Vertigo Issue 10

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CONTENTS EDITORS LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN JAMES BOURNE CARLA EFSTRATIOU GEMMA KACZEREPA AVA NIRUI DANIEL PIOTROWSKI ANNA WATANABE JUSTIN WOLFERS

SOAPBOX Daniel Piotrowski

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EDITORIAL Lucien Alperstein

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ROADTESTS: Halloween Costume Clichés Anna Watanabe, Lucien Alperstein

ART DIRECTOR

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OPINION Erin Madden & Nick Jordan

MEGAN MANNING

CONTRIBUTORS MATTHEW BANNISTER BEN BARNES KIERAN BOYD MANDA DIAZ FARRAGO EDITORIAL TEAM 2011 TIM HANS ELLEN JENKINSON NICK JORDAN SOHAN JUDGE ERIN MADDEN THANH TU NGUYEN JAMES VAUGHAN CAMERON WHALAN

ADVERTISING

INTERVIEW: Grouplove Sohan Judge

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FARRAGO

University of Melbourne

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DEFAMER James Bourne, Kieran Boyd, Manda Diaz, Tim Hans

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SHOWCASE

Cameron Whalan, Matthew Bannister

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TRIVIAL DISPUTE Harry Power, Henrietta Farrelly-Barnett

STEPHANIE KING

WITH THANKS TO

FEATURE - Desktop Sex God

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MANLY QUARANTINE STATION Ava Nirui, Anna Watanabe, Daniel Piotrowski, Gemma Kaczerepa

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FOOD: Vertigo Themed Cupcakes Gemma Kaczerepa

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FASHION

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Ben Barnes

NEHA MADHOK ET.AL SPOT PRESS PTY LTD, MARRICKVILLE

Vertigo would like to show it’s respect and acknowledge the Traditional Custodians of the land, the Gadigal and Guring-gai people of Eora Nation, upon whose ancestral lands the university now stands. More than 500 Indigenous Nations shared this land for over 40,000 years before invasion. We express our solidarity and continued commitment to working with Indigenous peoples, in Australia and around the world, in their ongoing struggle for land rights, self determination, sovereignty, and the recognition and compensation for past injustices.

Vertigo is published by the UTS STUDENTS’ ASSOCIATION Printed by SPOTPRESS PTY LTD, MARRICKVILLE Email us at advertising@utsvertigo.com for enquires Vertigo and its entire contents are protected by copyright. Vertigo will retain reprint rights, contributors retain all other rights for resale and republication. No material may be reproduced without the prior written consent of the copyright holders.

Carla Efstratiou

FEATURE REVIEW: Dumpster diving Lucien Alperstein

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REVIEWS Justin Wolfers, Ellen Jenkinson, Anna Watanabe

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PLACES TO GO IF… YOU’RE A MEME Ava Nirui

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SPORT

Thanh Tu Nguyen

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STUDENTS ASSOCIATION REPORTS GAMES

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SOAPBOX LETTERS & OPINIONS VERTIGO RESERVES THE RIGHT TO EDIT LETTERS FOR DESIGN AND SENSE-MAKING PURPOSES. HAVE YOUR SAY ON OUR FACEBOOK PAGE (VERTIGO) OR EMAIL US AT EDITORIAL@UTSVERTIGO.COM

AN ODE TO OUR CONTRIBUTORS A big shout out from the team at Vertigo to everyone who’s submitted an article, a Showcase, a picture – anything – over our past ten issues. It’s the most tired cliché in the thank you book, but we couldn’t have done it without you. Literally.

We wanted to stir the pot this year; we didn’t just want to bring you an entertaining read. We wanted to bring you real, human stories that you wouldn’t read anywhere else.

And we did. But we couldn’t have been able to without our loyal, ever-reliable contributors. Admittedly, some are amongst the editors’ best friends. But most are just peeps who’ve swept into our submissions inbox and wowed us with their talent.

What’s it like to be diagnosed with diabetes when you’re 19 year old? What’s it like to get breast implants at the end of high school – and why would you get them? How do people in long-distance relationships manage, shackled to lives on opposite sides of the world? Could you run a car on fish and chips? How do international studies students survive the sleazeballs of Santiago? And what’s it like to live with a Vertigo editor?

I think those were our best stories from this year. They were written by our some of our contributors: Ethan Tuxford, an anonymous-but-highly-valued contributor, Russell Tulett, Lauren Fitzpatrick, Anika Jardine, Nina Betts and Janina Waldmann. They should all take a bow.

But they’re not the only ones.

I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than at Amanda Diaz and Kieran Boyd’s Defamer pieces. The intrepid Daniel Conifer, Jason Cohn, Thanh Tu Nguyen, Nick Jordan, Alexander Craig, Allie Moxon, Sophie Ly, Courtney Rogers, Jam McLeod, Peter Francis, Sophia Phan, Garth Travers, Nick Jordan and Constantine Costi have penned us many barn burning reviews, sports and fashion pieces, trivial arguments, short stories, travel yarns and biting satire we couldn’t have done without.

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Cameron Whalan and Christine Pan have wowed us with their covers. Annie Everingham produced possibly the most gorgeous spread ever for Showcase last issue. And we’re not going to forget Clare Cholerton’s poems anytime soon.

There are too many others to list here. And if you’ve submitted us something, we certainly appreciate the effort you’ve made. The mag would have been nothing without you.

As Soapbox editor, I’d personally like to extend my thanks to the mature-aged student who sent us the infamous third edition letter, “Dear fuckwits”. (Yes, it was real!) Thanks, you old bag; Soapbox wouldn’t have existed without you.

Without Stephanie King’s advertising prowess and the support of the Student’s Association, the Vertigo you hold in your hands would look less like a magazine, and more like some hand-written scribble, written on the back of old assignments and stapled down the middle. Steph, Neha - thanks for financially supporting us and giving us an opportunity to deliver a top-shelf magazine.

Finally, if you’ve appreciated Vertigo’s overall artistic nous over the past year, that’s all thanks to our talented Art Directors Irit Pollak, who was with us for the first half of the year, and Megan Manning, who’s been with us all along, and furnished Vertigo into a masterpiece. All while tolerating an editorial team who’s only design parameters were to “make it colourful”.

Megan’s dealt with a team who take deadlines as, well, lax guidelines. The artistic product she’s produced blows every other student magazine in the country out of the water. And she can draw a damn good walrus.

Well done Megan, and big thanks to all you guys.

UTS would be a hollow place without Vertigo, but Vertigo would just be a hollow shell of itself without our contributors.

Cheers,

Daniel Piotrowski On behalf of the Vertigo team

EDITORIAL LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN Being the final issue for the year, this here copy of Vertigo in your sweaty hands is the last you’re going to be pulling off the stands this year. Yes, this is Issue Ten, and it is our last. Put your nose between the pages and inhale.

What’s that smell? It’s the smell of the beginning of the end of the year. People are noticeably sweatier than even just one month ago; more coffee is being consumed on and off campus in an attempt to ward of tiredness. You can see it in the eyes of everyone you pass - that wild, “oh fuck it’s almost crunch time and I’m still sitting on my hands, better have another coffee and think about starting some work” look.

Being the final issue for the year, we thought we’d pull out all stops and throw the towel in the bin like Mo in that episode of The Simpsons where Homer becomes a boxer. Go wild, really go all out and insane and push the boundaries and all of that. Not really, it’s much like what we’re sure you’ve come to expect. We take you trick-ortreating as your favourite Halloween costume cliches.

Join us as we head to the Quarantine Station to get scared shitless, come along for a metaphysical journey with Ben Barnes to a world where the power to control other people really is literally in your computer mouse.

We take you to the movies, then dumpster diving, then to play some games, then back to uni before going out to dinner, a quick trip down to Melbourne and then we lay you down gently on your bed and we kiss for a little but don’t go any further, we just go to sleep because you’re too tired. And that’s fine, we’re quite tired too. We’ll make love in the morning.

Being the final issue for the year, it’s only fitting that we thank several people. Megan and Irit, our designers, who have put up with our incompetence time and time again while still pumping out ten issues of ridiculously good looking content; Steph King, who has negotiated all of our advertising. Prior to Steph, this was a job we, the editors, would have done and chances are at least one of the eight of us would be dead or on our deathbed if that were the case; our regular and irregular contributors, and You, you good-for-everything, loyal, sexy, handsome, strong reader you. All twenty of you! Putting together this oily rag for you has been a pleasure.

Being the final issue for the year, pick up your pen and draw glasses on every face featuring in this issue. Do the slightly pixellated Sudoku for the last time, even the really hard second one, and if you want, read the innards. Cover to cover - even the Students Association pages. Laugh, cry, swear to whoever’s in earshot you could do a better job at writing and then leave it for someone else to lose themselves in triviality while they should really be listening to a lecture.

Yours for the last time, Vertigo.

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ROADTEST: HALLOWEEN COSTUME CLICHÉS

WORDS: ANNA WATANABE AND LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN Honestly, who can argue with a holiday that encourages you to eat fats while watching nasty, D-grade horror films like Bloodbath at the House of Death*? Pretty much everyone in Australia, apparently. Halloween apathy - ‘Hallopathy’ – is a serious social phenomenon that, besides leaving a painfully long, eight-month gap between sugar-based celebrations, has created a costume creativity drought. So as our last piece of firm but lovingly delivered advice, Vertigo’s here to try on those clichéd costumes so you don’t have to.

CROSS-DRESSING

Well, besides the fact that sociology subjects suck all the fun out of this with their “gender is a social construct” observations, it’s kinda old. Unless you’re willing to go all out – and I mean eyebrow waxing, fake facial hair gluing all out – you’re going to end up looking lame.

Halloween costumes generally fall into one of two categories: overtly “sexy”** or just stupid. Stealing your sibling/partner/friend’s clothes and stuffing tissues in appropriate places is neither: it’s a cry for attention from an uninspired hack.

