I witnessed a train crash once. A very slow one. I was on the platform at Didcot Parkway, waiting for a train to Cardiff. A goods train was going through the station on the other side. The front end stopped, the rear end didn't. Thus the front end of one of the naughty trucks banged into the rear end of another, and kept going, and kept going. Very slowly. The two ends rose up into the air and eventually stopped, firmly wedged against each other several feet above the ground.
Right next to the sign saying "Welcome to Didcot Parkway". That's what made it art. It would have made such a beautiful photo.
There was almost zero damage to property and no lives were in any danger at all, so I wasn't hugely traumatised. But I still remember the shocked feeling of awe - it's happening, I can't stop it and look look look!
The continued tale of the plagiarist is a bit like that. I mentioned this a couple of posts ago. If you have the time - and you'll need a good half hour or more, as the number of comments so far is 538 and counting - then pour yourself a drink, sit back and read for yourself. In summary: the lady who paid someone to plagiarise someone else's book without realising it has apologised, several times, but insists that she did nothing wrong (honest mistake, fair enough, albeit unbearably naive) and continues to promote the ghost-written-ripped-off bit as her own work. It's still (at time of writing, I just checked) on her web site as the prologue of her novel. She apologises for any hurt or embarrassment to David Gemmell's family, she maintains her total innocence, and she waves the incriminating evidence proudly under the noses of the great reading public.
Unbelievable.
In comment #521, to somehow reinforce her innocence she reproduces all her emailed correspondence with the scammer, showing she already had a shrewd idea of his game. Yet she paid him for the work and it's still there ...
Those trucks just keep on rolling.
I remember once at thorpe park standing in front of a log ride thingy. And as the log came rushing down the final dip, throwing up an enormous wall of water that was headed right for me, I had that thought that I'm fairly sure is familiar to tidal wave victims.
ReplyDelete"Oh shoot, it's too late to run."
My shoes and socks were wet for the rest of the day.