My Merry Christmas post...

http://www.smodcast.net/holidayhavoc/venture_bros-the_chipmunk_song.mp3

Courtesy of The Monarch, 21, Tim-Tom and Kevin.

How to Try and Fix the Australian Film Industry, Part 1

"It is going to be a long and arduous process to convince Australians that we should want to see our own films, but it will be easier if we remember that cinema's tenacious grip on our imagination came about because of its extraordinary capacity to entertain and astonish us" - Louis Nowra, The Monthly Dec 09-Jan 10 edition

Louis Nowra, internationally renowned playwright responsible for Cosi and The Temple, has written a fantastic article in The Monthly. In it, he explains how he forced himself to watch every Australian film that came out this year and then proceeded to identify what's wrong with the industry in his opinion. What he says is EVERYTHING I've been yammering on about within Green Rabbit and that some but not enough of my peers echo.

The filmmakers of this country are the biggest problem with the industry. The very root and soul of the business is the fact that it is not treated like a business and, even worse, that the storytellers are completely ignoring their audience. Green Rabbit was created in some large part so that one day we could make films and TV series that were awesome. What does awesome mean? For us, it means that the majority of Australia and hopefully the Western world would watch our films and go, "Wow! Cool! Let's watch that again, get it on DVD and talk about it at work or school with our mates." Our aim is to make films that succeed commercially.

This approach to movie making, which is certainly based on the Hollywood and even Bollywood approach to filmmaking as an industry, a business that trades in stories, is so foreign in Australia that it is seen in some corners as downright evil. The idea that a film should actually make money and, God forbid, generate profit is blasphemous to so many of our young contemporaries. Making rash generalisations, I happily paint a huge swathe of fellow graduates now, before and in the future with the colour of apathy towards these goals of commercial success. So very many film students want to change the world with their craft, which is great except they all seem to want to do it by making the same bleak, art house films that were made every year for the last decade and that failed as dramatically as the plots therein. And by fail I do indeed mean commercially.

A daydreaming pearl diver from the Northern Territory, torn in two by the expectations of his family profession and the love he feels for a young indigenous girl. A disaffected young man suddenly aswirl in the heady rush of inner city drug gangs tries to escape but is inevitably dragged down to a bloody death by his own needled up hand. A family ripped apart by the incest that has fed on their energies like a parasite all their life. These are the sorts of stories our filmmakers want to tell, are telling right now in cinemas across the country. And that's fine. I would never begrudge a creative person the chance to tell the types of stories they want to tell. My problem is that none of us seem to look around at the world outside of our heads and our tight little group of friends and see that these stories are NOT what our industry needs. Every member of the media, the faculty and the student body has a rant about why the industry sucks, but none of them seem to realise what industry means and how business plays a crucial role.

Industry requires money to be fed into equipment, infrastructure and manpower so as to stimulate production of profitable goods, the revenue of which can be fed back into the whole cycle. It's capitalism and like it or not, Australia is a part of that system. How on earth can an industry sustain itself when, as Mr. Nowra puts it, in 2009 only one film (Samson and Delilah) made its budget back out of the entire local crop, bringing in $3 million all up. According to Wikipedia, 34 Australian films were released this year. Screen Australia's website claims that in the 08/09 financial year, they budgeted $102 million for Screen Australia alone. As a whole, expenditure by federal agencies annually average $93.4 million per year on production and $3.59 million per year on project development. State agencies' expenditure annually average $14.02 million per year on production and $4.82 million per year on project development. Screen Australia's stats for Australian films' share of box office in 2008 states that Aussie films pulled in $35.5 million or 3.8% of the total box office for that year. While these figures don't come together as the perfect puzzle, it casts light on the very, very poor profitability of the Australian film as a business model.

How can an industry function like this? Quite simply, it can't. When a product doesn't make money then the only stream of income comes from government agencies and the odd independent financers, who, if they saw these statistics, would suddenly reschedule your meeting and never call you back. What results, if nothing changes, is an industry that limps along, feeding filmmakers who make movies nobody seems to watch. It's fair to say that Screen Australia and the rest of the funding bodies don't help matters by funding and encouraging films that dont become revenue stream, and though Screen Australia has started investing more heavily into the marketing of films, there needs to be a change that adjusts for the failure of our filmmakers to connect to audiences. But the gatekeepers of government money are not the biggest problem.

My greatest frustration is that a nasty and self-defeating attitude seems to prevail among filmmakers and critics: that the audience is stupid, that we're making excellent films and, as Margaret Pomeranz said, "if Australian audiences don't want to go and see them, stuff them." I put this very simple question to those who say our films are fine and that it's the audience that is the problem: if you're the only one who thinks your film is any good, is it? Is it really? If you're not making a film for a specific audience, then who are you making it for? Yourself? Your best mate? If so, fine, but do you really expect that anyone else will like the film? Do you really expect your industry to benefit from a film you and a handful of critics like but a large audience doesn't? Since when should we expect people to  purchase tickets for a product they don't like, just becasue of some vague sense of forced patriotism? Business, capitalism, industry - they just don't work like that.

This is the problem - movies are made for audiences. We're taught that in film school, but so many of us think that it's bullshit, that we're above that, that we're smarter than our audience, our teachers and every other filmmaker, especially those damn Yanks. And then every film we produce, year after year after year, tanks spectacularly while Titanic rakes in over $900 million in worldwide rentals and grosses $600 million in the USA alone under a year after release. Titanic cost $200 million to create and then made astronomical profits. Of course it's an extreme example, but if an Australian filmmaker made a movie that could achieve even one-fifth of the financial success of this extravagant, whimsical, melodramatic blockbuster, just think of all the arthouse films about pearl divers, street gangs and incestuous fathers that filmmaker could fund afterwards?

Comaplain all you want about capitalism's yoke but take note of how industry works. Blockbuster is not a dirty word and we need to scrub that mentality out of every single filmmaker and film student that populates this great nation of ours. Movies that appeal to the masses make money, and that money can then be pumped back into smaller films that meet more personal aims. In Hollywood, for every Requiem for a Dream there are fifty My Big Fat Greek Weddings. I'd like to see more graduates idolising Harvey Weinstein instead of Lars Von Trier, because while Von Trier makes powerful movies, they are of a certain type that right now, right here, would not help our industry grow and strengthen. The Weinsteins on the other hand constantly espouse the strategy of making large, profitable, blockbuster studio films to finance smaller, more modest, perhaps deeper projects. Hell, Kevin Smith says throughout both My Boring Ass Life and Silent Bob Speaks that you can make whatever movie you want so long as you don't lose the studio money. This finance-conscious attitude shouldn't be seen as a bad thing by filmmakers, because the naturally combative, anti-authoritarian attitude of the Australian in this respect does not work. Instead, see this as camaraderie, as all of us working together to better our circumstances by bringing money and renown to an ailing business. It's our job to stay in touch with our audience and know what they want, and then use our creative skills to meet those expectations as artfully and uniquely as our voices and visions will allow. We need to dispel the tired notion that we should be telling Australian stories and look at what exactly certain demographics of Australian - no, human audiences want to see. That is the charge of the communal activity known as storytelling. If the bearded elder sitting around a fire after a day on the hunt started recounting the existential crisis he experienced while trying to light the fire, instead of the bloody, titanic struggle of the day's kill, we may never have evolved the ability to talk. If we can make movies that people want to pay money to see, we'll be on the right track.