LARGE INANIMATE OBJECT

So this one definitely falls into the “just stupid” category of Halloween costumes.

But don’t get me wrong; I love the creativity that comes with dressing up as a vending machine/tsunami wave/ French fry. Just don’t spend over $100 on buying foam “bread” for a peanut butter, jelly sandwich. Hypothetically.

SKIMPY CLOTHING

As a wise exchange student from Africa once said: “In girl world Halloween is the one night of the year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it.”

Well, there are good and bad sides to this costume choice. Overlooking the fact that alcohol makes you bloat and your attractiveness will decrease proportionally to your alcohol intake (only to be offset by that of your admirer), these outfits can be hilariously inappropriate. From cookie monster to straitjackets, there’s nothing a 10-inch skirt can’t fix.

On the other hand, this outfit does apply to the lads too. But a word of advice: a towel and no shirt on is not a King Leonidas costume.

CARTOON CHARACTER – WHERE’S WALLY

Everyone loved Where’s Wally as a kid. Didn’t you? You creep! Don’t lie to me - yes, you did love Where’s Wally. You fell asleep to that book. Blue pants, red and white striped shirt, red beanie, glasses. With all the regulars like Odlaw and Wizard Whitebeard and Wanda, all the other location-specific fruitcakes and the hordes of imposters lurking on every page it’s one of those publications that you realise was actually quite sinister, like the I-Spy books. Another time, another time.

Several observations I have made from roaming the streets asking for treats while dressed as everyone’s second-favourite striped man (the first is, of course, Michel Foucault): though everyone feels they have the right to yell out “There’s Wally!” or “Found him!” or laugh in your face as you walk from door to door or ask, “Why are you dressed like Where’s Wally?” they still won’t give you treats; playing your character works wonders . Try hiding behind various objects, half-obscure yourself behind trees, gates, shrubbery and electricity poles and hope people catch on before you get a cramp. Even though you might make a lot of people reminisce about their fulfilled childhoods and fill them with joy, they aren’t going to fill your loot-bag with anything worth consuming.

*Yes, it’s a real movie, Billy Connolly’s wife and Vincent Price star in it. And yes, it’s as so-bad-it’sbrilliant as it sounds. **Quotation marks are totally necessary. No one looks sexy when they’re half-naked and binge drinking.

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HOW TO SURVIVE A TV TABLOID ATTACK

Being microphoned to death is never easy, and with world finances going to hell we can all agree no one’s below dipping into the dodgy pool.

So for those planning a business venture in douchery, Erin Madden has done her research and found a few ways to win the public’s heart and trump Tracy Grimshaw.

WINNERS Jacket-Head Man Inarguably, the casual jacket throw is the most working class and relatable attack response. I mean shit; you couldn’t even afford security, it’s just you and the jacket against the world. But if you want to really want to work the underdog angle, why not get a good limp going? Compliment this with desperately peering through a hole in the jacket before attempting to run to the car despite your apparent disability. This will get viewers of all ages questioning your ‘mastermind’ abilities. Rip some holes in that jacket and use appalling English (“fair dink’em, just lemme alone coppers AY?!”) and you’re all set for a blue-collar win.

Badass McSunglasses In the event of a media assault, you’re the type to not only keep your cool, but ram your cool at 80km in reverse through a circle of tubby liberal camera clutchers. After this sweet zombie apocolypse-esque move, you wind down your tinted windows, peer over your $400 drug-dealer sunnies and yell one of the classic “its you who are criminals” rants before speeding away in your illegally obtained chariot of disestablishmentarianism. This is definitely a win with youth aged 14-25 and if that’s your market (i.e. you sell drugs) then Badass McSunglasses is the persona for you.

LOSERS The House Troll Waiting for the storm to blow over from the comfort of your own home? Big mistake buddy. Here’s what Today Tonight’s cooking up; “What are you doing in there you puppy milling, centrelinking, wife beating drug addict?

An anonymous source (your 5 year old neighbour Billy) says you took his bike and performed witch craft on it.

Middle Eastern witch craft. Then you molested him and slaughtered his guinea pigs, we can tell from your choice of curtains. You sick, Billy raping, raw guinea pig eating, son of a bitch, you come out of there and show your meth pocked face!”

ADVICE: Get the hell out of the house and give a quote before they dump council remnants on it and call hoarder.

The Possibly Foreign Guy Society at large has nothing against you, but by god A Current Affair’s pensioner audience sure do. Here’s what they’re pedalling; “Maybe you can speak English, maybe you can’t. All we know is you have an accent, so logically you must be a terrorist gypsy refugee looking to start an illegal mail order bride trade. Don’t bring your goodwill and perfectly rational media quote over here, we’re onto your gypsy ways! Your slow motion-ness says it all: you want to impregnate our women with the latest strain of bird flu and rebuild the Berlin wall from the corpses of nowhomeless old people whose money you scammed! Not in Australia pal!”

ADVICE: Get a white friend to follow you around. Integration visuals may burn holes in tabloid viewers’ eyes and the footage will never be put to air.

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FUCK ORNAMENTED PILLOWS N

BY NICK JORDA

Jack Crabtree is 18 and he’s furiously trying to shove a key into a keyhole. He will soon learn that you can’t shove keys into keyholes, because shoving isn’t a mechanic that works with tiny things.

He’s shoving anyway because it’s 6am and for the last seven hours he has been spasmodically contracting and releasing his arm muscles like fishing rods to the beat of Gloria Estefan. He wants to lay down his fishy hands and stringy legs in a giant sack of warm bulgy cloth and feathers.

When Crabtree finally solves the mechanics of tiny things, he waddles into the thin hallway of his house and attacks the light switch with the kind of accuracy you only get from 18 years of repetition. His house is small and the light of the hallway shows both the doorway of his room and his sister’s.

Both bedroom doors are open. Crabtree is in that biologically impractical mood where you’re so tired you excite yourself at the thought of ending your own tiredness. Instead of just heaping into his own bed he stays in the hallway and becomes a utilitarian that analyses every minute factor of how to best maximise sleep.

He decides not to eat, not to drink, not to brush his teeth, to go to the toilet as slowly as possible and to sleep in his sister’s bed because it is bigger and has more pillows, and if Maddy Crabtree isn’t home yet then she won’t be until late tomorrow night because her work hours are illegal. Crabtree knows his sister’s room well.

He doesn’t bother turning on the light, he just strips down to his sweatiest layer and approaches the bed with that relaxation you feel before cuddling your long term lover. He will never be more ready for this moment in his entire life.

But as Crabtree slips into bed his entire being is suddenly violently severed from every inch of joy and calmness. He is lying on an ornamented pillow.

The type of diamante sequined monstrosity sold for $80 dollars in stores frequented by rich hags whose only past time is propagating pillows that have no purpose in life but to rob people of their inner-happiness.

Crabtree explodes; he forces every ounce of energy available in the universe to hurl the pillow.

The scuffle lasts for less than a second and then the room is completely still. Crabtree has been violated not just physically; his entire existence has been penetrated by pain and discomfort. It’s like his soul has been plucked out by an ephemeral spikey horse demon whose 40 angry spikey horse cocks are slithering all over his tender body.

Crabtree doesn’t know where the ornamented pillow is, it could be next to him, it could be in another galaxy. It doesn’t matter. He is so disturbed his body has tightened into a grip that will never release in fear of once again feeling the scrapey wrath of its enemy.

The only bitter ounce of life left in Crabtree trickles out down his cheek and onto his diamante scar.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 9

INTERVIEW

GROUPLOVE Grouplove are a 5 people band consisting of Christian Zucconi, Sean Gadd, Ryan Rabin, Hannah Hooper, Andrew Wessen. For the interview Sohan Judge got together and had a chat with Andrew.

SO THE STORY OF HOW GROUPLOVE WAS CREATED PRETTY MUCH COMES DOWN TO 5 PEOPLE FROM ALL OVER THE COUNTRY MEETING ON A LITTLE HOLIDAY IN GREECE. CONNECTING STRAIGHT AWAY, MAKING MUSIC TOGETHER, THEN MOVING TO LA TO RECORD A DEBUT ALBUM. I MEAN OBVIOUSLY IT’S NOT THAT SIMPLE; IT SOUNDS A LITTLE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE?

I know. Honestly if I read it, I’d think it was a bunch of lies. But the jist is my brother met a Greek friend and they became very close friends. They basically created this vision to make this artist commune called Icarus because the cave above the commune was where Icarus lived, from the Greek myth.

My brother invited Hannah to be the first artist at the commune because he went to her studio in New York and was blown away by her work. Hannah had just met Christian and she called my brother and said, ‘Can this guy come along?’ They kind of fell in love instantly and went to acoustic shows the week before.

Sean had come with a group of musicians who were invited from London.

And Ryan was studying abroad in the Czech Republic at the time but I called him and said, ‘You’ve gotta come down 10 . ISSUE TEN VERTIGO

here.’ And anyway that’s all how we met the first time.

We started writing songs and things but it actually wasn’t until a year later in October of 2009 that Sean visited Hannah and Christian in New York and then they came to visit Ryan and I in LA and that’s when we recorded the EP entirely as friends, just for fun. It wasn’t until the next April that Sean flew out and moved to LA and Hannah and Christian moved from New York permanently. That’s when the band became a real band.

INDIVIDUALLY, HOW DID EACH OF YOU COME TO KNOW THAT YOU HAD A TALENT WITH MUSIC?

I’ve been playing music since I was a little kid. My grandma used to play for the USO (United Service Organisations) for the troops in the WW2 and was this amazing pianist. So it was kinda in my blood that way. But there’s this funny thing where my Mum, my Dad and my brother are literally like tone deaf. Like they cannot sing anything. They sing along and it’s ear-wrenching. It totally skipped a generation. So I started on piano as a kid and basically just picked

up guitar and was listening to Nirvana and stuff. And was caught into it that way.

