3.46am Motivation Aspiration
Then suddenly, I found it. Well, not really, suddenly, I read it this morning, rolled my eyes at her rolling her eyes, did some other stuff, crawled into bed at about 3am, laid awake and then realised I might actually have something worth writing about.
For those not up to speed, the author of this piece is none other than Marieke Hardy. Marieke Hardy's claim to fame in life is being the granddaughter of Frank Hardy, the commie author who slandered a bunch of other non-commie people of note, and generally sneering and pissing all over anything that the mainstream like, through her roles on public broadcast services such as the ABC or Triple J, provided to you by the Australian Federal Government, which is in turn brought to you by that very same mainstream who generally make up the 20% of the population who consider themselves to be swinging voters with no political allegiance one way or another. Funny how things work. Marieke Hardy's other accomplishment was getting semi-naked for Black & White magazine, but that is neither here nor there.
Marieke Hardy also had a blog at some point, that served no other purpose than to define female sexual liberation as being socially acceptable on the basis of how useless your university degree is and whether or not you had one, or creative expletives that even make my eyebrows raise up with "Whoa".. To borrow some of her own vernacular, I'd consider her to be nothing more than a total walking cuntdribble of a human being. (Which, lack of gyno knowledge aside, I guess makes me a pap smear by default..)
The article in question sneers and frowns at the 2.1 million people who were obviously wrong enough to dare tune in to watch Hey Hey It's Saturday, as if by doing so, you were supporting the spreading of AIDS, liberating every other un-democratic nation left, building weapons of mass destruction AND may or may not have said something that could be half-construed as an anti-Israel sentiment all at once. You see, kids. If it wasn't on the ABC, it wasn't worth a pinch of shit, and is obviously commercial garbage designed only to make profit. Not just profit, but evil profit. This isn't the time to point out that the ABC board has been stacked with Liberal appointees for the last decade, as it was obviously somewhere else that the cultural enlightenment comes from.
Hey Hey It's Saturday, and it's target audience, succinctly summarises the hopes and dreams of the Aspirationals that one John Howard once spoke of. Whilst I doubt JWH would say it in such a way that I have - generally, if the highlight of your week is sitting down in front of the TV with your family to watch Daryl Somers shit on to John Farnham about his new album for the millionth time, you're obviously too busy doing other remotely important/successful stuff to have the time for anything else. Work, kids, friends, bills, mortgages, car servicing. This blog is fast becoming an AXA ad.
To paraphrase Churchill, if you're not a communist at 17, you've got no heart, if you're not a capitalist by 21, you've got no brain. Unfortunately the brainless of the Brunswick st bourgeois also lack foresight in this area also. Eventually, the dream does become more than that studio apartment or renovated warehouse off Smith/Brunswick st, and the concept of a two bedroom house in the outer suburbs with 2.2 kids becomes more than just that place you're told to fuck off to by CBD nightclub wenches come closing time, but instead, an exciting reality.
You're a fool if you ever want to save enough to buy a house outright, or want to work hard enough to pay the repayments. Why would you want to do that when you have an entitlement to a Government that will give you a state funded one (probably complete with pink batts), and of course, a first home buyers grant toward a loan that you probably can't afford just yet, that only serves as paying off the inflated market value of the property that having such a loan in the first place serves to create. Why aspire to have what is yours, when the Govt have housing commission so close to Chapel and Brunswick streets?
Why have children of your own, when theres a perfectly good Government system set up to encourage low-income earners to breed for the country, at a one off fee that barely gets you a decent dual-tuner on the plasma screen these days? If only the Bogans and the Bundy-full are breeding, then the Government can point to both workplace productivity and it's great welfare system. If you're educated well enough not to make an alliteration on your first born's name, deliberate or otherwise for "uniqueness" (and I do beg any potential parent reading this not to consider that for a name either), then, well, this current Government doesn't like you and your aspirations (also probably not a good idea for a baby name).
Despite it serving as a platform for Red Faces contestants to come out and claim the impossibility of them being racist, for they too are an ethnic minority and therefore completely unable to discriminate on grounds of race, against the grandstanding claims of someone from a country whose own track record on civil rights is arguably worse than ours, the show is relatively controversy free. Reminiscent of the scene in The Castle where the Kerrigan family watch The Best of Red Faces, it can shock some to discover that laughs can be had at relatively unfunny material, it can even be unoriginal, or unable to provoke thought or debate, perhaps even for the simple notion that laughing at something inoffensive removes the chance of being looked down upon for laughing at something with more potential to segregate such as The Chaser or Summer Heights High.
Eventually, most of us move away from the Brunswick st latte hangout, and look toward the first born, the first home, or the first car. Eventually we as human beings grow tired of being handed things and desire to earn them ourselves. By contrast, the small minority do hang around at the back of the latte store, the beret gets more outrageous, the t-shirt with the social conscience slogans become more profound, and the nose gets higher and higher to be looked down from, the next time someone dares to create something, rather than be handed it.
:snorteyerollsnootylaugh
How a cum-gargler of ill repute sent an innocent man to the gallows.
Does this sound like the words of someone completely motivated by "exposing the truth"?
As of yesterday, Matthew Johns has been fired from two positions of employment, with the Channel Nine network and NRL team, the Melbourne Storm respectively, has had his family life torn apart, and probably had his marketability ruined beyond repair. All this, and yet, did not commit any crime, nor was he found guilty of any crime, let alone charged with one. This is in stark contrast to the average sentencing of rapists to a five year prison sentence. To say that the penalty does not fit the crime is not even close to being accurate, as obviously, no crime has been committed.
As has been confirmed by both, the victim and Johns, the intercourse that occurred between the two, was consensual. However, the only potential sticking point from a legal perspective, is that up to twelve other Sharks players entered the room and proceeded to have sex with her (according to the female in question, four other Sharks players had sex with her, whilst the rest watched).
