Plagiarism rears its ugly head again
Thankfully it's not someone I know personally this time, but that doesn't make it any better. For legal purposes, do keep in mind that all of this is alleged, not proven.
Have a look at this blog, by Ash Arceneaux: http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=86192280&blogID=333310574
For the tl;dr crowd, here's the highlights, from Ash's blog:
"Somebody showed me a LiveJournal where a reviewer reviewed a JJMassa book. After the initial post, a writer who found the post via Google began posting some very fervent comments about how Massa stole the story from a fanfic the commentor had written and posted some years before. According to the commentor, who's name is Amanda, I believe,she has irrefutable evidence she wrote the story FIRST. "
Here's the journal where the accusations begin: Elisa Rolle Livejournal
JJ Massa's Book, now pulled from Linden Bay
Amanda's Star Trek AU fic
Philadelphia-the city of brotherly love. Yeah, I feel the love. Tyler winced and slung his backpack over his aching shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself off the teeming sidewalk and up the battered stairs of the old, red-bricked precinct house.
The inside foyer was even more chaotic than the busy street he'd just left. The room he found himself in was peopled with glowering teens, screaming whores, a few stumbling drunks, and a plethora of independent chemists and their staff.
Tyler dropped his backpack onto the desk letting the noise of its landing grab the attention of a surly looking officer who'd been flicking through a magazine.
"You want something?" he growled, "Just get in line."
Tyler eyed him coldly, nodding his head at the motley mass of human chaos assembled. "I'm not here to sightsee. My name's Tyler Baker."
The cop's lip curled in an outright sneer of contempt. He looked Tyler up and down rudely. "You're late. Lieu expected you a couple hours ago."
"My plane was delayed. I've only been in the city an hour," he began to explain patiently.
"Look deep into my eyes, Baker," he said scornfully. "See any give-a-shit in there?"
Tyler folded his arms across his chest. "You got a problem with me, officer?" he demanded icily.
New York, New York. So good they named it twice.
::Yeah, right::
Tom hoisted his knap-sack higher over his aching shoulder and stared with ill-disguised disgust at the crumbling red-stone exterior of the precinct house until the impatient bustling of passers-by forced him to mount the steps and walk inside.
::Shit::
The foyer was more chaotic than the street he'd left behind. The room was filled with screaming whores, sullen teens, a couple of blood-splattered drunks and someone curled up on the floor in one corner in a puddle of vomit. Tom wasn't sure whether the huddled body was a homeless guy sleeping in the station or a corpse.
At the desk a couple of burly uniforms had some crack-head pinned against the wall while a third cop performed a public strip-search.
He slammed his knap-sack down on the desk and the noise startled a bored-looking cop to belch and frown in his direction.
"What the fuck's your problem? Join the queue."
Tom curled his mouth into a sneer of derision, cocking his head mockingly at the bedlam that purported to be a 'queue'. "I'm not part of the entertainment. My name's Tom Paris."
The cop returned his sneer, sliding his eyes up and down Tom's body with obvious contempt. "You're late. The Cap'n expected you two hours ago."
"My plane got delayed. I only arrived an hour ago and I had to drop off my luggage."
"Tell it to someone who cares, Paris."
Something is indeed rotten in the state of Denmark, ladies and gents.
Have a look at this blog, by Ash Arceneaux: http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=86192280&blogID=333310574
For the tl;dr crowd, here's the highlights, from Ash's blog:
"Somebody showed me a LiveJournal where a reviewer reviewed a JJMassa book. After the initial post, a writer who found the post via Google began posting some very fervent comments about how Massa stole the story from a fanfic the commentor had written and posted some years before. According to the commentor, who's name is Amanda, I believe,she has irrefutable evidence she wrote the story FIRST. "
Here's the journal where the accusations begin: Elisa Rolle Livejournal
JJ Massa's Book, now pulled from Linden Bay
Amanda's Star Trek AU fic
Philadelphia-the city of brotherly love. Yeah, I feel the love. Tyler winced and slung his backpack over his aching shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself off the teeming sidewalk and up the battered stairs of the old, red-bricked precinct house.
The inside foyer was even more chaotic than the busy street he'd just left. The room he found himself in was peopled with glowering teens, screaming whores, a few stumbling drunks, and a plethora of independent chemists and their staff.
Tyler dropped his backpack onto the desk letting the noise of its landing grab the attention of a surly looking officer who'd been flicking through a magazine.
"You want something?" he growled, "Just get in line."
Tyler eyed him coldly, nodding his head at the motley mass of human chaos assembled. "I'm not here to sightsee. My name's Tyler Baker."
The cop's lip curled in an outright sneer of contempt. He looked Tyler up and down rudely. "You're late. Lieu expected you a couple hours ago."
"My plane was delayed. I've only been in the city an hour," he began to explain patiently.
"Look deep into my eyes, Baker," he said scornfully. "See any give-a-shit in there?"
Tyler folded his arms across his chest. "You got a problem with me, officer?" he demanded icily.
New York, New York. So good they named it twice.
::Yeah, right::
Tom hoisted his knap-sack higher over his aching shoulder and stared with ill-disguised disgust at the crumbling red-stone exterior of the precinct house until the impatient bustling of passers-by forced him to mount the steps and walk inside.
::Shit::
The foyer was more chaotic than the street he'd left behind. The room was filled with screaming whores, sullen teens, a couple of blood-splattered drunks and someone curled up on the floor in one corner in a puddle of vomit. Tom wasn't sure whether the huddled body was a homeless guy sleeping in the station or a corpse.
At the desk a couple of burly uniforms had some crack-head pinned against the wall while a third cop performed a public strip-search.
He slammed his knap-sack down on the desk and the noise startled a bored-looking cop to belch and frown in his direction.
"What the fuck's your problem? Join the queue."
Tom curled his mouth into a sneer of derision, cocking his head mockingly at the bedlam that purported to be a 'queue'. "I'm not part of the entertainment. My name's Tom Paris."
The cop returned his sneer, sliding his eyes up and down Tom's body with obvious contempt. "You're late. The Cap'n expected you two hours ago."
"My plane got delayed. I only arrived an hour ago and I had to drop off my luggage."
"Tell it to someone who cares, Paris."
Something is indeed rotten in the state of Denmark, ladies and gents.