WHAT INSPIRED THE MUSIC ON YOUR ALBUM “NEVER TRUST A HAPPY SONG”?

It was trying to tap into capturing our group in its essence in terms of unique qualities that make this band and try to make every song different just like our band members. I mean we’re all such different people all from different backgrounds and when we get together there’s this cohesion and I think that’s what the record really is. We tried to pick songs that stand against each other and be unique. We didn’t want a record that sounded exactly the same, you know. I think the common thread is that Grouplove imprint that everyone is. Our own personality is in the song. The songs are very distinct and there is a flow to the record.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVOURITE SONG ON THE ALBUM?

Spun. I sing that song and it’s got a really heavy subject matter. My brother, he’s my best friend in the world basically. And he was one of the top photographers in LA and he was really killing it. He went

through a really rough patch with life and moved to Mexico into this little fishing village and lived in a gutted transit bus with no running water. And I only heard from other people over that year that he was alive. So that song was about sleeping on the bus. I mean you probably think it’s a tour bus or something, but it’s actually my brother. So that song is really personal, heavier song in that way. But it’s funny because when you hear it it’s a really up-beat fun song.

The album title is kind of representative of that in the way that it begs for a deeper look into the song. And it’s weird like each song that we play live… that one is my favourite. The room just blasts off every time and Christian is belting out and I feel it fast forward. And from that moment in the concert, the show takes off. That’s probably my favourite song.

YOU GUYS HAVE DONE A LOT OF PERFORMANCES PROMOTING YOUR MUSIC. WHAT’S BEEN YOUR FAVOURITE ONE?

Man, honestly the things we’ve accomplished here are mind-blowing and we’re probably the most grateful band and people in the world right now.

It’s really hard to say but there have been defining moments. Every stage, something is the next step. I think doing the record release show and selling out in New York was really special for us, and getting to perform in Glassenbury. Also getting to go to Australia. The idea of going to Australia was amazing; playing in Splendor in the Grass. Honestly that is up there in the ‘top 3’. It was incredible and the way we were treated was amazing. We’re totally grateful for everything we’ve gotten to do.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR STYLE OF MUSIC?

Someone told us once it was like best friends skydiving. I thought that was brilliant. I don’t know, it’s a freakish blend of like… weird people and personalities coming together. It’s the hardest question. It’s like, contained chaos. It’s madness.

WHAT IS NEXT FOR YOU AS A BAND?

Well just promoting the album, seeing more of the world and playing more shows. Every time we come back to places we’re amazed that the crowd is growing and there’s more and more

enthusiasm. So I think just tapping into that and bringing more joy to people.

I think the concerts have been special for us and for a lot of people when they come to see us. They get uplifted in a way, and that’s a really amazing feeling as a performer.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PLANS FOR A NEW ALBUM?

Honestly we could do a second and third record right now, we have so many songs. And our drummer is the most amazing songwriter, he’s been writing songs for years. He writes all the harmonies and stuff. He produced our record and he’s brilliant. The hard part isn’t writing the songs it’s choosing what songs are going to be on the record. Every one of us are songwriters.

Especially me, Sean and Christian have like back records of catalogues of songs. So we can’t wait. Our album was recorded and finished back in March or April. We were waiting for 6 months wanting it to come out. It feels like it’s been out for so long, but it’s just come out.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 11

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Defamer

the

ISSUE ONE VERTIGO

IF SYMPTOMS PERSIST, SEE YOUR DOCTOR

Kevin Rudd Reveals Leadership Takeover Plans By Denying Leadership Takeover Plans

NO FRUGAL GOOGLE

Staff Profile: James Bourne, Grand Poo-Bah The Defamer’s Most Self-Absorbed Editor?

Andrew Bolt Publicly Denounces Supposed Aboriginality of Ernie Dingo

KIERAN BOYD

has been paid in checks of values up to $1500 for the past 12 months, all from the comfort of his study room, and in only 3 easy steps.

Mr. Jelli has never been one to shy from participating in deals found across the internet. “You really can’t be deterred by the Comic Sans, retina-destroying, flashing text,” he advises. “It pays to ‘CLICK HERE’ after all.”

“You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve been the one-millionth viewer of a website, and have cashed in accordingly.

I’m just too lucky!”

Whilst it would be assumed that all of these incomes would be put towards personal treats and indulgences, Mr. Jelli has in fact been contributing enthusiastically towards several charitable organisations.

As is to be expected, much of his volunteer work is found online. Mr. Jelli

CITYRAIL TO UPGRADE SCHIZOPHRENIC VAGRANTS

potent odours, with complex, layered scents ranging from Classic Tobacco and Spirits, to more exotic varieties, such as my personal favourite, South East Asian Wet Dog.” As well as upgrading the old models, the new vagrants will be more abundant, with at least one on every train and platform.

The company promised, “Never again will a commuter have to travel without feeling the unease and discomfort created by the presence of a mentally unstable homeless person.”

The spokesperson then outlined the relocation program of the old models, with half to be dispatched to employment positions in Dominos pizza outlets around Australia, and the other half to be processed into a new high-grade, biodegradable insulation material.

WHITEST MAN ALIVE A local Sydneysider has reported an unprecedented level of profits sourced from deals, games and offers found on the internet, and is aiming to add a World Record of his achievements to his spoils later this month.

Campsie resident Hugh Jelli has shocked the world in announcing his winnings in a Guinness World Record attempt. He waits for an official GWR accountant to confirm his claim that over the course of his 8 years in cyberspace, Mr. Jelli has amassed a staggering AUD$2,500,000.

The majority of this revenue has been obtained from the renowned ‘Work from Home with Google’ scheme, to which he subscribed back in 2004. In the face of stories that the advertisement is a scam, Mr. Jelli insists otherwise, and his paypackets further disprove this claim. He

TIM HANS TIME MAGAZINE’S LIZARD IMPERSONATOR OF THE YEAR 1997 As part of their multi-million dollar renovations, Cityrail today announced plans to upgrade the mentally unstable homeless commuters that occupy many of their trains.

“When we were discussing areas for improvement in the network, we all saw the need to upgrade this unjustly neglected sector,” a spokesperson explained earlier today.

“We realised that spending a train trip trying to avoid eye contact with a filthy, ranting tramp is a central part of the Cityrail experience. We decided to celebrate this unique aspect of our trains by making our weirdos the envy of the world.”

The highly anticipated new line of derelicts will be dirtier and hairier than ever before, with state of the art technology making them 50% louder and 70% more incomprehensible. The company also outlined the vast improvements on the antiquated stench technology being used today.

“They will boast some of the most sophisticated technology in the world capable of creating truly nauseating and

says: “When a pop-up appears on my screen, with the message ‘Free Russian Girls’, I click on it immediately! To date, I’ve saved over 100 young Russian females from political oppression in gaols in Moscow and gulags across Siberia. It’s really rewarding.”

Furthermore, Mr. Jelli has supposedly assisted countless African princes in their plights to exit their respective war-ridden countries, via a series of money transfers and trust funds, all of which have lead to “handsome rewards” for his efforts.

That isn’t to say there haven’t been other, non-fiscal benefits of this online work.

Mr. Jelli boasts: “After all of the penisenlargement pills, pumps and products I’ve ordered at bargain prices, you wouldn’t believe how big I am.”

“And to think, if I’d’ve used a silly little add-in or extension like AdBlock Pro, who knows where I’d be today?”

INSIDE Who let the dogs out?

Seriously, someone released dogs from the pound. I know it’s a boy that cried wolf situation, but we really need to find out who did this- CRIME, page 5 For a report on choose-your-ownadventure novels, turn to page 24.

For a discussion on inevitability and human choice, turn to page 24.

Stupid Vandal Defaces Own Face Lifestyle, page 36

Under new laws, carriages like this one would be expected to have anywhere between 3 and 5 resident crazed vagrants

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 13

PRESS RELEASE ACTUALLY NEWSWORTHY MANDA DIAZ SELF PROFESSED WRITER OF WORLD’S GREATEST SCREENPLAY A hip Sydney public relations firm is celebrating today after a press release was considered newsworthy enough to run on a popular news website.

The release, which announced the launch of a new range of vegan-friendly hair products, ran in the lifestyle section of a News Limited website this morning.

“Those quotes from the company’s CEO aren’t even real,” Junior publicist, Edan Holland told Defamer. “I made them up myself. Nobody in real life talks like that.”

THAT GUY IN YOUR TUTE STILL WON’T SHUT THE FUCK UP EXCLUSIVE JAMES BOURNE

STUDENT AFFAIRS REPORTER LOOKING FORWARD TO RETIREMENT

In news that makes you wish you were enrolled at TAFE rather than in an arts degree, that really earnest guy with the sunglasses in your tute still won’t shut the fuck up about whatever you were meant to be learning in the lecture previous.

Despite the tutor’s own lack of interest in the topic at hand, Xavier, the 20 year old polo-shirt wearing, coffee drinker from Surry Hills, continues to run his mouth about some rubbish a philosopher said 50 years ago.

You were initially pleased that someone was prepared to break the awkward silence in the early tutorials, and his discussion of the readings seemed insightful at first due entirely to the fact that you hadn’t done the readings yourself. His summaries were helping you come to grips with the subject material.

“I was pleased and surprised that it was a slow enough news day for our story to make it onto the homepage,” said Sassy Sally PR’s managing director, Sally McSassington in a statement. “The market has been crying out for hair care that is kind to our furry friends and we are delighted to be working with Veg-a-harian on their campaign.”

