My name is Jan Manzwotz and I am an American academic at a mid western university, where I teach poetry to tender minds, at that crucial stage of development where they need to be guided by the binary multiples inherent in post modern discourse and in lecture breaks, or alternatively, when on the cellphone talking the "dumbassification" of the primary intelligibles, which given socio economic paternal structures direct when bearing on the flow stress angle of certain allegations made by Ronald the “Silly Man” MacDonald, relating to the stealing of oral poetry from a certain university catering establishment I am not at liberty to mention. It has come to my attention through one of my students, that Mr Silly Man's blog has brought to light the fact that some post modern poets are indulging in blatant plagiarisms, which I have long been aware of, but kept quiet about because of professional rivalries I am unable to discuss at present.
I have a few of my works in development housed here on my blog, as the politics in the lecturer canteen can get very heated, as we wonder who we can trust with our highly complex and very interesting ideas. So interesting they appeal only to the very gifted of an exclusive linguistic cartel. As a result of these oral thefts I prefer to remain silent at all times except when I am in the presence of manual domestic staff who show no real likelihood of ever deciding to get educated and so are unaware of their true worth and potential as language maestros. And I record their native patois and use it to create my masterpieces, using only a Dictaphone, which I conceal in a pair of lightweight new polymer material trousers, which I had made by a chef-as-artist who creates sandwiches at one of my local def jam poetry groups, where we practise the linguistically innovative poetry we write, which is known as L=A=N=G=A=U=G=E, after the magazine that spawned this genre, and of who the most well known exponents are Charles Bernstein and Scalljah AKA Sloppy Bob http://scalljah.blogspot.com/, who has had a few posts pulled from the blog sites of other academic poets after they had taken legal advice pertaining to the law of defamation and slander.
Certain people's names were mentioned, which were an integral and disposable part of Scalljah's work, and who (I am assuming) are the wielders of the real power in those academies where fantasy keeps them all breathing. A fantasy which is more real than the catering establishment where most of the real post modern poetic decisions and oral thefts occur. Certain legal issues prohibit me from identifying the canteen in question, but I can tell you that the interior ambient furnishings and overall eye material scheme was a special commission, undertaken by a very well known reality television painter and decorator who, once again, legal issues disallow me from naming in person. These premises are kept on 24 hour standby by the star god dons of the Anglo-American poetry mafia who live simple lives, wanting no more than to have a light meal and a consensual swing session with whoever is in the que holding the lucky ticket which allows them past the velvet rope and into the backroom where the real ideas on how to take the poetics of the English speaking world forward are forged.
Personally I think they must have got their advice from the ghost of George Carmen, via the spirit of Adolf Hitler, and using the medium of myself. But little are they aware that my advice was not worth the air I didn't send it on, and I myself am advising Scalljah to take advice from a legal mind who knows every law ever written and herself advises a toilet attendant called Derek, who is in fact the worlds most naturally gifted practising hereditary lawyer-poet and can turn into a salmon, a ten foot teenager, a conjurers wig, an office memo directing top down organisational change, and turn black to white and vice versa; using only the power of his mind and the relevant incantations, which are delivered to him when he is watching bugs bunny on the cartoon network. I have also suggested he read an anthology tome titled "New Poetcs - an introduction," which lays bare the minds of many of the most avant garde minds in poetry.
This is a head bangingly heavy duty legal poetry text, and after considering my advice, Scalljah has decided to book into a 10 star world depression treatment center of excellence in the Hollywoood hills, and send the bill to and sue the academic poets who removed his postings, for substantial financial damages and a written apology, which the poets in question will have to read out whilst standing on their head naked, in the non existent Supreme Poetry Court of Fair Play, which doesn't sit once every blue moon on top of Achill Island's Slievmore mountain. Failure to attend is an admission that their conduct has done him a grevious wrong and he is indeed, seriously mentally deluded and in need of recognition by fellow spaced out poets who dwell in worlds of fancy.