Unfortunately, the woman in question could only identify Johns as one of the men involved. How fortunate and convenient, that the highest profile of the lot, and the only one making any decent level of money is the only one named. You know they're Sharks players, how hard is it to obtain a team poster, and go through photo by photo until you have your others. But, of course, these blokes are all mostly out of top-flight football and now are either playing lower leagues, working behind the bar at your local pub, or nothing at all. What good is shaming those types, when you don't have the national pastime of cutting down tall poppies behind you? Following this logically, watching a sexual encounter take place, is not a crime either. So, for arguments sake, let's frame this as if it were in fact a pack rape, of course...
What we have here, is a case of buyer remorse. This is not a matter for the police, the courts or anything of the sort. We have all done things in the bedroom, that the morning after, we regret. The author of this included. Unfortunately, this is not rectified by legal recourse. The woman in question, who has made these claims, has stooped well past the level of unethical behaviour that she accuses these men of, by making these malicious claims on national TV for purely her own personal gain. Has she, or the ABC not considered for a moment that her claims and subsequent, shameless cash grab could be seen as being insulting and disrespectful to those who are genuine victims of rape? That the underlying message here is that the topics of rape and sexual assault are only worth discussing, should there be a celebrity to cut down in the process?
That the "victim" fails to take any personal responsibility in her interview with Four Corners, is yet another damning blow to the credibility of this story. This woman, under her own accord, went back to the hotel room of Matthew Johns and another footballer. Why, in the name of remotely competent journalism, was it not asked why this woman went to their hotel room, and what she was expecting to happen? Obviously, as this woman later admits, that she was keen on having sex with at least one of them, if not both. However, the majority of her argument appears to surround the quality of the foreplay in question, dismayed at how rough a kisser one of them was, and the distinct lack of intimacy, noting that "When you have sex with someone and it's nice and you talk and you touch and this was awful. This was nothing like, nothing like that."
Well, lock them up and throw away the key. She may have been up for a "bun", as it's been referred to in NRL circles, but only on the proviso of decent foreplay, and a bit of intimacy, or at least as much intimacy that can be afforded to a groupie in a hotel room with eleven other of your closest mates. I might as well go turn myself into the local police station, in the hope that they're lenient on my past crimes of poor foreplay skills and lack of understanding of intimacy from seven years ago. I didn't even have the excuse that eleven of my mates were in the same room.....
To hammer home the severity of the pain this has caused the woman in question, it is noted on the Four Corners program just how self destructive she became, how this lead to her alcoholism, the loss of friends, and of course, she even bought a rope to kill herself. However, as the New Zealand police officer overseeing the case, Neville Jenkins inadvertantly notes, he or anyone else didn't know what she was like before the incident took place. Why was this woman's full mental history not explored to the full extent? And, who goes out to the supermarket to buy a rope, with the full intent of killing yourself, and then not proceed with it? People who intend to kill themselves, do not put that much thought into it. It is an irrational, emotional, spur of the moment decision, one that is more consistent with doing it with whatever is available to you at the time. Buying a rope, instead, smacks of attention seeking and putting out the feelers to see if anyone cares if you are going to do it. It seems someone did care enough to give her a disability pension, just the same.
However, it is unfair to put the full extent of the blame on this one girl, especially when there are plenty of cynically motivated people out there more than prepared to use these types of situations for their own gain.
Surely, the Prime Minister of this country would support Matthew Johns, right? Ruddy is spot on in his comments that "The bottom line concern here is to ensure ... we underline the absolute importance of treating women with respect.", and of course, Rudd, being no stranger himself to unsavoury activities that could be considered unfaithful to his wife, would be more than happy to come out and remind us that no-one is perfect, and that we all make mistakes, as he was more than happy to do for Andrew O'Keefe? Good thing there's not a Federal election on the horizon....
And then we get to the real source of the problem. The women's rights groups that have fuelled this, well beyond any realm of necessity. The same women's rights groups that threaten the civil liberties of the individual (even if those civil liberties extend to the right to enjoy consensual group sex..), and certainly, the same women's rights groups that do not speak for the majority of Australian women (and to their credit, is in no small part due to the fact that TV and newspaper executives are shit scared of feminazis to begin with).
Was anyone not expecting the usual suspects, such as Jill Singer and Rebecca Wilson to come out the woodwork with their usual agendas being beaten to death?, however nothing holds a candle to the comments made by Tracey Grimshaw on last night's A Current Affair, which took unbiased investigative journalism to a new low, even by their own minimal standards.
"What if the woman just wanted to feel special, she wanted some of your fame and adoration to rub off on her - how would you feel about that? .......Did it occur to you that the girl was somebody's daughter or sister, with hopes and dreams of her own?"
Where do you begin with ridiculously simplistic comments like that? It's typical hypocracy of "their" agenda. A woman is no longer somebody's daughter or sister, or generally speaking, less of a woman, if she's sexually promiscious (in this instance, keen on group sex), but it's not her fault, it's the pseudo-rapist male of course. And of course, there's the assumption that this girls' hopes and dreams didn't solely consist of being the meat in a celebrity sandwich, which we can't deny, is evident within the groupie minority of society.
In contrast, Liberal MP, Pru Goward's comments are interesting to me, and a mixed bag of agreed and disagreed sentiments. On one hand, Johns is under no obligation to name names, and as I've already pointed out, isn't too hard to be found. Cronulla Sharks player, on the list in 2002, at the camp in New Zealand. Colonel Mustard in the library with the revolver stuff. On the other hand, her quote of "dangerous sexual situations do not equal a white wedding" are spot on. Some women, do enjoy these situations, and realise the ramifications and the situation that brings them around. Others, do not, and some of these, fail to take responsibility for this. Group sex, there's nothing illegal about it, but more often than not, ends bad, one way or another. Bit like auto-erotic asphyxiation really. Pretty sure the prostitute in the hotel room the day Michael Hutchence died wasn't charged with anything either, and rightfully so. Hutchence knew the danger of it, and chose to go ahead accordingly. Individual responsibility. What a novel concept.