The site’s news editor could not be reached for comment although a spokesperson said that there’s no such thing as ‘lifestyle news’ anyway.

the chubby girl with the anime backpack who never says anything and the easily distracted dude with the iPhone are throwing in “buts” and “can I just says” and “please shut the fuck up you fucks” to try and break his roll, but it’s no use and now the guy just appears to be quoting Stephen Fry’s latest podcast.

Suddenly, after three quarters of an hour, he pauses to take a sip of his coffee and you rush in to ask the tutor to explain the assessment that’s due next week. Unfortunately, at that precise moment, the tutor coughs, giving the guy just enough time to explain it on the tutor’s behalf while also saying something about synecdoches, the Oedipus Complex and Nelson Mandela.

Soon the tute is over and the guy looks pretty pleased with himself, no doubt thinking how lucky all of the other poor students are to have been enlightened by his towering genius.

NEWS IN BRIEF Cerulean City: Team Rocket pair Jesse and James finally capture Pikachu. “Not as good as the talking Cat, but at least we haven’t been Thundershocked into space recently.” Reclusive gym leader Giovanni has refused to comment.

Sydney: Vertigo magazine voted most “Best Made Local Newspaper/Journal.”

Analyst, Rusty Balogh: “[It] really is the best material when ‘on the john’. SMH just lacks absorbency and softness when I have to wipe my...” Full report page 13.

Qatar: Preparations for the 2022 FIFA World Cup have been halted when a batch of promotional material was produced with the understandable misspelling “Quatar”. Those at fault have either been bribed, lashed or exported out of employment.

But around the five minute mark his impromptu lecture begins to get under your skin a little, and when the nice looking girl from that other tute you’re in attempts to offer an opinion and is completely talked over by the guy, you start getting more and more irritated.

Geneva: CERN scientists have successfully identified yet another sub particle, the heaviest currently known. By popular vote, it has been named the ‘Yo Mamma’ particle.

Physicist representatives were unable to comment, due to uncontrollable tittering.

As much as you look imploringly at the tutor to do something about this guy, he just keeps relentlessly relating everything to Foucault and insists on pronouncing ‘homage’ as ‘hom-aaarge’. Even after twenty five minutes in which the guy has recited most of the content from the course all of of you studied last semester, he shows no sign of slowing down and soon everyone else in the class, including

Los Angeles: The rapper previously known as Snoop Dogg (Calvin Broadus) has officially changed his stage first-name to Bull. Other possibilities included: Mad, Hot, Chilli, Guard, Corn, Sheep, Lap, Guide, Watch, Under and African Hunting.

Seriously dude, we don’t care and nobody likes you.

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He gives a knowing smile to the tutor which conveys his feelings of “I’d had better get the full ten marks for tutorial participation”, before being slightly unsurprised when his offers to further discuss these issues as a class over a beer at the university bar are flatly rejected by anyone who hasn’t already left.

MAN ON FIRE DELIGHTS ONLOOKERS WITH WITTY REMARK TIM HANS

RECENTLY DIAGNOSED WITH A FEAR OF COUCHES

A man amused hundreds of onlookers in Sydney’s CBD yesterday with a well timed witty remark, delivered despite the fact that he was on fire. Spectators were initially horrified and in a state of confused panic when they saw a man, completely enveloped in fierce, life threatening flames, frantically searching for a source of water to extinguish himself, which seemed to be his primary concern at the time.

Herman Cain recites some of the as-yet-unknown biblical passages to the assembled poor and unemployed

CHRISTIAN CONSERVATIVE QUOTES ‘GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ROGER’ IN BID TO QUALIFY STATEMENT EXCLUSIVE KIERAN BOYD RELIGIOUS AFFAIRS REPORTER AND OBVIOUS INBRED While the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ protests have failed to single handedly destroy capitalism or even generate media attention, reaction to the unfolding events has seen a new Gospel surface.

Republican Presidential candidate and committed Christian Herman Cain has astounded church leaders by quoting from a previously unknown sacred text. In a quote synonymous with the compassionate conservatism that has come to define the American Political Party, Cain told protesters, ‘don’t blame Wall Street, don’t blame the big banks- if you don’t have a job and you’re not rich, blame yourself.’

The Defamer can now reveal that Cain derived his philosophy from Christianity’s very own (literal) pin-up boy, Jesus Christ. The quote is actually from a passage in the Gospel according to St. Roger, which reads as follows.

“Jesus did come upon a beggar in the street, and he saw that the beggar was hungry and cold. Then Jesus did wind down the windows on his new, unbelievably flash donkey and shouted unto the man: ‘Hey loser! Haaaahhhhh. Things not turned out to good for you ay, Mickey No-Shoes? What happened to you? Personal tragedy? A general lack of opportunity? Or did you just choose to live a less materialistic, more spiritually fulfilling lifestyle? Well what I say to you is: Haaaahhhhhh!

Don’t blame the temple, the tax collectors or the pharisees- if you’re poor, diseased and near death, blame yourself. I make 50 thousand dinari a pop on the after dinner circuit doing my stories and magic tricks, let me be your inspiration! Now pick yourself up and get out of my way, I have crowds to please and chicks to meet. Let’s roll fellas. Matty, Lukeman, you guys write that one up. Mark-o, John-boy, you guys make something up about me turning a badger into a bookshelf for a kid’s party.

Roger, put that pen down. Giddy up.’ And Jesus did proceed onto the Temple in Jerusalem for the 99 dinari wine and dine.”

It was at this moment that he winked at onlookers and declared, “I’m on fire”, in a tone usually used by athletes to describe a brief moment of repeated successes. Terrified spectators soon began to chuckle as they realised that the popular catch phrase used by the man also had a literal meaning in this particular case. In appreciation of the combusting man’s quick thinking, they soon began to lightly applaud his excellently delivered remark, as the man’s flesh continued to burn.

The cause of the fire is still unknown, but the severely injured man is in high spirits at a city hospital, where he has received a number of offers to perform at corporate events.

When asked how he managed to say something so funny in such a dire situation, he quipped, “I guess you could say it was the heat of the moment.” He then went on to make several fire-related puns as he began to weep blood out of his now blind eyes.

THE DEFAMER WOULD LIKE TO THANK ALL OF OUR TALENTED WRITERS WHO MADE THE RATHER FOOLHARDY IDEA OF THREE PAGES OF ORIGINAL STUDENT-WRITTEN SATIRE PER ISSUE A REALITY- NOT LEAST KIERAN BOYD, AMANDA DIAZ, ERIN MADDEN, MIKE BERBENES, BRETT WATSON, TIM HANS AND ANNA WATANABE- AS WELL AS OUR TALENTED AND UNBELIEVABLY UNDERSTANDING DESIGNERS IRIT POLLAK AND MEGAN MANNING. YOU’VE MADE THE DREAM JUST ABOUT A SUCCESS. OH, AND THANKS FOR READING IT TOO, READERS. GRANTED, IF YOU’VE MADE IT THIS FAR THROUGH THIS SELF INDULGENT LITTLE DEDICATION THEN YOU’RE PROBABLY TOO INTERESTED IN WHAT WE’VE HAD TO WRITE. IF YOU HAVE READ EVERY WORD OF THE DEFAMER THIS YEAR, SORRY ABOUT ALL OF THE GADDAFI REFERENCES. SOME WOULD SAY THAT WE WERE A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH THE MAN, AND THEY WOULD BE RIGHT.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 15

SHOWCASING CAMERON WHALAN Photography by Lucien Alperstein

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A BRIEF BUT SUCCINCT SUMMARISATION OF EXACTLY WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW ON FACEBOOK Me and Eric are bored. Eric and I are bored. Eric proposes that he shall describe the exact layout in detail of what is happening on Facebook on the open Macintosh computer in front of him and I will create a mental picture so close to the real thing that I will proceed to have an existential crisis leading to an imminent mental implosion. I agree that this would be fun and tell him to give it a go.

“Okay,” he begins. Off to a good start. “There is the prerequisite and perplexing ‘What’s on your mind?’, which I’ve always felt is rhetorical. Below that we come across the rather fetching profile picture of one Rachelle Etheridge who I went to primary school with but have never had a conversation. She is letting everyone know, and I think this one is worth saying verbatim: ‘For my birthday this year, everybody is going FAKE!” of which the ironic implications are so far stretching that I won’t delve into here.”

Eric takes a breath and I roll over on to my side, having up until this point been laying on my back which I’m told is the most anatomically favourable way to lay prone. “On the side, we find no pages but merely the favourites… ‘News Feed,’, ‘Messages’, ‘Events’ etc. I’ve set up my Facebook this way because I like to take full advantage of all customisable aspects of any interactive website as a nod to the hard work of lonely programmers.” I am rolling my eyes.

“More importantly, we find, as the the ‘feed’ updates itself (Eric says this by reaching his arms upward and making tiny rabbit ears with his hands that bounce emphatically) and Erica Yary has joined a group that is named: ‘Messaging bitches at 11:12 and making their wishes come true.’”

Eric isn’t sure what popular culture reference is being made here so a brief interlude while I explain to him that 11:11 is a superstitious time popularised more by an All-American Rejects song than by the New Age-y and synchronicitious heritage from whence it was born.

He continues, and I’ve taken some editorial liberties here. “An advertisement for a highlimit VISA card that I’m sure nobody surfing Facebook at 3 in the morning could possibly be suitable for… There is none of those red little flags around the world symbol that cause my heart to skip a beat.” Eric hasn’t navigated away from the home page just yet but has itchy trigger fingers poised on the left-clicker. “I don’t have chat open so that clears that up…”

Eric trails off well short of a comprehensive description of the Facebook news feed. I say that this could be expected, as everything on Facebook is inherently fleeting, and moreover, entirely insignificant. We begin a lengthy discussion about Facebook’s role in the history of media outlets that have been conflated with the degradation of morality and ethical standards. It comes out more as a mutual agreement: “Facebook sucks, dude.”

