Category Archives: plagiarists

Dear “New York Times”/critically modified:

 

Dear New York Times,

The Ghost Writers are at it, again. You know…creating their little mistresspieces out of the stuff we’ve already written.

You might take a note.

Without an ounce of bitterness, allow me to say that I own my home. And, situated nicely between two north/south arteries in my fair city, this old farmhouse is in no danger of eminent domain. Yeah; it’s mine, and I get to keep it.

Oh; and, the mortgage company was paid off years ago. With money I actually earned, doing what used to be called “hard work.” So, they can get off that.

In addition, my parents taught me to save money, which I did every two weeks over and above the pension which took a portion on its own. So, I won’t be clamoring after any of their cronies for hand outs any time soon.

So, even if only eight or ten people legitimately read what I have to say every week, that handful of precious gems – an honest lot, by and large, and humble – are my new friends. And, every honorable citizen knows that true friends are a bond inseparable by the lure of greed, covetousness, or any other of the seven deadlies to which so many ascribe.  There’s a word for people who wallow in that mire: dissolution. Kind of like a half life for the progeny of a poison.

Derisive laughter. Distorting smirks. Nervous tics. Drawers of nooks and crannies filled with pestled, white powder. Xanax. Ambien. Aloof dispassion. It’s all the same. The hallmark of lives lived disingenuously. Barnacles, all.

Yeah. Just me, on behalf of every honest creative, checking in. The rest can go about their dirty business. We’re still here, minding the truth.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo 2/12/16. All rights, for what it’s worth, reserved. Thanks to those who respect that.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Ghost Writer:

 

Hello!  It’s me. One of your favorites.

The Pharisee, in the Scriptures, did [publicly] proclaim, in prayer no less, his indulged gratitude that he was “not as other men  – proud, boastful.” You may know the story. Whereas, the other guy, the Publican, he prayed in secret.

I’m told I should pray for my enemies, those that hate and spitefully use me. Perhaps I should. But, perhaps even that much attention is more than you deserve; after all, I’m writing this – am I not?

Seems there’s a whole culture out there, my friend Nicole calls it one of “desperation” (not unlike that of which Thoreau wrote in the woods), that feeds off of the pearls cast by unknowns who, otherwise, have lives that they have cultivated by sheer effort and hard work. Are you a member of that class?

Who knows? Maybe your books will sell. After all, those sleazy rags that absorb the snot from sneezing children in the grocery line apparently do well enough to reappear every week on the racks next to the artificially sweetened breath mints. It could very well be that your audience can be found among them.

Yeah. Call me bitter. But, I do possess what you likely do not: authenticity. I inherited this from both my parents. They never meant a single thing to you, but no matter; the universe has to be big enough to reward them both, at some point. And, I guess, by posting this, I’m declaring my willingness to wait for the day when goodness and truth get their crowns back from the marauding mercenaries. I guess I’m saying I can wait. Because I don’t need to scramble for my next paycheck so that the powder, waiting for everybody else, can find its way into the lining of my purse. If that’s your story, what I feel for you is pity.

Carry on, little starling. Time waits for no one, and you have a crime to commit.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo Copyright 12/8/15  All rights reserved. p.s. I am, actually, a published writer; more than one of my essays has appeared in our local newspaper, the Erie TIMES-NEWS, and I am copyrighted at the Library of Congress.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

 

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Ruth Ann Scanzillo

8/13/15

littlebarefeetblog.com