(Stay tuned for the second instalment on this topic)

References: 
My Boring Ass Life and Silent Bob Speaks, by Kevin Smith 
Get the Picture - Release of Australian productions - Cinema box office - Australian share
Get the Picture - Government funding: Summary of key data
Get the Picture - Release of Australian productions - Overview of cinema release
Australian films of 2009 - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia 
Titanic (1997) - Box office / business
Nowhere Near Hollywood, by Louis Nowra, published in Dec 09-Jan 10 edition of The Monthly

Fwd: Is this address real?

This is an email I sent the other day.

From: Simon J Green <simonjongreen@gmail.com>
Date: 8 December 2009 11:51:48 AM AEDT
To: "whosdaman@whosdaman.com" <whosdaman@whosdaman.com>
Subject: Is this address real?

Hello,
I just had a dream that I was the chief aide to President Obama, but on my first day, I found out the White House had gotten my address wrong, and the President had been inexplicably emailing this address, whosdaman@whosdaman.com. When I asked him why, he told me this was the address White House staff had given him. He then gave me a look that said he was disappointed in me, and it cut me to the core. So I woke up wondering if this address was real. Is it?

---
Simon J. Green
Producer, Writer, Friend.

Sent from Mr iPhone.

Chk-chk-FUCK OFF!

So the chk-chk-boom girl lies on camera about a shooting and gets a TV show deal. Meanwhile, Robin Brown spends time, money and passion working on skills pertaining to the craft of acting and presenting, going to a Uni and a private school of performance and he gets...overlooked. Robin Brown and a dizzying number of other hopefuls will come home from a job outside of their chosen profession in 2010 to watch Clare Werbeloff co-present her very own series set, appropriately enough, around scams. Network 9 announced The Real Hustle along with a handful of other half-baked or tired notion for its home-grown 2010 line-up. Included in the list are Hey, Hey It's Saturday on a Wednesday, season three of Underbelly (The Golden Mile) and AFP, a behind the scenes style show that seems to be in the vein of Border Patrol, but focuses on the activities of the Australian Federal Police.


http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/blogs/the-vulture/nines-2010-lineup-a-bit-chkchkcheeky/20091204-kaos.html

While Underbelly is catering for those with acting chops, Werbeloff must be a slap in the face for those who get another casting rejection after a night in a crummy late night waiting job. Coming home to flick on the telly and seeing someone who scammed her way on air to a show I predict will tank fairly quickly must sting. There's just so many Robin Browns, people with talent, skills and training who can bring appeal and a higher chance of longevity that get over looked for flash in the pan flukes and fads.

CFV Newsletter: A Little Catch Up

A Man's Depression

A confluence of events revolving around men's depression means - oh you betcha - I'm posting about depression in the male. Movember just wrapped up and I wore a 'tache. During that 'tache wearing phase, I was privy to the good and hard facts the kind folks at Movember sent out. Here are the numbers from Movember's partner beyondblue:

Around one million Australian adults and 100,000 young people live with depression each year. On average, one in five people will experience depression in their lifetime - one in four females and one in six male.

That's pretty high. There are actually several types of mental illness that are slotted in under beyondblue's care and the over-title depression. Once again, beyondblue:

• Major depression - a depressed mood that lasts for at least two weeks. This may also be referred to as clinical depression or unipolar depression.
• Psychotic depression - a depressed mood which includes symptoms of psychosis. Psychosis involves seeing or hearing things that are not there (hallucinations), feeling everyone is against you (paranoia) and having delusions.
• Dysthymia - a less severe depressed mood that lasts for years.
• Mixed depression and anxiety - a combination of symptoms of depression  and anxiety. 
• Bipolar disorder - (formally known as manic depressive illness) - involves periods of feeling low (depressed) and high (manic). 

So, dudes get depressed. No big deal men, we're all human. There's no shame in the way our brains can sometimes work against us. In fact, an open approach to mental health is part of the awareness campaign Movember runs. It's OK that dudes get brain pain and hey, we have places to call and go to make it better, to help. A man who has helped the types of fellows who might otherwise withdraw into the dark, dank cupboard of depression is Gary Ablett. I know this is old news, but I stumbled across this article. In it he describes his depression and his subsequent addiction to cocaine, among other drugs, to numb the mental anguish. There's a conflict in this article that I'll address briefly then move on: he was a fool to resort to drugs and while many fall for this trap, there are moments of lucidity when the black veil is lifted and the depressed man can see where he is. It's in this moment, or moments, when we need to make that call, to choose the path that leads us out of the darkness, out of a drug's perverted, damaging love and into a life of self-control. To get so incredibly absorbed by the wrong choices, over and over again, is to me a sign of stupidity. Of the easy option. Of failure. It is an incredibly tough and some might say manly thing to ask for the help required to escape.

On the other hand, Mr. Ablett is great for being able to speak to a segment of manhood who might see depression as, well, bullshit. It's real, men, and it strikes artists and football players, dancers and tradies, professors and accountants, brothers, sons and dads. Suffering from depression is not weakness, stupidity or failure. These things are the result of choices we make and have control over. The physical construct and activity of our brain is completely the opposite. You can't stop getting depression any more than you can stop getting pancreatic cancer. There are ways to try and prevent it, but if you get it, it's nobody's fault, unless you blame someone for rain when you're out for a run. If you do, then blame that guy, girl, higher power or abstract concept, but don't blame yourself.

Movember and beyondblue have several aims, but one of them is awareness. Awareness is a term bandied about so often by organisations and not-for-profits that I think it sometimes loses meaning, like when you say broccoli over and over in your head and suddenly you have no idea what broccoli is anymore. To these organisations, awareness is about shining a light on truth. The obstruction of this light is rumour, hearsay and ignorance. Mental health and mental illness are heavy with stigma, often due to misunderstanding in those who simply don't know any better. Awareness hopes to make those people know better, to show depression in the right light so that those afflicted don't have to feel any worse than they already do. And believe me, depression feels dreadfully awful enough without having to worry about how everyone else sees you.

I've battled the blue twice in my life. The first lasted about three months, the second lasted two. I'm lucky in that respect, because while the length of each bout was enough to determine it clinical, I was able to reach out to a counselor in both instances and find ways to get out. I happen to go into hospital every three months for an unrelated illness called cystic fibrosis (although having a chronic disease can lead to causal depression), so I took advantage of that and spoke to my doctor and an in-house psychologist. You can do that guys, you can just mention it to your GP. We spoke a few times and even discussed going on anti-depressants, but I was able to work with her unmedicated and come out the other side. After the first quarter of a year of depression I installed an internal CCTV camera with face recognition software, firmly lodged inside my skull. Understanding how depression feels, I can now monitor every thought, mood and feeling that passes through check-in and if the CCTV system recognises too many known offenders, I can get the right people to intervene. That is exactly why the second bout only lasted two months. I saw it coming and got it seen to. But the method of detection is similar to skin cancer, breast cancer or prostate cancer. Just like a mole changing under a month of observation, the warning sign of depression is dark, disturbed, violent or suicidal thoughts, moods or feelings that stay around too long. My experience of depression saw long, painful days with the occasional moment of lucidity. It's these moments you must take advantage of. Know what you're looking for and if you think there's even the remotest chance you have the symptoms, you need to see a professional.

Self-medication is not the way, nor are home remedies or simply ignoring the problem. Ignore cancer and you die. Ignore depression, you could well die by throwing yourself under a train. Both deaths are the result of illness, but both have the possibility, the hope of a cure. So if you're feeling that hopeless, helpless, heartless feeling but happen to be reading this article, or see a man with a moustache or notice a clear blue sky, remember how you used to feel before the darkness came and ask for help. You can get back there again.