Me and Eric call our dealer who is late, because we both want to be stoned soon.

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SHOWCASING MATTHEW BANNISTER

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A TRIVIAL SECTION, BUT ONE THAT PUNCHED ABOVE ITS WEIGHT. UNTIL NEXT TIME!

TRIVIAL DISPUTES IS GLADIATORIAL COMBAT THE BEST FORM OF CAPITAL PUNISHMENT?

FOR:

AGAINST:

ANNA WATANABE

LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN

Although I’m not a big fan of capital punishment, I’ve gotta say, if it were brought back to Australia, I’d want to see it done in style. And what style!

Though dramatic, probably lucrative and potentially very entertaining, gladiatorial battle is not even close to being the best form of corporal punishment. For the purposes of this diatribe I will ignore the fact that I am against corporal punishment, animal cruelty and general vileness.

You see, I’ve been brought up in the ancient school of Asianparent disciplining, the most fundamental tenant of which is that the greatest form of punishment is humiliation and disappointment from your superiors. What could correct people’s behaviour better than an exhibition of the punishment that awaits them, should they commit a crime?

Just think, hate-criminals would be sent to Acer Arena’s piranhainfested waters for a more brutal, less factual Go Back to Where You Came From sequel; starving, rabies-infected, until-nowthought-docile, native animals – wombats on speed, kangaroos on ride-on lawn mowers, platypi with teeth - chasing animal abusers around the SCG. Scrawny internet piracy crims against Tower, Rebel and Vulcan on a real-life Eliminator with rusty harpoons and spinning logs with nails and bits of broken glass sticking out of them!

Oh, the blood! The horror! The ratings!!

This whole argument comes down to your definition of “best” and we the affirmative define “best” as “for the betterment of the majority of people”. If you’ve got to commit gruesome, violent acts against humanity, at least get a kick (and some dosh) out of it.

If current television shows are anything to go by, good writers are an endangered species. And if current audience feedback is anything to go by, we’re turning into ADHD impaired 12 year olds on crack: we want more of everything right now because we’re already bored from whatever it is we haven’t even watched yet.

Enter Death by Gladiator, the television show that is educational – both morally and somewhat historically – and rates well. Our host, Chopper Reid will take you on a once-a-week, primetime extravaganza of a journey into the world of prison, pain and death. There’d be a focus on modern-day petty crimes as not to belittle general law enforcement as well as embracing Australia’s favourite form of humour: dark, twisted irony.

A healthy overuse of Go-Pro cameras would get you and those badly behaved kids right up there with the killin’, plus veteran gladi-crims, who survive their battles, could come back to host Christmas Specials which would then be sold in a 4-disc DVD pack with hours of special features and outtakes. Everybody wins!

On my signal, unleash the three-year contract.

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What happens if the ravenous crocodiles, sword-wielding muscle-men, acid pools and boiling cement don’t stop the gladiator? What next? The Australian “underdog” ethos will no doubt leave this seriously violent criminal a hero. Thanks to Russell Crowe et al, ‘gladiator’ comes with all kinds of positive connotations. Capital punishment is generally reserved for those who murder other people, and giving a serial killer another chance to rip up a pile of animals, endangered or otherwise, does not translate to punishment.

The point of sentencing someone to death is to strip them of any agency, any way of experiencing life.

What would be far better are some good old-fashioned life-extinguishing techniques. Bring back the noose. Bring back the electric chair. Bring back the good ol’ guillotine.

The more severe the crime, the taller the guillotine. Imagine watching a blade take a full ten seconds to drop a kilometre in the process of removing a head. Whhhhhhhhhhhhrrrr!

If you think tried and tested is a cop-out and want progressive capital punishment, here are a few I discussed with strangers on the bus: Freezing: not cryogenic freezing, freezing then thawing out.

Big tanks with sharks: possibly ripped off Austin Powers but if so only because it’s a ripper of an idea Live spit roast: just like a suckling pig.

Bleeding out through a small cut: self-explanatory, not particularly nice.

Neck-high in sand in desert: Hunter S Thomson in ‘Fear and Loathing’ meets Italian mafia.

Asphyxiation: Lock convicted in an airtight glass container and leave until they use up all oxygen and suffocate.

Embalming: educational.

Fed through a wood chipper: As featured in ‘Rumble in the Bronx’ starring Jackie Chan.

HEY, ARNOLD WORDS: Ben Barnes ILLUSTRATION: Cameron Whalan Arnold had been swept up in a dream so vivid and wild that spoke to him in a language of so many codes and cues of his recent days that he was assured of its prophetic reality.

He’d been granted the power to bless an object with voodoo like capabilities, to simulate affectation or sensory control over another. This great power had fallen to him as he searched, crawled, climbed and strode decisively through the dark, moist woods of his sleepy subconscious. Just as Gandalf had re-appeared in Fangorn forest, blazing, white, brilliant and awe inspiring, similarly, a floating woman had knocked Arnold over with blinding light.

Squinting through the glare, Arnold eventually caught her in focus, an image he was keen to articulate from the curves of her lascivious silhouette.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 21

He saw the world map tattooed was connected to an ethos of marker, playfully planting the across her enormous breasts: control, assurance, complete little scroll wheel near the top, Brazil artfully mingling with the confidence in the execution of as his interactive clitoris. His west coast of Australia in her sarcasm and a baffling ability for weapon was complete, all of cleavage. This was profound, muscle motor synergy between feminine cyberspace lay helpless, like a Venn diagram. Breasts himself and any video game spread-legged before him. weren’t just a world; they were interface.

The Forest Lady had granted the merging of two, ineffable him a power and now it was in scale. The loving of larger The next morning as he rolled imbued within the mouse. mammary glands was not simply out of bed, glancing quickly Clicking straight onto Facebook, sexual or Freudian; it was a and unsurprised at his semenArnold scanned the list of lucky connection to abstract lands of encrusted pants, Arnold applicants online. It was 9:30am, experience. Maybe it too was proceeded to his computer. and hardly primetime, but dream ‘Lord of the Rings-y’ with Middle Awaking the blank screen where world blessings tend drive the Earth and fate of the Upper Earth?

BUT ONE DOESN’T RECEIVE rest.

Maybe not.

PSYCHO-OBJECTIFIED-KINETIC-STIMULATION This suggested POWERS WITHOUT CONSIDERING THE COSMIC IMPLICATIONS. Rachel Grace three worlds.

‘WHY ME? WELL OF COURSE IT’S BECAUSE I’M A SEX GOD’, HE THOUGHT. - online...

Three tits? That Arnold’s was just stupid. mother had Except in the Schwarzenegger a vaginal squirting compilation always stressed never to trust film Total Recall. That tri-boob displayed itself innocuously anyone with thin lips or two in the space bar was pretty beside his 76-word ethics essay. first names. This was relevant. fetching.

Arnold was at once confronted Arnold wasn’t sure why. Perhaps by the white, Apple computer his transcendental vaginal Arnold wanted to have sex. mouse and had his idea connection abilities brought Heaps of it. Writhing snake-orgy immediately. Fumbling about in him a female intimacy never proportions of it. He wanted his drawer for a slim permanent quite possible in reality, well, blowjobs. He wanted a polite marker he proceeded to Google mythical at least. Like the female queue – no, an angry, ravenous image search a diagrammatic orgasm. No. The orgasm was queue – to form outside his vagina, finding an appropriate real, it was there, and it wasn’t door, packed with all ages of image playfully pawing the line like voyaging for the end of the women, unashamedly jostling for between erotic realism and earth or striking oil. One could a position; just for a chance to scientific disconnect. Arnold be rewarded for appropriate experience his sex; for what he went on to outline the vaginal tuition and technique, almost –what it – could do for them. It lips over the mouse with the certainly. Without this faith the

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opaque apple vagina mouse’s power was as flimsy as a corn chip mobile; sadder than the sad clown and as broken, past-tense and impotent as a discarded pinyata.

Speaking of mythical orgasms, the biggest secret of all was that a man’s orgasm was in fact not really there, not in the heaving, earth-shattering nature anyway..

Validated if the piston shows signs of pumping out a powerful quarter mile or carcinogenic burnout, only to reach a 15 second mind mist, tingle sensation, glib release, then feeling of absolute contentment.

It wasn’t worth it, but it wasn’t a waste. You just don’t give a fuck for a while, then find yourself vandalising walls again; practising jokes and your surprised expression in the bathroom mirror.

Arnold considered all these things in the slack jawed haze of his cone-thrashed consciousness.

He’d said at the start of the year that cones were too savage and he’d only touch joints then on. He couldn’t remember what last night’s rationale had been. Looking again at his crusty track pants, Arnold’s gaze shifted to the voodoo vagina mouse. “Who would have thought the key to the pussy would be on the back of the mouse.” Arnold nodded profoundly, congratulating

himself for another classic irony.

But one doesn’t receive psychoobjectified-kinetic-stimulation powers without considering the cosmic implications. ‘Why me?

Well of course it’s because I’m a sex god’, he thought. Not like a Casanova; not sexy like Brad Pitt in Fight Club; pretty like Dicaprio as Romeo or Jack. These were all ideas of superlative sexiness, thought up by people who got maybe 7 roots before turning 25, married and had neurotic kids who’d go to nationals for ultimate Frisbee, but still never make it into double digits for vaginal excursions. Or the good looking were just good looking-flukes, sometimes fluking sexy voices too.

They were amazing potatoes who just happened to look like Stephen Fry, mere constellations filled up with imaginings, but their ultimate justification was like the rapture – it didn’t happen. Or if we’re thinking of the band, pretty alright but always a bit gay after a lengthy listen.

