How Many Bad Apples Can One Barrel Hold?

Unlimited amounts, apparently:

More than 300 elite Scotland Yard detectives are suspected of defrauding the taxpayer of millions of pounds by abusing their corporate credit cards, the Observer can disclose.

Auditors who have examined the American Express accounts of 3,500 officers involved in countering terrorism and organised crime have reported almost one in 11 detectives to the Metropolitan Police’s internal investigators.

A senior officer appears to have spent £40,000 on his Amex card in one year, without authorisation. Items bought by others without permission include suits, women’s clothing and fishing rods.

[…]

Sources have told the Observer that some detectives had fallen into the habit of withdrawing hundreds of pounds at a time from cashpoints. Other officers appear to have filled in blank receipts from restaurants to account for cash payments.

And that’s only tip of the iceberg. The slightly less blatantly corrupt emerge unscathed :

Only detectives suspected of overcharging by more than £1,000 have been referred to the DPS. Its investigators are believed to be examining hundreds of files.

What’s really shocking is that this news isn’t today’s main headline or even a subsidiary one. It barely even made the front page.

Moon, June, There Is No Spoon

spoons

June again, wedding season. I do love a good wedding, though it’s deeply unfashionable in a professed socialist.

But I don’t care; I love the whole hoohah, the sentimental tears at the first careless rapture of young love (or the umpteenth of mature love) the boggling at the hideous bridesmaid’s dresses and the style of the invitations and the colours of the ribbons on the cars. I like to see a wedding done well, but because they mostly aren’t weddings are a glorious opportunity to bitch to my heart’s content, behind a discreetly held service sheet. Ooh – have you seen her shoes? Vile. Not sure I would’ve chosen lilies for a wedding… oh my, her sister’s butt ugly.

But I’d never, ever do it in public and most certainly not in print or pixels. Despite the blog’s hunger for content I hardly ever write personal stuff on the blog. Why? I know what a cow I can be. No-one’d ever speak to me again if I did.

I don’t do over our friends or family for blog hits or – unlike Guardian lifestyle hack Tanya Gold – for money:

Three weeks I ago I received a wedding list from a friend. Let me be more accurate. She used to be a friend, but as her wedding looms she has been replaced by a shape-shifting, John Lewis-icking monster. She wants ice-crushers and cookbook holders and spoons. Give them to me, she squawks through her John Lewis proxy, because I am in love – and that means I get consumer durables for free! I demand a new kitchen – and you will pay for it!

Wedding lists were designed to help a young married couple build a home, in the days when everyone got married aged 12 and a half, and were totally spoonless. But today, you are not buying your friends a new life. They are 30 years old and rotting. wrinkles and Botox and they sag, like dying balloons. You are buying them an upgrade.

They don’t want a deep expression of your friendship, which you have chosen. The message is – your input is not required. Kill your imagination. Destroy your sensitivity. Give us the spoons. Or you will not be invited to the wedding and you will not get to eat lukewarm mini-pots of risotto

I bet getting the cheque for that felt good.

Awful to read that about yourself in the daily paper and worse still, written by someone you thought liked you. “They have wrinkles and Botox and they sag, like dying balloons”. Ow, nasty. Just sheer unwarranted bitchery. The key phrase seems to be “….- your input is not required”. Bitter at not being the centre of attention much, Tanya?

The former friend and future bride didn’t take it lying down and had the editors put this at the top of the comments:

joholland

10 Jun 09, 1:08pm

As the bride referred to in the piece I should point out that Tanya was invited to my wedding but no wedding list was included in her invitation because I know how much she hates them.

I do have a wedding list at John Lewis which I can appreciate is bourgeois but we decided that it would be practical, though by no means compulsory. The irony in all this is that I really, really don’t care about gifts and have never even brought the subject up with Tanya (my dress, I concede is another matter). It might sound trite but all I want is a happy unforgettable day surrounded by people I love. My wedding is less than a month away and frankly, Tanya I don’t want any spoons but I’m not sure that I want you at my wedding either.

And that’s the end of that friendship, which is why I don’t do personal stuff for public consumption.

I can remember my own and my sister’s and friend’s weddings and the enmities and angsts thereof, when all the sibling rivalry and buried family resentment came bubbling to the surface and rows abounded. It was horrible. My younger self would certainly have blogged about it had a blog been available – it would’ve helped vent the tension. Hah! That’s told her.

Getting paid for it by a national newspaper I would’ve seen as pure bonus. I’d’ve gone out and bought shoes with the money. Like Gold I would’ve thought nothing of the permanence of my words or considered they might follow me around for ever, souring potential future friendships.

My older self knows better. I’ve been asked occasionally why it is I rarely blog about anything personal, or keep a LiveJournal or Facebook page. I could and do waffle on about privacy, which is political. But the primary reason I won’t ever write about anyone I know is encapsulated in that bitter, sub-Bridget Jones-ish post. For Gold that’s a friend lost forever and a reputation as a journalist, such it was, sullied for the sake of a bit of paid bitchery about weddings and the chance to let off a little steam. Was it worth it?