Tony Abbott's wiki

REASONS I'LL NEVER VOTE ABBOTT'S WIKI ENTRY AS RULER OF AUSTRALIA
Nothing new here, but thought I'd put it in words...

• Said to be a devout Catholic, he wanted to join the Catholic priesthood, and entered St Patrick's Seminary, Manly.
• Between 1993 and 1994 he was the Executive Director of Australians for Constitutional Monarchy.
• In March 2004 he asked "Why isn't the fact that 100,000 women choose to end their pregnancies regarded as a national tragedy approaching the scale, say, of Aboriginal life expectancy being 20 years less than that of the general community?"
• Abbott and previous Health Ministers had decided not to allow it (RU486) to be made available. Abbott responded to the vote by calling for funding of alternative counselling to pregnant women through church-affiliated groups.
• Abbott opposed allowing the introduction of Embryonic stem cell research or therapeutic cloning in another conscience vote, preferring continued use of Adult stem cells for research into cures for debilitating diseases.
• He has proposed a return to at-fault divorce, similar to the Matrimonial Causes Act, which would require spouses to prove offences like adultery, habitual drunkenness or cruelty before a divorce is granted. 

He's done some pretty good things too, like use the phrase, "shit eating grin" and volunteer for his local fire-fighters. He also, allegedly unethically, attacked The One Nation Party by supplying funds to those litigating against its leaders. But then, he's all for cutting off a route to me getting cured of Cystic Fibrosis. And forcing a woman to prove in court her husband hits her before she can divorce, instead of taking her shit and running. So, you know...never.
Thanks Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Abbott

We Win The Commonwealth!

Mr Kevin Rudd emails me when cool shit happens and yesterday afternoon he dropped me an electronic communication to let me know that he beat the ever loving crap out of the other Commonwealth cunts and as a victory, we host the next battle royal on Australian shores in 2011! The blood bath doesn't have a definite location yet, but K-Rudd let slip that the Foreign Minister would tell us where we can park out SUVs to get the best view of smackdown some time today.

I don't know about you, but that PM Keys has been asking for a slap in the chops for a while now, and I can't wait for Killer Kevin to put The Silver Tongued PM Singh on his head PILEDRIVER style. Bring on the Commonwealth Heads of Government Tour 2011.

YeeeeeaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHH

Swiss Miss and Bubye Connex

Connex are gone. Ding dong. Lots of people are writing about it in the news today, but one article was simple and thoughtful. Even the pun in the title, a practice I hate, is forgiven because it actually fits in smoothly with the sentiment, instead of the horrendous forced monstrosities usually printed.
'Goodbye Connex, but will the news guys fare better?'
Clay Lucas shows a rare journalistic quality in this article: the ability to write. He uses time tested methods, like introducing a tantalising topic at the beginning that seems at odds with the title, then bringing that around nicely to the issue at hand. He then lays out structured arguments and information to support them and doesn't stray off into areas that lack the relevance of his chosen points. Finally, he pulls it into the station with a reference back to his introduction and the world seems whole. Kudos Clay, kudos.

Also in the news, Switzerland and their super democracy hold a referendum that ushers in the banning of any new minarets being built. This is pretty weird, wouldn't you say? I mean, what the hell is a minaret? It sounds like a move employed by ballet dancers, and no one wants to ban them, ever. Even the Chinese dig a pink tutu. A minaret is a tall tower, usually with a pointy onion top.

They are commonly built along side mosques (the big, wider onion is the mosque) and are a Muslim thing, as far as this story is concerned. My girlfriend pointed out that Russia is littered with these too, and I appreciated her concern for the poor Ruso-Swiss...OK guys. I have to admit something to you right now. It's kind of personal so I don't want you to make a big deal about it, cool? That ellipses you see up there, the three dots? Yeah, well during that ellipses, I actually got sidetracked watching Ask A Ninja interview Will Ferrel and Napoleon Dynamite. From there, well, I got on the YouTube train, had a layover at Facebook central and might have popped over to Coke Street for a couple of giddy minutes. Once I came back here I may have, just a little...well, I lost interest. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

So, to wrap up, when the calmest, most laid back, neutralist kid in school starts getting nervous and laying into the Muslim kid, you gotta wonder what that Muslim kid did to be so focussed on. Maybe we're all going a little bit nuts? I don't know. That's why I'm not an expert.

REVIEW: Pikelets

If you want pre-made, pre-packaged pikelets, here's the skinny:

Golden pikelets are a cheeky little entry from George Weston's food range. They make this very strange crumpet toast which I really like smeared in honey and crusty hot. Liking a previous product and being drawn in by their colours and branding, which for some reason said immediately to me, "Yes, I will like these," I tried these pikelets first. But they are yuck. The wrong texture, being hard and tacky not soft and fluffy like they should be. The taste? Nup. No good. Artificial and chemically when compared to a nice home made batch. Fail.

If you stroll into Coles, you may be tempted to get their own branded bag. It looks fresh, made just today in-store. Sounds like it should be delicious, right? Wrong! They are actually a little bit plain. Quite cheap though. I recommend these if you are feeling like a savoury snack. Their lack of sweetness and overall doughy flavour means you could put some melted cheese and ham on these babies and gobble gobble gobble.

Ding ding ding! Hot dog, we have a weiner! Mighty Soft's 8 pack of pikelets is by far the best. Light, fluffy, soft and sweet: the holy quadrilogy of sweet baked goods. These babies get a nice, light crisp when you toast them but are just as delicious straight out of the bag. I've found myself tearing in on many an occaision. Not surprisingly they are the most expensive, but it's worth the extra 30c. Put some butter on it and enjoy!

COMIC SWAG

I can do what the other guys do now!
My first big (for me) swag of comics got picked up today. What'd I get? Why don't you read on!?
X Necrosha: one-shot, X-Force, New Mutants.
X-Force 20. Uncanny X-Men Nation X 516 (Fraction baby. I've heard good things...)
Tales of the TMNT 63, 64 (Jonesie's last). Donatello The Brain Thief and another edition of No1 TMNT...again? Colour though.

UPDATES: Uncanny, cool, but fuck! I'm not used to this issue by issue thing.

How Time Turns Me Sceptical

It's a sad day when you realise you have shifted to the sceptical side of the scale. The dawning of this realisation took a few weeks, but eventually the rays of a black sun were too hot to ignore. I am, for the most part, a sceptic.

I think I started as an idealist. Reading history and art at university, I saw the changes that occurred at the fist of student rallies and protests. This filled me with hope. I read the accounts of some great cultural revolution burning in the bellies of sixties-era hippies. My optimism suggested they merely failed where we could succeed. I was tricked by the wonderful escapism of cartoons and Disney movies that life was full of little treasures and beauties and that the common goodness of man was inherent in all things. I was lead to believe that in the end, we were all good people and if you trusted in that, you'd find people came through for you.

Then I grew up.

I'm in a shopping centre, speaking to a man who is offering us a great rate on paintballing. For a good price we get entry and 100 free paintballs. We buy 20 tickets, a full day's worth of fun and he gives us 10 extra for free. I plan to use them for my next birthday party. I wait a year, then call to book. I'm told the free paintball offer doesn't exist, that agents of the company aren't authorised to make deals, that I should have called the company within 7 days of purchase to check that what their agent said was true. "Why would I do that? Why would I call your company to ask if the offer your company gave me is real?" I ask if the offer was written down on their system. It wasn't. He doesn't work for them any more. They won't give me a refund. I have to pay $500 minimum to use the tickets I'd already purchased, that apparently only give me entry and equipment but no ammo. I manage to worm out of them 50 free paintballs per person I book, but I ask that this offer be emailed to me immediately so I have it writing. I receive the email. Once again I've been lied to - the offer is written as 50 free paintballs for the organiser only. Misrepresented to several times over, I look them up online to discover others have fallen for the same false promises, but because none of the agents ever put it in writing, there's nothing to be done. The only way to avoid the trap, we conclude, is to simply not trust anyone who offers anything verbally. We can't trust a man's word.