BUT WAIT, Rachel Grace... She was the younger sister of some dork who’d gone to Arnold’s high school, Johnny, who was now tearing it up it in a toga every weekend and scooping up late blooming females the rest of the world had previously

ignored. These girls hung off him like vines and defied his 40 year-old virgin prediction stamp in the high school yearbook. Scanning these photos one night Arnold had come across a family, ‘before the party’ shot. A sullen looking youngster was in the kitchen reaching for something, her already too short t-shirt, magically ascending even higher to reveal almost all of her black lacy bra. You couldn’t really tell, she was in the background and at 45 degrees, but the tits looked massive. She was tagged and Arnold had to investigate. Her profile was excruciating, just the right amount of bait. Her display picture was of her on Halloween.

An acceptable slut: a vampire.

With everything tight and see through. Her favourite quotes had something vaguely penis related.

She was pretty much begging for it. Arnold needed more. He’d hit the request button, knowing that his only chance was to do it quickly before he thought better.

This had been a few days ago and he had yet to qualify himself.

Getting up an instant chat he began, confident and assuming, imagining a George Clooney voice.

‘Hi.’

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 23

MANLY QUARANTINE STATION GHOST TOUR It was a rainy night and the Mystery Machine (read as: Q-Station shuttle bus) broke down (dropped us off) in front of an abandoned and run-down fairground/ factory/ dockside/ ski resort (Manly Quarantine Station) so our four ghost-hunting editors - Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Velma - went to investigate local rumours of hauntings.

ILLUSTRATION BY ELLEN JENKINSON FRED, the cynic: Daniel Piotrowski

We’d just started our ghost tour trekking up a dark path when we heard a rustle in the bushes.

“Oh!” our guide, Carol, said matter-of-factly, “It’s probably a small ghost.”

Our group of about 20 murmured in disquiet. Friends and couples exchanged glances. Torchlight darted towards the bush. People raised their kerosene lanterns to expose our potentially otherworldly, fun-sized acquaintance.

Then someone pointed and said: “No it’s not. It’s a baby possum.” Everybody cooed.

That was probably the second-scariest moment of the ghost tour.

Let me make it clear: I was pretty cynical about the whole ghost thing going in - I’m not superstitious at all.

But part of me was secretly hoping going into the tour that because I was the cynical one, logically I’d be the one to have the bejesus scared out of me. Nope. I’d definitely recommend the ghost tour for its comedic value though.

Case in point: “Mr Chen”. When Carol was showing us the Asiatic Quarters, where ill Asian immigrants used to be quarantined, she said tourists often encountered the ghost of a Mr Chen. Mr Chen, who apparently gets off on grabbing female ghost tourists’ ankles.

You can imagine this was a recipe for a number of jokes, both crude and practical. And really, calling him Mr Chen? If you’re going to invent an Asian ghost, Mr Chen is about as crude as it gets.

There were a number of moments where the whole ghost thing was so ridiculous it was actually quite funny.

Carol often talked about tourists feeling sensations, hearing, seeing and smelling things. When taking us around one building Carol said that tourists often smell food going through there. Well no kidding, Carol. That’s because the building’s got a massive kitchen that’s used for the weddings and functions Q Station hosts during daylight hours.

The only moment that was genuinely scary was towards the end of the tour. Carol was in the middle of quietly telling a “scary tale” in the morgue when something went CRASH. People screamed.

Carol had kicked a bucket sitting on the floor. Any hope I’d had of seeing a ghost had already kicked the bucket well before that. Ghosts? Busted.

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DAPHNE, the not-so-damsel-in-distress: Ava Nirui Let me make this perfectly clear, I am a pitiable wimp when it comes to horror-themed paraphernalia. This can be traced back to a childhood complex formed after being eye raped into watching the exorcist by my older brother, causing me to fear that Satan was devouring my soul every time I contracted the flu.

Ever since, my life has been over-ruled by an unshakeable fear that Ghostface is going to slash me in the night. My insomnia following numerous visits to a series of budget, children’s Haunted House rides legitimises this inexplicable distress.

Strangely, though, I have developed a sick fetish for being in fear, to the point where I chain myself to a chair and force myself to endure illegal, unrated Japanese horror films on a regular basis. So naturally when I heard news of a real ghost tour, I urinated in my pants a little bit. Expecting some type of psychologically scarring epic experience, the ghost tour was rather a D-grade disappointment. With the tour guide, Carol, drilling ‘ethereal experiences’ into my head rather than me actually facing them, the most horrifying aspect of this tour was the weird, mullet-haired loner with a camera who trailed behind the group. I was further bothered by the tour guide’s general attitude to the tour - she asserted I would see a ghost, but I didn’t see shit. The only spook I endured was inflicted by the tour guide herself, who kicked a metal bucket at the height of one of her sub-par ghost tales. This caused me to not only be falsely frightened, but also tightly grab the hand of a random male standing directly behind me.

Note to self: stick to substandard electronically simulated kids’ rides from here forth.

SHAGGY, the scared shitless one: James Bourne

VELMA, the rationalist: Anna Watanabe

While I wouldn’t call myself a wimp, and I would call myself a rationalist, I was terrified the entire time. Terrified. Short of actually having a large dog who speaks questionable English and enjoys large sandwiches, I’d say I fit into the Shaggy role perfectly.

I’ll be honest, I’m not totally opposed to the idea of ghosts.

I’ve had enough second-hand experience with inexplicable happenings to think there could be some truth in these ghost stories. But it is only second hand experience and I’m generally pretty doubtful. Usually, I put anything “supernatural” down to: ‘you experience what you want to experience’. Including the quality of writing in the television show of the same name.

I’m not sure if it’s a situation others can empathise with, but I get genuinely nervous walking through my own pitchblack home at night. So walking through an abandoned 19th century institution synonymous with death, guided by someone whose job it is to convince you that malevolent spirits are hiding around every corner, didn’t really improve the feelings of anxiety I often get from bumping into lounge chairs near my bedroom.

The walk provided a whistle-stop tour of locations usually reserved for D-grade horror movies.

“We’ll start off in the cubicles where dying soldiers were sprayed with acid to cure their illness. Then we’ll head to the hospital that mysteriously burnt down a few years ago, the dingy living quarters of a drunken gravedigger who plunged to his death from the cliff behind us, and then we’ll top the evening off with a trip to the mortuary. Any questions?”

Thankfully my mind was eased by two things: the first being that if people developed long-lasting psychological problems from attending one of these tours, someone surely would have had them shut down several years ago. The second, naturally, was that if this was a D-grade horror movie, I wasn’t a military trained African American, nor had I had sex in a public place in the first half hour of our tour, so at least I wouldn’t be the first to go. Even so, when a guide tells you about previous tour members gripped by icy cold hands or made sick by a visit to a long abandoned hospital bed, you approach each situation with a certain feeling of dread.

The element that probably made the ghost tour the most spiritually off-putting was the approach of fellow members of the tour group. It became clear that only three types of people: bonafide ghost hunters, boyfriends hoping to freak out their girlfriends and, in the process, somehow grow closer to them, and editors of student magazines. The first group only served to make the entire trip unnerving - lurking around in the shadows away from the group, constantly using their flashlight to investigate every landmark pointed out by the guide, and going out of their way to convince themselves that each rustling tree was a ghost and every shadow a dark spectre. Sure, these people are irrational - but it can really rub off on you when everyone else seems so convinced.

Then again, I am the only one who thinks they actually saw a ghost on the tour.

We walked up to the area called Healthy Hill, where there’s a large house in the distance that, according to our tour guide, was empty. But several people and myself swear we saw a man in one of the ground floor windows.

There were also places that we visited that made me feel uncomfortable: the hospital, Mr Chen’s cottage and an openair dining space. I was tight in the chest and felt like I really shouldn’t be there or look into a certain space. But being the cool cat that I am, I kept things under wraps. Except when Daniel grabbed my ankles at Mr Chen’s place…

I’ll be the first to admit, though, that my “ghostly” experiences were not the most convincing type.

When I saw the man in the window, I saw a clear silhouette that moved like a person trying to see look out at something.

In other words the shape was “standing still” but not completely stationary. Another woman who said she saw him, though gave a detailed description of what he was wearing and said he started to walk around “angrily”. Surely we couldn’t be looking at the same thing anymore? Plus, this window was pretty far away, and it was night. Either she “wanted” to see something or we’re both mad.

As for how different rooms made me I felt, I’m pretty sure I was just scared. The tour may not do ghosts, but it does do atmosphere. There wasn’t anything unusual on the tour really, which is disappointing. At least if they’d faked a ghost there’d be someone to unmask…

Did I see anything paranormal? While the mannerisms of a few of my fellow tour members wouldn’t fit into my definition of ‘normal’, that was essentially where the spookiness ended.

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Preheat the oven to 200C. Place 12 baking cases in muffin tins.

Combine all the cupcake ingredients in a medium bowl and beat with an electric whisk until smooth and pale, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Spoon the batter into the cases and bake for 20 minutes.

Remove the tins from the oven and cool for 5 minutes.

Then remove the cupcakes and cool on a rack.

To make the icing, combine all the ingredients in a small bowl and beat with an electric mixer until pale and fluffy.

Spread the icing generously on each cupcake and serve.

Icing 185g butter, softened 2 1/4 cup icing sugar mixture 2 TBSP milk

BASIC CUPCAKES 225g unsalted butter, softened 1 cup caster sugar 1 ½ cups SR flour 1 tsp baking powder 4 eggs

2Add 1 tsp of vanilla essence to the cupcake mixture and a dash more to the icing.

VANILLA & RASPBERRY Add 2 TBSP of loose Earl Grey tea and 1 cup of frozen raspberries to the cupcake mixture and a dash of vanilla to the icing. Top with a few extra raspberries..

EARL GREY PISTACHIO Add 1 TBSP of rosewater and ¾ cup of shelled pistachios to the cupcake mixture and a dash of both rosewater and pink food colouring to the icing. Top with a few extra pistachios.

