Archive for March, 2010

The Importance of Being Intellectual

The difference between the intellectual class warriors and average blokes like me is that I know I’m a genius. Intellectuals just think they are Intellectuals. Which brings me to my Topical Debate of the week: Intellectual Dioramas. The post-Millennium term “Intellectual Diorama” was just invented by me five minutes before I typed it.  And it’s a theory that I’ve been studying since then that I think applies to average smart thinkers like me who are able to put into reality what our brains are thinking when you don’t think they are working but they are. Like when you are on the Centrelink and you do cashies on the side.

The first Intellectual Diorama was invented by Jesus who made a model of his birth in a stable for show and tell: an existential look at the womb. Now, this is my Intellectual Diorama:

silver4

Oil Spill

This Intellectual Diorama presented itself to my brain during the time of the Exxon Valdez oil spill when I was watching Warrick Capper (a show pony for the Sydney Swans) take a magnificent mark against Carlton. It’s called “Oil Spill”. For those ‘Intellectuals’ who need further explanation of my Intellectual Diorama the tyre represents a bi-product of oil and the swan represents the birds that got covered in it and the wings represent the bird’s legs that Warrick Capper spread to spill his oil inside.

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For more on this …

Tuned into Channel Nine News earlier tonight and watched the lead story about how ambos and cops have had enough of dealing with alcohol-fuelled violence. Fair enough. Lots of stock footage of punch-ons and bars and punters and whatever, a couple of interviews with interested parties, and a bit of voiceover going into about as much investigative detail as can be crammed into 100 seconds of airtime. Back to the studio to some besuited autocue monkey and then — swoosh! slam! LIVE! — via satellite to a reporter standing on the streets of Kings Cross.

Why were we crossing to Kings Cross? Did the reporter have something special to show us that couldn’t be included in the package? Was he going to interview someone who couldn’t be interviewed in time for editing? Did he have absolutely anything to add that couldn’t have been done either in the package or in the studio?

No.

The live cross in today’s commercial (and less commonly, the non-commercial news media) seems to play no other role than giving the impression of good, old-fashioned news gathering, even when there’s bugger all good, old-fashioned news gathering taking place. From the handful of times I’ve seen Nine or Seven news it seems that the format requires the lead story to have a live cross, even if it’s just a cross to the anonymous footpath on an anonymous street in an anonymous corner of a suburb that holds some sort of tenuous connection to the sorta subject matter of the story.

Whatever. Let ‘em do whatever they want to make themselves look newsier without actually doing, you know, news, but wouldn’t it make more sense just to keep the reporter back in the studio, save a bit of fuel, cut down on satellite costs, and do it all with a green screen?

Anyway, for more on this story let’s cross to our correspondent …

livecross

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Blog CPR

Right, that’s it. I’m going to come straight out and admit it: Twitter has killed blogging. Well, maybe not killed it but definitely wounded it.

You see, once upon a time (like, two to seven years ago) all the nerds on the Internets used blogs as a means by which to swap smart-arsed comments and pithy one-liners; good posts on good blogs were not just good posts in their own right but good conversation starters as well. Communities of like-minded (and some oppositionally-minded) people formed and gathered around their favourite blogs for discussion and larfs. Then along came the Facebooks and the Twitters (especially the Twitters) and all of a sudden those nerd communities that had come together thanks to blogs moved elsewhere to swap those comments and lines.

Now, in the future (like, 2010) there are still lots of awesome blogs and blog posts around but the awesome conversation tends to take place on the Twitters. Even if good blog posts are good conversation starters, the conversations decreasingly take place in the comment threads below the post.

But it’s not just the commenters whose behaviour has changed — the authors are doing things differently as well. I used to be a prolific blogger, averaging five to ten posts per week, but now I reckon I might punch out one a week if I’m lucky. True, I write for other non-blog outlets now, but the main reason is that when a thought comes into my head that would previously act as the seed for a blog post I now tweet it instead.

