Category Archives: plagiarism

The Idea.

I’d been writing stories since before I could hold a pencil. Seriously. Dictated the first one to mum, who told me the letters in the words I wanted to put on the folder paper with the drawings already in place. I knew the story I wanted to tell, even when I hadn’t learned how to spell it out.

Ideas are like that. They erupt. Nobody really knows where they come from, or how they are borne. Science speculates that some synergy happens between random thoughts, like the scenarios of dreams. But, so far, most of us are merely at their mercy.

But, I’ve always been an idea “factory”. When the other kids laughed or rolled their eyes, my sanctuary was the fertility of my mind. I could spend hours dreaming up intricate scenes, sometimes from a single moment of observation, the sight of one object alone.

It wouldn’t be until many years later, well into the furtive world of young adulthood, that I would come to know the rigors of plagiarism and copyright law. My mum had passed, quickly, over five and a half weeks from symptom to death, and I’d reeled and lurched in a reactive, grandiose mania of creative explosion the culmination of which was a screenplay – 123 pages, by the How To book, every POV set, every dialogue byte centrally inserted. My trek through the wilds of literary agentry filled the months thereafter. Living in a town where only the closed set was connected, I decided that finding “representation” was futile and, consistent with delusional drive, jumped the shark all the way to Ed Limato’s office at CAA. I had pinned Mel Gibson to be my lead, and my scenario simply had to be read by his agent.

Yeah.

That was 1996.

Even calling the agency on July 4th, and feeling certain Sharon Stone answered the phone, I’d never receive a tangible response. The disclaimer was set, in real stone; “CAA does not accept unsolicited material.”

It would only be a year or so later, the mania replaced by real grieving and a gravity driven return to lucidity that I would realize the very disclaimer and its precise language protected every subsequent action and reaction to any said heretofore unacknowledged receipt; my screenplay had likely been parsed out, page by scene by set by character, so many times over since so as to be unrecognizable in its original conception.

Yeah.

Concept.

Idea.

Copyright law only protected the treatment thereof — not the idea.

Take apart; reassemble; reconstitute; rename. Voila! My idea, in a thousand new forms, never to be known by the day of its birth. All clones; no real living proof.

So, dear readers. Ghost writers. Paid lackeys. You think I don’t know about the crew in Brazil. You think I’m not paying attention when the next, semi-famous starlet publishes a book curiously similar to a series within my 750+ essays at this blog. If ever confronted, you’ll just cite my reference to grandiosity borne of deferred grief. There’s your disclaimer, however inhumane, tied up with a ribbon.

The very idea.

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© 8/28/2020 Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights however flimsy and vulnerable those of the author, whose story it is and whose real, God given name appears above this line.

Only good people will show respect. The rest will return to their own vomit.

littlebarefeetblog.com

The Marketing Machine as Mind Control.

Scientists often crow that anecdotal evidence isn’t valid. They demand peer reviewed journal articles, or nothing at all.
I challenge that.
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My friend Cindy, who lives in Michigan, was talking with her son CJ in the living room. CJ announced that his zipper had broken; minutes later, an ad for Fix-A-Zipper popped up on Cindy’s Facebook Feed.
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Down in Apollo, PA my cousin Bonnie and her husband Doug were talking about not being able to find more snowball Christmas decorations. Five minutes later, snowballs for sale appeared in Doug’s FB News Feed.
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A couple weeks ago, my friend John was talking on his landline in Maryland with a vendor about obtaining cloud services. That same day, he started getting ads for Microsoft Azure in, you guessed it: his FB News Feed.
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And, back here at home, a matter of days ago my friend Karen went to visit an elderly relative. Together, they spoke about their knee problems, comparing notes and types of injectable medications. Karen’s phone was in her purse. When she got home an ad for Euflexor, for knee pain, showed up in her Facebook Feed.
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Today, I made a YouTube video for my channel. Since I’d only been up out of bed for a few minutes, I skipped the make up. When it posted, I shared the video at my blog, adding a copyright date and the comment: “No make up.”
Minutes later, at MSN’s homepage, the photo essay:  “Stars not wearing make up in 2019.”
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In every one of the accounts stated above, there was no direct interaction with social media happening at the time. Phones were on, but neither in hand nor being used; laptops were logged on, but social media sites were not being scrolled.
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A couple of us own Smart TVs but don’t engage the feature. Most of us do not own Alexa or Siri devices or Apps.
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And, we think the marketing industry isn’t practicing mind control?
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I wonder what will happen when I post this piece.
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Shall I report back?
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© 12/21/19   Ruth Ann Scanzillo. All rights those of the author, whose name is not a bot and which appears above this line. Neither copying nor translating, in whole or part, permitted.
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littlebarefeetblog.com