Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Raven's Bride

It's half-past three in the morning here in Stockholm, and I'm wired. A problem has arisen, and I have thought about it a little and this post is my solution.

There have been a lot of articles about the QR Markham/Quentin Rowan affair, and some have mentioned me, and this blog. One such article appeared in The New York Observer, and another in The Huffington Post. I noticed that at the foot of both those articles someone had made the following comment:
“Earlier this year, Lenore Hart's "The Raven's Bride" contained many passages that were a direct lift from a 1956 novel, "The Very Young Mrs. Poe," by Cothburn O'Neal. She got away with it--I suppose because O'Neal's novel is so little-known--and no doubt Markham believed he could get away with it as well.
I wonder how many other cases of blatant plagiarism are lurking out there?”
That's something I've also wondered. I hadn't heard of either book, or of this at all. And I could have simply ignored it, especially as I have been very caught up with the Rowan stuff and am at a crucial stage in my current book, that stage being I have to deliver it very soon. And while I have now been involved in helping to expose two fairly high-profile cases of plagiarism, that has never been my plan or intention. I read about Johann Hari on Twitter one day, like a lot of other people. I spotted a reference to Assassin of Secrets in a James Bond forum, and it was closer to home, as I had blurbed the book and my last blog post was a Q and A with the man. I really really really dislike plagiarism, but it's not some campaign of mine, despite all appearances to the contrary.

But I can't leave a comment like that sitting there. Why should Quentin Rowan be exposed, and someone else - if they are a plagiarist - not be, simply because nobody bothered to google it to follow up?

So I googled it, and it brought up this blog post. I haven't read either book. None of the examples were quite as stunningly verbatim as Rowan's when I started plugging his phrases into Google Books. But I read it again, carefully. And yes: Lenore Hart is a plagiarist.

I started tweeting about it, and the author of that blog post and some other people started discussing it. Hart is a well-established and well-respected novelist, published by St Martin's Press. The allegations on that blog were drawn to her attention several months ago, and she wrote an astonishing and utterly bonkers 18,000-word response, arguing why all the similarities noted between her novel The Raven's Bride and the 1956 novel The Very Young Mrs. Poe by Cothburn O'Neal were all perfectly explainable and not at all due to rampant plagiarism on her behalf.

Her defence is as unconvincing as it is prolix. I haven't read The Raven's Bride, which received a starred revew from Publishers Weekly, or The Very Young Mrs. Poe, but the examples speak for themselves. However, bearing in mind this very long document, I wanted to think of a quick way to get this book withdrawn. With the Rowan book, I emailed his editor citing several examples. I don't know Hart's editor, I don't own either book, and I don't want to spend days working through it - only for Hart to reply with an 18,000-word defence that bores people into submission, which is what I suppose happened last time. St Martin's have also previously been informed of Hart's plagiarism by at least two parties, and from what I've been told never even bothered to respond in either case.

So I'm not going to go that route and potentially waste a lot of time. Instead, I'm hoping to shine some more light on it in this post and, knowing that some bloggers and journalists may now be reading this blog because of the Rowan stuff, am leaving it up to you lot. Search, and you will find incontrovertible proof that Lenore Hart is a plagiarist. She has written quite a lot, including under pseudonyms, and I suspect some of that work may be plagiarized as well. But even if not, The Raven's Bride most definitely is, and St Martin's should withdraw it, just as Little, Brown responsibly did with Assassin of Secrets when it was brought to their attention. I can't spend the time going through the weeds on this. But here are just two quick examples (of many) that prove she is a plagiarist, followed by her amazing defences of them. Oh, and do read this interview, in which she is shameless enough to be condescending about the novel from which she stole.