I'm standing under the large archways of the Victorian State Library. Two friends - a blonde girl and a muscular guy - are standing with me and we're chatting, sheltered from the light drizzle. It's lunch time and we're watching a drug addled couple arguing over junk that was sold under-value. Blondie is good natured, a helper, a friend of the earth. She wrings her hands at the escalating argument. The junkie starts yelling in the face of the junkette, whose beaten down despondency only enrages him further. Blondie steps out and tells the junkie to cool down, leave her alone, back off. The junkie springs up like a coiled snake, venom in his eyes and with no hesitation to unleash on my friend. Muscles is forced to act and steps in immediately, "You right mate?" he says with that undercurrent of force, that subtext of aggression that the street recognises as a thinly veiled threat. My tall, strong, far more alert friend's presence makes the junkie back down. He mumbles something and storms off. The junkette is left behind, picking through her ratty old hand bag. Blondie kneels down to help but junkette smacks her away. Fuck off. Mind your own business. Leave us alone. She lurches off after her abusive dealer boyfriend, bent against the pathetic cold drizzle.

I'm walking downhill at night. Two blocks from our house, my girlfriend and I are in formal wear after a premiere in the city. We've had a good run back home on public transport, but we're not usually caught out by nightfall. As we walk along a main road, one of the houses looks a little odd. The front door is ajar and the fly screen has been ripped. The lights are on but nobody seems to be home. I stop, "Just hang on a sec, baby. This looks a bit dodgy." We should probably move on, but I don't want to be that guy who does nothing while a house is robbed. I imagine the heartbreak of our flat being burgled. I try and get a better view inside..."Hey!" My girlfriend and I turn and see a tall teenage boy,wearing a hoodie up over his head. He's coming down an adjacent street, emerging from the blackness around the edges of working street lamps. We take off immediately, walking fast.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I say, putting an arm around her lower back, moving to cover her a little. "Just going home."
He picks up his pace, crossing the street. We walk even faster despite the notion it's a bad idea to show our fear. A million and one terrible things are crossing my mind. We reveal to each other later that both of us had grabbed a hold of a makeshift weapon in our pockets. Me: a pen. Her: keys.
"Is that your house?" he says, picking up pace, his hands disappearing into the pocket of his hoodie.
"No, we were just looking at houses to buy in the area," it's an uncertain tactic she tries, but inexplicably it works. He suddenly breaks off his line and starts retreating back across the street.
"Oh. OK."
We've never walked home as fast or looked over our shoulders as much in our lives. Because nothing actually happened, we're not sure what to do, so we simply tell the police our story over the phone, just in case something relevant emerges later. We spend most of the night questioning why we should ever put ourselves in that position again. Multiple bashings, stabbings, a marked increase in violence over matters far more trifle than catching a burglar. In the cold light of a computer screen, we read about the disaster that befell a good samaritan a suburb away, not more than two weeks prior. It's decided, begrudgingly, that we are now the kind of people who will do nothing to put themselves in harm's way while their neighbours are robbed.

Some events are tiny, seemingly mundane in the face of the great tradgedies of the world. Some are events you retell with a chill running down your spine. All of them build up, take their toll, put pressure on the ideals, hopes, trust and optimism. You live long enough and those tales of escape become tales of survival. You live long enough, it breaks.

Me Rockin' Out

ON TRIAL: The Black Eyed Peas

The court will come to order! Prosecution, your witness.

Your Honour, the following shall be noted as (sic) from confidential sources. The Prosecution submits to the court The Black Eyed Peas, performing single Joints & Jam from their debut album behind the front.

Got the state's appeal with the joint's that real
I don't need no steel to make my point
Get down and dirty cuz that's my joint
Ha! We preferably make all points
Through a nation we build off the musical field
Or a visual thrill, we do what we feel
Any time or place, on stage in ya face
Over tea in Earth and outer space

Next, Weekend, a single from their second album, Bridging the Gap.

I called Chad on Wednesday night
So we could make plans for Thursday night
He said "we could go hit the peapods"
I was like yeah, that's my favorite spot
Plus I like it there, cuz I got love on the list
High powered juice, where I don't even get frisked
Walk up in the place and get love from the misses
Pounds from my brothers, cuz they knowing that disses
The place to be to let it all out
But when the weekend come, the weekend come
Y'all could come
So go tell ya momma come and ya papa come
Go to spin the record so we can get dumb
Place packed, capacity maximum
Due to my man Polo Promotion
And I can't wait to go out and hear some

Skip ahead and the band takes a turn, making millions on very popular singles. One of which is the current single, Meet Me Half Way, from The E.N.D.

I spent my time just thinkin thinkin thinkin bout you
Every single day yes, i'm really missin' missin' you
And all those things we use to use to use to do
Hey girl, wuz up, it use to be just me and you
I spent my time just thinkin thinkin thinkin bout you
Every single day, yes i'm really missin missin you
And all those things we use to use to use to do
Hey girl wuz up, wuz up, wuz up, wuz up

And lastly, from the same album, a number one charting single from a hip-hop band, known formerly for flowing rhyme - Boom Boom Pow.

Gotta get-get, gotta get-get
Gotta get-get, gotta g-g-g-get-get-get, get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, now
Boom boom boom, now
Boom boom pow
Boom boom
I'm so 3008
You so 2000 and late
I got that boom, boom, boom
That future boom, boom, boom
Let me get it now
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, gotta get-get
Boom boom boom, now
Boom boom boom, now
Boom boom pow
Boom boom pow

The Prosecution rests, your Honour.

GUILTY! *gavel gavel gavel*

Brum Brum!

I started this post planning to make a point, but amidst the numbers and thinking about other things, that point got lost. I figured I may as well post what I'd written anyway, so...enjoy!

I asked my girlfriend how much she spends on petrol. She said $30. I asked how much it costs to fill her tank - $70. She has a 55 litre tank. She gets about 500 kms on a tank. Using maths - and taking an embarrassingly long time to work it out - $1.20 per litre, and every litre gets her 9.09 kms.

A zone 1 full fare 2 hour ticket: $3.70
Daily: $6.80
Weekly: $29.40
Monthly: $109.60
Yearly: $1173.00

It's 9.5 kms from home to the office. Lisa's family lives in Research, and on average she'd visit them once a week. That's 34.1 kms. She also goes to the local shopping centre, 2.5 kms, at least once a week. All up, there and back, Lisa travels at least, on average, 111.2 kms a week.

In her car, she spends approximately $133.44 a week. A weekly is far cheaper.

The End.

5 Social Media Tips for Parents

Social media is a fascinating part of today's internet. Facebook, Twitter and MySpace are the most well known, but every day someone is trying to create the next hot thing. As friends from around the globe connect with one another to share their online experience, the parents of those friends will always be trying to connect with their own spawn through the medium we know as social. Whether it's to keep track of your bird out of the nest, stay up to date with their personal life or to upgrade to Nagging 2.0, here are some pointers for you parents out there to use social media in a more harmonious way and maybe actually get your friend request accepted by Son or Daughter.

