Christmas Part III

Well thank God that’s over. Actually, thank humans that’s over. Christmas is very much a human-made invention.

We’ve already touched on how exasperating Christmas is and questioned whether the immense effort the season involves is worth it. To reiterate our suggestion, it’s not. Not even a little bit. The stress that pertains to driving, food preparation, decorating, obligatory church attendance, and present buying, not to mention the family functions that involve so much tongue-biting and tooth grinding that you’d prefer a mouthful of ulcers, is immense.

Is this significant cost made worthwhile by the benefits of seeing “loved” ones peel open the wrapping paper to lay sight on the sweater they’ll never wear? No, not one bit.*

But the problems with Christmas are deeper than this. Let me explain.

Those that partake in Christmas all-too-frequently confuse their obligatory duties with genuine generosity. They’re so busy patting themselves on the back that they manage to ignore the fact that Christmas is compartmentalised into a small portion of the year known, for good reason, as the silly season. If you’re rushing around, convincing yourself that you’re generous for two weeks a year, maybe stop and think about (a) the other 50 weeks in the year that you’re a selfish cunt and (b) entertain the notion that you might not really be that much of a legend if everyone else is doing it and you’re just buying shit to keep up appearances.

Really, Christmas is only a chance for western greed to manifest at its worst and convince itself that it’s healthy. All that shit you bought in a stressful state that the recipients don’t want or need is made from a combination of exploited labour and enviro-rape. Your body can’t handle any of that crap you’re eating. Do you see how this works? Western living is built on unsustainable practices and at Christmas we take all of this to a higher level and convince ourselves we’re wonderful people because of it!

Well fuck that.

Meri kirihimete from Shaun and Andy. See you at the Boxing Day sales.

*As a footnote, it is really shit when Americans don't realise their Office is an inferior version of the British original. If you're one of those people, you're a cock.

Christmas Part II

One of the major problems with Christmas is the need to give presents.

For a start, you might need to shop for these bundles of stress at a mall. It’s pretty obvious that malls are horrible all year round but Christmas takes every mall annoyance to a heightened level of shit. For a start, you might need to find a park. Fuck that. Do I really want to manoeuvre my vehicle in between three SUV’s that have never seen dirt and probably can’t handle the gentle turning arc required to get into the spot they’re all jockeying for? Doubt it - especially when my vehicle is a push bike.

Then, if I’ve survived the war zone that is the mall parking lot, I go inside the complex. What is this, a prison? They’re invariably playing Christmas music. We’ve already covered the problems with that. There will invariably be a mall Santa. Well, I guess we haven’t lied to the kids enough yet. No doubt there will be a fucking department store with a fucking Christmas sale.

Under no circumstances should you approach this horrid specimen of “first world” living. The staff of high school students and high school drop outs will being getting thrashed by senior management who decided to launch a Christmas sale the store lacked the space, expertise, intelligence and maturity to handle, not to mention middle management who will be hell bent on whipping the poor bastards in the firing line into shape to deliver the “deliverables” or “key performance indicators” to senior management. Of course, the customers will have shit for brains and will form an angry mob disguised as a queue, press the button on the fish that sings ‘Grandma Got Run Over By the (Motherfucking) Reindeer’ and tell you stuff “must be free” when it doesn’t scan the first time and say helpful things like, “smile mate - it’s Christmas” when you look at them, clearly unable t comprehend just what exactly is so fucking funny. Make no mistake about it: working in a department store is like being caught in the ultimate pincer movement.

If you choose to ignore common sense and enter this lion’s den of awfulness and manage to avoid being literally trampled to death you may come away with a shitty gift that was made in a shitty country with shitty labour laws and shitty standards of manufacturing that your shitty child/partner/parent/cousin/boss/neighbour/friend/etc might pretend they like for five minutes before forgetting about or might have need of three times a decade.

More on this next week....

PS: Don’t forget to buy a Christmas tree. Not only will you be allergic to it but you’ll have to clean up the needles it sheds and contribute to global warming in the process. Trifecta!

Christmas Part I

They say this is the season to be jolly. Hardly. Everything about Christmas is shit and this is the first of a series of posts explaining why. We’ve been playing grinch all year - did you really think we were going to stop now? Of course not - I have years of pent up Christmas retail rage to vanquish.

Without further adieu, let’s tear down the wreaths, spit in the cakes and examine the first bane of my yuletide existence: Christmas carols.

Snoopy’s Christmas

Let me get this straight - Christmas resolved World War I?! The Great War?! The war to end all wars?! Hmmmm. What seems more likely to me is that once the sun rose on Boxing Day the opponents started trying to blow the shit out of each other again.

I shouldn’t be surprised people go for this nonsense. Snoopy’s Christmas embodies yet another series of Christmas related lies adults tell children. For a start, we’re celebrating the birth of a man who was born to a virgin and apparently turned water into wine after walking on it before dying and coming back to life. Hmmmm. We know all this for a fact cos it’s written down in a book with talking snakes and parting seas and God knows what else. Said book was written 2,000 years ago when said man was alive and somehow we've worked out his birthday was on December 25. Forget Obama, I want to see that birth certificate.

Then there’s the lie about Santa. What exactly are we teaching kids here? Nag your parents for shit you don’t need and probably don’t even want and somehow they’ll communicate your wishes to a fat guy in a stupid suit who lives at the North Pole but hangs out at every bloody shopping mall (more on those abominations later) and he’ll visit you and every other kid in the world in a 24 hour period in a flying sled powered by obliging reindeer and no one will see him doing this even though he’d have to go so fast as to create a sonic boom? Yep, sounds legit, right?

So I guess if you’re gonna believe all that you’ll swallow the idea that grown men trained and ordered to kill each other will stop once they hear Christmas bells and peace will break out and rainbows will appear and the sky will rain chocolate and honey will pour from the taps and the streets will turn to gold. Hate to burst your bubble but World War I did not end on December 25, 1914....

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Firstly, what the hell is “Mommy?” That’s not even a word. Secondly, if she’s supposed to be in loving a relationship with Daddy or Steve the plumber or your other Mommy, you’d better ask her why she’s such a tart. Maybe Santa’s not giving her a chance to say “no.” You should probably be a good kid and break it up. After all, Santa’s only here cos you’re greedy and demanding. He probably just wants something in return for giving up his precious time to visit the house of a spoilt little shit.

Of course, if Mommy isn’t involved with anyone else she can do what she wants. Probably shouldn’t go too far with you watching though. Regardless, as we established above, Santa Claus is NOT coming to town.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Most times I hear this monstrosity I’m in a ghastly shopping mall (there's a tautology) and it’s blaring from the store speakers. As this post and the ones that will follow will show, the writers of this “song” could quite reasonably be sued for subterfuge.

Winter Wonderland

It’s not winter. It’s summer and as we’ve established, you can barely tell from the weather. Still, what is wondrous about winter? We’ve already established that snow is shit. Winter is cold and miserable. Advocates of Christmas need to stop lying.

Silent Night

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Wake me up when it's over....

