The whole truth at last; Shocker
by Jon Rappoport
January 9, 2024
The revelations keep coming in this fast-paced story.
But the media—left, right, and center—have it all wrong.
She quit her job in disgrace because…she had to avoid a deep investigation of her published work by Harvard? Well, yes, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
There’s something far worse lurking below the surface.
Have you wondered how she could be so careless? How she could have plagiarized so much material in her papers and PhD thesis…and actually thought she’d get away with it?
I mean, she isn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but still. She had to know she was leaving a long trail of evidence any academic could uncover.
“I forgot to put quotes around all those chunks of other people’s words” was never going to cut it.
Especially since most if not all the other people are still alive.
There’s only one reasonable conclusion.
She didn’t plagiarize at all.
She never borrowed/stole a single thing.
How can that be?
Oh, it be.
Are you seeing it?
If she isn’t dumb enough to base her entire career on stealing other people’s work, the only conclusion is…
She didn’t write any of her papers or her thesis herself.
Someone else did. Or several other people did.
And THEY plagiarized. They were dumb enough to try to pull it off.
THEY had no ideas of their own. THEY weren’t competent academics to begin with.
THEY were hacks paid to do a job.
THEY took as many short cuts as possible.
The one thing they did know was: if they attributed what they were putting on the page to the people the ideas and the quotes actually came from…there would be nothing left over. Claudine Gay would be revealed as a serial borrower who had not a single idea of her own.
So they omitted the quote marks and didn’t name the sources.
But wait. There’s more.
Claudine and I go way back.
I met her one summer afternoon at the track. Santa Anita.
I used to play the horses. Vigorously.
And I was in one of my deep holes.
I owed serious $$ to the wrong people. They were the process of squeezing me.
Claudine and I sat in the clubhouse that fateful afternoon sipping gimlets, and after five or six, I spilled my story to her.
One thing led to another, and she explained her problem.
She had to publish…and she couldn’t. She didn’t have the chops.
I, on the other hand, could certainly lay down a few hundred pages of academic prose on demand.
For the right price.
Sloshed on gimlets, we had a meeting of minds.
Thus began our friendship. And my secret work as her ghost.
But here’s the thing.
Writing 11 papers and a PhD thesis was tiring for me. More than tiring. The style, the required style is grotesque. Arch, pretentious, neutral, bloviational in the extreme.
So I…took short cuts.
Looking back, it wasn’t the smartest move.
But it was the move I made.
I combed through journals and ripped off large meaty pieces of academic gibber-gabber and imported them.
In my defense, she and her backers weren’t paying me a fortune. The total sum was barely enough to cover my gambling debts.
But yes. I was unforgivably careless.
I figured Claudine was a protected diversity hire and no one would ever bother looking into her creds.
Of course, I had no idea she would, with the assistance of Barack Obama (another diversity hire), rise to the position of president of Harvard.
In those days, I had a sliver of respect for Harvard.
I certainly thought their people possessed enough smarts and chutzpah to protect Claudine under all circumstances. They might eventually elevate her to tenured professor, or even associate dean…but president?
Wow. That possibility never occurred to me.
But now…I think I owe it to Claudine to set the record straight. She didn’t commit a whole series of fraudulent offenses. She only committed one. Hiring me.
I did it.
I was the one.
And in the current landscape and atmosphere, where people are allowed to get away with every crime under the sun, I believe I should be forgiven.
Not only forgiven, but praised for trying to help a diversity hire.
Doesn’t that sound reasonable and fair?