From The Very Young Mrs. Poe by Cothburn O'Neal, 1956:
'Beyond Hopewell and the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops around Bermuda Hundred. Further on, the current was swifter, foaming against gray boulders and lush green islands which twisted the channel torturously.'
From The Raven's Bride by Lenore Hart, 2011: 
'Beyond the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops about Bermuda Hundred. The current ran more swiftly there, shoving its relentless force against gray rocks and lush low peninsulas which twisted the channel into a shallow treacherous serpent whose narrow back we must ride.'
That first sentence is very nearly verbatim from O'Neal, and is blatant plagiarism. It alone should be enough to have this novel withdrawn. But Hart, instead of raising her hands and saying 'Okay, you got me, I'm a plagiarist, here's my mealy-mouthed apology admitting what you've already discovered and I'm off to Columbia for a few months', decided instead to try to defend it, thus:
'When I Googled the “confluence of the Appomattox and James” phrase I got 1,960 hits, in documents ranging from historical society pamphlets to real estate brochures. When I added the word “Hopewell” the number rose to 26,200 results.'
Extraordinary. Because after taking the words "the James grew narrower and wound in great loops" from The Raven's Bride and entering them in quotes into Google Books, I got just one hit, which was The Very Young Mrs. Poe by Cothburn O'Neal. Fancy that.

Anyway, Hart went on in her defence, Googling is for the birds:
'I didn’t need to do this, though, since my husband has taken our sailboat across the Bay and up the James on research cruises for both his historical books and mine. Bermuda Hundred was the site of the first incorporated town in the colony of Virginia, a known treacherous spot even today, and the river does in fact loop around it, in a serpentine way. So I suppose could have said “snaked.” But I didn’t.'
No. But I don't think that is really the point. And 'Bermuda Hundred was the site of the first incorporated town in the colony of Virginia' is plagiarized from Wikipedia. Yes, in her defence against allegations of plagiarism, Hart plagiarized. 

Hart should know full well what plagiarism is. A good clear definition can be found in this 2008-2009 PDF prospectus from Elizabethtown College in Pennsylvania:  
'Plagiarism is defined as taking and using the writings or ideas of another without acknowledging the source.'
In the same document, you will also find Lenore Hart listed as that year's Visiting Assistant Professor of English. As well as being an acclaimed novelist, she does a lot of teaching of writing, and is currently on the faculty of the Graduate Creative Writing Program at Wilkes University in Pennsylvania.

Next example. The protagonist of both novels is a real but rather obscure historical figure - Edgar Allan Poe's wife Virginia. Cothburn O'Neal told his story of 'the very young Mrs. Poe' in the third person, and Lenore Hart tells it in the first. So O’Neal: 
“She turned to look out across the basin toward Federal Hill.”
And Hart:
“I turned away to look out across the basin toward Federal Hill.”
You can't coincidentally write a sentence that similar to someone else's. It is plagiarism. But Hart defends it, and in style. She points out that
' Virginia is looking AWAY from the familiar (Baltimore proper). and the past, toward the unknown (the shipping channel) that would soon convey her to her new life. The one in which she imagines she would soon, magically, become “fully a woman,” as she calls it. However, as she looks she also notes the incoming cargoes of doomed shellfish and dead waterfowl bound for market (all on the properly-identified commercial fishing boats of the era) and begins to feel terror. She suddenly, briefly is unable to breathe – this will become an important repetitive motif in my novel. In fiction, whether historical or contemporary, it is considered ideal to SHOW emotions through actions and imagery, rather than to summarize or baldly explain them, as in a nonfiction essay. If my goal was unclear... then perhaps I was too subtle here.'
No, Lenore Hart. You were not too subtle here. You just added the word 'away' to another writer's sentence, and it is just one of many, many examples of your blatant plagiarism.

Can I now hand this over to someone else, please? I think this deserves to be exposed, and this book withdrawn at once, but I really don't have the time or energy to work on it any more at the moment. Over to you, bold bloggers, tweeters, Facebookers, journalists, editors, agents, publishers...    


  1. (1/2)
    Sometimes Hart's plagiarism is straight word-for-word lifting from O'Neal, sometimes it's weakly disguised by what Fowler called "elegant variation", and sometimes the words are reshuffled, perhaps in the (vain) hope of making her plagiarism google-proof. But plagiarism, by any definition of the word, it most definitely is, as the examples below show.

    What pisses me off most about this is that we are not dealing with some Markham/Rowan-type novice who has overstepped the mark because of an allegedly heady combination of desperation to make a good impression and pathologically low self-esteem. That excuse won't wash here. Lenore Hart is a published novelist of some twenty years' standing (initially under the pen name Elisabeth Graves). For many years she has also been teaching creative writing courses at American universities and other institutions of some note, including the Norman Mailer Center.

    In other words, she knew damned well what she was doing and knew damned well that it was wrong.