I for one, at the end of this, have simple, yet unrealistic hopes for the resolution of this matter. I hope that the young lady involved finds peace within herself, preferably not through vindictive means. I hope that Matthew Johns is brought back onto TV, I enjoy him as a performer, and TV is poorer for his disappearance from it. I hope that people restrain from judging him for a poor choice of behaviour as much as humanly possible, rather than label him a rapist. More importantly, and even more unrealistically, I hope for a day when the media deals with issues such as these on their face value, rather than pandering to the views and agendas of the unrepresentative minorities who can caw the loudest.
John Howard the Musical: ..................why?
Throw back a few ales whilst watching the Ashes, perhaps. Debating to what extent Bryce McGain has to offer the team, and how he stacks up to the O'Reillys, Benauds and Grimmets of his day. Maybe even wear matching green and gold tracksuits, just for good measure. A million other questions wouldn't suffice either.
After Friday night's performance. Just one seems important. "How do you justify, giving the arts community $270 million per year more than what the Keating government ever did, when the extent of honouring such a legacy in return, is a shambles of a play such as Howard: The Musical?" (yes, long winded question I know). Believe me, I'm struggling to justify $18.50.
Keating! worked because of how well it contrasted the dull existance of Australian politics with the individual charisma of Paul Keating (like him or not), and proceeded to flesh out the character of Keating, showing a more insecure and humane side of him through some wonderfully originally composed witty song and dance routines. Whilst politically, the show itself was neither sympathetic, or absolute in it's support for Paul Keating, it was certainly appreciative of what Paul Keating, the person, brought to Australian politics.
Howard, TM, by contrast, covers the same boring ground that the culturally elite have spurned at John Winston Howard for the past 35 years. He's short (yet peculiarly, played by someone who would stand well above the six foot mark), has big eyebrows and has a distinct voice. Whoa, snap.....
No attempt is made to justify or flesh out the Howard character, lest it stand in the way of tired cliches, shamelessly stolen aspects of Keating! The Musical, and inanely irrelevant pop culture references to Vanilla Ice and dog food commercials for the sake of cheap laughs.
The musical numbers, whilst incredibly well delivered, were merely reworded versions of contemporary music, most of which had already been done before (Tripod on Triple J a few years ago, for example, did a much better attempt at finding songs that rhymed with "Kevin"). The casting requirements seemed to come off as little more than the producers looking for year 10 drama students who'd work cheap. As such, it proved distracting, as erratically facial hairred and acne ridden young boys came off as barely old enough to have had the opportunity to have voted for or against the Howard Government, let alone been in primary school when he was first elected (exceptionally hypocritical coming from me, however, I'm not making any money from this). The identifying character traits of the characters played (an ensemble cast of Howard's family, Tony Abbott, Peter Costello, Alexander Downer, an unidentified member of the National Party, the Queen, and strangely enough, the highlight of the night, Le-Lin Chin), go as far as badly aped Monty Python impersonations, cheap wigs and glasses, as well as thinly veiled references to Keating.
I'd even go as far to say, that the long suffering culturally elite Brunswick St crowd deserved better than this, in terms of a closing point in this aspect of their history. Spend 11 years hating everything that the Howard Government does, and the best aspect of closure they can find is irrelevant Vanilla Ice jokes? If it weren't for the audience's blatant hypocracy, largely enjoying the unnecessarily cruel portrayal of Howard's parents, Mona and Lyall, yet gasping with indignation at the references to Bob Brown's sexual preference or Julia Gillard's barren uterus, I'd almost feel sorry for them. Instead I prefer to self-pity, knowing that these same creatures will continue to blame the Howard Government for everything for yet another 20 years.
Whilst I'm fully aware of the target audience, surely the arts community wouldn't have been above taking aim (pardon the pun) at the pro-gun lobbyists that Howard stood up to in 1996? I'm sure the Maritime Union wouldn't have been too hard to comically portray either, even for a 17 year old. And if we're going with cheap laughs, where was Kim Beazley in an over-exaggerated fat suit, keeping consistent with the Monty Python tributes, asking for "just one more after dinner mint?"
The public, no matter which side of the political fence you side on, deserved better, and the legacy of John Howard and his government deserved better. Not to mention that it perhaps is the end of the popularity of political musicals. My hopes of seeing Wilson Tuckey: The Musical aren't looking too good (perhaps the only one with the potential to actually get up on stage, if only for the scene that depicts how he got the "Ironbar" nickname would give it enough Federal Government grants to tour globally for Andrew Lloyd Webber-like periods of time)
........word to yo mother?
Instead I offer you this dire warning. If you are of a remotely sane nature, please ensure that before you see this film, you check with your health insurance provider that you're covered from strokes, brian anuerysms and minor heart failure, directly caused by or relating to (but certainly not limited to):
* - Glorification of the human race's inability to interpret their counterparts' most basic movements on a daily basis, and their ensuing inability to cope with life as a result.
* - Basic inability to interpret Jane Austen novels into a film script
* - A hammering home of the films' main message so many times, you check your temple for whether or not you now have "Bunnings" imprinted in your skull at the end of the film.
The nicest thing I can offer about this film, is that it is, by nature, the antithesis of Love Actually. Every last feel-good bit of Love Actually, it's ensemble, it's various messages about life as we know it, are now ruined by this festering turd offered by the citizens of Bizarro World. At worst, the best you can hope for is to pray that somewhere around 20 minutes into this film, it strangely without reason, segues into a period piece on World War Two-era Germany, and a horde of SS troops storm the set, and mistake the entire cast for Anne Frank, and incinerate them all, leaving no trace of them, and their film having ever existed.
