Reel Politique: News Update, the Spielberg blog plagiarism case
You may recall the case of young Damian Arlyn, the 31-year-old manager of the Corvallis video store DVD World whose blog Windmills of My Mind was indulging in an obsession with Arlyn’s favorite director through a gimmick called “31 Days of Spielberg,” when it was stopped dead in its tracks in late August by charges of plagiarism. Mr. Arlyn admitted the borrowings from his academic superiors but maintained that he would not be gagged.
Well, I dropped in on Windmills the other day and found that the site, as of September 12, shows only one update. In it, an unrepentant Mr. Arlyn vaguely addresses the charges against him. Announcing that “This blog is not dead nor am I [though his internet connection is down, forcing him to use the library], Mr. Arlyn goes on to reveal that he “needed some time to get away and think about what had happened, how it happened and whether or not I planned to continue blogging,” before going on to complain that “in the interim other things of a personal nature occurred in my life that were not much fun (when it rains, it pours sometimes) and which can certainly force one to realize that there is much more to life than just the ‘virtual world.’” Without much of a transition, Mr. Arlyn then announces that “I eventually decided that I will continue to blog but I will not be rushed. I will proceed with “31 Days of Spielberg” as soon as I am able to (picking up where I left off with the entry on Jurassic Park) which will probably be when my internet is working again. Hope that clears things up.”
It doesn’t. Somehow, Mr. Arlyn has twisted events around so that he is the victim, and like Senator Craig, now refuses to go away. Where, after being charged with the most egregious sin in journalism, which Mr. Arlyn admits committing, does he find the gall to cast himself in the role of victim here? It turns out that such flourishes of public self-pity come easily to Mr. Arlyn, for he is himself an actor and director down in Corvallis, where he has played Malvolio in Twelfth Night and directed a stage production of Dracula, for which he also designed the set and the poster. Like his Hollywood brethren, Mr. Arlyn can use any spotlight, even the strobe on a prison wall, for a thespian turn, and exposure of a transgression is not shameful but further opportunity for attention and proclamations of self-pity.
His fans, however, continue to rally around Mr. Arlyn. In the talkback to his Sept. 12 announcement, Jeremy, it seems, speaks for Doc, Megan, Tucker Piper, J.D. and other acolytes (or DVD World employees and Corvallis Community Theatre techies), when he writes, “Glad to hear it Damian. I never lost faith not for a second. I’m sorry to hear about your difficulties and hope you get through it all right. I’ll be your loyal reader when you get back into the swing of things so good luck and see you soon.” Perhaps his fans appreciate that Mr. Arlyn, as Shaw said of Shakespeare, can tell a pretty good story — as long as someone else tells it to him first.