ROSEWATER & Add a 1 tsp of vanilla essence to the cupcake mixture and enough red food colouring to the icing to create a deep red colour. Top the finished cupcake with white chocolate buttons.

TOADSTOOL

WALNUT Add ¾ cup of roughly chopped walnuts to the cupcake mixture and replace the milk in the icing with 2 TBSP of Irish cream liqueur. Top with a few extra walnuts.

IRISH CREAM &

CHOCOLATE Replace ½ cup of the flour in the cupcake mixture with cocoa powder and add 1 TBSP of powdered ginger. Replace ¼ of the icing sugar in the icing with cocoa powder.

GINGER &

POPPYSEED RAdd 1 TBSP grated orange zest and 1 TBSP poppy seeds to the cupcake mixture and 1 tsp orange zest to the icing. Top with a few extra poppy seeds.

ORANGE &

IT’S BEEN A WONDERFULLY THRILLING YEAR HERE AT VERTIGO HQ, PROVIDING THE MASSES WITH (WHAT WE HOPE WERE) ENTERTAINING READS MONTH AFTER MONTH. SO IN ORDER TO CELEBRATE, WE THOUGHT WE’D THROW A VERTIGO-THEMED PARTY, COMPLETE WITH DELICIOUS VERTIGO-THEMED CUPCAKES. TAKE THE BASIC MIXTURE, CHOOSE YOUR VARIATION, EAT, ENJOY AND REVEL IN A LITTLE STUDENT MAG SPIRIT.

VERTIGO THEMED CUPCAKES

FOOD GEMMA KACZEREPA

CARLA EFSTRATIOU

FASHION

BEST-DRESSED POLITICIANS

JULIA GILLARD ISN’T THE BEST EXAMPLE, BUT POLITICIANS AREN’T ALL ABOUT THE BROWN PANT SUIT AND CRINGY JOGGING GEAR. CARLA EFSTRATIOU LOOKS AT THOSE FEW POLLY’S WHO CAN RUN A COUNTRY AND LOOK GOOD DOING IT. MUAMMAR GADDAFI He may be offing his countrymen in record numbers but you can’t deny the old Colonel’s got the exotic kaftan and wrap around style down to a fine art. Sitting perched in his throne covered in the finest materials and pill box hats money can buy, Gaddafi coined a new style of totalitarian chic.

SARAH PALIN Those sexy teacher glasses scream ‘come and get me boys.’

Yes, I know she (and the latte sippers) would be horrified at the thought but Sarah Palin’s power bitch ensembles have wet the sheets of pubescent boys across the globe.

NICHOLAS SARKOZY Like a true Frenchman, it’s often difficult to know whether Nicholas Sarkozy is a fashion designer or a politician. With a hottie of a wife and a wardrobe full of designer suits that in itself could keep the French textiles industry afloat, Sarkozy brings class and charisma to a utterly serious job.

QUENTIN BRYCE Raiding the wardrobe of everybody’s favourite grandma would be like entering a treasure trove of vintage delight. Quentin Bryce’s impeccable wardrobe is filled with the classics from every decade. Boy I’m jealous of whoever gets these goodies when she carks it.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 27

WORDS: LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN

.......................

DUMPSTER DIVING ..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

FEATURED REVIEW

For the past five or so months, I’ve been dumpster diving. This involves opening and picking at, or jumping into the bin (of a supermarket or deli in my case), and taking out things that they have thrown out. For the past month I haven’t really been shopping – all I’ve bought is a heap of sugar to make marmalades and relishes, bleach and two lemons. That’s it. Literally, that’s all.

I was first introduced to dumpster diving (also known as skipdipping, skipping, bin-diving, binning, gleaning, trashing) in Berlin.

We took leftovers from fruit and veggie markets and from a health food shop that left out broken bags of lentils. We’d take a tram or ride bikes up North to the Kamps Bäckerei headquarters and jump into one of the two the freight-container bins and fill bags upon bags with dense rye loaves, olive loaves, half-metre long strudels and other sweet and savoury dough-things.

A lot of people can’t get over the stigma of taking something from a bin and eating it. I’ll try and explain. Of the bins I frequent, most are emptied daily. I dive between Sydney’s Inner West and the Eastern Suburbs. The bins smell like the fresh fruit and veg section of a supermarket. Generally speaking there is no grime, no dirty smells.

Most food is packaged and, if not, loose lettuce and cabbage leaves usually surround the fresh produce. It sounds like a pipe dream that I’m embellishing, but I assure you I am not - most food is either a week within or on its expiry date. As you may have found out in your life as a student, yoghurt, cheese, milk, olives, dips, Coca-Cola, nuts, dried fruit, salads, fresh pasta and whatever else you normally consume (or don’t) will often last past its use-by date.

A 2009 study by the Australian Institute found that Australians throw out five billion dollars worth of food annually. I could buy a lot of quality cheese with five billion dollars. Seriously good cheese. With five billion dollars I could own a small island. I could single-handedly fund the Australian Army if I wanted. Of all the children that die from preventable diseases, UNICEF (the United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund) said in 2009 that malnutrition contributes to 8.8 million child deaths annually - that’s more than all the people in Sydney and Melbourne combined. If you go back up and read the first two paragraphs again, eight kids will have died, and every hour another 1005 will be dead.

I have two motivations for binning. One is obviously to save money, and the other is to retaliate against how much food is wasted in the name of I-don’t actually-quite-know-what. Consumerism and deli

profits, I suppose. For those of you wanting in, there’s not much stopping you. I won’t tell you where I go because I’m selfish and if half of Vertigo’s readership showed up at the bins I visit, all I’d get to take home is a lousy few blocks of Parmesan. I couldn’t deal with all four of you.

There are no laws against dumpster diving. It’s illegal to trespass, but as I see it, it’s a bit grey because often you’ll be on the same part of property that’s open to the public in daylight hours. Often supermarkets lock their bins so you’ve got to find some that don’t.

Look for local, small, private businesses. Shopping centres often keep their bins indoors or locked. Go after hours and take a torch and gloves if you’re squeamish.

As a student who doesn’t work very much, I am eating far above what my budget would allow if I bought my food. The thought of non-deli cheese, pre-sliced bread and less than three dips in my fridge frightens the hell out of me. I have been eating bananas.

Regularly. The irony is that the longer I don’t pay for groceries the more of a food snob I’m becoming. www.yesterdaysspecial.wordpress.com

A TYPICAL DIVE (except for the chocolate): 110g Kefalograviera cheese 300g Smoked Dutch cheese 350g Bocconcini cheese 2 x 250g Feta cheese in olive oil with dill and garlic 250g Feta cheese in olive oil with chili 5 x 50g Packets of hot small chilis 2 x 1kg Natural yoghurt 200g tub Hummus 24 x 500mL Mother energy drink 200g Parsley pesto with feta 5 x 100g Dark chocolate (70%) 2 x 600g Turkish bread 2 x Half rock melons Lemons, Cumquats, Apples, Organic pears Half pumpkin, One head lettuce, Two leeks, Onions

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 29

REVIEWS FILM

ELLEN JENKINSON

THEATRE

JUSTIN WOLFERS

FOOTLOOSE

SUMMER OF THE SEVENTEENTH DOLL BELVOIR ST. THEATRE, 24 SEPTEMBER – 13 NOVEMBER

This re-make of the 1984 toe-tapping classic is just downright wrong. The plot aptly mimics the original, as the hunk of spunk Ren McCormack (Kenny Wormald) moves from the big city to a small country town in the west. He quickly discovers that thanks to a Bible-thumping minister, dancing and rock and roll music are illegal and so begins his battle to have this ruling over turned. To its credit it does do the original plot justice, but that’s about as far as the credit stretches. The problems with this film arise in the opening scenes.

“Pearl: ’That’s what they remind me of,’ she said. ‘Two eagles flyin’ down out of the sun, and comin’ South every year for the matin’ season.’”

Establishing shots of the country town and it’s people suggest we are floating somewhere between the 1950’s and 1980’s.

With elderly women’s fashion reminiscent of 50’s conservatism and the accompanying sound track hinting at an 80’s nostalgia we are left slightly perplexed. However, it’s when Ren, in his magical mechanical scene in which he whips together a car in an afternoon, pulls out a not so 50s or 80s-esque iPod that confusion really sets in. Following this, the eternally orange Ariel Moore (Julianne Hough) entices Ren (something she seems to do a whole lot of in her oh-so-skimpy shorts) into a dis-used train carriage, pulls out a hand held tape deck and casually pops in a cassette. And with that, all attempts at trying to decipher what era we are in are quashed, lit on fire and left to burn in a frustrating ball of flames.

To make matters worse, the all-too-scarce dance scenes are not accompanied by the synth pop anthems of the original, oh no, they were having none of that. Instead our ears are polluted with the shitty sounds of unknown crump artists and the chart topping, vomit worthy tunes of late 2010. Stirring stomachs are stirred violently when a love heart forms in the space between Ren and Ariel’s silhouetted chins during a sunset, lakeside make out scene. Ullgh. For its lack of any decipherable era; for its sets that look as though a sparrow’s fart would blow them down; for the horrific music and cringe worthy attempt at a Boston accent on Ren’s part (think Canadian/Welsh/speech impediment); Footloose is one remake that, like a starved, rabies infested staffy, should never have been let loose onto the public.

30 . ISSUE TEN VERTIGO

In a 2011 where Mad Men is the most fashionable thing on television and where hip-hop songs sample rock n’ roll tunes, Summer of the Seventeenth Doll’s 1950s setting with sunny Australian accents in full flourish - surpasses being a stylistic gimmick and becomes a powerful metaphor in a play about nostalgia and yearning for the past. The fair dinkum’ expressions and the cane fields, the true blue Aussie battling and laboring and barmaiding; all these things fuel the audience’s impression that we are watching a antiquated and heritage-listed era in motion.