Somewhere in between, lies the unnerving knowledge, that the most likeable/bearable cast member in the entire film, is Ben Affleck. Ben Affleck. The same guy, who, if you found him wandering around in the background of an Al-Qaeda home movie, decapitating your entire family, you'd still feel slightly enamoured by the Santa Claus beard and the dialysis machine of that other angry guy instead.
As I allude to above, this film isn't a celebration of our wacky wins and losses in the game of love. It's a collaboration of society's most common psychotic acts perpetrated against the opposite sex dressed up in a cute little bow, to the point where you have no choice but to view Vagina as a terminal disease, rather than a gender by the end of the film. Whilst these acts of love sickness are true to life, the repercusions of these, highlighted by the film's lack of restraining orders, are far from it.
Those responsible for writing the screenplay, should also be banned from their local Starbucks, so that they at least have no reason to read another Jane Austen book again. The purpose of Jane Austen reaches far beyond the simple concept that out of a complicated love story, the situation is solved by the male character being simply marginalized into the role of "villian" in the space of the final ten minutes, and those who use the good name of Mr. Darcy to act out their Daddy issues on screen should never be allowed to get a movie deal ever again as a result of their failure to understand this.
Whilst having a film's message imbedded into my skull was pleasant enough. The realisation that it was never once fully touched on in the film was equally as annoying. Congratulations, Captain Obvious, people want what they can't have, and as such are unhappy or unsatisfied with what they can have. Now explain to me again, why I'm supposed to hate Brad Cooper's character for failing to turn down a half naked Scarlet Johansson, in favour of Jennifer Connelly's whingy bitch-poster child for domestic violence-wish she'd just raid Nicole Kidman's botox cupboard once in a while character?
At this point, I feel it also worth noting that the director of this film was also responsible for such cinematic icons as "Dunston Checks In" and "Beautician & The Beast". It's things like this that make me realise how short a period of time that 8 years can be, when you realise it was the period of time between films after B&TB, that he was actually given film work again. Another 8 years would go down very well.
You have to ask yourself what you will get out of going to see a film. For me, whilst feeling like a mild stroke victim after having seen this film, I still feel mentally stronger for having done it. Whether or not I'm strong enough to cope with a sequel however, is long out of the question. For those who may read this review, you will not feel any better about your particular philosophies to dating and romance, you will not feel any better about the opposite sex, you will probably not want to see any future films starring any cast member of this film ever again, nor will you be entertained. You will however, scratch your head a lot, as the plot goes in one direction, then suddenly decides it's not working out, and then goes in the complete opposite direction with no explanation offered whatsoever (case in point, the final scene featuring Affleck and Aniston).
Hopefully, however, you will not be as analytical of the film as I am, and wonder why no-one has ever realised that every film Jennifer Aniston has been in since her break up from Brad Pitt has been a poor attempt at catharsis, that only ends up making more and more people think she's not all there. That's my spot as a Hollywood therapist. Not yours.
Malcolm Turnbull = the Bon Jovi of Australian Politics?
Six months into their respective roles of Federal Leader of the Opposition and the leader of one of the most successful artists of the hair metal music period, both had limited audiences. Bon Jovi had the small listener base of WAPP-FM, a small FM radio station out of Manhattan, Turnbull, a growing group of small L Liberals, most of whom who saw him as a necessary evil, as a means of regaining power at the next Federal election. With the respective demises of Peter Costello and Styx, saw these small power bases only grow further.
Having ridden the wave of their honeymoon periods, Bon Jovi's 1984 debut self titled album reaching the dizzy heights of 18 on the New Zealand charts, Malcolm Turnbull having defeated Brendan Nelson in a leadership spill, it was only a matter of time before the public wondered what we'd get next from these two complete opposites.
Then it all began to fall apart. Bon Jovi's 1985 release 7800°Fahrenheit was panned by British metal album as being ""a pale imitation of the Bon Jovi we have got to know and learned to love.".....and yeah, there's the quote I was after....
The Turnbull response to the Rudd Government stimulus package could also be accused of being a pale imitation of the Malcolm Turnbull we have got to know and learned to love. This isn't fiscal discipline, this is an example of an inability to display to the public what the Turnbull Opposition truly stand for. Members of Bon Jovi all agreed that 7800°Fahrenheit could have and should have been a much better finished product, and are now so embarassed by it, they no longer play any of the songs from that album live, which on a personal sidenote, is quite a pity, I like "Secret Dreams". How long before the Opposition are so embarassed by this stance, which could have and should have been so much better, that they now refuse to refer to this part of the song book in Question Time? If a recent Fran Bailey interview is anything to go by, not far at all.
My initial reaction to the stimulus package was, at least from an opposition perspective intent on making ground on the Government, to ensure that they bring down the overall total figure of 42 billion, to at least be able to point to a populist argument that gets Turnbull some positive media attention, whilst being able to point to a degree of fiscal discipline in saying they've at least saved the average tax payer, x billion dollars. Where possible, to also demand that each item of stimulus was passed as a seperate bill through the senate, to ensure that the minor parties in the Senate at least have a chance of being able to have their say, without thinking of the bigger picture of whether or not they stay next time their half of the senate is up for grabs.
It wasn't until one reads the relevant Hansard that you will find that the Opposition support exactly such a move, preferring a stimulus package of between 15-20 billion instead. But those who need it most, are more than likely not to have bothered with such documents. Should the need for advertising plasma screen TVs on the bottom of the daily Hansard ever arise, this may change, but for the time being, news grabs of Turnbull preaching fiscal discipline instead were the order of the day. To Barry Battler, the only way to interpret this was "Who is this rich prick, and why can't I have my money?".
