make some mighty fine eating tonight. I should go catch one.

As usual: if I die, I'll call.

Update#1: So I got the time wrong. First thunder heard in east Huntsville at about 3:20. We are, of course, all going to die now.

Amusing side note: Apparently mocking and contemplating eating Chicken Little is my yearly response to Huntsville's continuing moronity re: tornadoes. I highly recommend reading that entry, "Toilet paper will not save you" as a historical exercise.

Stalk Smart: Things I Know That Astronauts Don't

2007-02-06T16:27:04+00:00

There is a 'How To Stalk' handbook. Every woman should read it and familiarize herself with the section regarding Target Quality. We, as Liberated Wimmins, have a responsibility to use our new-fangled right to be seen in public sans chaperone (or common sense) with care and dignity. Remember: think before you stalk!

I'm happy to provide this condensed version of the handbook for your reading pleasure:

Target discernment.

Is the target actually physically capable of responding to your advances? (The crucial difference between stalking and necrophilia.) Do not Stalk inanimate objects like phone cords or small rocks. They do not cuddle. Acceptable targets are multicellular in nature and feature a stable core body temperature.

Target selection.

Not all targets are created equal. Maximize the likelihood of a successful Stalking Outcome by seeking potential targets with attributes that enhance the possibility of success. You've already chosen a living, breathing member of your own species. Consider subjects who are currently single. There are unsubstantiated rumors in the Stalking Community that, despite previous teachings, current attachments on the part of the target may hinder success at Stalking.

Relative effort.

Consider tailoring your effort to the target. Don't waste your best efforts on a substandard target! Targets with a mediocre 'yum' factor and/or moderate unavailability should receive efforts proportional to their desirability and/or possibility of success. If target quality is questionable or availability is spotty, consider tried-and-true efforts:

Demonstrate your creativity by reassembling magazine headlines into renditions of your lyrical visions that are both visually and grammatically stimulating.
Show devotion and self-discipline by calling, then communicating only through the sound of your breathing. (By choosing carefully, you may find that words are superfluous.)

Save the thousand-mile, diaper-wearing drives only for Targets Of Serious Hotness.

* * * * *

Seriously. (Is someone who works dragon*con allowed to say "Stalking is bad!" without the peanut gallery cracking up?) There's a moral to the story of Lisa Nowak. Only stalk the hot and available. Don't strap on a diaper and drive a thousand miles to stalk the other not-quite-girlfriend of a fellow astronaut—who is married to yet another woman—unless he's the hottest and greatest thing since manned spaceflight.

Any less? Stick to phone calls, honey. We geeky women have a reputation to uphold.

Anyone else think this guy's gonna have a long, awkward conversation with his wife over the dinner table tonight?

"Hi, honey … yeah, one of my not-quite-girlfriends decided to stalk my other not-quite-girlfriend and pepper-sprayed her. Made the national news. Love you, honey. Pass the potatoes?"

Break's over. Back to work…

I'm a $29 oil painting!

2007-02-02T00:36:12+00:00

Let us consider the conundrum of yahoo user readyfornew2, consider it seriously as a single example of a greater sociological problem:

I'm talking about idiocy, of course. Bloody pandemic, really.

So let me get this straight, for anyone who's reading the stupid IM transcripts archives: I don't troll for transcripts. I've never had to. It's like I have a giant Moron Beacon strapped to my ass. I leave Trillian turned on, mark mysefl as away when I'm not here (and sometimes when I am) and these guys—they're invariably men—manage to find me.

In some ways I'm a little saddened; I seem to have exhausted the few good net.trolls in Huntsville. According to the archives I've not been bothered to the point of posting an IM transcript in over a year. It leads me to suspect that most of the trollers in Huntsville have learned my name and moved on; therefore, now, it's left up to the wider-ranging net.nookie.trolls to stumble upon me.

Wait. What am I thinking? No, I'm not saddened.