Jokes I Never Want to Hear Again

1. That’s what she said.

2. Your Mum....

3. Must be free then. (Heard from old people in stores when something doesn’t scan. More on shopping another time....)

4. Any Amy Winehouse joke involving the word, “rehab.”

5. Your Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.

6. Any Scribe joke involving the words, “not many, if any.”

7. Any joke trading on tired gender cliches, e.g.: women can’t drive, men don’t listen, etc.

8. So’s your face. (Scrubs looks pretty tired now, huh? It’s the Friends of the 00’s - funny and sexy in its day but incredibly dated a decade on. Now we’ve got Two and a Half Men. We’d blog about that but it would be easier to tear strips off than an Adidas rugby jersey. It’s below us.)

9. Nek minute.

10. Flight of the Conchords. I was sick of the references to "business socks" halfway through 2008. Why do you insist on ruining (a) FOTC and (b) my impression of you by pushing the same lines? Look, Bret and Jemaine aren't completely shit. All credit to them for success. Let's give some context though. North Americans, would they be as funny if they weren't from New Zealand? Kiwis, would they be as funny if America hadn't told you it was OK to like them? Are their lines really so great that they're still funny even though 2012 is fast approaching? Is Bret McKenzie's Muppets' theme not a piss-poor excuse for a song?

11. Any reference to Spinal Tap. Don’t tell me about turning things up to 11. That was funny when I was 16. A decade later, not so much. The fact that we’re the same age and you still find it funny says one of two things:

(a) when I was a teenager I had the sense of humour of someone in their mid-twenties; or

(b) in your mid-twenties, you have the sense of humour of a teenager.

Me and Shauny don’t like ambiguity so we’ll spell it out for you. You haven’t developed.

Dear readers, is there anything we've missed?

Getting a Haircut

I’ll qualify this statement first. Getting haircuts in Korea was actually quite pleasant. Sure, the staff at the salon would jockey to try and avoid cutting my hair cos they figured that I wouldn’t speak any Korean and that would make it awkward but eventually the poor unfortunate would be chosen and they’d get the job done. They were always efficient and accurate and they could follow my simple instruction: “베컴 머리를 주세요.” I don’t care what shitty Google translate tells you, that basically means, “please give me Beckham hair” (referring to the iconic faux-hawk) and that is what they’d do. We’d make small talk in Korean (read: I’d do my best to practice/flirt) and I’d get a great haircut from a pretty woman for a laughably cheap price.

All of this begs the question, why is getting my haircut in New Zealand so damn unpleasant? Let’s start with the store atmosphere. Why the fuck are you playing Gin Wigmore? Why are The Cardinals (her backing band) such suckers for punishment? I thought working with Ryan bloody Adams would be insufferable enough. Wah wah wah, New York street corners, roses, drugs, girls I used to know, girls called Rose I used to know, Mandy freaking Moore, wah wah wah. That’s Ryan but at least when he got it right (note the past tense) he was world class. What the fuck does Gin fucking Wigmore offer? My ears aren’t cheese so there’s no reason to be so grating. At least in Korea the music was excruciating in a language I couldn't understand.

Then again, I should’ve known the interior would be as tasteless as the sign on your exterior. Why is it hairdressers cannot resist pigeonholing themselves with vocational puns in the names of their stores? Here are some excruciating examples:

-Hair's to you!

-Hairport Salon

-Headquarters

-Getting Ahead

-British Hairways

-Shear Excitement

-Fringe Benefits

-Comb One Comb All

-Locks of Fun

-Mane Man

-Julius Scissor

-Barber Blacksheep

-The Brady Scrunch

-Curl Up and Dye

Really, the first cut is the cheapest? Shoot me now.

Secondly, my aforementioned faux hawk is a pretty straightforward style. Beckham had one which meant half of the All Blacks had one which means every male in New Zealand has had one or thought about having one. Every hairdresser in the country must have styled one before so how come when I ask for “short on the sides, a bit longer on top and at the back” I get a blank stare? Why do you want to know what setting the razor should be on and what style of scissor technique to use? Why can’t I just say “make my hair 8 weeks shorter than it is now? Why can’t you understand that I want it as short as you can possibly get it with some semblance of my preferred style so as to maximise the time between insufferable haircuts?

Thirdly, must we talk to each other? You’ve already suggested you have nothing to offer by playing Gin fucking Wigmore in your establishment which should never have been called 'Hair, Thair and Everywair.' All conversing with me will do is prove it. I don’t want to make small talk about my studies. “Oh political science, do you want to be a politician?” No. None of us do, at least in the foreseeable future. I don’t want to talk about Christchurch. My family are fine, thank you very much for asking, but I swear to God, if you ask me which school I went to I’ll stab you in the cock with your own scissors. I also don’t want to talk about the rugby. No one ever talks about rugby, they just recycle a string of meaningless cliches and newspaper headlines. Do us both a favour and forget the small talk.

Look, hairdressers, I know you’re removing an unsightly growth from my head but this isn’t brain surgery. It really shouldn’t be this hard. I want a hairCUT, not a re-style, not a perm, not a colouring, not a treatment, not dreads, not scalp waxing, not a word shaved into my head, not a head massage and not a million bloody questions on how to do your job. Give me a shorter version of what I’ve got. Sheesh, imagine what I’d say if I actually received a bad haircut....

So what do you think? Is going to hairdresser more stressful than it should be and is this entirely their fault?

Movember.

Let's get something straight from the outset: at this blog we are firmly against cancer in all its forms. Really.

Furthermore, it is laudable that some gentlemen take it on themselves to raise money and awareness of prostate cancer. But must it be for a WHOLE month? Must it be done SO obnoxiously? Must it be used as a sneaky excuse for those who cannot grow or wear a decent beard (ourselves included) to commit crimes of facial dis-organisation? Must it be used by consummate normtroopers as a chance to think they're wild when they're not?

NO! ENOUGH! If you care about mens' health, that's great. Just give the damn money directly!

And for the love of Zeus, spare us the sight of your bumfluff bleeding to death on your face.


Photo credit: Mike Halvorsen.

People who think they're all whack and shit for doing thoroughly normal things that heaps of other people do.

You fall into this category if you think you're totally-off-the-wall-Charlie-Sheen-earlier-in-2011-bat-shit-crazy for...

• wearing a costume at a costume party, an event in which everyone else wears a costume.
• playing the ukulele, an instrument whose rise in popularity is so meteoric that every shithead in New Zealand has one and thinks they're in Fly My Pretties.
• smoking flavoured tobacco through some unusual contraption.
• getting sunburned.
• being white and walking through a brown neighbourhood.
• riding the Trans-Siberian.
• watching back-to-back TED talks for 7 hours.
• dancing for a long time at a bar.
• going anywhere in Africa.
• exchanging a message with a celebrity on Twitter. When Ross Taylor says, “cheers” after you send him a “happy birthday” tweet you’re still not his best mate.
• this just in...growing a beard during Movember! Wear one all the time you sissy!
  

Any other suggestions?