As much as I love Twitter and see the evolution of online interaction as an exciting thing, I do miss my blogging from both the perspective of the author and from the perspective of comment discussion participant. For this reason I am going to force myself to blog more, holding back tweetable thoughts and turning them instead into posts. I’m also going to get back into the habit of commenting on blog posts instead of taking my discussion to Twitter.

Who’s with me and who’s against me?

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Open Thread

Now that this blog now belongs to myself and #fakefielding I think it’s time I introduced an open thread where all our readers and topical debaters can say whatever they want and start their own topical debates. Please drop your debates in the comments section below.

(Thanks to reader Wayne)

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Steve swears to God

I hate Senate holidays. There’s nothing to do and there’s no media waiting in groups out the front of the house to do stunts at every day. Not only are Senate holidays boring as anything, I hate the ever-present threat of having to go down to the electorate office and I hate having to look busy to prevent Susan from enacting that threat onto me. One thing I’ve started to do is walk around at all times with a notepad under my arm and pencil behind my ear, squinting my eyes like I’m thinking and murmuring policy under my breath. Susan asked to look in the notepad once but I told her it was secret political business and she wouldn’t understand, for which she made me draw a cross in one of the three warning boxes on the whiteboard in the kitchen. I hate that.

I hate Senate holidays on their own as it is, but I hate them even more when they coincide with school holidays because my kids are home with me. Two days ago my son snuck up quietly behind me while I was looking in the fridge for the devon and shouted out, “BOAT SEEKERS!” I jumped literally out of my skin and did a little bit of wee in my pants. It took my son about four minutes to get the footage out of his mobile phone and onto YouTube, and I was on the phone to Conroy reaffirming my commitment to the web filter that very evening.

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The Ultimate Gayification

Gidday. Regular readers of this blog (if there are any) would have familiarisation with one of my social commentary themes “The Gayification of [insert topic]“. I brung you the Gayifaction of Men and the Gayifaction of Men x2. And know now my wig his flipped 360 [small zero]. Three of my favourite topics: The Comedy Festival,  Facebook and Christianity have been Gayified with the coming together of a perverse, deeply disturbing and insulting to all disenfranchised blokes “show” called “Faithbook”. A Gayification to top all other Gayifiactions.

De Vinci would roll in his grave

De Vinci would roll in his grave

Now, I have rallied against this kind of thing before with women and their right to vote. With that one I’m gaining ground but it seems I am losing ground with my Gayification topical debate. So I, Trevor McDonald, propose that we as a collective group of blokes protest against our own oppression and not turn our blind eyes to the discrimination we as blokes are facing in the gym toilets, on the Internet and in the public toilets across our street. I am sick of being treated as a second class citizen by the conspiracy to Gayify our nation and its institutes. I am Trevor here me roar.

Tickets for the protest against this suggestiveness and Gayification are available through Ticketmaster (a tool of Leftists Gays) by clicking on this —> hyperlink function. I hope to see youse there some nights and at the Glasshouse for a beer after the show.

Trevor.

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Steve goes on the telly

Last Monday morning I was sitting at home on the floor of my room, absolutely smashing the evil Decepticons with a double-pronged attack of Autobots and Voltron, when Susan came in to tell me that I had been invited to go on the television! Apparently, a guest due to appear on some show called Q&A had cancelled and the ABC wanted me to go on instead! Tears welled in my eyes because it was the happiest day of my life.

I immediately sent a text to Nick Xzennophone, asking him if he’d ever been on the telly before. He answered yes, so I asked if he’d ever been on the ABC before. He answered yes, so I asked him if he’d ever been on the Q&A before. He answered no, so I told him that I was going on Q&A and he wasn’t. I signed off, “Regards Steve”, even though I don’t really have any regards for him. Xzennophone can be such a media whore sometimes so it’s nice to get one up on him now and again.