What could have been Turnbull's "Slippery When Wet" moment, when the majority of the nation, perhaps even the world, take notice of them for the first time, and realise they have a serious contender to the crown on their hands, quickly became a 7800°Fahrenheit one instead. The damage is certainly now done, with the Government preferring to negotiate with messrs Fielding, Xenothon and the Greens instead, to almost certainly pass this through the senate by tomorrow's close of business, with their own amendments attached. Leaving the Turnbull Opposition appearing Grinch-like by it's lonesome. Furthermore, the damage is done, with plausibly the door being shut on the prospect of having an election heavily dominated by who has the best economic management credentials. The effect of the Rudd stimulus package on future budgets sees the nation having multi-billion dollar deficits for the foreseeable future. No matter how good the Opposition treasury benches become, or how incompetent Swan becomes by contrast, good luck managing those sets of figures in a hurry.
So for the time being, whilst the Opposition struggle to present an alternative that sees them within the public spotlight for all the right reasons, and subsequently find themselves, *cough*, Living On A Prayer, This Left, at least on it's stimulus package, Feels Right.
The Victoria Bushfires, and it's greater ramifications.
Yet constantly over the past few days, I find myself and my Facebook status updates page bombarded with constant reassurance that I have a network of friends who do indeed find our volunteer fire fighters somewhat a lot more handy than the after-thought they were relegated to a few weeks ago, or that those who I've never perceived to be the nightly prayers type are promoting the ambigiously referred to "loved ones" as the headline act of tonight's Prayerfest. Perhaps I've just overestimated the importance of air to staying alive, or underestimated the cult popularity of kiddy fiddlers also...
The real miracle to come out of this drama, is that the death toll is not far higher than what it currently is, given the extreme self-interest that is constantly on show for all to see from a large majority of people involved in this tragedy.
My thoughts aren't currently with anyone that has perished or has lost someone in these fires. Honestly, my thoughts are with that cheese pizza that is in my fridge, and wondering whether it's still edible after 2 days in there. This isn't to say I'm not sympathetic to those and their losses, or that I'm glad in any way shape or form. I just haven't exactly tripped over anyone in a supermarket who has just become so overcome with their thought process being nowhere but on those involved, or read any news stories about car crashes caused by sudden news updates about the bushfires that have lead to people unable to think about anything else, such as driving an automobile, and instead felt the need to pray for the first time in years, possibly ever.
Changing my Facebook status to make people aware that I'm aware of the bushfires isn't going to do anything either. Given the stampede of people rushing to do so, it's even unlikely that it will make the status update page of your Facebook friends, let alone undo the damage done by people, who, to steal a quote from The Dark Knight, just want to watch the world burn. How many would still update their status to something bushfire related, were it to mean that you had to donate $1 from your Paypal account to the bushfire appeal?
At the time of publication, I am yet to donate anything to any bushfire related charities or appeals. This is due to the fact that I have no money, no bushfire fighting related skills, and the victims of the fire have obviously suffered enough without having the burden of my horrible fashion crimes that I no longer wear imparted onto them. Should the two day old pizza in the fridge come good, those in need are welcome to share it with me, but you'd want to get here within the next two hours, as it will be gone after that. Should my circumstances change and I am able to offer something, I wouldn't tell you if I offered it anyway, it is none of your business, and quite simply would be nothing more than an act of big noting on my part. I do not need to know how much of your "hard earned" you've kicked in for a good cause or how charitable you are in comparison to the next person. What I would like to do, however, is challenge those who have attempted to purchase themselves some social credit, by "officially attending" the Buy A CFA Volunteer a Beer day, to post some sort of proof, whether it be a receipt or a photo, that you have actually done this, rather than had the good intentions to do so, as we all know the road to Hell is filed with them and all that. Please, blur out the price tag for this beer, please, don't even show us the fancy imported type of beer you bought them, even better, blur out your face to show that you're not in this for personal satisfaction.
Personally, I think I could struggle with this effort to deservedly intoxicate our volunteer firies. I don't know all that many. I don't feel comfortable about walking into my local, buying a beer, and raising it in the air before asking the entire pub; "Is anyone here a fireman?". I'd also be slightly paranoid that people may just pretend to be a firey to get a freebie out of me, and what if they don't like the type of beer that I bought them, offended that all I could offer is local swill, or even worse that I think I'm better than them by buying them the most expensive type of beer on offer? What if they don't even drink beer? Bloody hell, this is confusing.
I'd also like to point out that my links to those affected first hand by the bushfires are tenuous at best. A couple of friends of friends, associates at best really. Most of whom have suffered property damage or loss, but are physically OK just the same. My best wishes (actually, not even sure what that entails, so perhaps scrap that one. I can't say I'm in possession of a lamp or packet of Tim Tams containing a magic genie, nor does it seem like shooting star weather, so might not have many wishes to offer) go out to those who feel it necessary to big-note themselves and turn the discussion into one about themselves, by pointing out that they know the entire town of __________, and all affected by it, and have had their entire Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon game ruined, by the deaths of those in the fires, all of whom they knew very well.
And another thing...should you see a name that you know personally (like, you know, in real life, rather than those you may or may not) appear on the upcoming Ch. 9 telethon, donating their "hard earned", to let them know in no uncertain terms what a wanker they are. Please also point out how easy it is to remain anonymous or perhaps use a fake name (I hope that there are plenty of donations from Max Power) in the interests of modesty. Should anyone do the usual "Good Friday Appeal special" of requesting that Shannon Noll or Plucka Duck read their donation out on air so that they will double it, please hunt them down, and brutally donkey punch them however way you can.
You may also find that a hot conversation topic going around is currently what sentence those who started the fire should receive. "Lynch them", "Death penalty", "Life in jail", "Forced to read a lifetime supply of Jill Singer columns" are all relevant and incredibly original, I also commend you for your knowledge of the justice system. More importantly, it is worth considering that your comments on the matter obviously fail to fully take into account the lives lost here. I'm sure those who have just lost legitimate loved ones really want to hear more talk about unnecessary death at this point also.