Honours in Political Science and/or International Relations

Both editors of this fountain of knowledge have completed honours degrees in political science at Victoria University, arguably the best place to do it in New Zealand. Well, Shauny caned it in 2007 and Andy has, at the time of writing, suffered through the course work and is still struggling through the exam period.

Most people think being a student in New Zealand is great. All we do is drink like fish, fuck like rabbits, protest like Mintos and complain about being poor even though we live comfortably, the government pays for a bulk of our studies and the nonsense we study will make society worse off. I mean, some departments teach us about silly things like the negative impact of colonisation on indigenous cultures and the way neoliberal reforms proved disastrous for some groups, which just make it harder for us to understand the wonderful logic of Don Brash, a man sent to save us from political correctness gone mad with his timeless wisdom. \Thank goodness. No sarcasm here.\

Well let us tell you: PSIR (political science an international relations) honours students work freaking hard to develop extremely useful analytical and communication skills for questionable reward. At the end of our study year we need to submit around 40,000 words divided into four essays, either by writing about topics no one has ever written about or by making arguments no one has ever made. That's on top of the exams, readings, presentations and all the other shit we have to do, which often involves designing the content of the courses we’re taking! That stuff is formidable in itself but the essays are the killers of sanity, social lives and extra-curricular activities.

You might say "so what?" Students have to write essays at every level, right? Well, let me give you some perspective. 40,000 words is a lengthy masters thesis at a lot of universities. A masters degree is generally completed over a 12-24 month period. Honours is completed over 7 and a half months, March to mid-October. Furthermore, research proposals are generally submitted no earlier than April and sometimes as late as July. That means the masters length submission is really only completed over 3-6 months...on top of all the other course work! Our high level of education means we can reliably inform you that 3 is one eighth of 24! No wonder people say you do a masters to relax after honours!

Naturally, this means you have to work pretty bloody hard. Follow my flawless logic. If it takes 24 months of working 8 hours a day to write 40,000 words for a masters thesis, one would have to work 64 hours a day to write the same amount of words in 3 months. See how hard this is?! Pretty fucking hard! Pretty! Fucking! Hard! No wonder we give up all inessential activities including eating and sleeping. Only essential activities like Facebooking and drinking "study juice" are allowed.

The time commitment is just the start of the problem. The topics we write about are so niche it's very hard to get motivated to give a fuck. Does the woman in the suit give a flying rat’s ass about the benefits of using a neofunctionalist approach to analyse the integration dynamics in NAFTA? Don't bet on it. Does the man playing ukulele on Cuba Street wanna hear about the "vital contribution" (a cringe-inducing academic cliche) someone's research has made to our understanding of the fairness of categorising Rawls' theory of justice as being "end-state?" I don't think so.

The research is also likely to make one go crazy. Why is it so hard to write the questions we have to answer? Why am I trying to answer a question the greatest thinkers of all time have not yet answered (or even asked)? How can there be any truth in the world when all sides of every argument have been so well argued already? Did someone say existential crisis? Well, maybe I can fall back on the identity I created outside of academic research? Nope, no time for that - I haven't done my 64 hours of research and writing yet.

So why do we do it then? To advance our careers, for one. Well that makes sense, given the massive lay offs in the public sector. Some people do it cos they love being students. Fair enough. I mean, the university is laying off lecturers from our department, reorienting its focus without consultation and thereby creating a positive environment to work in for staff and students who unanimously approve of the changes. Oh, a sarcasm detector, that’s a really useful invention. Maybe it's the awesome resources we get. The university is returning record profits which explains why we can't find a room in which we can study like those provided by other universities, not to mention power points in the library for our laptops.

Hmmm...so to recap, honours involves going crazy while working stupidly hard on an irrelevant topic in a poorly resourced environment for a job that won't exist while your student loan doesn’t get any smaller. Sounds like a reason to go without sleep.

On a serious note, we'd like to give special thanks to all our lecturers and everyone in our cohorts. It's been invariably wonderful suffering with you.

So, have you done honours? Do you think it's shit? Is it shit in ways that we've missed? Do you think we're shit for complaining about it? Do you wanna publicly give mad props to your lecturers or cohort? By all means, leave your thoughts in the comments.

Bug Diy Oet

The latest Big Day Out lineup announcement seems to have some of our compatriots in a tizz. First of all, it was announced between 11pm and 1am NZ time, to suit the Australian market where most of the event's money is made. This led one unfortunate youngster to blame the organizers for her imminent failure of NCEA because she had to 'put aside her studies' in order to repeatedly hit F5 on Twitter. We humbly submit that waiting for BDO band announcements might not be this student's main problem.

But really, who even gives two craps about the Big Day Out any more? Recent line-ups, and 2012 is no exception, have certainly been nothing worth waiting up for. Kanye is fronting, and assuming he a) shows up, b) is sober, and c) doesn't play too many tunes about his penis, that might be a good show.

And the second headliner is...what the shit...Soundgarden? Aren't they a 90s band? Aren't they and their songs well past the use-by date? YES and YES! It turns out Cornell and Co have recently realized their original fans now have more disposable income and so have reformed to cash in on the 'tired band festivals' circuit. No new material, "just the good old stuff". Perfect for everybody!

Things get worse from there: British dance-rock bores Kasabian, some highly mediocre local singer-songwriter/rap-guy/rock-chick filler. US math-rockers Battles are interesting but will do your head in. The Living End are probably the most boring three-piece on the planet, with a couple of forgettable radio-hits in the late 90s. And the list is rounded out with My Chemical Romance, who apparently still operate (and have hopefully stopped massacring good Bob Dylan songs).

Here at UUJM we've never been big fans of the BDO. It always seemed sum-uppable by: "go to Auckland, fight public transport, get heatstroke, not really hear what you want, leave early". And with this year's line-up, it hardly seems worth the $165+fees.

Diary of Helena From Seatoun - Pacific Island Edition

Dear diary,

I just got back from an amazing 5 day experience on a beautiful Pacific Island. I was seeking a truly authentic account of my intrepid journey, so I recorded many of my conversations with locals. Here's one conversation I had with my tour driver who picked me up from the island's airport to take me to my lovely resort.

Helena.

Helena: Mal'e alolo!

Tour driver: Mal'e alolo! Welcome to our island in the Pacific!

H: Thank you. I'm sure my 5 days here will be as inspiring and life changing as the travel agency website suggested. Where's our ride?

TD: Here. Please climb aboard and we'll go to your beach resort.

H: Wonderful. My ankles are killing me after economy class.

H: Look out the window at all the rubbish on the streets. Driver, how can you let your idyllic little island be like this? This isn't what the Pacific is like.

TD: Huh?

H: Driver, you need to be more environmentally conscious.

TD: What?

H: Uh hello?! This is Helena here, calling from the future. You need to clean up your dirty little island. Do. You. Understand. Me?

TD: Huh?

H: Forget it. So what's the plan for tonight?

TD: Everyone on the island will be watching our national rugby team play the world champions at 8:30pm. It's such a great honour for our people.

H: 8:30?! But looking at the beach resort's itinerary for Saturday night that's the same time as the authentic cultural show. They're going to be showing amazing traditional dances from across the Pacific while we eat from the buffet. There must be a mistake.