1. Know how it works. With the really bleeding edge stuff, even us kids need to get oriented. Do the same! Once you've signed up, or beforehand, look for a FAQ (frequently asked questions), user guide or even peruse YouTube for a video that explains what the software or website is and how it works. The simplest way is to see how everyone else is using it first. That way, you look like a tech-savvy Ma or Pa who won't be bugging their kid every ten minutes asking how the simplest of functions work.
   
   
2. Stay on topic. There's a common acronym that started on message boards: OT. It's short for Off Topic, and is something said to warn a user who has posted something that strays from the subject matter of the rest of the thread of conversation. This is quite annoying, as it essentially hijacks and thus disrupts everybody's enjoyment of the conversation. So, apply this to Facebook for an example: your daughter is in Bali and has posted a picture of her riding an elephant. Below, a few of her friends are asking about the cute elephant-keeper. This is not the time to comment, "Have you called your Auntie Jude? She'd appreciate it."
   
   
3. Start a mutual dialogue. Most modern social media is all about back and forth conversation. If you want to start a conversation with your child, then start one afresh in the way the social medium always intended. On Facebook, it's a post on their wall. On Twitter it's a Direct Message or by including their username with an @ at the start. On their blog, it's leaving a comment on their post (keep it relevant!). Or share a photo or video or link with them using the little 'share' buttons built into the original page you think your kid will like.
   
   
4. Everything can be seen by everyone (almost). Social media is about sharing your experience of the internet publicly, for all to see. A majority of parents don't understand that everything they post on their child's profile is visible to every single friend or often the entire online world. If you absolutley must talk to your child about something personal or awkward through social media (I strongly advise against it), then identify the private channels available. Facebook, MySpace and general profile based sites have Inbox and Messaging features, while Twitter provides Direct Messaging - but really, use an email or better yet, a phone. Otherwise, at best, it's the equivalent of demanding your little boy give you a kiss goodbye in front of his mates at school. Not cool Mum. Not cool.
   
   
5. Be sociable. I'll reiterate once more the point of social media: sharing the internet with friends. Most of us are on to chat, post links and have pleasant, easy-going fun. If you want to enter that world, remember, they are under no obligation to friend you and you're talking to your kid on their turf, so use it for the right reasons. The truth is, they need to accept your friend request so you need to make sure there's a reason for them to do so. A lot of social media users use it as a place to escape the gripes of life, so don't ruin it for them, or you may find lil Timmy or sweet Sarah blocking yo ass. It was originally called Friendster, not Nagster.

Wilmingburg Murder-Suicide a Marriage Indictment

When Jose Wilmingburg held the gun to his head at 8:17am on a Monday morning, he ended the life of a family that by all accounts should have been happy. Jose was a CAT scan technician at his local hospital, where he'd met his partner 25 years ago. Jose married the oncology nurse and the couple raised four beautiful children. The children were average, regular kids. In fact the eldest, Frederico, was a young up-and-comer in his school football team. The coach later spoke to the press, explaining how Jose would drop Rico off at training and stay around to watch, speaking to the coach in order to get the best tips for his son's practice later at home. From Rico to the second youngest were all boys - George and Robert. They all adored their youngest sibling, a two year old girl, Vanessa, and made sure her every waking moment was overseen by one of her brothers. A neighbour joked they treated her as if they were her bodygaurds on rotating shifts.

Their home life was normal and Jose's work at the hospital started for the most admirable of reasons - he simply wanted to help people. Raised by his grandmother and father, Jose saw the effects of degenerative Alzheimer's slowly rob his Nana of her mental faculties, and he vowed to learn how to prevent the same fate from befalling others. His marks at high school and college were modest, but his pleasant attitude got him into the local hospital and under the eye of his supervisor. Mr. Geraldo saw his employee's aptitude for gadgets and encouraged him to join the technician's field. From there, Jose picked his favourite machine, the CAT scan, a device used to pick up irregularities in the brain, and continued working with the machine for 10 years. Jose's workplace was normal.

The only abnormality was his partner, the oncology nurse Maria. Jose was married to a woman.

"I admit, I thought it was odd to say the least, but he's my son, so I supported him 100%." Mr. Jose Wilmingburg Sr is the spitting image of his deceased son, only the ravages of time have tanned and wrinkled his face. He looks at a photo of his son as we compare it with an old photo of himself. "I'd heard the stories from town and some of the more nosy family members actually wanted me to intervene. Especially when they decided to have kids. Oh lordy, my sister was horrified. But like I said, he's my son, and I loved those grand kids, no matter how strange it was that Jose raised them with a mother."

It's all these regularities that might throw one off the scent of why Jose took a shotgun to his wife and four children, then took his own life. Money wasn't a problem, but it wasn't free flowing either. The couple had both been fired just a month before for forging a supervisor's signature in order to get the children into a publicly funded child care centre. But surely this isn't enough to throw Jose off the deep end and commit an act considered the most unnatural - the murder of his own offspring and the person he loved most. The woman he loved most.

I think it wouldn't be a shock to admit that the family wasn't normal. A man living with a woman and raising children isn't the most sane of ideas. The debaucherous elements of the couple's 'lifestyle,' couldn't be hidden from the absorbent minds of their kids. Even the most avid TV watching child is aware of what mummy and daddy are doing in their bedroom. It's not just celebrities who are weak against their own dark appetites or damaging habits.

Jose and Maria, by all accounts, were completely normal except for one glaring difference. The family, despite their particular penchant, were described as happy and healthy by even the most ardent protesting neighbours. A happy, healthy family man does not creep into his children's room and pull the trigger.

We cannot and would not dream of diminishing the dreadful circumstance, most of all for the surviving grandparents who now must see their children and grandchildren buried, but another sadness of this tragic story is the blow struck to the happy-ever-after myth of heterosexual marriage.

Not all male-female couples are cast from the troubled, some might some depraved molds of Bonnie and Clyde or Michel 'Virgin Hunter' Fourniret and his wife Monique Olivier, a heterosexual married couple who, over the period of 16 years, lured virgin girls into their midst so that Fourniret could rape and murder them while Olivier watched. But the murder-suicide of an entire hetero family forces us to ask some serious questions about the viability, morality and at the very least, safety of a male-female marriage.

It would seem that yet again the quiet peace of the suburbs is ruined by the steady seep of a dangerous and uncertain lifestyle. Perhaps the Wilmingburg family is the wake up call we all need.

Edit: Unsure what triggered this blog post? See here.

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Deal or No Deal

http://au.tv.yahoo.com/deal-or-no-deal/video/-/watch/15954905/dond-highlights-cameron-zayec/

Awesome.

Australian Racism

There's a prevailing attitude among the everyday people of Australia that the Hey Hey Jackson Jive skit was not in fact racist, and that it's a storm in a tea cup. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is displaying emotions that range from curious amusement, disappointment, right up to outrage that this skit appeared on live TV. The host Daryl Somers, Channel 9 and the lead performer himself, Dr Anand Deva have all apologised. All three have taken up the shield of ignorance, stating it was never their intention to offend.

There can be no denial the performers were in blackface, but maybe a lot of Australians don't truly understand what blackface is? Here's a definition from Wikipedia:

Blackface ... is a style of theatrical makeup that originated in the United States, used to take on the appearance of certain archetypes of American racism, especially those of the "happy-go-lucky darkyplantation" or the "dandified coon ".^[1] Blackface in the broader sense includes similarly stereotyped performances even when they do not involve blackface makeup. White blackface performers in the past used ... shoe polish to blacken their skin and exaggerate their lips, often wearing woolly wigs, gloves, tailcoats, or ragged clothes to complete the transformation. Stereotypes embodied in the stock characters of blackface minstrelsy played a significant role in cementing and proliferating racist images, attitudes and perceptions worldwide. In some quarters, the caricatures that were the legacy of blackface persist to the present day and are a cause of ongoing controversy. By the mid-20th century, changing attitudes about race and racism effectively ended the prominence of blackface makeup used in performance in the U.S. and elsewhere.