    So, on to the meat of the matter. Even from the extremely limited snippets of The Raven's Bride that are searchable online (sorry, but I'm not about to go and actually buy the thing), I've found a whole bunch of examples of its author's, er, creative sourcing techniques. Let's start with this one:


    The train crossed the Appomattox after sunset but pulled into the Petersburg depot before dark. Their host, Mr. Hiram Haines, publisher of the Petersburg American Constellation ,was waiting with his wife. He was a cheerful, balding man

    We crossed the Appomattox after sunset and rolled into the Petersburg depot before full dark. As we descended from the car Eddy spotted our host, Hiram Haines, the cheerful, balding publisher of the American Constellation.

    What's so bang-to-rights damning about that is that, despite Hart's attempts to cover her tracks by changing "pulled in" to "rolled in", for instance, it turns out that on the whole of the Web and in the entire corpus of Google Books - that's billions upon billions of recorded words that can be scoured - the at-first-sight-straightforward-looking string "crossed the Appomattox before sunset" has only ever been used by one person before: Cothburn O'Neal, in the section of his novel The Very Young Miss Poe quoted above. That surely is damning enough, even before we toss "the Petersburg depot", "host", "publisher of the American Constellation", "cheerful" and "balding" into the regurgitated mix.

    More examples in the next comment.

  2. (2/2)

    Together they furnished the house piecemeal. They bought few articles but good ones, old four-poster beds, several painted, straight-backed chairs, a rocker for Maria and a desk for Eddy


    We furnished a bit at a time, buying a second bed, painted straight-backed chairs, and a wicker rocker for Muddy. In early May we had to purchase a sturdier desk for Eddy.


    [...] if the ladies were not looking, reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

    The trip, something over twenty miles, took about an hour.


    During the rare moments the ladies weren’t looking our way, I’d slide a hand along the seat behind the swell of my skirts, capture Eddy's fingers, and give a quick squeeze.

    Petersburg lay twenty miles distant. "The trip should take little over an hour," he informed me.


    […] the sight of Richmond, perched on its seven hills, rising sharply from the north bank of the river.

    The boat docked in late afternoon. The low sun hovered large and red over the Blue Ridge in the distance.


    "There is Richmond, I think."

    Eddy smiled and nodded. "The Capitol. If you could climb to its dome you might see the misty peaks of the Blue Ridge, off to the west. The city sits on seven large hills, like Rome."

    By the time we docked the sun hung low [...]

    Eddy [...] was spending one evening a week at informal meetings of kindred spirits at the Falstaff Hotel and an afternoon or two at Barrett’s Gymnasium. At the former he enjoyed the company of such men as Colonel William Drayton, the engraver John Sartrain, and the artist Thomas Sully, who painted his portrait in a very Byronesque pose.


    Eddy began spending one evening a week at the Falstaff Hotel, at an informal gathering of writers and reviewers and artists. […]

    The artist Thomas Sully, also a member, came one day to our house to paint an oil portrait of Eddy. "It makes you look Byronish," I said [...]


    Mr Thomas was appointed to a clerkship in the Treasury Department by President Tyler [...]


    [...] Frederick Thomas, who’d just secured a clerkship in the Treasury Department, under President Tyler’s new administration.


    [...] smoke which funnelled out of the locomotive stack and swirled around the ladies’ coach, stinging her eyes and bringing on fits of coughing [...]


    Sometimes smoke swirled around inside the car, stinging our eyes and making us cough […]

    That'll do for now. Taken together with everything that Jeremy's already mentioned, plus all the stuff denounced in detail by Undine on the Poe blog that he links to, these extracts surely constitute a case that's strong enough for the publishers of The Raven's Bride to withdraw it, and for Lenore Hart AKA Elisabeth Graves to be hurriedly de-invited from any future creative-writing gigs that she may have lined up.

    How can a writer who sees fit to plagiarise be fit to teach others how to write?

  3. A pity Hart didn't show as much creative thinking in writing her novels as she did with that manifesto you quote. 18,000 words. Good Lord, how did you manage to read through it all?

    I had no idea she had such a lengthy writing career--I had never even heard of her until I read "Raven's Bride." I've actually thought of going through some of her other novels to see if she pulled shenanigans like this all the time, but frankly I've gotten so sick of this woman I just haven't been able to work up the energy.