TD: Ah sorry, cultural show is off. Rugby is part of our way of life here.

H: But rugby proliferates violence and re-enforces gender stereotypes ...

TD: Did you just read that from your handbook?

H: ... Rugby doesn't fit with your lovely little island culture. No this can't be. Call your boss at the beach resort and ask him to make the cultural show for after the rugby. I have 5 days to authentically absorb your culture and damnit I'm gonna do it!

TD: Umm sorry but the boss doesn't want his staff up late on Saturday night because we have church the next morning.

H: But church imposes an immoral social order and reinforces gender stereotypes.

TD: Okay I definitely saw you read that from your handbook.

H: Yes, my handbook is like my Bible.

People Telling You They Like The Instrument You Play Cos There Was One Of Them In That Shite Band They Love

"Oh I love the saxophone it's so cool!" Can you please explain why you think it's so cool? No you can't, but that shite band you love (Chicago, Fat Freddy's, UB40, etc) had one in it once and that was innovative/crazy/mind-altering for you. I'm glad you like the instrument I play (seriously) and it's great that you felt strongly enough about it to tell me (also serious) but please don't infer because I play instrument X that I a) know or b) care about the particular usage you love so much. Otherwise all I can really do is smile and thank you for your interest.

The worst example of this goes something like this: "Oh my God, I love the clarinet, Kenny G plays it so well...." Kenny G a) sucks the fat one, and b) almost definitely played soprano sax on the recording you love.

The Rugby World Cup

Disclaimer: I love watching rugby now more than ever. Those guys are talented, hard working professionals. Credit where credit’s due. They’ve done the hard yards but this is a cup of two halves. The skill and passion on display are one thing but wait, there’s more.

It’s been a long time coming and now the Rugby World Cup is here. I’ve been in denial. I’ve had my fingers in my ears and my hands over my eyes. Hear no evil, see no evil, put a gag in Murray bloody Mexted so he can speak no evil. God I’m sick of his chess metaphors. It’s not a game of chess out there, it’s something far less intellectual. Regardless, consider the effects of the RWC:

-I hate the people you have to watch the games with. Mr “Don’t Pass It, Kick It” will invariably stand next to Mrs “Don’t Kick It, Pass It.” I didn’t realise buying a Weetbix box with rugby cards in it made you a fucking expert, fit to advise Dan fucking Carter. There’ll be the guy who reckons Richie doesn’t cheat but the other team does by doing the same things. There’ll be the old lady who says helpful things like “score a try All Blacks.” Good thinking Mrs Morrison. Don't get me started on Mr "The All Blacks need to sing the national anthem." They don't. They're not paid to. They need to play rugby. Within five minutes of the game starting you will have forgotten who was singing and who wasn't.

-Prostitutes have been flown in from around the world to meet the increased demand. I guess we can conclude that the RWC attracts people who lack sufficient social skills to get any without paying for it. Also, I hope New Zealand women aren’t miffed that they’ve been overlooked to fill the demand for paid sex. Isn’t unemployment around 6.5 per cent? Sheesh.

-You’ve got to feel for the homeless in Auckland. Good thing that security firm is sweeping the streets, keeping them in line. You’ve got to feel for women’s refuge shelters as well. They’re battling funding cuts whilst expecting an influx of “guests,” especially once the All Blacks choke at the finish line...or the start line.

-The economic benefits are guestimates at best and negative at worst! When we first found out we got it, people were talking about a billion dollar injection. Then we started talking about a half billion dollar cash input. Now we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of unsold tickets. Does anyone else think these numbers are as reliable as the numbers Gerry Brownlee pulled out of his ass to try and convince us mining our precious conservation land was a good idea? Tourist number projections are just as bad. Some sources say 95,000 visitors will come. Some say that's only 25,000 more than normal for a country whose economy relies heavily on tourism. What the fuck?! That's more or less the same number that could be put off coming because they want to avoid the RWC!

-Now let’s look at the economic downside. With tourists and tourist dollars comes inflationary pressure. If you’re a rich middle aged tourist coming from a country whose currency converts favourably to the New Zeland dollar, that’s OK. If you’re a local, that’s a right royal pain in the arse, especially if you’re a renter getting kicked out of your accomodation so your greedy landlord can charge tourists five times as much. Bloody awesome.

-Funding for the Wellington Jazz Festival has been cut because of the RWC. Well, an 80 year old Sonny Rollins still came. Well done, organisers. Presumably other funds have been relocated so all the worst parts of the Wellington Sevens can cover the whole country for six bloody weeks and John Keys can pull out some terribly unfitting rugby metaphors while the ABs choke and everyone gets distracted so the Nats can sweep home in November while passing all sorts of shit under the guise of urgency.

-One more thing. There’ll be a whole lot more assholes in town. My chances of being called a “fag” by someone who partakes in rituals whereby men pile on top of each other, slap each other in the butt, shower together and do all that other shit we know rugby boys like just got higher. Guess I’ll go drink expensive beer and gamble.

-Oh, there’s that song by The Feelers. Avoid.

-Oh, and public transport is stuffed and the city is in chaos. Notice how this just keeps going? Feel free to add to it in the comments section below.

The Diary of Helena from Seatoun, part III

Every day, I do great things for our country.

I'm a middle-manager at a large government department focused on social issues. Our purpose statement is 'Making Society's Choices So They Don't Have To.'

I don't understand people that work for banks and other profit-driven organisations. They're only motivated by vanity and self-interest. I could never admit to working for the private sector - not only because I'd get funny looks when I talked to people at Happy Bar.

Unlike in the private sector, I treat my staff with respect. I regularly tell them they work with with me, not for me. (It's not true but it makes them feel better.) I'm a consensus leader but also not afraid to protect the interest of my group - like the time I labelled our former analyst a sexist because he suggested we couldn't accrue our budget to the next financial year without the approval of the Procurement team. He was gone by week's end and we kept our budget, which kept many of our great social services funded - not to mention my salary!

I reassure my colleagues that I'm human like them and that they're free to challenge my decisions. But equally, it's part of my moral duty to smoke out the independent thought and ambition in my group. This is how we ensure there will be future generations of social service employees because if we didn't then we might lose staff to the private sector. So as you can see, I do great things for our country every day.

New Zealand's Approach to Snow

OMFG! SNOW!

What kind of small minded, tunnel-visioned, micro-shithole gets excited by something natural that affects much of the world for months every year?

It's time for New Zealand to grow up and stop acting like a nation of Christmas morning six year olds every time cold water flakes fall from the sky. Shops close so staff can frolic outside. I hate frolicking. Classrooms of kids stop concentrating and stare out the window. I hate staring. Bloody kids should bloody pay attention.

Snow is a pain in the arse because our nation is unprepared for it, not only psychologically but in terms of infrastructure as well. Power goes out, our houses are exposed as the poorly insulated freeze traps they are, roads close and all sorts of things get cancelled. Between our childlike attitudes and poor infrastructure, much of the country practically grinds to a halt.