The Jackson Jive was a blackface performance. It was originally performed 2 decades ago, during the 1980s - a time, clearly, when racism was more present. Today, Australia lives in a globalised world with the United States one of its most dominant economic and military powers. In this world, our leaders are or should be trying to puch us further towards the centre of stage. Ours is a lucky country with potential and intelligence. But how can we be a part of the world and ignore our strongest ally's own advancements in civil rights? The nation now has a Nobel winning black President, in a land where blackface originated and where black people were lynched.

And here are five Australian men, an Australian TV network and a television show known as a national institution doing blackface. What. Were. They. Thinking? Whether they meant to offend or not, it was racist. What were the producers and the network executives thinking? Or, in what era were they thinking from? One of my biggest complaints has always been that the gatekeepers of Aussie arts and entertainment are old men with outdated, foolish attitudes to the world. No more clearly is this represented than when a TV exec or producer, someone who should be fully aware that YouTube, viral videos and the Internet means that what you put on a national screen has every possibility of being seen by the world for weeks to come, and who have chosen an American actor and singer to appear on the show, would then put blackface in front of the cameras.

It reminds me of your old uncle, in his late fifties, making all sorts of racist jokes at the Christmas dinner table. And you know he's (probably) not being malicious, he just honestly doesn't know any better. He's the product of his time. You might smile thinly or leave the room, but you find solace in the notion that maybe he says these things, but he'd never turn his back on a lynching or shoot an Aboriginal in a carpark if no-one was looking and he knew he'd get away with it. Growing up, this example was everywhere, with all the people I met in my outer suburb childhood. The attitude towards people of different skin was also hostile, negative, but thinly veiled and only ever in the privacy of homes, during family dinners or in front of the TV. But it was there, and I got the feeling it was in the majority of homes in Australia. I worried, most certainly justifiably, that it was something in me, from my own upbringing. And it made me sad.

Sad that as a nation, we stunt our own growth. I hope that this country can be a shining beacon, a nation who became strong without wars to liberate, but who used education and social responsibility to export both goodwill and knowledge along with traditional trade, to become recognised as a peaceful, happy, friendly, strong country of advancement and civility.

But let's look at the buffoons who stand in the way of that hope.

From the various articles I read online, the most infuriating parts came from the comments section, where these everyday Australians cemented the current world view of our nation (all quotes are sic):

K from Mackay 

Well, the fun police strike again Harry needs a uniform,baton and a whistle! i thought it was hilariously funny and i'm a black fella!

Luke from Melbourne 

Harry is not suited to Hey hey, hes too uptight, he needs a dose of reality and clearly has the typical USA mentality.

Scott from Adelaide

Where was the racism? The comment prior to the Jackson Jive coming on was "a tribute to the Jackson Five". So that, for all the people claiming it was racist, should have told them otherwise prior. Get over your arrogance. They respected Michael and his family, but you don't.

Certain Australian news sites also had user polls, asking variously if the sketch was racist, tasteless, funny. The results were either divided down the middle or skewed in favour of the notion that the skit was not racist or offensive. Some might say, "Well, see, the poll says no." I say, why do you even need to poll on that!? Of course it was racist, and the very fact that our nation can be divided on that in the first place is both sickening and sad.

Yes, the sketch was based on one that won Red Faces 20 years ago. That's the point! Shouldn't we be watching this from 20 years ago and thinking, "Oh god, that's embarrassing, we used to think that was OK." That sort of racism used to be acceptable, but now it's not. All that argument does is show that the arguer is stuck in some bizarre time warp where the rest of the world didn't realise they were being horrible to black slaves and started trying to repair the damage done. If thinking like an American means I find racism offensive, then someone give me a greencard! Do you really want to revel in that sort of thing? Do you really want to shrug off the evil connotations and horrid history of blackface by saying, "Nah, it was just a joke!" What sort of person does that make you?

Harry Connick Jr. was on the show and he did not like it. He stood up and demanded satisfaction. He did what thousands of his countrymen for hundreds of years did not do: he stood up for civil rights and against mocking and patronising and other instruments used to demean and keep down an entire race.

I think this whole debacle exposes that inherent racism in the Australian character. A racism born from isolation and cultivated by ignorance - a special sort of ignorance. For while we educate ourselves in science and medicine and technology, the education in social responsibility and global understanding is lackluster. Being clever in other areas lets us keep the racism hidden. Australians live in a multicultural country, but yet I say we're racists? It's a strange sort of racism, an amorphous blob that only takes shape when events like these pop up. It's racism by stealth. It's a bottom-up racism. Our leaders, our public people, they wear the badges of moral and social responsibility so that we don't have to. A politician openly encourages multiculturalism. An Australian citizen tolerates it, buts mocks it ruthlessly behind closed doors.

Look at the culprit, one Dr Anand Deva. I truly don't believe he fully understands what racism is when he says:

I am an Indian, and five of the six of us are from multicultural backgrounds and to be called a racist ... I don't think I have ever been called that ever in my life before. Anyone who knows us as a group, we are intelligent people, we are all from different racial backgrounds so I am really truly surprised.

When asked whether he would have performed the act in the US, he replied:

Absolutley not!

He just doesn't get it. He seems to think that just because he's Indian and his cohorts were from different backgrounds, then they are exempt from being racist - the idea of which is in itself racist! My point is, he doesn't seem to understand. A lot of Australians don't, and I think they need to be educated. Better, they have the internal drive to learn and educate themselves. Racism isn't something restricted to the borders of the USA. It isn't something that exists only between white Westerners and African descended black Americans. It's a worldwide plague that is very simple in its thinking, but lethal in application: to discriminate or negatively affect in any way one person or group of people based on the colour of their skin or cultural background, because it is different from your own. That is racism. That sort of thinking caused blackface to become popular, as white Americans slapped their knees during minstrel shows and remarked boorishly, "Oh ho! Look at that stupid nigger!" The Americans realised, finally, in the 1960-70s with civil rights movements and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr right up to now, with the first black President, that that sort of thinking was wrong at the most fundamental level of humanity.

And now, here in 2009, Australia shows a bunch of ignorant fools doing blackface.

I'm not saying we should surgically remove our sense of humour; that we should batten down the hatches and become a police state. I just think there are parts of our national character that need work, just as the most stable and respectable person is constantly striving to better him or herself. We are a great country, but to ever be as great as our potential, we need to be able to look at ourselves and make changes. We need to think more, to intellectualise, to drag ourselves out of the slow, sometimes backwards crawl of our social advancement. We need to look to those that have shown the way, and we need to be open to the idea that we can and have failed, but that we can learn from those mistakes and rectify our future.  Australia is a country of greatness, but it could be greater still. Isn't that something you want to be proud of? Isn't that something we can acheive?

Editing

I'm an editor. I do a lot of editing for work. I just came out of editing for months on end, in a row. I mean, there were no weekends, no going home to rest. I'd been editing in a little room without a window. It had just enough space for a desk laden with monitors and drives and a keyboard, then my wooden kneeling-stool fits comfortably underneath. I didn't have a chair because they said it wasn't cost effective, but that's alright. Editing is its own reward, and the kneeling-stool improves my posture. There's enough space, if I push the stool out, to sleep under the desk. If I keep the door closed and the computer on overnight, I keep warm. It's alright though, I'm an editor. We do this sort of thing.