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Redundant professions

If there is one profession going around at the moment that could be replaced by a vending machine it would be pharmacy. Not too long ago pharmacists had to use their brains. They had to know formulas and mix chemical ingredients with a mortar and pestle. Two for you, one for me. Two for me, one for you. Nowadays all they do is whack a sticker on a box of pills and make you wait 15 minutes for it. The pills come in a box like a Lite ‘n Easy meal. Do you have to see some stuck-up gourmet chef to get one of those?

What compounds pharmacists’ overblown sense of importance is their matron-like retail staff. You know the ones who ask you all sorts of inane questions when you buy some Panadol? Do you have any stomach ulcers? Are you taking this in conjunction with Nurofen? Is this for period pain? And why doesn’t Panadol just come in the form of Panadol Rapid? Why do you need the standard form of Panadol that takes hours to work? Further, what about toothpaste that you spend hours staring at in the supermarket isle trying to decide which one out of forty types of Macleans you need?  Why doesn’t that just come in an all-in-one tube?

I was in the chemist recently and I needed to buy some travel handwash. You know, the stuff that comes in the form of a gel to disinfect your hands? After being shadowed by the vulture-like retail assistant, I grabbed a small bottle of handwash from the shelf and walked to the counter where I was asked, “Have you used this before?”

Gobsmacked, my first instinct was to say none of your business. However, to hurry the process up and to shut her up I said yes.

She replied with another question, “Will you be using this around children? Because if you are and they swallow it all then you should ring the poison hotline number.”

Looking at the bottle, I replied, “What’s the number? It’s not on the back of the bottle.”

“Urm … I don’t know. It should be in your phonebook.”

“I don’t have a phonebook. Look, I’m in a hurry …”  and I left feeling slightly violated and pissed off.

Being a consumer is hard enough these days without having to put up with pharmacists and their assistants. They’re as redundant as candlestick makers and radio actors. All you need is a script, and if you have any questions Google it or ask another person in the line. Guaranteed they will know just as much as a pharmacist. Hopefully soon, a vending machine will give you the pills, print the label and you’ll be out of there in under a minute so you can go to the supermarket and spin your brain into circles deciding what toilet paper you need.

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Your ABC and climate change balance – a tale of two pricks

In 1998, while living in London, my 18-month-old daughter wasn’t feeling well and came out in a strange rash. The local GP had no idea what she had and referred her to the Great Ormond Street Hospital, one of the world’s leading children’s clinics.

The doctors were unfamiliar with Sarah’s condition, but further investigation showed she had measles. The delayed diagnosis wasn’t due to any shortcomings in the National Health Service, but because a vaccine had all but wiped out the disease and none of the doctors, including experienced pediatricians, had actually seen it before. Luckily Sarah had that vaccination, as part of the Measles, Mumps, Rubella (MMR) injection, and while she showed the symptoms she never suffered the full effects, which could be deadly.

So why did my daughter get measles in a first-world city, two decades after a vaccination had all but eradicated it? The BBC’s policy of giving all issues and views equal measure regardless of their credibility had something to with it.

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Health still in a half-baked crisis

A few months ago I had the misfortune to require the services of a hospital and the experience has ultimately had a huge impact on health policy in this country. Susan was taking the kids to the cinema but I wasn’t allowed to go because it was an M-rated film so I was staying home alone. She made me some lunch and put it on a plate in the microwave with a Post-it note arrow stuck next to the keypad, and left on the table a John Farnham, Live In Concert DVD for me to watch. I love staying home alone because I can be totally independent and do what I want.

Having successfully re-heated my food after five frustrating minutes spent realising that I had to press the button next to the Post-in note arrow, not the arrow itself, I settled down in the lounge room to watch the DVD. But all of a sudden disaster struck when I stuck the DVD into the VHS machine without even thinking! What an idiot! Panicking, I frantically pressed EJECT on the remote control and the machine itself, but the disc wouldn’t come out. I changed the batteries and tried again but still nothing! I called Susan to ask what to do but her phone was on silent inside the cinema. Breathing deep to keep the anxiety at bay I knew it was time for some creative thinking.

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