About 3 years ago, I was Opal Mehta, or felt like it. Thrown into a culture obsessed with sex and celebrity. I wanted to be a part of the "in" crowd. I knew many fellow untouchables who held the same passive aggressive bipolar (and in retrospect somewhat wacky) point of view: (I love you, but back away, for I am not worthy of your love). Sure, I was playing hard to get. I was very well bosomed and had numerous gentleman callers. I made so much money making men and women horny that I wanted to show others how to do what I did and be who I am. Just like Opal. Here we have a character who consciously obtains what she she has subconsciously wanted all along -- the acceptance of others. This "person" is really just a toddler with a rejection complex. Her parents didn't want her because she was a lady, or galpal, of "letters." She couldn't bear the burden of her own geeky outsider status, so she fictionalized herself and created a modified identity. Pleasing an entire community of neurosurgeons and gynecologists with hefty praise for her having obtained uncritical but name brand success in a field that they supposedly don't understand: the pigtail genre. One day Opal is hopscotching around a gated community, and the next she's desparately tapdancing for sexual attention at Hog's and Heifers. So that's who I also used to be. Personally, I think plagiarism should be a deportable offense. I say, strip her of whatever resident or citizenship status she has. Just let her try get adequate psychiatric help in India.