Well it's time for this to stop. Policy makers need to accept that climate change means New Zealand will experience snowfall more often in more areas and start preparing this country accordingly. We need warmer houses. We need power lines that can handle the barrage. We need roads that we can drive on so nothing needs to be cancelled.

Move on New Zealand. Snow is shit. Frozen shit falling from the sky. When you think of it like that, throwing shitballs and making shit angels doesn't sound so grand does it? Old man Andy (see picture) is sick of slipping and sliding, feeling low.

Some Fans of Some Movies

If you’re a fan of one or more of these movies, you might be shit. There are two possible reasons for this. You might be endorsing a shit movie or you might be endorsing a good movie for the wrong reasons. For your convenience, we’ve outlined some traps you might have fallen into.

The Breakfast Club: What a dreadful movie. Five characters stereotyped for your convenience and a predictable plot you can fit in your head. The nerd gets dirtied up a bit so you can all feel good about having not tried harder at school. Well fuck you. Give me a better movie with some subtlety and surprise. Oh, and come on. Molly Ringwald is a skank. If you want a hot redhead, track down Neko Case.

LOTR: We're sorry but even using the acronym paints you as a hopeless fanboy or fangirl. Maybe we just don't like fantasy, maybe we didn't just 'get' the whole thing and find Tolkein's prose excruciating to read, and of course the trilogy as a whole deserved an Oscar but...come on, that ridiculous hour-long ending to the third one?! That ridiculous hour-long middle to the third one?! That ridiculous hour-long start to the third one?! See what we're getting at?

Labyrinth: I love Labyrinth. The problem is that it has been accosted by hipsters who go to bars for Bowie night and snob the lonely dance floor while the poor DJ plays awesome Bowie dance tracks that aren’t from Labyrinth, then get up to “dance the magic dance,” proving that for many, Labyrinth is just a hipster box to tick.

Some people say it’s a problem that the real star of this kids’ movie is Bowie’s package. I'm not one of them.

Rocky: Fuck off Philadelphia, dick.

Pulp Fiction: Looking back now, Tarantino is a walking self-plagiariser. He’s such a magpie but that’s OK. Romeo didn’t write his own lines. Reservoir Dogs is better but would be even better shorter, like most Tarantino.

Lawrence of Arabia: 'Kiwi' brand shoe polish shouldn't be used to make whiteys look brown. (The film is not to be confused with the musical alias of Mr James Milne who we actually quite dig.)

Requiem for a Dream: Bloody horrific - and that's just the New York accents.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: Just because it has drugs you think it's "cool" when really its status as a "Deppic" gives it credibility it doesn't deserve. Boring.

The Motorcycle Diaries/Into the Wild: We like both films and both books but watching/reading them and talking about being a drifter doesn't make you a society defying, revolution leading, one-person warrior.

Pan’s Labyrinth: Yes Pan's Labyrinth is a pretty good film, I'd even say it is touching and poignant, but please stop going on about it like it's a fucking masterpiece. What could possibly lead you to think it is? Combining Spanish Civil War ultra-violence with crazy fantasy stuff is perhaps a novel idea, but it's hardly revolutionary. At times it's bloody farcical without being even the slightest bit ironic. Stop thinking that just because you saw a foreign film you understand so much more about the culture that produced it. "But the little girl's constructed escape from the horrible world she's living in is like a metaphor for how we all remove ourselves psychologically from difficult circumstances". Wow man, deep, and that's never been done before. Go read some Marquez or Cervantes or something, watch it again and tell me whether it really is such a great work of art.

Harry Potter: Why haven’t we seen it? BECAUSE WE'RE FUCKING ADULTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People Who Crowd the Boarding Gate When Pre-Boarding Begins

Is this really what you look forward to?

Sit down you idiots. You're not in first class, you're not an elite frequent flyer (those people actually pay a LOT more for better service), you don't require assistance and you don't have a family of little-uns to shepherd onto a large speeding bullet. Oh, but you "like to get in and get settled." Come on man, it's a goddamn plane, how settled can you possibly get between the person yapping on their phone to your right, the two-person person crowding the left-side of your face, and the douchebag who just dropped their ridiculously over-packed, over-sized carry-on on your head?

Plane cabins make airport terminals look like bloody day spas! As soon as you get in you'll be itching to get out of the thing again. You were actually settled sitting out there in a normal chair, with plenty of temperate air, probably a nice bit of natural light and maybe even some mindless sports coverage on the telly. But you can't wait to get onto the machine that you probably hate and will moan about (they don't serve shitty food to us inflight any more! no terrible movies! it was late leaving and late arriving!) for the next three weeks, destroying your holiday.

You try running an airline that has to serve a million shmucks like you every year...I imagine it's pretty hard. Sit down, chill out, wait for the actual call, and I'll see you at the other end when we'll all get off the plane at PRETTY MUCH EXACTLY THE SAME TIME!

Then again, you may happen to be on a 757 in America. If that's the case, you might as well go to sleep as soon as you land.

Pākehā Ringing Talk-Back to Complain About Immigration

Sorry, I shouldn't complain. I forget that Pākehā are the indigenous people of New Zealand. Wait, hang on. Aren't Māori are the indigenous people of New Zealand? I think they might be. Ha, I'm always getting those two confused!

It is a little ironic for Pākehā to turn around and protest against immigration of other cultures. New Zealand is a hell-of-a nice place to live. I do not blame people for wanting to live here. Their quality of life is improved in ways we could only imagine. In turn, immigrants are an asset to our culture and provide diversity which should be embraced. Have you tried souvlaki? Brilliant! Many claim that immigrants threaten our culture and way-of-life. Last time I checked, pioneering Pākehā systematically did most things in their capability to destroy Māori culture, Māori economic infrastructure and in many cases, Māori lives. Immigrants have made no such effort to destroy the current New Zealand culture (whatever that may be). Please, just chillax towards immigration. If you embrace the benefits of diversity we will be all the better for it.

Talk-back radio allows any old shit-for-brains to express an opinion in a public forum. It's annoying enough hearing from Michael bloody Lhaws but why can't we censor those who call in without a shred of logic? This is particularly true for subjects like immigration that grind the gears of the prejudiced.

One time I heard a woman ring talkback radio claiming that we (New Zealand) needed to stop letting immigrants into the country because they have taken over the food distribution industry. We need to eat, the caller argued, so this is a smart move on the part of the migrants who will eventually hold us to ransom and drive us out of our own country through restricting our access to the food supply.

Yip, there's a migrant alliance. The 200-odd countries that aren't New Zealand are coming for us. Wow. I for one feel threatened by my local dairy owner. Really, really threatened. That guy who withstands drunken bullshit while pushing the hotdog cart through town at 3 in the morning? Well, he's a threat. The owner of the local fish and chip shop? Holy crap, I never noticed how he was ruining my life. Shit, maybe the crazy talkback bitch has a point?!

Or, maybe, I'm just being really fucking sarcastic! Fuck off talkback radio! Oh, I almost forgot. Fuck off to your cousin who also gives morons a forum for their ideas: letters to the editor. Sigh.

