High concept: Heavenly Creatures meets The Stranger meets River's Edge. Bored teenagers do the darndest things. And will (I hope) be done to, damning, back.

I just watched Jonathan Lethem and Judge Richard Posner on C-SPAN's BookTV talk about plagiarism. An interesting subject, but it chiefly brought up personal memories, for me.

During Liberty's early years, I wrote a short review, a Booknote, on a science fiction novel. Some months later I came across a state LP newsletter with a review of the same work. The odd thing was, over half the review was taken, quite obviously, from my review. The whole of my review was there, with a few editorial changes, and a few new paragraphs.

What astounded me was that the review was very personal, and talked about some of my own experiences. Those personal reflections were included, too, in the plagiarized review!

I couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing. I wrote a bemused letter to the editor of the newsletter. I didn't demand a thing. I simply requested that he instruct his writers not to be so blatant in future acts of plagiarism, should they feel compelled to steal so blatantly.

I seem to remember admitting to him the obvious fact (and one that Posner made in his remarks on BookTV) that the review, in its plagiarized form, was better than my shorter review.

At about the same time my employer, the editor of Liberty, wrote a very nasty letter to a major coin company. One of that company's writers had used one of my employer's graphs that he had published in his precious metals newsletter Analysis & Outlook (he had made his fortune in this field).

What struck me as so odd about this little event was not his truculence or his demands (though neither were to my taste), but the simple fact that he regularly stole the intellectual property of that company and all others in the industry. He regularly took their pictures of coins and put them into his own advertisements. How could he maintain such a self-righteous tone when he was, in effect, in no way righteous on the very matter involved?

The difference between my employer and myself can be seen in this one instance: I had a hard time getting worked up over one small plagiarism against me, whereas he angrily demanded recompense, even though he was more guilty than the offender against him.

My employer did not really believe in reciprocity. It was not only not second nature to him, it seemed no part of his nature.

Is it any wonder that we would some day part company?

I'm glad I'm not a judge. Or a politician. To have to pretend to be disturbed, as this judge claims to, would be too much work:

"The type of behavior is disturbing," Judge Michael Lucci said. "It's disturbing to the public. It's disturbing to the court."

What's so disturbing? A man apparently stole a car, killed a horse for necrophiliac activity, but was caught somehow engaged in sexual conduct with a deer.

It's not disturbing. It's risible. And pathetic. For theft and killing of animals that weren't his, throw the book at him. Treat him as a sexual offender? Oh, well. If you must. But frankly, we have enough to do without worrying about these whackjobs. Necrophiliac bestiality just seems like something we can all stand against without having to rattle the jailer's keys.

I suppose I understand some people's worries. Perhaps necrophiliac bestiality is a gateway crime. The next thing you know, he'll be fucking vegetables.

The trouble with the idea of prohibiting flag-burning (that is, the symbolic act of defiance, not the ritual retirement of a flag) is that it takes some symbolic acts too seriously.

Sure, when someone burns a flag they are basically telling the government that the flag stands for that the government must be taken down. But our government has its origins in secession and rebellion against a government and its flag, and at least one of our founding fathers argued that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing. For liberty.

So flag-burning can be seen as the natural manure of liberty.

For a government born of rebellion to prohibit symbolic acts against it seems to be a denial of the government's own origin, and the legitimacy of declarations of resistance.

But of course no government can tolerate actual rebellions.

So we expect a government to suppress armed insurrection, even in a just cause.

And if a group takes over the local city hall, pulls down the American flag, and puts up the Mexican, the desecration combined with the illegal and overt acts does raise acts of tresspass and battery and the like to another level.

So flag-burning and other forms of desecration may be good clues to provide meaning to other acts.

But when the person is merely protesting, by burning a flag he is not actually rebelling; he's making a statement.

Statements and expressions of disloyalty by native-born Americans can and should be tolerated. Statements of disloyalty and flag-desecration by foreign-born non-citizens may be another matter; simple exportation sounds like a good idea at that point.

To outlaw flag-burning as such, alone, is to say that we do not have the right to symbolically destroy our government. Which is to stifle dissent. Which is to deny the right to destroy a government, upheld in the Declaration of Independence.

Though flag-burning should be legal, if it is done in conjuction with actual attacks on government officials or functionaries or property, then the symbolic act can be said to clarify the associated crimes.

So, in a sense, flag-burning can become a proof of intent. Many people damage government property intentionally, or attack a government official intentionally . . . and few mean to engage in rebellion, insurrection. But when a person caught tresspassing or otherwise attacking the government has also burnt a flag, we can (in most cases) safely assume that insurrection was the intent. And thus the crime would be treason, or similar, rather than just the crime alleged.

Ah, what a story: In a town meeting, one woman gives a light whack on the back of the head to a controversial councilwoman, using a folder of papers. The victim plays it up for all it's worth: after a moment's reflection, she screams and falls to the floor.

I'm against the initiation of force, but I do believe, also, in proportion: the histrionics of the unholy roller were amusingly overdone.

The whole thing is childish. Even the first interpretation of the event so qualifies: The mayor's response was almost more incredible than the floored councilwoman. He somehow interpreted the tap/whack/bip as a strike to the councilwoman's eye. Fantastic.

Politicians lie, yes. It's a special few who lie and roll around on the floor.

Thanks, Justin Stoddard and Radley Balko.

The mystery of Enron, according to Malcolm Gladwell, was a complex one. And it required minds willing to ferret out truth. Mysteries require that we revisit our list of culprits and be willing to spread the blame a little more broadly. Because if you can’t find the truth in a mystery — even a mystery shrouded in propaganda — it’s not just the fault of the propagandist. It’s your fault as well.

This essay by Gladwell, like most others by this author, bears repeated reading. At first his distinction between puzzles and mysteries seemed like a gimmick to me. But he may be on to something.

After all, I prefer mysteries to puzzles.