In conclusion, The Crow once offered this quote - "If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever", however, despite those who loved Branden Lee deciding to show their love by dressing up just like him, and going on shooting sprees in high schools worldwide, the quote remains relevant here. Remember who the real victims are here, and more importantly, remember who this series of unfortunate events is really about.
Not you.
So that guy...the President....and uhh his talking words
Lack of shootings aside, feeling a tad ripped off, which is always bound to happen with such hype, although I reckon some of my oratory from year 9 debating was better than what Barry had to offer. If he'd eaten his cue cards mid speech simply to spite Toorak College, then maybe I'd have given it to him on points, but I reckon I might have just shaded him.
Whilst people are generally pointing out that not much has changed, it's still a neo-con approach to government, I think this reflects the sign o' the times, rather than the government itself.
Alas, there was no "Ask not what you can do for your country" speech for the 21st century, and yes, it's fun to wonder what sort of speech would have been given had Obama got in around the time Clinton did instead, regardless, Obama has to at least be commended for being flexible in his approach to governing in these uncertain times.
Any type of speech with undertones of governing with reckless abandon would quickly bite him in the ass, something that could be ill afforded given the likelyhood of a minimal honeymoon period.
To me, it was akin to Bradman making a ton shortly before stumps, an overall lead of about 400, the 9th changer bowler operating, sending down absolute pies, yet Bradman resists the temptation to put him out the park, knowing full well that the pitch was unpredictable at best, and doing enough by itself, to cause caution.
Had a look at The Curious Case of Benjamin Button today...
If you watch solely the first 90 minutes of this film, you have an instant all-time classic. An intriguing plot complimented by instantly likeable characters with impeccable depth. No greater compliment can come from me that Cate Blanchett can be considered anything but an unpleasant distraction, Brad Pitt also delivers more than necessary, given that his performance is always going to be largely remembered for the gimmicky aspects rather than what he brings to the table as an actor.
Now pause the film here, and skip straight to the end.
By doing so, I've just saved you an unnecessary 90 minutes that exists on film, solely for the myth that for a film to be considered an all time classic, it has to run to a Gone With The Wind-esque duration, a 90 minutes that being kind, offers at best, a Cliffnotes version of not only Forrest Gump, but also The Notebook, with bonus chapters on Titanic and Catch Me If You Can, of which serves as a telegraphed step by step guide for what will happen, without having to think too hard.
The death of the two most prominent supporting cast members serves as a bookmark, for when the movie loses all direction, inspiration and originality, instead relying on what has worked for other films, such as those above, to instigate forced, yet unnecessary emotive responses from the audience. (think the episode of Friends when Monica gives the speech at her mother's birthday, and brings up the memory of her dead dog, and other dead relatives to make her speech more memorable)
Borrowing the concept of famous historical timepoints as a backdrop to the progression of the plot, as used in Forrest Gump, combined with the story presented as an dementia striken old woman on her deathbed retelling her story, which brings back memories of not only the Notebook but Titanic, is a clever way of aiding the progression of these forced emotive responses from the audience, but brings about too much stuffing, and not enough chicken for mine. Brad Pitt's character serving in World War 2, for example, serves as a distraction, rather than the development of any plotline.
By the end of the film, I felt ripped off, bordering on cheated, that the producers of this film phoned in the second half of a film that offered so much promise in the first 90 minutes. Whilst the films removes the played out cliches of the "different", awkward child unable to fit in with the rest of his peers, and subsequently mocked which appeared in the novel, it also loses what I feel is the most endearing aspect of the novel, whereupon the character of Benjamin Button attempts to enrole at Yale, but is turned away mistaken for an elderly man, only to later enrol at Harvard as an elderly man with the appearance of a 20 year old.
The woman who played Button's stepmother, Taraji Henson deserved, at the very least, an Oscar nomination for her role, whilst Jared Harris's portrayal of the drunken sea captain contributes much more to the film than you would have ever expected.
Underneath the superficial aspects of the film, lies an unnerving message in the film regarding the public perception of adult-child relationships, whilst not going all out to condone it, but strongly condemns the supposed ignorant view of society by the naked eye. With Cate Blanchett's recent strong support of Bill Henson, I hope this is nothing more than a coincidence and reading far too much into things, but regardless, the reasons for the sudden love interest between the elderly at the time-Button and the young version of Blanchett's character is unsettling at best.
In conclusion, what could have been the epic that was so obviously the goal, was ruined by laziness and a need to use recent classics as a deity to force the audience to shed a tear or two, rather than rely on the convictions of the script itself.
**/*****
The urge to vent is too strong
I've said it a million times, but I despise this time of year, I truly do. The Spring Racing Carnival brings about the worst in humanity, Due, perhaps to it's willingness to celebrate some of the worst traits of humanity, in particular, the sections of our society who can't hold their alcohol, and those who strive for "hotness" rather than beauty yet so seldom achieve it. All for the greater good of herd conformity, I presume. (As a footnote, I have no grievances with the concept of conformity, I find society's greatest individuals to be those who rarely stray from the straight and narrow. However, conformity of the generic sort is truly an evil in itself.)
We're a nation that prides itself on its ability to drink large masses of alcohol without too much trouble. Those who do so on a consistent basis, seemingly work their way onto pedastals. Yet somehow, these people seemingly disappear around this day off, replaced by teenaged girls armed with mini sized bottles of Passion Pop and the errant combination of rampant douchebaggery and cheap cans of mixed bourbon drinks.
The dress sense, or the errantly referred to "Fashions on the field" leave me scratching my head. The fascinator does as its name suggests, and fascinates me as to what logic dictates this accessory to be adding to ones appearance, rather than giving off the appearance of Pocahontas themed hooker meets Dennis Hopper's character in Apocalypse Now.
