The frighteningly misogynistic Don Draper from AMC’s Mad Men.
Personally, I’m in the Bill Hicks camp when it comes to advertising. You don’t have to dig too far through this blog to find some of my middle-class, white, uneducated rantings on the subject. But because of my vocation (and the previous list of adjectives), it’s likely I’ll find myself entrapped in at least a small part of this world at some point in my career. Why? Because it (mostly) pays and I’m comfortable with selling out.
And paying is the big question leading into my final year of undergrad. Just what is it that I am going to do to pay the bills? ‘Designer’ or ‘digital artist’ is such a horribly non-specific job title. For the most part it seems that ’software operator’ is far more apt and doesn’t attempt to cynically hide the soul-destroying nature of the designer/client relationship. Whilst I have done a small amount of graphic work in the past, I have no real interest in pursuing this for the rest of my days, and need to find some kind of an angle to sell my favoured geek-based work.
It’s difficult to find the time for blog writing amongst all the drinking, music and general fun that’s been going on around the place over the past month. Instead of dragging everyone through the details, like an Ellis-esque American Psycho, I might just babble my way through the backstory, like a Kerouac-wannabe On The Road…
Home to Bangalow for 10 year reunion, Christmas and New Year. 2 bottles of whiskey, 2 bottles of gin, 2 bottles of tequila and Malibu accompanied several bottles of wine and cases of beer to ensure I didn’t stop drinking for 2 weeks (this is an accurate account, made before the binge began). Things get hazy around here, but I’m pretty sure we all had a great time and I returned to Sydney with a couple of extra kilos under my belt and a dozen unconscious faux-hippies on my lounge room floor. The Sydney Festival and general Australian summer music madness has ensured I’ll be broke until winter: saw Al Green at Festival First Night, next up is Grizzly Bear on the 14th (sadly clashing with Severed Heads), The Books and Signal To Noise talks on the 16th, Smoke & Mirrors on the 20th, Antony & The Johnsons on Feb 1st, Yo La Tengo on the 18th and Faith No More round things up on the 22nd.
…apparently I’m supposed to be saving money to move house around the end of February, so it’s also time to get a (real) job. Amongst all of that, I’m still way behind on my permanent list of ‘to do’ projects that I have to knock out before I go back to uni in March. All of this amounts to more rambling from me, hopefully with the occasional nugget of intelligence breaking through the stupor of far too much fun.
I just arrived home from stopping by the local to check out a (friend of a) friends’ band. They weren’t bad, but we did find ourselves making note of the bass guitarists dance moves – something akin to a chicken, pecking at seed. Which started the discussion: are bass guitarists a little bit wrong in the head? They seem to be lost somewhere between the show-pony lead guitarist and the awesomeness of smacking the hell out of a drum kit. Without the ability to play more strings than fingers, nor ambidextrous enough to flail around like a muppet, they’re left with a sad and dark little corner of the stage, propping up something patronisingly titled ‘the rhythm section’.
Care to tell me that I’m wrong and I’m also a jerk? Please do in the comments. When I return from our mojito-fueled Mexican party on Friday night, I shall promptly respond in a clear and concise manner, with more drunken thinkings.
So you want answers – why have the blog posts stopped? Where are all the new pictures, exciting videos and words of show-stopping genius that bring joy to your dark, sad little lives? They’ve gone on holiday, that’s where.
This Is Not Art 2009. Run by animals.
As is standard practice for me, I book a holiday at the beginning of semester, that inevitably takes place during the pointy end of session. Finding time for updating my blog (and therefore process journal) takes a back seat. In fact, I took the back seat out of the car entirely and left the whiney bastard at home. Whilst the blog was crying and tossing things around like a small, red haired brat, I escaped up the coast to Newcastle, for the This Is Not Art festival. I’m not going to get into too much here, because the blog and life in general was laying in wait for my return and won’t stop poking me until I get something done.
Just a quick list of people that impressed me during the 5 days (in no particular order): Pimmon, Christian Haines, Tom Hall, and Suburban Giants. The Renew Newcastle project was also hugely inspiring. If I find myself with time on my hands and looking for something to post about in the next few weeks (no chance), I’ll come back to these artists. In the meantime, I’ve got to get stuck into this ‘life’ thing.
For all the romantic notions of being a kid and running home to watch cartoons on the ABC after school, it’s not often that these shows really live up to the memories. There is of course the exception of Sesame Street, but those guys are on crack – I’m sure of it.
Whenever I see those old shows again, I’m often more than a little disappointed and wish they had’ve stayed with my other rose-coloured childhood memories. And don’t get me started on modern kids television – that stuff is so off the wall, I don’t even know where to begin.
Thankfully, there are exceptions, and Misseri Studio is definitely one. They have graciously put some of my old favourites up on YouTube, including A.E.I.O.U. and The Red And The Blue. Check it out…
I – like many – believe that The Chaser has passed its use by date. Not that the creators aren’t filled with talent and ideas, but the format is starting to feel a little tired and more forced with each episode. With the final airing next week, my guess is that even The Chaser team agree.