    In any case, you have my deep and genuine gratitude for putting a spotlight on what she did. I'm just an easy-to-dismiss nobody with a blog maybe three people read, but I think St. Martin's would have to take someone like you seriously.

  4. This comment appeared on a post that I did for Book Riot yesterday about the feasibility of using plagiarism checker software in publishing. It has made me very curious about what is going on out there and how it can be stopped. I'm glad you're taking up the call. You got their attention once, maybe you can do it again here.

  5. Correction

    It's only a minor one, but quoting things dead accurately is obviously a lot more important with this subject than it might be with others.

    I incorrectly said the word string that is unique to both was "crossed the Appomattox before sunset". It's actually "after sunset" in both novels (as quoted previously). Apologies for any confusion.

  6. Thanks, everyone. Keep it up, please!

    Just to give you an idea of how obvious the plagiarism is, and how absurd Hart's defence of it is, here's an excerpt from that defence:

    'O’Neal: “The boat from Norfolk to Richmond was smaller and slower than the one they had boarded in Baltimore. The trip up the James was more leisurely too, with stops at plantation wharves along the way and long delays at Scotland and Hopewell.”

    Hart: “The boat we boarded in Norfolk to continue on to Richmond was smaller and a good deal slower than the Baltimore Line steamer. Our trip up the James was more leisurely too. So smooth and calm Muddy came out on deck again to admire the flocks of black duck and mallards, and the honking, straggling dark arrows of geese flowing south.”

    Again, we are talking common historical details here. In the 19th century commercial boats traveling from Norfolk to Richmond had to be a good deal smaller (and hence less powerful) than those larger vessels that plied the deep-water Chesapeake Bay and its other, deeper-draft river tributaries. So, the steamer the Poes boarded in Baltimore would have been either Columbus or Pocahontas -- which in 1835 operated from Baltimore to Richmond with a stop at Norfolk – where the family then would’ve boarded a smaller, shallower-draft Richmond-bound craft, either Patrick Henry, Kentucky, or Thomas Jefferson. (Steamboats Out of Baltimore, Burgess and Wood, 1968). However, I doubted that either 13-year-old Virginia or modern readers cared much about the arcane details of choice of steamship lines, multiple steamer names, or passenger itineraries. The James River itself seemed more interesting to me – it’s at first shallow, twisting, treacherous, and then further on studded with rocks -- the only water route to Richmond. A riverboat captain with the lives of so many literally in his hands could not rush headlong to Richmond (or at least shouldn’t). Drawing closer to the port he would have to take his time to navigate rocks, shoals and any new snags that might have developed since his last passage. But Virginia (my first-person narrator) would not have known any of these professional particulars, and her journey might well seem smooth and calm – at least until they reached the point of Bermuda Hundred, where things then get dicey for sailors, even today. And I felt that would frighten her.'

    No, Lenore Hart. You simply plagiarized the first sentence and a half quoted here from O'Neal's novel.

  7. One more. Mind-blowing. First the examples of plagiarism:

    O’Neal: “ ‘This is Capitol Square,’ he said. ‘Mrs. Poore’s house is the next one here on Bank Street.’
    “They turned into the yard of a large two-story brick house with a Greek portico fronting in the square. The half-paned front door revealed a well-lighted hallway inside. Eddy climbed the steps and opened the door without knocking, just as though he still lived there. After he had shown Maria and Sissy inside he rang a little handbell on a table by the hall tree.”

    Hart: “ ‘Capitol Square,’ he said. ‘Mrs. Poore’s is the next house on Bank Street.’
    “ ‘We turned into the yard of a two-story brick structure with whitewashed Greek portico facing the neatly-planted square. Within lay a wide, well-lighted hall. Eddy opened the door without even ringing a bell or knocking.
    “ ‘Well, he used to live here,’ I whispered, though I was taken aback too. In the foyer he picked up a brass handbell and shook it till it rang out loud and clear.'

