(no subject)

O my patrons, there is someone in the cafe who is stealing chocolate croissants.

I received notification this morning that I had been plagiarised. I was willing to believe that someone was simply archiving fanfic that they liked -- I do it too, though on a separate blog and locked privately so that I'm the only one who reads them, because I know many people don't wish to be archived without notification.

I investigated the links provided in the email and found that indeed, a House fanfic of mine had been reposted with a different title and no credit, publicly, on a blog. I found other fanfics that had been similarly lifted, though none of mine.

Now, I am going to be kind, because I know what it's like to be nineteen and messed up. If your profile can be believed, you also lived through Hurricane Katrina, so I am going to assume you are the traumatised child on House and give you a break. I know you're reading this, because you comment on my blog and my fic fairly regularly. I'm willing to bet that you did what you did because you're trying to make your bones in the fandom and you thought that LJ and Myspace had very little overlap.

Take all the plagiarised fic and artwork down by tomorrow morning and I, at least, won't say anything more about it. Very little of the fic has any comment on it, so I'm guessing that very few people read the plagiarised fics. If the links aren't dead by tomorrow morning, then I will post the links I was sent, and two thousand people will know what you did. I'd bet that will pretty much kill your cred in fandom, so please to be seeing this as, if you will, srs bzness. I can't speak for the other plagiarised authors, but I'm willing to guess that the flap you'll get from them is not one tenth of the flap I could create with three URLs and the word "plagiarism".

I'm giving you a chance to fix your fuckup and go your way with lesson learned. Please take the opportunity being extended, because you could hunt a long time before you find another one.

Commentary post-hack: This later broke pretty publicly and was documented on FW: http://www.journalfen.net/community/fandom_wank/1106063.html .

(no subject)

"Hi, this is Sam Starbuck, I understand you called me about an incomplete application yesterday."

"Oh, I do so many applications. What was your last name, Sean?"

"No, Sam -- I had a call from you yesterday."

"Okay, let me find my file. Dan Starbuck?"

"No, Sam Starbuck, S-A-M."

"One moment." *hold music* "Okay, Dan Starbuck."

"No, Sam, S - A - M."

"D - A - "

"S as in Snake, A as in Apple, M as in Motorcycle."

"Oh. Well, I sent you a letter."

"Yes, and I replied, I sent you the tax statement and ID that the LOL office needs. And then you called me."

"Well, then I called when the file was completed. Yes, I see here your file is completed."

"So there's no problems?"

"No, you're all set."

"Thank you." *click*

*pause*

*phone rings*

"Is this Sam Starbuck?"

"Yes, it is..."

"This is the LOL office. I found your file. You sent us a Wisconsin state ID."

"No, I sent you a copy of a Texas state Driver's Licence."

"Whatever, that's not good enough. You need a Chicago ID."

"Well, I don't have one of those. You can see on the gas bill, electric bill, W2s, and by the fact that your letter reached me that my address is correct."

"We need a state ID."

"How long do you have? It's going to take me two months. Am I going to be billed in the meantime?"

"Well, I don't know, I'm not part of billing."

I'm not sure I trust the information of someone who can't figure out a three-letter name even after I spell it for them twice.

Posted using TxtLJ

o hai thurr power outage.

(no subject)

So my stepfather called tonight to discuss this whole "condo" thing and I freaked out at him. I've now officially freaked out at both my parents, I think I've used up my parental-patience credit at this point.

*headdesk*

NEW PLAN, NO AGENT, FORECLOSURES. Um. Yay?

If you want me, I'll be hiding under a blanket in an attempt to fool the rest of the disasters aimed at me into thinking I have moved to India. And if that doesn't work, I MIGHT.

(no subject)

M's taking off for Burning Man tomorrow morning. I asked her to say my name at least once while she was there, that I might be there in spirit. Next year, I'm going if I have to beg my way.

Burning Man (a week-long "arts festival" in the desert, stranger than even you can imagine; think a fancon with heavy drug use and nudity) made me all nostalgic for the Happy Mutant Handbook, which I think I lent to my chem teacher in high school and never got back. It was this amazing compendium of all kinds of kooky odds and ends, from a biography of Timothy Leary to an essay on AI to, of course, a feature on Burning Man. I learned about the Church of the Subgenius from that book, and also picked up all the important internet manners I will ever need. A lot of it would be VASTLY outdated now; the usenet was the Big Thing at the time it was published and it also had a guide to Popular BBS Sites. I may have to go searching for a cheapo second-hand copy. It was instrumental in making me the freak I am today. I've wanted to go to Burning Man since I was sixteen but never had (variously) the money, the courage, or the freedom.

In other news, remember the Crazy Woman who told us we could burn in hell? If not, allow me to refresh your memory:

On my first day on the phones for season-ticket sales, a woman called wanting a specific high-expense package. She wanted it at the bargain-package price, however, and bargain-ticket packages don't accomodate that kind of demand, because if you want the premium package you have to pay for it. I grappled with her for a while until she hung up on the manager I transferred her to. Then she called back and went through the whole thing again with M, who told her what I told her, in reply to which she said we could all burn in hell.

Then she called back and apologised, not for telling us to burn in hell but because she used the word "hell".

A few days ago Coworker B said she'd been reading the Saga of Burn In Hell Woman, to which I replied, "Is there new news?"

( There is new news. )

The upshot is that when she hung up angrily on Nice Boss after calling him a slimy conman he calmly went into the system, refunded her money, cancelled her tickets, and put a notice on her account. Now, if anyone tries to open it, a popup window will inform us that this patron is banned from our theatre and any telephone calls from said patron should be transferred directly to a manager.

There is some justice in the world, apparently.