So, let's splash this one up for a little bit of google-flavored posterity. It's worth noting that the first line was left for me at 11:41 a.m. local time, and that when I replied at 5:52 p.m. local time, this person was still online.

readyfornew2:	I just read thru your profile and archives…..just want to say that you would do alot better with some professional help. If you want to dog all these men, well why dont you just get the fuck off off yahoo and tend to your shallow life. OMG you are a $29 oil painting in the making *** Auto-response sent to readyfornew2: Ever heard of a lipstick librarian? Yep, that's me. Back when my day is done.
Amy:	$29? I've clearly moved up in the world. Someone should have told me.
readyfornew2:	just your imagination playing tricks on you again
Amy:	Oh, I see. Well, the last set of pricing stickers did say $5.99.
readyfornew2:	would love to banter with you, but you just aren't quite worth me wasting anymore of my time on you
Amy:	That's okay; this is plenty enough for a transcript.

Then sign off and shut up already? Oh, wait, no, then you don't get your jollies any more. Happy to oblige…

readyfornew2:	I'm sure you will post it, you really have deep issues
readyfornew2:	Did your father molest you when you were a child?maybe that is why you are so bitter towards men…oh wait..your GAY!!!!!!!!! should have known…carpet muncher

*cries* O NOES … I've been called a carpet muncher by someone who can't make friends with his own apostrophe. Can I shrivel up and die now? Because damnit, he's got me pegged to rights and I just can't go on with life any more. I admit it … I'm a thirty-year-old librarian with little wire-rimmed glasses and two cats and I'm a … I'm a ….

Wait. *looks in living room*

*recognizes male spouse of eight years*

It's all coming back to me now! Men! MEN! Glorious, testosterone-laden men! And my skirts are short!

Oh, wait. Just the smart men. I forgot. I have this lifelong policy of refusing to sleep with anyone I can out-think.

Right. Wasn't I posting a transcript? Please, grace me with more wisdom.

readyfornew2:

poof gone loser

(Awww, whatcha wanna bet if I say something else, he responds again? Seriously, don't take this bet.)

Amy:	Well, I am a librarian.
readyfornew2:	I was thinking more along the lines of C U N T

See, here's where he messes up. Gonna be an adult? Wanna play with the big kids? Then grow up: either learn to use the really big and nasty words that come with adulthood or take your security blankie and go back to the kiddie department. I'll spare you the linguistic dissection of the word 'cunt,' but if you think you want to call someone that, stand up and puff your chest out and yell it really big and loud and mean it when you say it. If you're gonna swear at someone, grip your balls with one hand and your courage with the other and say what you've gotta say full-out and mean it when you do. Don't whisper it out in single-letter puffs like you're a six-year-old using grownup words for the first time, because all I'm gonna do is laugh at you.

Is this where I get to rant yet again about how people don't use the word 'syphilitic' nearly enough when they swear?

All right, let's let our newfound friend close this conversation out.

Amy:	Such vitriol. I shudder to think how you handle coping with situations that are actually stressful.
readyfornew2	rotflmao…….my secret child
readyfornew2:	ok time to block your pathetic ass…bye fat chick

I'm blocked? You mean I don't have to talk to you any more?

Promise?

I still hope the $29 oil painting was of naked chicks, though.

Call for topics for Anthrax Writing Week

2006-06-29T17:27:11+00:00

You, too, can influence the spin of entries presented on domesticat.net!

In honor of my recent hate-mailer, I'd like to announce a call for topics for the "Cynthia Singler Miura presents the Anthrax Writing Week." Topic suggestions should be short, preferably with satirical promise. Bonus points and extra consideration will be given to topics with relevance to the original email.

Extra bonus points and scritchies for topic suggestions so ludicrous that they make me snort out loud and say, "Oh yes, I have to write about that."

For originals and citations, see 'From the mailbag,' posted on 29 June 2006.