    This is blatant plagiarism. She changed some words, sure, but Hart's scene very obviously just follows O'Neal's, with many of the details the same but worded slightly differently. Plagiarism doesn't have to mean verbatim text lifted. This is totally undeniable a lift, and it's one of *dozens* from this book. Here's just an excerpt from Hart's defence of this example, which is quite convincing if you are very gullible:

    '...the Poore boarding house was one of those middling to larger abodes, “on Bank Street, facing the Capitol Square” according to Poe contemporary Susan Archer Weiss (HOME LIFE, OF POE, 80). The houses in this quite respectable neighborhood would have been pre-Civil War Greek Revival architecture (1820-1860). So, all would be basically designed with classical-type columns, a gabled roof, a cornice, and the front door or doors would have sidelights and transom (not be half-paned as O’Neal states – that is a style common later). All or part of the house would be white-washed -- as I noted in my description -- in imitation of Mr. Jefferson’s great Capitol. In 1835 it was still supposed that ancient Greek buildings had all been plain, gleaming white marble, when in fact, as we know now, they were mostly brightly painted in polychromes. The entries (foyers) would be sizeable, square-ish, and the lower landing of the stairs to the next level would almost certainly face the front doorway. Also, there were no “doorbells” in 1835, and only sometimes a primitive sort of knocker, hence the common entryway equipment of the hand-bell. A commercial shop would have had a bell mounted over the door that would jangle every time anyone entered or left, but that would be very disruptive in a place where people lived and slept. Also, as the sun had been lowering when they arrived at the wharf, in this scene it would almost certainly be dinner time (commonly, particularly in the South, called “supper” then).

    So I supposed Eddy would enter the establishment seemingly blithely for two reasons. One: he has already been shown to be somewhat clueless as to how and when he has worn out his welcome somewhere, as we have already seen. Two: at this time of day everyone in the Poore boardinghouse would be eating their evening meal back in a dining room which would be set up conveniently near the (possibly detached) kitchen. Thus they – over the clash of cutlery, conversation, jokes (mostly working men here) and laughter -- might not hear a knock at the front door. Unlike now, back then it was not uncommon to enter even private homes of people you were acquainted with, as long as you quickly and politely announced your presence (“Hello, the house!” is the old traditional hailing call) and as long as you did not wander back into the nonpublic family rooms. In fact, where I live (an isolated rural area in coastal Virginia) we still sometimes do this – believe it or not.'

    A torrent of irrelevant bluster. The passages speak for themselves, and the book is extensively plagiarized.

  8. That's astonishing. Rather than self-serving, as presumably intended, her explanations are in fact self-defeating. All she achieves is to explain in painful detail why she felt it necessary to make a few piddling changes to O'Neal's source text!

  9. Indeed. I expect we're going to see a lot more bluster from Hart shortly - there's a long bit at the end of her defence about how period novelists can be expected to use research, and she will try to shift the debate to that. As with Rowan, I suspect many bloggers and newspapers will deliberately take the contrarian view and wonder if she doesn't have a point, what does this mean for the historical genre, etc.

    If it plays out like that, don't be fooled, people! Her novel about Edgar Allan Poe's wife is incontrovertibly and extensively plagiarized from a 1956 novel about Edgar Allan Poe's wife. She changed a few more words than Quentin Rowan, I'm guessing to avoid Google detection, but it's undeniable - however many words she takes to try to deny it.

    I expect there will be plagiarism in her other work, too, if the Rowan and Hari cases are anything to go by.

  10. You're as tenacious as a butcher's dog gnawing on a bone to get at all the marrow. Well done. Isn't there a novel plot somewhere in all this?

  11. The word-by-word similarities didn't irritate me as much as the fact that she repeated episodes from "Mrs. Poe" that O'Neal completely invented. Some examples: The scene where Mrs. Poore refused to give the trio rooms at her house, or the scene where Poe & Virginia go boating, or when Poe gets hysterical when Virginia compares him to his sister Rosalie. The only source for all this is O'Neal's book.

    I suppose that's just coincidence, as well.

  12. Undine, we've exchanged thoughts on Twitter already and I mention you above, but I just want to say thank you once again, and give full credit to you for all the work you put in on this, and I only hope this blog post can help bring it to more people's attention and, with any luck, help lead to the book being withdrawn.

  13. I forgot to mention earlier that I was intrigued that, in her Bookslut interview, Hart said she also read John May's "Poe & Fanny" while writing her book. I only skimmed May's novel--it was so excruciatingly bad I couldn't bear to give it an in-depth reading--so I don't remember it in detail. I'm wondering, though, if she might have found, uh, inspiration from that book, as well.

    I suppose it's not important--the O'Neal business is enough to damn her book--but I'm mildly curious, now.