Did I also mention I'm an artist? Yeah, being an editor is the same thing as being an artist. I was being an artist just the other day, in my little room, bathed in the glow of my screen. I was cutting footage and it struck me, "Wow! I am such an artist!" I flashed back to when I first started being an editor, er, an artist...an artistic editor. I felt pretty cramped, pretty yucky being in there all day, but after a few days, I remembered that artists have to struggle for their arts. I totally struggled. My knees are now giant big tree knots. I can't really straighten my legs all the way out. How much of being an artist is that!?

Heaps I reckon.

I finished up editing though. I came out into the light today, blinking tears out of my eyes because the sun was too bright and I wasn't used to it. I noticed the world looked kind of square and pixelly, which is good, because that means I see differently to other people. That makes you an artist too, did you know that? I also thought as I walked home, "Gee, I sure wish I could cut this bit out and jump cut to being home. That'd be neat." As soon as I thought that, I laughed knowingly and gave myself a little high-five, because I realised that now I think differently to everyone else, and that means I'm an artist too. When I got home and greeted my girlfriend for the first time in months, she gave me a really big hug. She was super happy to see me. I was happy too, so happy I didn't even complain when my feeble ribs fractured just a little bit as she squeezed me. We had dinner and went to bed, but I felt like something was wrong. I tossed and turned for a bit but then it hit me: I'm an artist now, but my girlfriend isn't! I got out of bed immediately and signed my girlfriend up for some editing jobs online. There weren't many though, so I also filled out writing applications too. Writers are artists as well, even if they're not as good but, so it's alright if she's one of them.

It might be sad if I have to break up with her because she isn't an artist, but that's what you have to do if you want to be an artist. I am an artist already, so I have to do it. You don't have to be artist, but you won't be as good as me and other people who are artists too. I was told that's not rude, it's just the way it is, so I'm allowed saying it.

Boy, I can't wait to start editing again...does being an artist wear off over time?

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Polanski Can Suck It

RT @droob: Way to be a dick, film industry http://bit.ly/8te6u

What the hell? He raped a kid! He gave up his freedom when he broke the law. So what, just because Polanski goes on to make great films, he should be granted immunity? What the fuck does cultural significance have to do with a rape case? And since when was a film festival a sacrosanct holy land where the law doesn't matter? By their logic, footballers should be allowed to break laws if they win a superbowl a few times, and should never be arrested on their way to a game.

I'm sorry, but Polanski got to avoid facing the justice system for decades. To bitch now is a slap in Lady Luck's face. Now he gets his day in court, and if found innocent, then there you go. If guilty, he committed a crime! And if Scorsese, Lynch, Woody and the gang don't like it, they can pay for his lawyers and appeals - but don't stand in the way of your country's justice system, you arrogant fucks.

Jeez. I mean, who the hell said these filmmaking pricks were in charge of extradition law and court procedure?

Oh, and to top it all off, Polanski’d already pleaded guilty but fled before sentencing, while appeals are still open to him anyway. He's a freakin' fugitive by the very definition of the word.

R 18+ Ratings for Video Games

In Australia, the R 18+ rating for video games doesn't exist. If a game if deemed too violent, sexual or otherwise for the MA 15+ rating, it is given an RC (Refused Classification), which means it is banned from import. Anyone raided and caught selling the game will be fined. Most often, what happens is the developer edits and/or removes the offensive parts of the game and resubmits it to the Office of Film and Literature. If it's now clean enough, it gets the highest allowed rating of MA and ends up on our shelves.

Games that have been RC include most recently, Dark Sector, Manhunt, Marc Ecko's Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure, Reservoir Dogs, BMX XXX, Blitz: The League, and Postal 2.
These games most often were banned for violence considered too real, too connected to sex or shown in too positive a light (usually incorporating incentives for violence), however, you'll notice Mark Ecko's Getting Up can shut down because of its portrayal of graffiti. A fuller list of RC titles and their subsequent outcomes can be found here.

There's been a lot of outcry from gamers and industry folks who really, really want the R rating for games so as to stop the absolute banning of games. Similarly, there are those on the other side of the fence who are rather happy it's not around, as it removes unwanted threats. Instead of bitching about it in the dark, I decided to go right to the source - I emailed the OFLC and asked, simply and quickly, Dear members of the classification board, I was hoping you could please answer this simple question for me: Why do you not provide an R rating for video games in Australia? I'm eager to understand why, thanks very much, Simon J. Green.

To my surprise, I received a hard copy letter, mailed to me in the post, from the Attorney-General's Department, Territories and Information Law Division. The letter is a fascinating insight into the minds of those people who make the laws of our country, the very heart of the matter. I invite you all to read it and discuss what you think. (Names and contact details have been blanked for privacy)

Link to Page 1
Link to Page 2
or download in a .zip

For a big fat discussion and history on this topic, I suggest you read the excellent Cnet article Censory Overload: Games censorship in Australia.

Writers Cracking It

There's been two posts online in as many days from established writers fed up with the practices of those around them. I like it. I think the profession of writing is considered a little too loosely by a lot of people. It's something you have to study, practice and understand, just like any other profession. Just because you can write an email doesn't mean you're a writer...yet.

I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script by A History of Violence screenwriter Josh Olson.

On The Asking Of Favors From Established Writers by John Scalzi

A bit of grumpiness from people who I think deserve to let it out a bit. Enjoy!

Let's Tear Apart Fine Art!

God I hate the language fine art uses to describe itself.

During the festival, clusters of Kurono clones wearing pale blue dresses, black wigs and glasses will intercept iconic sites throughout Melbourne, climaxing in an imploding mass of dance, abstraction, poise and presence. - from a press release for a FRINGE event

What does that MEAN??
Clusters. Fine. Not too terrible a choice. Obviously it could easily be replaced by groups, but I won't chastise them for trying to be a little more creative with their synonyms. Clusters seems to try and legitimise the whole thing by using a term most commonly used in science and mathematics. Sometimes I get the feeling the perverted language they use does this a lot, that maybe they're trying their damnedest to convince themselves they aren't useless members of society. Same can be said of the word clones, used instead of impersonators or costumes or some other more appropriate word.

Intercept. Intercept iconic sites? Surely they mean gather or congregate at? How exactly does one intercept an unmoving site? Intercept means to move into the path of something, to cut it off from its intended destination. Maybe Federation Square is going to be transforming into a tan-tile-o-bot and go for Government House, and these Kurono clones will intercept and engage it in a vicious cock fight to take it down? Or, maybe someone's trying to inject more excitement into the proceedings than there actually will be...

Climaxing. People in cos-play congregating around Flinders Street Station results in the sexual, frenzied or very highest point of the event? Usually it results in a great deal of business people weaving around rather dispirited looking emos and goths sitting on the steps. Usually it's just annoying. Will the dancers be writhing around on the ticket machines perhaps?

