Iron Dave's First Confession



Like Most Con Men

He Wanted An Out

David Boyer has been publishing all over the web that he's not a plagiarist.  That it's all lies.  So I thought some of you would like to see what he sent me to publish back in October.

And you probably wonder why  the infamous Vincennes, Indiana mass plagiarist complains that he already confessed to me and apologized and I still won't let up.  Let's clear that up right now.  It's because he apologized under an alias!!!

Here's his first confession, delivered after the deadline I imposed, delivered without the complete list of his aliases I demanded and without him defining his theft as plagiarism.  He preferred the word "used."  See what you think.  More to come. 

“I, David Byron, Iron Dave, Doc Byron, admit I used Rick Moore's story, Electrocuting the Clowns, as my own, for monetary gain. I did so out of desperation due to extreme financial distress at the time of the act. Since then, I have been saved - became a Christian - and intend to move forward with my life in a much better manner, abiding by all the rules of the literary and publishing business, and will not commit this type of act again. I know it was wrong, and I sincerely apologize to Mr. Moore for doing this to him. I hope that all concerned will forgive me in time as well. 

David Byron / 10/5/2010”

Is he a dufus or what?  David Boyer tries to confess under an ALIAS.  So, he didn't meet the deadline I imposed, he didn't give a complete list of his aliases (he published my story with his various aliases on it all over the web) and he couldn't man up enough to give the apology in his own name. 

Ouch.  That's why people quit calling him Iron Dave and started calling him Tin Foil Dave.

Oh yes, and David Boyer plagiarized me AFTER he publicly delcared himself a Christian.  And did the same to many others after his declared "conversion."

Boyergate Flash! Bigfoot Angry at David Boyer

Bigfoot Needed a Ride to Vincennes, Indiana

But Developed Engine Trouble Along the Way

David Boyer is in trouble with Bigfoot.  Bigfoot's dream, you see, is to be a writer.

"He ruin market," the seismic-sized Sasquatch told me.

I had to run to keep up with him.  Being ten foot tall, his stride was enormous.  We were on our way through Ohio to meet the man voted America's most sleazy plagiarist in his home town of Vincennes, Indiana.  The town council of Vincennes also voted last week on a resolution re Boyer to change the town's motto to "David Boyer doesn't live here, he's just passing through."

"Had you thought of basketball?" I shouted at my interviewee as we crested another of Ohio's annoying hills.  "There's lots of money in basketball for a guy your size."

"Bigfoot no punk yeti!  Bigfoot aim big.  Be writer like Stephen King."

His words rumbled across the open land like thunder and his eyes were red-yellow and fierce.  I resisted the urge to look down and see if he really did have big feet or whether they were just proportional to his height.

"And what is your quarrel with David Boyer?" I asked and added, "Could we sit down on a stump or something?  I'm out of breath."

The gentle giant stopped and looked at me apologetically.  "Sorry," he said.  "Bigfoot no fit in car.  And cheap foreign flying saucer crap out over Toledo."

We found a stump large enough in diameter to support his behind and a log for me to sit on.  He sat down rather quietly for a creature weighing over twelve hundred pounds.  And in the afternoon sun, he actually looked dignified except for his face being completely covered with fur and those big teeth.  Perhaps by email I'll suggest he consider cologne as a wardrobe accessory as well.

"So," I continued, "why are you meeting with Mr. Boyer?"

"Bigfoot have writer's block," he said, casting his eyes toward the ground.  "Can't write worth beef jerky." 

"Wait, do you expect a man who defrauds consumers by selling plagiarized work to help you overcome writer's block?  He's a terrible horror writer.  He told me so in an email."

"He no have writer's block.  Bigfoot have writer's block."

I stood up and walked over to my new friend.

"You don't need to go see Boyer,"  I said.  "I can tell you why Boyer doesn't have writer's block when it comes to published fiction."

"You can?" he said, with a huge smile and a mouthful of blocky teeth.  "You make Bigfoot very happy."

"Sure,"  I said.  "His own fiction was so bad it was hard to get published, so he just started stealing other people's work and publishing that under his name or one of his aliases.  That way he didn't have to deal with writer's block.  You see?  He was a publisher.  Writers submitted their work and he just stole their stories.  That's in addition to stealing from writers on StoryMania."

Bigfoot said nothing for a few minutes, then he stood, beat his chest and howled a terrifying scream.

"What? What?" I yelled in a panic.

"Bigfoot put story up on StoryMania."

Uh-oh, I thought.