Sometimes you ask the masses and get a fair and useful answer (democratic elections, anybody?) but sometimes you just get back an unfiltered crock of shit.

The Nu Zulund Accent

Does anyone else cringe instinctively when Bill and John talk about spending "a bullion" dollars here and "a mullion" there? (To be fair, they're generally cutting spending by bullions and mullions.) Does anyone else "crunge" when our radio announcers say, "That was The Shuns wuth 'Kussing the Lupluss.' Next we have The Munt Chucks and The Smuths...?" (Musically, that wouldn't be so bad of course....) Does anyone else crunge when you're told to play cruckut wuth Chrustine at Chrusmus time?

The New Zealand accent is the most ruduculous sounding accent un the Englush speakung world. All our vowels sound like 'u's. It is commonly found in customer service. You hear things like, "No we don't have 'Uz Ut Just Moi Or Uz Uvurythung Shut,' uctually. Thunk yous though, please cum agaun." Horrifying. Some people claim they like our accent because it "makes us unique."

Admittedly, the New Zealand accent is quite useful for getting an edge when talking to girls in North America. However, that is only because we sound like Australians and every North American girl has a fantasy of pulling an Australian surfer. Being unique doesn't make it okay. Robert Mugabe is unique. Is he lauded for it? I think not. That guy who argues with your lecturer in front of the 200 people who actually understand is unique. Lady Gaga is unique. Change your argument, chumps.

Perhaps the qwerty keyboard is to blame. Whoever designed it put the 'I' key in between the "U" and "O" keys. That makes translation easy. If I want to translate English into Kuheewee I can shift my finger to the left, i.e.; "I'm Chrus Smuth." If I want to translate English into the Topp Twuns dialect, I can shift my finger to the right, i.e.; "I'm Cross Smoth." Regardless of this convenience, I'd rather it wasn't an issue. The New Zealand accent is an abomination. Could be time to move to Australia....

PS: That whole 'Beached as' thing was never funny. People in different countries talk differently, get it? Yup, real original, not to mention another reminder that we're at the bottom of the vocal heap. Fucking ducks.

The Reader's Digest Trust Survey

Who constructs these lists and how the hell do they do it? There are so many problems with it I can barely control myself. Luckily for this post, the article on the survey says nothing about how the survey is done. You can view the article and the ranked list here.

According to the online Oxford English Dictionary, to trust is to "believe in the reliability, truth or ability of" an entity, in this case, a person. (Yes, the survey ranks professions as well but I'm gonna stick to commenting on the list of people.) I'm not entirely sure what these one hundred people have done to earn the trust of the readers that voted for them.

I don't wish to take anything away from many of the people on the list. They didn't ask you to vote for them. They did their jobs and some of them stand amongst the greatest in their fields in the whole world. Credit where credit's due.

But what has made Bret McKenzie more trustworthy than Jemaine Clement? What has made either of them trustworthy enough for the top ten? Could it be that people voted for them because they recognised them and liked their work? If anything, Jemaine is the more reliable. After all, he only has one facial expression and one tone of voice. Then again, I'm quite willing to let Bret be tainted by his association with The Black Seeds.

Why are there only two women in the top ten? Is it cos they have sick problems once a month? Probably, selfish bitches. Why is the highest ranked woman someone I've never heard of and why is the second highest ranked woman a bloody fashion designer? I guess contributing to the low self esteem of young women makes a person pretty trustworthy. After all, that's all catwalk fashion is. Stuff that looks ridiculous and most of us can't afford even though we're told we should want it. Good grief.

What has Richie McCaw done to fall from 11th place in 2010 to 55th in 2011? I would say nothing. That guy goes out on the field and gives it everything he's got, every time. What has Daniel Vettori done to fall 40 places from 18 to 58? Lead New Zealand to a surprisingly good World Cup result? Wow, what a bastard. Dave Dobbyn has dropped 41 places too. Why? God only knows.

Let's go to the other end of the list. Why is John Key ranked higher than Hone Harawira? Key is extremely reluctant to comment on lots of stuff and reluctant to stick to his word on the rest. The 'Smiling Assassin' said he wouldn't fuck with GST and he did. Check out his view on The Springbok Tour...he doesn't feel strongly about anything. As Steve Braunias said of "Mr Flip-flop" before Key's election in 2008, "you can't call Key two-faced cos he hasn't even shown one face yet."

Harawira on the other hand has never been anything other than perfectly clear on where he stands on anything. He left the Maori Party because they changed, not because he did. They think they can work with Don Brash post election for goodness sake! New Zealand may not like Harawira's views but at least he has views and at least they've been consistent for decades.

So what the fuck New Zealand? Who the hell came up with this list, why, and what does it mean? You did, to fill Reader's Digest column inches and nothing. You can bank on that.

And P.S. - If you're still reading that bloody magazine you should get an internet connection.

Alasdair Thompson

When you write a blog like ours, this is a half volley on leg stump. This is the fast ball over the plate. This is the candy in the feeble grasp of a baby. This the excuse I need to use a string of shitty clichés.

For those of you who aren't up with New Zealand's current events, Alasdair Thompson is the head of the Employers and Manufacturers Association. He represents our bosses and did a pretty lousy job of it on June 23, 2011 when he basically said women should get paid less than men because they take more sick days due to "women's monthly sick problems." Dude, it's called menstruation. Say it with me: men-strua-tion. Not that hard, huh? Thompson claims the evidence supports his statement. He can't produce it though. There's kind of a theme here: Andy Haden couldn't produce any evidence to support his theory that the Crusaders had a quota for "darkies." Hmmm, funny that. It's almost like these guys pull this rubbish out of their asses. Political incorrectness gone mad. Thompson has also made some piss-poor effort at an apology but it was piss (or even Tui) weak, poorly delivered and more or less the definition of "too little, too late."

Now at this point you'd expect me to rip this munter to shreds. That would be fun but, quite frankly, that's too easy and is being done for me by far wittier and more eloquent people in the media. The Council of Trade Unions has called for him to be sacked and they have the support of prominent politicians and countless Facebookers. Green MP, Catherine Delahunty tried to introduce a member's bill that would allow women an easier method to investigate pay discrepancies with their male counterparts. It was blocked by the government, despite the fact that National's MPs have widely condemned Thompson's statements.

Nope, I will only take the guy's statements down tangentially. Primarily, I wish to make some other points.

Firstly, check out this image (hat-tip to your Twitterfeed, Moth):

How out of touch with social convention is this dickhead that he goes on Facebook to vote in favour of keeping his job after saying something that daft? Pretty out of touch, I would say. He should go back to the stone age when dinosaurs couldn't talk - or use social media.

Secondly, whilst it's obviously reasonable to jump on the guy, some pinko libbers have been so "holier-than-though" with their criticism that it's excruciating. Dissing the easily dissable is just that: easy. Whilst sexism still manifests in society in ways that should embarrass some of us, opposing the views of an outspoken dipshit doesn't make a person into the heroic freedom fighter they might think they are. Opposing this twat is like opposing cancer. This guy thinks a hysterectomy is a career move for goodness sake! He should be banished to an earlier period of time, well spotted, but don't try and act like you're a genius or a hero for saying what everyone with even the smallest shred of common sense is thinking. Don't do the right thing so you can get high off your own altruism.

