Margaret Wente is way better when her own articles are plagiarized into a new article. For your pleasure, here’s the perfect rebuttal to her “columns.” Wente in her own words, plagiarized and out of context.
A Margaret Wente Mash Up
Iran. Israel. The United States. Iran. Universities. Bad teachers. Unions. Sex.
That experiment was 35 years ago, but does anyone think the results would be different today?
That’s when I learned what it feels like to bang your head against the ceiling.
The real issue is the fight against the ruling class, the greedy corporations, the tar sands, and the entire capitalist, neo-liberal elite.
I’m sad to say the ideologically driven, radically unbalanced logic humiliated me.
I just couldn’t get it.
Back in 2008, I was smoking dope with sociology, anthropology, philosophy, arts, and victim-studies students, whose degrees are increasingly worthless in a world that increasingly demands hard skills.
Everything I owned was stuffed in the back of her Volkswagen Beetle.
I was anxious and excited, in a beauty contest full of homely people.
I was worried that everyone would be smarter than me, to say nothing of more worldly and more sexually experienced.
Most other Canadians were, too.
But now, young men don’t have to do those things. They’re the baristas of tomorrow and they don’t even know it, because the adults in their lives have sheltered them and encouraged their mass flight from reality.
Young professionals are facing a painful double squeeze. Plenty of people, including countless academics and large swaths of the diplomatic corps, are upset, as the Greeks and everyone else have always known, if you like your job security, teaching is the place for you.
But, if you’ve been enjoying a news-free vacation lately (highly recommended for your mental health), you may be in for a nasty shock.
A blogger has accused me of substantively plagiarizing the column, and much else.
The allegations have exploded in the Twitterverse and prompted harsh commentary from other writers, some of whom are characterizing me as a serial plagiarist.
Some say they amount to bloodless ethnic cleansing. This is probably impossible. But politicians, even Conservative ones, are not suicidal.
I was devastated.
For the first two years, I regarded Wite-Out as the most important technological breakthrough of the decade. I might as well have been on Mars.
Instead of a laptop, I had a small typewriter, whose keys jammed if I typed too fast.
I wrote lengthy letters full of recriminations and remorse, none of which, thank God, seem to have survived.
I began supplementing income by dealing LSD and pot. Naturally, I was completely hooked. I adored one of those women in politics who seemed like a pathetic rump, but who isn’t really as dangerous, malevolent and crazy as it seems, who’s been taken hostage by a bunch of lunatics.
It seems too awful to be true.
The professional classes can’t escape the gales of change that are ripping through society.
Unfortunately, the fact that for the first two years, I regarded Wite-Out as the most important technological breakthrough of the decade, an astonishing number of soc and psych majors who refuse to venture beyond their comfort zone – linguistic, geographical, or ideological – face even dimmer prospects.
Until recently, the price was steep, up to and including a wedding ring and a promise of lifetime commitment.
But as women began to gain power and opportunity, that began to change. Women can now get a piece of society’s wealth on their own. But every so often we’d get a craving for jelly doughnuts at 3 a.m.
Are you ever worried that you (or a loved one) have mental problems that require professional attention?
What I often am is a target for people who don’t like what I write.
Do you get cranky before your period?
Now the vampire is arising from its grave. He was attractive, he was smart, he was young and, best of all, he wasn’t a serial plagiarist.
There were other disappointments, too – intellectual ones.
She was smart, but was an “insult to humanity” and “a cancerous tumour,” crawling toward the scrapheap of history. I got home early one day from class and discovered I am a serial offender whose work is riddled with errors, and worse.
Think twice before you encourage your daughter to go to law or med school, especially if she’ll have to borrow heavily to do it.
Today, the love affair is over.
In which case, God help the boycott of Israel’s “apartheid regime.”
I would rather drink cyanide than be awash in soc and psych majors.
Once you’re in the door it’s really hard to lose your job for incompetence, or even moral turpitude.
Although Canadians are convinced that I was in an awful mess, who’s so clapped-out, so exhausted, and so devoid of ideas that basically a socialist could scarcely make things worse than they were, it’s just the way it is.
But I’m also sorry we live in an age where attacks on people’s character and reputation, a process widely known as “passing the trash,” seem to have become the norm.
Logic was highly analytical. The right drugs are a godsend (That’s not a vision, or a plan. It’s a fantasy.)
Journalists know they’re under the microscope and the world will not be kind to them.
For every loser there’s usually a winner.
Every sentence was been taken directly from one of the following articles, with only a few linking words inserted.