*This article appeared in the 4/1/02 Joke Issue*Let me just get this on the record: plagiarism is a bad thing.
What Stephen Ambrose did really does erhalten Sie meine Ziege. When I found out last summer that he had lifted portions of my book The Wings of Morning for his own, oh-so cleverly entitled The Wild Blue, I was heiss unter dem Stellring.
I really felt violated, much like President Hacha must have during his visit to Hitler in Berlin in March 1939.
Plagiarism has hurt me greatly -- as a historian and as a scholar, I am embarrassed that such an eminent person as Stephen Ambrose would do such a thing. It is just wrong.
Now that I've said all that so that Jonathan won't get mad at me, let me tell you a little secret: plagiarism is also the best goddamned thing that's ever happened to me.
Think about it. Who was I last December? Just another history professor at a third-rate university, lionized only by a student body consisting entirely of self-righteous, Long Island-born idioten.
Oh sure, I've written extensively on the Second World War, but then again, who hasn't? There must be a million books on the topic, and let me assure you that if you were going to choose one, it wouldn't be The Nazi Voter.
And yes, I've received critical acclaim for my book The Wings of Morning, but what did that translate into?
Nichts, if you know what I mean.
I didn't get any kind of fancy big-name publishing deal. Nope, not for me. My books are put out by a company known more for science textbooks than for serious history.
Not that The Wings of Morning falls into that category.
But more importantly, the book wasn't selling well enough to substantially augment my meager professor's salary. I'm certainly not lounging on any Montana ranch.
Then, enter The Weekly Standard. The boys over there splash my name all over their pages and all but give me credit for writing a New York Times bestseller (I did write all of the readable parts, anyway).
All of a sudden, The Wings of Morning jumps from 250,000 on the Amazon.com sales list to the top 25 and I've got People magazine knocking at my door and Times photographers taking pictures of me in Logan Hall.
Even better, my lecture tapes on The Teaching Company are selling like hotcakes -- I've sold more tapes in the last two months than Kors has in his career.
Sucker should have written books about something that someone would have taken the time to plagiarize. French atheism in the 17th century? What a freakin' snoozer of a field.
And anyway, I'm more famous now than he ever was for that water buffalo crap.
Really, the only thing that pisses me off about the whole Wild Blue-Wings of Morning incident is that The Wild Blue is such a piece of crap book.
I have always believed, and still do to a great extent, that Stephen Ambrose has contributed immeasurably to the study of World War II. His refocusing of attention from the generals to the average soldier has been truly revolutionary.
But The Wild Blue simply does not do justice to the inimitable words of mine that Ambrose included in it. It really is like eine Perle in der Schiesse, if you get me.
That and my humility aside, Ambrose's shenanigans have really changed my life. I've lit a fire under my ass to get the next volume of my trilogy, We'll Meet Again, onto bookstore shelves before this whole thing blows over. Gotta capitalize on this while I'm still hot, you know? Your 15 minutes can be fleeting, and I've got to line my pockets as much as I can while I've still got the chance.
And with these newfound riches, me and the missus are looking to get the hell out of our crowded dump in Media into some more spacious lodgings -- our own personal lebensraum.
I might even buy myself a fishing hole down in Delaware and an apartment over in der Grossdeutches Reich, to facilitate my research and get me out of the hellhole we call the City of Brotherly Love at every possible opportunity.
Now that I've got all that off my chest, I'd like to thank a few people from the bottom of my heart.
Stephen, you cannot possibly imagine how much better my life has become since you ripped me off. I've got attention, money and groupies.
Sure, you're a base and vile fellow with an understanding of academic pursuit similar to that of John Fry, but you've made me who I am today.
And for that, ich bin sehr dankbar.
Also, great thanks to Fred Barnes over at The Weekly Standard. I had ethical problems accusing Mr. Ambrose of the crime of plagiarism, but thankfully, you folks have no similar standards and have kind of run out of things to write about since the Clintons left the White House.
But without you, I'd still be a frustrated, bitter old historian toiling over a masterpiece that would be enjoyed only by my colleagues and a bunch of eggheads. Now, I'm a superstar.
See you all in class today.