What I'm trying to say is that this guy should get bitch-slapped - by a fucking big gorilla - but don't use the same hand to pat yourself on the back for expressing the, ahem, bleeding obvious.

John Mayer

I hate John Mayer. I considered ranting about him myself. I would've mentioned his woefully outdated faux-neo-Clapton guitar bollocks. I would've mentioned the way he sings like a twat. I definitely would've responded to his line, "who says I can't get stoned?" by offering to bury him up to his neck and....well you can imagine the rest.... In fact, I hate John Mayer so much that writing about him made me so angry I had to delegate the task of destroying him to a fabulous guest blogger. Thereby, it is with great pleasure that I introduce the sophisticated writing of Richard 'THE MAYER SLAYER' Flanagan....

Before I start I should make one thing clear. As far as people go, I'm not the biggest John Mayer critic there is. There are times when his smooth, empty music really hits the spot. I like his commitment to his own independence and of course what red blooded male wouldn't appreciate the who's-who of America's most beautiful women that he seems to churn through.

I just can't figure out why he's famous. Surely it can't be for his ability to bring us revelations like that romantic relationships can be nuanced and complicated. Maybe its the rollercoaster of gritty emotional realism he depicts in his music. One moment, "I wanna scream at the top of my lungs!," the next "2am, I swear I might propose" (sounds like a good night). But then all that proposing at 2am takes its toll and there's a tantrum. "One more thing - why is it my fault? I just wanna be loved, just want to be funny". Tears before bedtime.

Maybe his popularity can be ascribed to the fact us conservative white people need a rebel too. I mean "who says I can't get stoned?" Well, no one actually. So probably not that then. All in all John's songs have all the characteristics of something by an 8 year old being taught creative writing. Similes involving colourful objects ("she's always buzzing like neon"), metaphors involving fun parks ("your body is a wonderland"), and a world view that shows he's yet to understand personal responsibility ("waiting on the world to change" = it's not my fault, I found it like that).

So unfortunately, the reason I'm being inextricably drawn to is that there are a lot of stupid people out there who buy music. And in this case, by stupid people, I mean stupid women whom I suspect wouldn't be interested in hearing the self-indulgent musings of a man in his early thirties if he wasn't six foot three and good looking. I, for example, am also self-indulgent and flawed but hardly anyone is reading this. It seems that when men reach for FHM, women reach for John Mayer. But in the same way that FHM isn't Hemingway, John Mayer isn't music. So please folks, push your tastes a little further afield. You'll still get to hear John's music any time you're in an elevator or waiting on hold at the bank. Maybe then the poor guy can live his tortured life in happy anonymity.

Clichéd Responses to any Mention of Feminism

People, mostly males funnily enough, need to get over their fear of feminism. True enough, it is an umbrella term that encompasses a wide range of perspectives including some fairly extreme positions. However, let's be realistic. The feminists I know are not "man-hating lesbians." Most of them shave their legs (and it's hardly your problem if they don't). None of them want to enslave you after confiscating your barbeque, asking for those bloody directions and chopping your balls off and wearing them around their necks so other blokes don't get any ideas. All the feminists I know stand for the not-so-outrageous things like pay parity, equality in distribution of domestic duties and the end to the ridiculous notion that women in miniskirts are at fault if they get raped by predatory rugby league teams. In fact, feminism is such a large umbrella that you might find - and I hope you're sitting down - that you're effectively a feminist under a mainstream conception of the word. Welcome to the club and see you at the next meeting.

As an example of a woefully construed take on an aspect of feminism, let's examine this letter to the editor in the May 19 edition of The Wellingtonian:

Advice for Slutwalkers

I write regarding the May 12 issue, and those two young ladies quoted and pictured, specimens of people upset by the recent commonsense advice of a Canuck policeman.

Why don't they all put it to the test by not dressing like sluts? That way we would soon see whether this would result in a significant reduction in the number of actual or attempted rapes and indecent assaults by males on females.

H Westfold
Miramar (abridged)

In other words, according to H Westfold (who has cowardly hidden their gender by providing only a first initial) if you dress like a slut, it's your fault if you get raped. By wearing a short skirt, you've consensually waived your right to not get raped. Seems a little unfair to us. If I wear a bone carving, have I waived my right not to be called a n****r? In other words, get with the fucking program.

Then again, since we gave women the vote we've had two world wars, a holocaust, the rise of numerous dictatorships and the emergence of several economic downturns. Coincidence? No way! Think how many lives and how much grief women could've saved if they weren't such selfish feminists....

Linguistic Annoyances

This is the first of what will probably be multiple posts on linguistic devices that annoy us. Do these things sound familiar? Do they annoy you too or are you guilty of using them?

1. "Actually," misuse of.

'Actually' should only be used when correcting someone. If I ask you if you had a good night, I am not implying anything about the quality of your past 24 hours. I am not passing any judgement as to whether the night was good or bad. In other words, I am not saying anything that could be corrected so don't reply, "yes I did, actually." It actually makes you sound like a bitch. See what I mean?


2. "In terms of," misuse of

No, using 'in terms of' to join every word to every other word in a sentence doesn't make you sound cool or smart, it just means I can't understand a damn thing you say. "We need to synergise in terms of our top-line deliverables to maximize our output in terms of success." That is not English, that is a terrible language called management-speak where only one word in a hundred means anything. I don't know what terms the top-line deliverables are measured in, so how can I synergise in terms of these vague, probably non-existent terms? How are we measuring success when it has no terms in and of itself? Just to clarify, 'in terms of' is a completely legitimate phrase in plenty of circumstances. For example, from Bartleby.com: "We measured sales in terms of the number of units sold per year, rather than in dollars taken in per year." Spot on. The rest of you: if you can't use 'in terms of' in terms of correct use of in terms off, sod off and get a new catchphrase like 'neato'.


3. Marking anything as a scandal by adding '-gate' to the end of it.

From a friend of UUJM:

I saw a nice joke on The Mitchell and Webb Show on BBC -- "This is the biggest scandal since Watergategate", because David Mitchell points out it was a scandal about the Watergate Hotel and not water, and everyone knows that to label something a scandal we merely add "gate" as a suffix."

It's a wonder that September 11 isn't referred to as "Boardinggate."

Self-Pigeon-Holing Through Vocational In-Jokes

Here at UUJM, we love a good pun but only when it DOES NOT relate to your job.

If you are a woodwind player, you do not need to wear a t-shirt that says "bassoner the better" and point at it with a big smile on your face whilst nodding your head slightly to show you get the joke and you believe I can too if I put my mind to it. If you are a scientist and your friends are scientists, you don't need to call your pub quiz team, "Particle Physics Gives me a Hadron" and then tell the neighbouring pub quiz teams that you're all scientists, in case they don't understand how funny you are. If you're an accountant, please don't describe your work as "taxing" before looking at me expectantly, waiting for the onslaught of milk-out-the-nose laughter (and thereby reinforcing everything society thinks it knows about accountants).