No, No, Wonkette

Wonkette:

Wonkette will now become the first blog in Internet history to institute a daily feature called “comment of the day,” to reward the day’s Best Comment, as determined by Algebra

Oh no, it won’t.

Nothing is ever new on the internets; you’d think Wonkette’d know that by now.

I Almost Wish I Had A Bloodsucker Too

biteme

Following Josh Marshall’s exposure of New York Times’ high profile columnistMaureen Dowd’s copying of his blogpost (and her subsequent ‘apology for her error’: where have we heard that one recently?), Salon’s Glenn Greenwald describes how mainstream papers and unscrupulous paid journalists prey on the work of mostly unpaid bloggers:

…now that online traffic is such an important part of the business model of newspapers and print magazines, traffic generated by links from online venues and bloggers is of great value to them. That’s why they engage in substantial promotional activities to encourage bloggers to link to and write about what they produce. Beyond that, it is also very common — as the Dowd/Marshall episode illustrates — for traditional media outlets and establishment journalists to use and even copy content produced online and then present it as their own, typically without credit. Many, many reporters, television news producers and the like read online political commentary and blogs and routinely take things they find there.

Typically, the uncredited use of online commentary doesn’t rise to the level of blatant copying — plagiarism — that Maureen Dowd engaged in. It’s often not even an ethical breach at all. Instead, traditional media outlets simply take stories, ideas and research they find online and pass it off as their own. In other words — to use their phraseology — they act parasitically on blogs by taking content and exploiting it for their benefit.

Exactly. A number of times I’ve thought I’ve seen ideas or things from this blog pop up in altered form in the Guardian’s comment pieces. But any similarity is usually too slight to pin down and most probably coincidental, anyhow. Think of the sheer volume of words that are written and published in English online just in the course of one day. There must be constant concurrences of ideas and the subject itself often suggests the tone and words used, so similarities are inevitable. ]

But I did notice it was usually dated in the vicinity of a visit by a particular IP address – we have few enough readers that I do notice that – but again it means little, if anything at all. Though they’re few, we get visits from all over. For all I know the journalist is based in Moldova or Yorkshire, not using a particular network in the City.

Though an unscrupulous hack looking for story ideas to vampire might well trawl low traffic blogs rather than popular ones – because there’s less chance of anyone spotting likenesses, there’s no real way to ever really pin something so slight down.

It’s probably sheer chance, a zeitgeistian thing and the sensible voice in my head tells me I’m being egotistical and paranoid. I should stop being so silly. It’s all very nebulous, and as nice as it would be to think anybody actually read this blog rather than came across it accidentally looking for dancing kitten .gifs, who on earth would want to copy my stuff? It’s just me ranting and there are millions of better bloggers to steal ideas from.

What could I do about it, anyhow? Complain? It’s hardly plagiarism, it’s impossible to prove and probably just my ego anyway.

So there I’ve left it.

However, one TPM blogger was inspired by Maureen Dowd’s plagiarism to go further. Unexpectedly he found he too had a vampire – so he dragged him smoking into the sunlight.

… I started using teh Google on some of my older blog titles. About five minutes later, I found a case of out-and-out, wholesale plagiarism of one of my own pieces.

I wrote the blog entry “Michele Bachmann – Unstable AND Unable” here on TPM on February 20, 2009.

A writer on Salem-News.com, Dorsett Bennett, wrote this article on February 27. To conserve space, I won’t quote it here.

The first half of Bennett’s article is, well, my blog.

More…

You know I really run some of my text or post headers through google too. I wonder what would turn up?

Nothing at all, most likely.

There’s my problem. Any similarity’s entirely in my head. That’s why I haven’t googled and I won’t google any of my writing. I couldn’t take the disappointment. I’ll stick with my nebulous suspicions while leaving the possibility that someone actually read something and liked it enough to steal it it still that, a possibility.

UPDATE:

Soopercali’s comment to Glenn’s post hits the target I was circling around spot-on:

What I’ve seen happen again and again is that the corporate media rips off the context in which bloggers place a story.

Bloggers will take a mainstream story and contrast it with something the original author missed. That’s when the rest of the media (most often, cable news talk shows) lifts the story and acts as if they thought of it themselves. It happens far too often to count.

That’s exactly it.

Getting Very Silly II

Temper, temper, Lord Foulkes:

Looks like government nerves are getting a little frayed.

This would be the same Lord Foulkes who claimed £54,000 in expenses from the House of Lords, including overnight subsistence of £21,014 and a day subsidy (meals and extra travel) of £7,626, despite concurrently sitting as a Scottish member of Parliament.

What did his lordship’s party colleagues think of his performance? Not a lot. Labourhome:

Lord Foulkes disgraces himself on the BBC

In response to being pressed about what the public might think of all these expenses claims when they are having to tighten their belts, Foulkes says “No!”, showing his ignorance. He then starts spouting the party line on funding for health and education and prisons etc. He refuses to answer whether they should be made to pay back the money, then attacks the BBC for “sneering at democracy”. Yes, that’s right: a member of the House of Lords accused the BBC of undermining democracy when they try and hold people like him to account.”

Do they actually have to be strung up from lampposts before they get it?