  14. Although she put a little (a little) more effort in her plagiarism, her blatant denial and overall attitude makes this really disgusting for me. Considering her status as an established author and that insult to intelligence she tries to pass as an explanation, I tend to put her in an even lower place than Q. Rowan.
    Good work, Mr. Duns, I hope it won't go unnoticed and unpunished by the business.

  15. Jeremy, you have done it again (with the help of your able collaborators). Aside from the technical differences in the methods of plagiarism, and the depth to which the dog doo is buried, there is another important difference between the Rowan and Hart cases. Rowan came clean and owned up to what he had done, and rather quickly at that. Hart covered her crime with bluster and denial, which makes her even more culpable in my eyes. She is still lying, still trying to deceive, and that calls into question her entire oeuvre.

    If the charges are upheld, uninviting Hart to future conclaves is too mild.

    --Larry Constantine (Lior Samson)

  16. What is the URL for the 18000 word apology? The link in your post is wrong.

  17. Steve, Hart sent her defence to someone who had linked to Undine's blog online (not Undine). They have sent it to me in confidence, so it is not online.

    Which link is wrong, though?

  18. I suspect Lenore Hart may soon delete it, but please read this amazing conversation on her official Facebook page, in which I and several others ask her to explain several sentences in The Raven's Bride that she took *verbatim* from The Very Young Mrs Poe, and she still denies it:

  19. Is there someone of substance at the publisher that readers can focus on? The more that's written about this and the more people that identify St. Martin as choosing to ignore a crime, the harder it will be for them.

    I think that the publisher needs to explain why Hart's plagiarism is, apparently, no problem at all.

    Has anybody starting vetting previous works yet? Her denials are hilarious. St. Martin's attitude of hoping it will go away is not in any way funny. They need to be smoked out.

    Things like this - zero due diligence - do not help traditional publishers. This is a time where they need to justify their place in the world.

    (BTW - Did they not give her even a cursory marketing boost? Not even a consultation? Her website is pathetic.)

  20. This might be my imagination, but after you broke this story I checked Lenore Hart's wiki page and someone had already updated it to reflect her plagiarism.

    Today, I went back to the page, and it's been deleted. Maybe I'm imagining that the page existed in the first place, but it seems weird that a major novelist wouldn't have one. Anyways, I think someone deleted the page to cover up the accusation against her.

  21. Writing as vice-chairman of The Danish Edgar Allan Poe Society, I'd like to offer the following footnote.

    As Kenneth Silverman points out with several examples in his splendid biography "Edgar A. Poe: Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance" (1992), Poe himself could at time be guilty of plagiarism, for instance basing the following lines from a 1827 poem, "I saw thee on the bridal day / When a burning blush came o'er thee", on an locally published 1826 poem by John Lofland, which includes the lines "I saw her on the bridal day / In blushing beauty blest".

    Without removing any blame from Lenore Hart, I hope this may ad a historical perspective to the case, or at least have some minor anecdotal value. See Silverman's book for more examples.

  22. On a related note, I've waged skirmishes against a book published through iUniverse by Frank X. Harris called Fire Hunter which is a clunky rewrite of Fire-Hunter by Jim Kjelgaard. That's right, Harris didn't even bother to change the title of the book beyond deleting a hyphen. I've succeeded in getting iUniverse to stop selling it on their website, but it's still available on Amazon. A number of reviews (in addition to mine) point out the plagiarism, but Amazon will not take a book offline unless contacted by a legal representative of the plagiarized title. I've been in contact with the Kjelgaard estate, and they told me they would contact Amazon, but I'm not privy to what happened after that.

    In addition to these high-profile examples of late, I can't help but wonder how many unknown writers are self-publishing "their" versions of out-of-print titles.

    See an old blog post of mine for a little more detail about Fire Hunter, including an example:

  23. Oh come on. Post actual pictures of the text, not just misquote it and hope for the best. This isn't even close to plagiarism. I've read both and the only thing they share is a common theme. You disgust me. The real question is why post such blatant lies? Publicity? Boredom? What's wrong with you coward?

  24. Oh come on. Post actual pictures of the text, not just misquote it and hope for the best. This isn't even close to plagiarism. I've read both and the only thing they share is a common theme. You disgust me. The real question is why post such blatant lies? Publicity? Boredom? What's wrong with you coward?

  25. Doctor Swag, is your comment directed at my Fire Hunter post?