Let's run through some more likely suspects. Teachers are not "all class." I don't want to hear about geographers' "cleavage." Journos, don't tell me your work is "press-ing." When cricket players don't know the answer to a question they shouldn't tell me they're "stumped." The list could go on but these things are not funny. They're tragic and they make it obvious that you have no identity outside of a small box you've put yourself in cos you don't dare to expand your horizons and thoughts. Shame, really. By using these puns you've labelled yourself by nothing but your job title. That's sad, man.

Just to prove we love a good pun, I told Shaun a joke every year for a decade. Do you know how many made him laugh?

No pun in ten did.

Yeah, well fuck you too. Don't look at me like that.

Your taste in music

People who like "anything with a good beat really"

What constitutes a good beat exactly? Do you like Joy Division? There are some great beats on Joy Division songs. What? You don't like Joy Division? OK, how about The National? You've never heard of them? You'd like them, their drummer is great. I'll play some right now. What? You don't like them either? African tribal music? Pow-wow music from a reservation? Traditional Korean polyrhythmic drumming? The guys who used to hit drums at Warriors games? No? No? No? No? OK, I get it now. You like The Rolling Stones' Greatest Hits album. True enough, the Stones have great beats but they aren't the only ones. Broaden your horizons and stop trying to look so widely informed. This is the kind of thing John Key would say and that should tell you all you need to know.

People who like every kind of music, "especially Jazz and anything groovy"

People who like every kind of music, especially Jazz and anything groovy, invariably know precisely nothing about Jazz (Kenny G, right?) or anything groovy (Groove Armada, right?). NEVER let them near any kind of publicly-audible sound device.

Anyone who thinks their taste in music is "eclectic" (including us)

Much like bands describing themselves, you have no right to this term. "Eclectic" doesn't mean you like top 40 rap AND top 40 rock AND, just to blow my mind, your parent's copy of Billy Joel's Greatest Hits. It means you dabble, knowledgeably and passionately, in pretty much every genre under the sun. Does your country selection stack up with your classical selection? Your afro-beat with your Americana? Your folk with your funk? Your rap with your roots and your reggae and your rockabilly? Your speed metal with your Scandanavian death metal with your thrash metal with your rap-metal? See what I mean? Your definition of "eclectic" is my definition of "you're a dick".

Beer Loyalty

When Andy worked in hospitality, people, normally middle aged men, would come into the restaurant and declare things like, "Oh sweet, they got Speights and Tui, that's good cos I'm a Speights and Tui man."

Not CD? Not DB? "Nah, I wouldn't drink that shit," they say as though it was comparable to urine, whereas Speights and Tui are the nectar of the Gods. Let me get this straight. You think your generic beer of choice tastes better than another generic beer? Here's a secret. You're an idiot and you have been fooled by marketers. It all tastes like a f**** w****’* c***.

Under a blind test, you wouldn't know the difference between Speights, Tui, Budweiser, DB, CD, VB, XXXX, (s)Hite or motherfucking sewer water! Fact. Go on, try it. See? Not only are you swearing loyalty to something that tastes disgusting, you're operating under the false assumption that it tastes noticeably different to similar products. Chump.

There are two acceptable reasons for drinking cheap beer:
1) It's cheap and you're poor.
2) Sometimes it's so cold you can't taste how bad it is.

If you're drinking cheap beer, you better be doing it for one of the above reasons and you better not be swearing loyalty to a brew of choice!

One Liners

Sometimes at UUJM we come up with things that are so shit we just don't have that much to say about them. This week we're cleaning out the one liner drawer and here's what we found....

People who put photos on Facebook without rotating them correctly
-If I can work out how to do it, you munters can too!

Adults who grab each card as soon as it's dealt when involved in card games
-What are you, twelve?

Asian bread
-It's not a dessert. Why is there sugar in there? Where are the grains? What is this shit?!?!?!

Kings of Leon
-Snore. Snore. Snore. Look at the fans of your fourth album. How do you live with yourselves?

Mispronunciation of pronunciation.
-I appreciate irony but this is just annoying. Say it with me: pro-NUN-see-ay-shun. Not: pro-NOUN-see-ay-shun. Idiots.

Digital correspondence with too many exclamation marks!!!!!!!!!!!
-OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!! We've met you in real life!!!!!!!!!!!! And!!!!!!!!!!! We know you're not that interesting!!!!!!!!!!!! You're not fooling anyone!!!!!!!!!!!

Studylink

Is there a better example of an organisation with a left hand and a right hand that haven't met? No, if recent events in my life are anything to go by. In the last two days I have received no less than six emails from Studylink, each rendering the others useless through a series of contradictions and repetitions. Hmmmm. To clarify things, I could ring the 0800 number and wait all afternoon to talk to someone who will probably only resubmit my applications for X, Y and Z so I can get another confusing batch of emails next week. Alternatively, I could continue trying unsuccessfully to log on to the website on which I submitted my original applications and was promised new log-in details which never arrived. In the meantime, a sum of money has turned up in my bank account but I have no idea what it's for. I'm happy for this to keep happening but I can't escape the feeling that something drastic will go wrong further down the line. At the time of writing, I suspect Stupidlink have only paid Victoria University for three of my four courses and if I don't take proactive action, I'll find out about that a week before I think I'm graduating.

The Cruddylink system needs a comprehensive overhaul. There is no reason these things should be so confusing and so consistently useless! It's not just me. Muddylink is truly shit. Has anyone ever had a good Studystink experience?

Black Swan may have been overrated, but it ain't shit

Ok, I'll say it. My co-author Andy has gone WAY too far in his demolition of Black Swan. What a ass!**

Andy on point for some of it: the film is definitely overrated. It isn't five-star material by any means. And the "darkness was in you all along" message was obvious from the beginning and unsatisfyingly developed by the end. Yes, the muff-diving was probably included to strike up controversy rather than for 'artistic reasons'. Much of the symbolism was indeed contrived.

But if you use your "brain cells to rub together", it's quite easy to see past this.

Given its obviousness, I didn't even take the black/white rubbish to be the central point of the film. To me it was a convincing and scary portrait of an artistic industry, one where the gap between the public veneer (the art) and the dirty underbelly (the politics) is perhaps greater than any other. As with Aronofsky's other work, the atmosphere created was completely suffocating, and intentionally so, creating an air of inevitable tragedy that is true to the Greek meaning of the word. Aside from the ballet antics, Portman's performance contributed masterfully to this. Throughout I was hoping Nina would take the many outs offered her, but watching the slow subsuming of nervousness by psychosis in Portman's performance was, probably, quite true to real life.

Yes, if all films must do everything well to be any good, then this film sucks. But that's a perfectionist standard, and I took the central message of the film to be: all perfectionists can use a reminder of the potential self-destructiveness of this trait now and then.

Black Swan gets a thumbs up from me.


** My retort was suspended for a while after allegations emerged that Portman danced much less than we were led to believe, but that story is going nowhere conclusive so it's time for me to hit back.