Then there's the necessity of the fake tan. Yes, it's been made well aware to me that due to holes in the ozone layer in this part of the world, it's bloody hard to tan in comparison to those on the other side of the world. No shortage of people pointing this out and it is certainly crystal clear when I look in the mirror. Regardless, it hardly merits the status of necessity, especially when one considers how often people seem to be just perfectly unable to apply it. Fake tan should be reserved for Mr. Universe contests and for those, like me, who just cannot tan in the slightest. Not for those who want to reinvent the Dulux colour chart or make their dress tone suddenly a lot more acceptable.
Speaking of dresses, I can't help but feel completely bored with the predictability of it all. If I had to take a wild guess what a potential female companion will be wearing to the races, I'd really go out on a limb and predict a floral pattern or a faux-pas Twigley-esque plunging neckline, the choice pending on levels of available finances and their respective score on the skank-o-meter. But is it really the fault of the average race-go'er, or just the retail outlets supplying a complete lack of choice? In theory, perhaps. In practice, leaving the fate of fashion's moral conscience in the hands of Cotton On doesn't strike me as anything that benefits anyone.
The blokes are no better. And I'm just as guilty as the next poor sod.
I've never quite understood why a suit at this time of year seems to give punters the metaphorical power to act like a drunk bogan moreso than the actual drunk bogans themselves that they share a pub with. The cheap suits out bogan the bogans themselves, sitting there bemused, in a Holden jacket, slurping back another VB tinnie, wondering when the meat tray is about to be drawn or why that poof Italian soccer shit's on the TV.
I dare you to peruse the field competing for the title of Fashion On The Field.....err..winner, and find someone who matches the description of traditional beauty. Someone who's actually used make-up, fake tan and whatever was out the door at the Bridge Rd factory outlets to enhance their natural beauty, rather than hide cocaine eyes, a deviated septum or two, or a lipstick that L'Oreal certainly didn't put the semen in.
Sadly it's not going to change. Fortunately, it's one week of the year out of fifty two.
I'll take that.
Sports that were stiff to miss out on getting a gig at Beijing.
Plenty of other sports could easily make way for some of their far more exciting, innovative and daring counterparts. Men's beach volleyball for one. Even the most desperate spinster and the most pervacious gay man aren't interested in checking this out. Perhaps replace the event with a medal presentation ceremony for the cameramen deemed to have brought about the most innocent looking zoom-in of arsecrack / cameltoe during the womens' event?
As such, I bring about the first of my suggestions to be taken under consideration for London 2012. That being Pub Rules Pool. I'm sure I'd have the support of the mass-media on this one, purely on the grounds of the drama that this event can generate at the drop of a hat. Jana's knee injury in Athens, Thorpey's false start in the selection trials, conspiracy theories of government terrorism toward rival nations, quite frankly, do not hold a candle to the trials that are brought about by things such as the table eating your last one dollar coin, being stuck with the dodgy cue, or even a lack of chalk. Watching the NBA basketballers having to adapt to the global definition of a travel don't even begin to compare to the conventions employed by the pubs of various regions across the nation, possibly even the world.
Shoot backwards off the break? Two shots or not on the black? Half circle or line? The IOC and it's 324290862 delegates may all of a sudden appear a necessity to formulate a global definition of these rules. These rules would then be used to bring about an aspect missing from global sport for far too long. Degrading and humiliating your beaten opponent. Would Leisel Jones have been as harshly criticized for her well publicized sook on the dias in Athens, had she been forced to do also partake in a lap around the pool with her swimsuit around her ankles? Hmm....savour that thought as long as you need.
Another sport drawing it's fair share of controversy as always, is the equestrian and dressage events. "Why is this an Olympic sport? It's not a sport featuring man, it also involves, like, horses and shit, too!", the most common, followed by general wondering about whether or not that poncy looking bloke on the horse used to chair the meetings of the local chapter of the Young Libs. Simple solution. Remove this sport, and replace it with one that we're actually going to give a rat's tossbag about well after the Games finishes, because, quite frankly it is the ultimate spectator sport.
Watching women drivers attempt to parallel park.
I'm more than willing to volunteer my services to volunteer the test round of this event, and even charter the degrees of difficulty required for a perfect score, as women drivers attempt to not only parallel park that hatchback into a carparking spot that's not there, whilst attempting to do their hair, ensure the radio is permanently on Nova, chop out a text message to their BFF, apply makeup, and suck on a Boost juice, all simultaneously. I personally see this proposal as being consistent with the Olympic mission statement of overcoming racial barriers. At Beijing, we've seen African-Americans win gold medals in the pool already, in London, could we see an Asian be considered a good driver within society? Unlikely. But it's worth a try.
The triathlon hasn't even begun yet and even just thinking about it, makes me feel uneasy. Those things never end good. You don't win them. You survive them. Or failing that, end up on one of those motivational posters, having involuntarily shit yourself halfway through. 5 grams of gold is not worth spending the rest of the Games in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV drip, whilst the Olympic village break more world records, usually in the field of condom consumption. (footnote - the Athlete Village in Athens went through 130, 000 condoms during the 2004 Games. With the village holding 10, 500 athletes over a two week period, this equates to roughly 7 being used every minute of the day for two weeks. Is it any coincidence that the gold medals are often held in the right hand?).
As such, I propose a complete revamp of the triathlon. This traditional event will now be replaced by the Nightclub Triathlon. Athletes will endure a true test of endurance as they endeavour to line up outside a pretentious nightclub, before the gauntlet is well and truly thrown down, with the challenge of being made to line up for a drink at the bar being set. Finally, any competitor left standing will be forced to endure a gruelling session on the dancefloor, whilst some bloke "mixing" the latest Ministry of Sound CD on their Ipod blares out through the club speakers.