Imploding. Mass. Why didn't they just use exploding? Imploding means completely the wrong thing here. It's so clearly an attempt to sound smarter, more pretentious. That's the root essence of this stupid fine arts language. It's as if they wrote the sentence in normal English, then flicked open a thesaurus and grabbed the third suggestion for each adjective or verb. You can't have an imploding mass of dance, abstraction, poise and presence. How does that work? Implode means to burst inwards. Will all the dance moves be focussed predominantly on thrusting towards the centre of a circle? If mass implodes, it sucks itself in. A mass of dance? That's an odd collective noun. Unless they mean it religiously, in which case, I see a Japanese bishop holding a communion that blows up and makes the church fall in on itself. An imploding mass of poise? Poise is equilibrium or dignified balance. For it to implode negates the meaning altogether. Presence? An imploding mass of presence - presence is such a passive noun, I can't wrap my head around how it would implode. Seriously people. Think before you type. Keep it simple. Say what you mean, not what you think makes you sound more intelligent. You just come off foolish.

Hire someone who knows how to use words, and you stick to choreography and having anime characters blow you backstage.

*note: any mistakes I made were on purpose and for sardonic irony, of course!

Hey Melbourne Comic Shops, What's The Deal?

So I've been toying with the idea of getting into comics, as in getting myself subscribed to a couple of books instead of buying the trade paperback collections every now and then. I wasn't sure how much they costs each and what's out there, heck, I wasn't even sure how it works exactly. To remedy this, I figured my best course of action would be to find one of the websites of a Melbourne comic book shop and see what the dealio might be.

I couldn't find a single one. Not one of the handful of Melbourne comic shops seemed to have a site. Please, if I'm wrong or missed them, link me in the comments ASAP.

I found it incredibly amazing and rather stupid that these stores, in the 2000s, don't have sites. What the hell? I mean, they've got it tough as it is. Comic shops don't do very well down in Oz - I mean, they could be doing a lot better, y'know? But they sure as hell aren't helping themselves by not catching up with the rest of the world, both business and personal worlds, and getting freakin' websites! Even a free blog or a freewebs page - sheeit, even a google or yahoo page.

Here's the thing guys - you delightful comic store owners out there - I was all like, "Awesome, I'm gonna give you guys money 'cause I wanna subscribe to books in your store, thus willingly linking myself to you guys as a customer for months, maybe even years!" and I couldn't even find you guys, couldn't even find a way to contact you, except via phone. I wanted to connect with you guys, but I couldn't. If I wasn't so damn dogged, you might've lost yourselves a customer.

Instead, I'm going to offer some help. My biznads, Green Rabbit, does killer websites. We even set up online stores and cool ways for customers to interface. It would be fun setting up some websites for these guys, so I'm a-gonna contact them and try to get them online.

Awesome!

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I Should Date The Internet

It's upsetting how accurately the Internet knows me, offering products such as this through my Facebook:


Cartoon Yourself

Turn yourself into a cartoon and post it to your profile. It is fun, free and easy!

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1527 Girls Near You

Lisa is a lonely gamer girl. Would you like to meet her?

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Gothohollics Online

Aussie Goths Online, goth merch, art, poetry.Goth and Rock clothing, Jewellery and giftware

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The 'Cheaper Books' Debate

Cheaper books as a result of removing import restrictions could result in local industry weakening

A Lateline report on the issue, giving both sides.

And here is the Cheaper Books Coalition

This debate has been going on for a couple of months now. It first popped on to my radar while working on 9AM with David and Kim (shudder). Seminal children's author Morris Gleitzman came on in opposition of the proposed changes to Australian federal law. A commission has recommended the following:

In its final report on the parallel importation of books, it recommended the lifting of all restrictions after a three-year adjustment period; the rejigging of financial assistance to the book industry; a new survey by the Australian Bureau of Statistics; and a review of the brave new world after five years.

It said the current legislation, under which Australian publishers have 30 days to publish editions of books published overseas or face competing editions, stopped booksellers from importing "cheaper or better-value-for-money editions". - http://www.theage.com.au/national/publishers-fight-cheap-books-20090714-dk61.html

They're called the The Productivity Commission, and right there I point out the first problem. This recommendation comes from a group whose sole purpose is to explore how books can be made cheaper, how the industry can be more efficient, how price tags can be more satisfying for consumers. It's a commission whose inherent purpose is always going to completely ignore the content and industry of books, because it is launched from the side of the consumer.

Sometimes, if you want to maintain good quality local industry - hell, if you want 'good things' to exist at all, you need to avoid the path to cheap. Cheap doesn't mean good. It doesn't mean better quality. It doesn't mean safety or security. It just means that in the long run, some company is making more money off its consumer. If you buy something cheaper, it usually means somewhere, some corner was cut. At the end of the day, the marketplace is looking for a higher profit margin. Are TVs cheaper now? Yes. Are the more expensive ones better than a TV off Safeway's shelf? Certainly.

And just because rules are installed that allow for cheaper books to be imported doesn't equate to a consumer getting cheaper books. There is a chain of supply between the overseas publisher and you at the checkout. Let's look at an example:

Dymocks currently sells Ivory, by Australian author Tony Park for $32.99. Let's say Dymocks buys the book from its Australian supplier for $25. It's making a $7.99 profit. Now let's imagine that the parallel import law is changed, and Dymocks can buy the book from international publishers for $19. Let's also say it's been three years since the law changed, and Dymocks had been selling select books at low prices during special sales to commemorate the law change, but that slowly faded as people forgot the ruckus. They now have the opportunity to make a $13.99 profit by selling the book at the regular price of $32.99, a price we are all used to paying. Do you really think Dymocks, a large corporation who have always said they're about the price of books, a company whose directors, by law, need to do what's best for the company, are NOT going to increase their profit margin? What does history tell us? Does it tell us that large company directors do what's good for the little people? NO.

An example brought up in the debate is a very similar situation that occurred about 10 years ago with the music industry. CDs used to be protected by local copyright laws, meaning locally published versions had to be sold first. The same argument - that we can get cheaper CDs! - was put forward and ultimately won out. In the above Lateline link, a pro-change supporter said this:

PROFESSOR ALLAN FELS: I think the record industry story is very clear. We removed the restrictions a number of years ago. Prices did come down, and the local music industry is flourishing. It's flourishing like never before

Um... really? Because the way I see it, we had a massive collapse in independent music retailers (who sold far more local bands than the majors do now), our own Mushroom Records disappeared and every band who wants to make it has fled to the States or Europe while our local industry is flooded by half baked talent rejected from Australian Idol. Meanwhile, CDs are still around the $30 to $40 mark.

As an entrepreneur, I like to hope I have a bit of an understanding about industry and business. If I was running a local publishing house instead of a video production company, I'd be horrified by this turn of events. If they suddenly told me that Australian TV no longer must have x amount of hours of local content, but can freely import cheaper TV 24-7, we'd be decimated because the big companies that own and buy do not care about local content, they care about the bottom line. There's a responsibility of members of an industry, from the producer through to the seller, to actually support the local industry it's a part of. If its own members start rabidly undercutting or going overseas, the local part of the industry shrivels. It's good to have cheaper elements to keep companies going, but the sacrifice is quality and local support.

The biggest argument among all this is that books are not a bland, heartless commodity. A book isn't a TV. It isn't rice. It's a work of art that one person dedicated his or her entire soul to producing. The end result isn't a buyer or consumer, it's a reader. An audience member. This isn't a product they're buying, it's a holy tome, something that has the potential to touch them deeply, stay with them for the rest of their lives. It's also something written by an Australian, for an Australian. Gleitzman, back on 9AM, told us how overseas, they print versions of his and other Australian authors' books that change phrases, sentences, paragraphs, entire locations and settings to remove the Australianisms and replace them with more familiar American alternatives. When a foreign publisher publishes our books, they change them, then sell them back to us at a cheaper price.

So the real question you have to ask is do you want Possum Magic to be about a squirrel eating twinkies?