What’s even more dull though, is the weekly effort by other media to point out any ‘offensive’ sketch that The Chaser puts to air. The assumption that we can’t make up our own mind about what is in good taste and what we choose to watch on television really gives me the shits. I don’t doubt that a lot of ‘journalists’ tune in eagerly each week, just waiting for an opportunity to grab a quote from the nearest ‘expert’ about how upset they are that The Chaser made little Tommy cry when they cracked a joke about overweight, mentally-challenged kids with red hair.
What is surprising though, is that it was SBS that inspired me to unleash this little rant. Even they can’t seem to help themselves, but to cry foul of yet another Chaser sketch. I have been starting to wonder if SBS’s generally high quality news is starting to slide of late, with more and more current affairs style journalism and human interest stories creeping into their bulletins.
Obviously, The Chaser leave themselves open as targets, because to them, everyone else is free game for lampooning. I’ve little doubt that they don’t need my support to continue on, and in fact probably benefit from the bad press they attract. My concern is that we’re being told that we should be outraged by media organisations (and in turn, politicians eager to be seen as upholding moral standards). That we should hold the same values that they do and be furious at those daring to step outside those boundaries – whether it is satire or not.
The interesting point here is that The Chaser gets attacked from all sides, but for vastly different reasons. Media organisations beneath the News Limited banner will generally accuse programs like The Chaser for wasting honest, hard-working (white) Australia’s tax money on television that attacks honest, hard-working (white) Australia, whilst it seems SBS bends over backwards to be seen as everyone’s left-leaning, politically-correct, best-friend. Meanwhile, The Chaser continues to be a cash cow for the ABC, so apparently most of the population isn’t listening to the bullshit coming from either camp.
I always thought it was the duty of a journalist to report on the news, not to invent it. I understand that with the editorial slant that each media organisation puts on their own paper/television channel/radio broadcast, that the details can be spun, muddied, embellished, or in the case of tabloids – totally twisted. I didn’t realise the pressure that journalists must be under to get the story out as quickly as possible. This is where I think journalism becomes something more akin to… creative writing.
I can’t say I followed much of the Channel 10 series, Masterchef, over the past few months. Apparently I’m in the minority. I did catch the final episode however. Something that Erin McWhirter may not have done. Which is surprising, considering that she wrote a story for the Daily Telegraph’s website about that very subject.
For a long time, Murdoch’s News Limited hasn’t been associated with high quality, investigative journalism, but are they actually encouraging their staff to create stories before the fact, so that they can get them out immediately, into their ever-hungry, highly-comsumptive internet audience? Last night, I was pointed toward this post suggesting that they’re doing just that…
…if you’re not up on the latest Masterchef news, Poh actually lost the final to fellow contestant, Julie. Oops.
It wasn’t long before Twitter and Facebook messages alerted news.com.au to the fact that they’d screwed up, and the content of the post was replaced with what must have been the ‘back up’ story. However, the address structure of their CMS managed to out-smart even their brilliance and the page address remained the same. It wasn’t until today that this page was removed altogether.
It was only a few weeks ago that I watched News Limited CEO, John Hartigan, wax lyrical about the pride he had in his organisation’s journalism on the National Press Club. He also went on to say that every journalist that moves through their ranks has the very highest News Limited standards impressed upon them. Is this really the best that the Telegraph has to offer? If Hartigan truly believes that the way forward is to create a new, subscriptive model for delivering news content on the internet, I think most people would like to see them lift their game. Until then, I guess we’re just getting what we pay for.
Edit: mUmBRELLA also spotted this Telegraph slip-up. The comments to their post make for some interesting reading.
Newtown in Sydney is notoriously bad for parking. It’s the number one reason I don’t bother with owning a car. If by nothing short of a miracle you manage to find somewhere to place your car, you’re then never totally sure what you’ll find when you return: dents from being sideswiped by someone still not aware that a Hummer is not an acceptable vehicle for city travel; a parking fine for the most obscure road law imaginable, from someone desperate to display what little power they have; or perhaps if you’re really lucky, a wonderful note like this…
Yeah, that’s pretty nasty. And it’s what my lady friend returned to after parking her car in alegitimate parking space in Newtown for a few days whilst she was away.
As you can tell by the wrinkled paper, the second response was to throw this disgusting scribble in the bin. My first response was to fight whoever put it there, but as they are clearly a spineless illiterate, they were conveniently absent from said face punching.
Now, I do have a fair idea of who put it there. I don’t know them personally, but I know where they live. Which gives me many opportunities to behave like a 16 year old and gain retribution the ugly way. But instead, I’m going to take a massive punt and invite them to respond to this post. I know it’s highly unlikely that this middle-class leftie would see this, not because my total readership is 3, but because she’s busy telling everyone that she’s reading No Logo again, whilst bitching about how some “fascist” bouncer wouldn’t let her into the local pub because of her poor hygiene and excessive waving of flags that she has no real understanding of.
If by some amazing stroke of luck you do read this, dear note writer, I would like to give you the opportunity to apologise for your weak use of the English language as well as your self-righteous and yes, selfish, note. It’s a fairly pathetic display and clearly intended to upset the recipient through anonymity. Prove me wrong and stand up for yourself here.
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