With good-intentioned wellwishers offering cups of water by the roadside being replaced by promo girls attempting to offer crudely mixed guarana based spirits, in exchange for mobile numbers to add to the guest list telemarketing database, I believe that this is an Olympic event that any average Australian can aspire to. Anything to get Ben Cousins in the Athletes Village as a mentor really.
Anyone have any other suggestions?
Fev at Carlton?
Not necessarily because of a "grass is always greener" mentality in terms of what we could obtain in return for trading him, but because of just having had enough of his indiscretions, poor attitude and inability to use his head at the most simple of times.
I don't buy the idea that he is "truly a Carlton man", at least not any more than any other player thats been traded from their team before. Any others on here who attended the 2005 B&F count, would have remembered his efforts to sway attendees to "follow him to Richmond". Not to mention the escapades following the final siren on Friday night.
Nor do I subscribe to the idea that he'll turn it around, or at the very least, will do it far too late. The bloke is 27, with perhaps 5 years left. When exactly is it all going to come together?
To look at it from the aforementioned "grass is always greener" side, I'm not necessarily interested in players we can trade for, as it's all fairly relative and interchangeable. Instead, I prefer to see it as a more preferable way to invest the 850k a year that would be freed up by his departure. I see it as similiar to how Hawthorn offloaded Everitt. Sydney offered up players (which in hindsight, given the career trajectory of messrs Saddington and Powell, was very well played), and instead took draft picks. This measure was of course assisted by an unforseen improvement in Robbie Campbell, however, who's to say that a similiar improvement would not occur with perhaps a Hartlett, an o'hAilpin, Edwards, Kreuzer, etc?
Whilst some may believe that having a full forward who can kick 100 goals a year is a necessity to ultimate success, our current situation of having scored 1468 points for the year puts us on part with Sydney (1431), who have been without their key forward, Barry Hall for the most part of the year, (if not physically, then certainly mentally), Adelaide (1406), who have struggled for a key forward since the departure of Modra, and yet consistently been a top 4 team since, and Richmond (1556) who have moved their key avenue to goal in Richardson, up the ground, and relied on relatively unproven forwards in Hughes and Riewoldt for theirs?
Although I advocate the eventual Fevola departure, I'm not entirely against the resigning of Fevola, although, if the current idea is to trade him, it is a certainly a mixed bag. On one hand, resigning him ensures that if you were to trade him, you eliminate the potential of Fev walking and nominating for the PSD. On the other you're effectively eliminating a large chunk of potential suitors by naming a set price, unless you're willing to offer to pay a % of his contract. However, should Fev resign, it also means that he must agree to any potential trade, further diluting the pool of available suitors, with the target club having to be one that fits Fev's criteria and also has the draft picks/salary cap space to fit him in.
That latter aspect brings a touch of interest to the middle table finishers (i.e: those not tanking). With Essendon and Richmond making respective late charges for the finals, and the Kangaroos/Saints destined to finish thereabouts. One can't help but wonder whether or not if a like-for-like swap for Fevola was to be considered, the desired outcome of the last 7 games would again be looked at as losing, in order to finish 12th/13th, and get a decent enough draft pick to package with Fevola, perhaps with downgrading the pick in mind.
Like looking at a middle range player hitting his strides, one also has to factor in if Fev's value will ever be higher? I doubt it.
I'm not into speculating about X pick or Y player in return, but certainly I'm all for the eventual ending of the Fevola/Carlton partnership at the end of this season, whether it be for Fevola the individual's flaws or what Fevola the individual attracts in return from other clubs. Something tells me I'm not the only one either.
Ben Cousins on The Footy Show tonight...
You read between the lines from the interview, you look past the charade of cocky levels of confidence from Cousins, and you see someone who is afraid, and they're afraid of just how ignorant people are toward addiction problems.
Whether it's gambling, drugs, alcohol, spending, any form of addiction problem is the same. As most involved in the counselling of these problems will tell you, there is no "cure" per se, there is no such thing as being able to confidently say that you will never do _____ again. The problem itself, regardless of the symptom, is that you are unable to find a middle ground between not touching something at all, and using it to excess.
Not all drinkers are alcoholics. Not all drug users are drug addicts. Not all gamblers are problem gamblers. However, all alcoholics are unable to be social drinkers, all drug addicts are unable to be recreational drug users, all problem gamblers are unable to have a casual punt on the footy. Most rehab clinics encourage it's patients to realise that it is a common thing to "fall off the wagon" per se, and not to be discouraged by it, instead focus on what has been accomplished. For example, you may have been sober for 8 years, but if you have one drink, then the immediate social reaction is to look at you falling off the wagon, rather than you having been clean for 8 years.
This is the problem with Ben Cousins, and the interview that aired. You can't guarantee such a thing. Do you ever see a medical practitioner proclaiming that *insert AFL player here* will not be affected whatsoever by his knee reco? Same set of reasoning should apply for Ben Cousins and his rehabilitation. If he were to have one night where he does indulge in substances he may or may not have been addicted to in the past, it will be portrayed in the media as "falling off the wagon", rather than a crucial aspect of his rehabilitation process. Such intense media scrutiny, such as that placed on Ben during the "shirtless in the city" incident, would be enough to place any bloke under enough pressure to fall back into bad habits, let alone one so constantly hounded by the media.
To "read between the lines" as suggested, is to say that the physical aspect of the game is the easy part, which was opined by Cousins. The mental aspect, in that he needs to know that rehabilitation from an addiction is not so black and white as on the wagon and off it, and to expect fallbacks along the way, which probably would not be able to be accepted by his potential employer in an AFL club, but also one chosen to not be accepted by the mass media and the general public.
Whilst questions such as "can you guarantee you'll never touch drugs again" are asked at Ben Cousins, then it no longer remains the issue of whether Ben Cousins is ready to resume elite level football, it's whether elite level football, and the trimmings that come with it, the media, it's supporters, and the general public are ready for Ben Cousins.
