Saturday, 18 July 2009


"Bad artists drink coffee. Great artists, tea"
Pablo Picassa.

I never understood that Picasso quote about stealing, and it always struck me as basically stupid, so I won't discuss it any more.

Plagiarism. It seems it has it's own day now. Yesterday, I think. Never mind, I'll just take today and copy it.

Will Self once advised temperance if and when other people steal your work. If you're any good, he said, you can write more while the thief probably can't. Which is fine, except Will Self said it, and he's like tin foil placed gently against a filling. I wish someone else had said it. Maybe they did. Maybe Will, in a gesture of supreme ironic idiocy, stole that line.

The thing that gets me about plagiarism is that it is sad. It's as sad as an attention seeking clown faking his own death then turning up at his own funeral, in full costume, and finding the place deserted. No clowns for miles. Then the he goes to a cafe and accidentally chokes on a spoon. That's what plagiarism means to me.

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