For Olive (masterfully played by Susie Porter), her annual summers with Roo (Steve Le Marquand) and Barney (Dan Wyllie) who fill the house with their boisterousnes, are beginning to change tone. Nancy has left their domestic arrangement and gotten married, and the men seem more morose this year. Can they reconcile their hardships and make the summer last, for old time’s sake? Can their friendships prosper once the arrangement can no longer last? Or do they long for their pasts too much to make the present meaningful?

Yael Stone as Bubba is brilliant and bubbly as the girl next door and the older generation’s hope for the future - and the women’s performances in general, Helen Thomson and Robyn Nevin both brilliant, seem to outshine the men with their versatility. The men are strong and stocky, and good at biffing, but not as emotionally resonant.

Ray Lawler’s text makes excellent use of the three act structure, with a bright first act; then the building of tension; and then the twisting of the knife in the final stages that answers all the questions raised in the play’s initial skirmishes. Neil Armfield’s direction delivers both a stylish aesthetic and a dramatic ensemble performance, in another suggestion that Belvoir owns theatre in Sydney.

It’s a wonderful (if slightly wrenching) theatre experience.

It’s great go see it.

MUSIC

LUCIEN ALPERSTEIN

TECHNOLOGY

ANNA WATANABE

THE BLACK GHOSTS WHEN ANIMALS STARE SOUTHERN FRIED RECORDS

SLAVERY FOOTPRINT WEBSITE + APP

When blending the talents of electronic aficionados,Theo Keating, of Fake Blood, and Simon Lord, of Simian, the last thing you would expect would be forgettable indie-snooze project, The Black Ghosts. The ethereal lounge sensibility of the duo’s 2008 self-titled album is exchanged for a more generic, lack-lustre indie pop sound in second studio release, When Animals Stare.

Guess what? I have 21 slaves working for me. Now, before you get on your humanitarian high horse and tell me to pick my own cotton fields, I’ll have you know that that’s two less than the average person who took the Slavery Footprint survey.

The Slavery Footprint is, first and foremost, a website created by the US State Department and a watchdog group to increase consumers’ awareness of slavery and human trafficking in the product supply chain.

This inhibited quality breeds the inconsistencies within the 11-track release, as well as allowing The Black Ghosts to camouflage into a competitive cesspool of indie-rockers.

Ironically, regardless of the obviously experienced nature of the band members, When Animals Stare is an amateur and clumsy take on indie-pop.

The album opens with the promising grandiose orchestral interlude of ‘Water Will Find A Way’, which transitions into bluesy-pop wonderland topped with haunting chimes and a heavy beat. A looped string overture and layers of crisp percussion compliment Lord’s charmingly jerky soul vocals.

The mood dramatically changes, however, with the spacey, hollow ‘Walking On The Moon’. Rife with painstakingly simple bass chord patterns, monotonous vocals and awkward synth progressions, the track is repetitive and strangely two-dimensional.

This theme of genericism is carried through to ‘Sanguinella’, where the tetchy synthetic drums and tacky lyricism are almost coma-inducing. There is a glint of hope in ‘Talk No More’, an energetic track somewhat reminiscent of ‘Anyway You Choose To Give It’ off their debut album.

Sounding obviously influenced by psychedelic blues, Lord’s Jack White-esque raspy, lispy vocals screech against the gritty bass, creating a dense and luscious wall of sound.

It is only when The Black Ghosts channel sloppy, chaotic soul-blues, that the true musical genius is unleashed.

The online survey operates in much the same way as a Carbon Footprint survey, asking you questions about you lifestyle and habits. The survey itself is full of interesting tid-bits, and clever, interactive graphics keep it from becoming a preachy, human rights lesson. You’re informed, not guilted, about how your lifestyle affects others.

And information is what the whole package is about. Aside from the website, Slavery Footprint also has an App for Androids and iPhones that encourages you to reduce your slavery footprint by sharing your results on Facebook.

Like Foursquare, the App gets you to check-in and to send a generic letter to large companies like Apple, Nestle and Zara, asking them about their involvement in slave labour. Each letter/ check-in earns you one ‘slavery point’ and each slavery point reduces your footprint, earning you a not-so-well-deserved sense of satisfaction.

But this is where Slavery Footprint simultaneously impresses and pisses me off, immensely. The App does a good job at using our newfound social-media-based competitiveness to its advantage. It could well become the next hip, left wing brand for us to ‘like’, much like single origin, cold-drip, organic coffee.

But users can’t improve their slavery footprint any way other than checking-in. And I hate checking-in-ers. It’s an unfortunately off-putting feature because I actually want to find out more about the (un)ethical qualities of my purchases but refuse to become a f-exhibitionist*. Either the website or the app needs to offer the ability to find out more without becoming a social media whore.

But I can’t hold that against the Slavery Footprint. Personal tastes aside, it’s a clever, easy, inoffensive way to see the bigger picture that we often choose not to see. *Facebook exhibitionist. Let’s keep it clean, kids.

VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 31

PLACES TO GO IF ...

YOU’RE A ‘HASBEEN’ MEME

WHEN THEY’RE NOT TRENDING REDDIT OR SPAMMING 4CHAN, THEY’RE OUT IN THE “REAL WORLD”, TROLLING INNOCENT INDIVIDUALS TO SICK NEW EXTREMES. SO MAKE LIKE YOUR FAVOURITE DATED INTERNET MEME AND FOLLOW VERTIGO’S GUIDE ON PLACES TO GO IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR WEB-TROLL ON. WORDS: AVA NIRUI

THE JERRY SPRINGER SHOW - KEYBOARD CAT Menacing musical pioneer and all round meme-based asshole, Keyboard Cat is the ultimate signifier of an epic fail. This smartass feline lingers on the doorstep of hard luck, busting out a dramatic electronic piano overture when his victim has experienced heart-wrenching misfortune. Whether it is the disabled, intellectually challenged or heartbroken, this self-righteous fuckwit of a meme will publicly shame you in the most demoralising, offensive manner possible. Usually you will find him hangin’ out with his synth and dapper blue button up on The Jerry Springer Show, Maury Povich, Who Wants To Be A Millionare? and Funniest Home Video Shows. Keyboard Cat is chillin’ on the brink of every potential fuck-up, waiting to play you off.

ONLINE NEWS WEB FORUMS - TROLL FACE Troll face is the metaphorical meme representation of that one clown on Facebook who intentionally likes every single status update on the entirety of his feed just to prove he is a sarcastic bastard. His consistent web trolling ways are both vexing and strangely impressive to the troll-inclined web user. So where better for him to chill in his spare time than at home, behind the comfort of his own computer screen, trolling online news with his bigass anti-everything opinions.

GOTHAM CITY (OR ANY COMIC BOOK, CRIME-RIDDLED HUB) - ANTOINE DODSON Well obviously you don’t fuck with Antoine Dodson, because if you do he gon’ find you (he gon’ find you), homeboy. This afro-headed, bandana-wearing justice demon is the definitive interweb law protector and anti-rape poster boy with a big tune. Antoine Dodson consistently strives to deliver legitimate, relevant advice on how to protect your family from run-of-the-mill creeps who leech their way into your home and rape your children. This ultimate web-manufactured crime fighter provides dope auto-tune and handclap swagger with a side of hard-hitting threats. Dodson successfully trivialises serious issues like sexual harassment and poverty within the United States. Congratulations.

A COUNCILLOR’S OFFICE - COURAGE WOLF This is exactly the creep Antoine Dodson warned you about. Unlike the Bed Intruder, however, Courage Wolf is a straight-up boss who stipulates blunt, mildly horrifying advice on how to live your life like a king.

Like a dramatically tasteless life coach, Courage Wolf advocates a certain ‘hardcore’ lifestyle and asserts that superiority is only achieved through severity. He is the kind of guy that beats the shit out of Hipster Kitty, spits on Successful Black Man and smokes a blunt with Stoner Dog.

wUTS HAPPENING wUTS HAPPENING ERGHHHHH: Exams, exams, exams, exams, exams, assignments, assignments, exams, ERGHHHHH: presentations, Exams, extensive exams, exams, time spent exams,inexams, the library... assignments, Have funassignments, with that, guys exams, and presentations, gals. extensive time spent in the library... Have fun with that, guys and gals.

A HAPPY OCTOBER EVENT: Something that might help you deal with that endof-semester A HAPPY OCTOBER stress. A ‘Happy EVENT:Science’ Something workshop that might will be help held youatdeal the with University that Hall onend-of-semester October 29th (astress.

Saturday).

A ‘Happy Happy Science’ Scienceworkshop is a marriage will be of meditation held at the and University Buddhist, Hall on October Christian29th and(aWestern Saturday). principles.

Happy Science The Introductory is a marriage Workshop of meditation will show and you Buddhist, the benefits Christian of meditation and Western to “help principles. people The take Introductory control of their Workshop happiness will show and youturn thestruggle benefits into of meditation success”. Tix to “help are $10 people concession, take control booking of their info happiness at www. happyscience.org.au and turn struggle into success”. Tix are $10 concession, booking info at www. happyscience.org.au.

WHO CARES ABOUT ASSESSMENTS: The UTS Union is holding their official End ofWHO Semester Haunted bash at theUTS Glasshouse on Friday, October CARES ABOUT Halloween ASSESSMENTS: The Union is holding their official28th.

End Drinks are cheap, Timmy Trumpet is there, andGlasshouse you should on probably up as of Semester Haunted Halloween bash at the Friday, dress October 28th. something scary. Tix available fromand the you UTS should Union desk or the event Drinks arerelatively cheap, Timmy Trumpet is there, probably dress up as Facebook page - but probably for long! something relatively scary. Tixnot available from the UTS Union desk or the event Facebook page - but probably not for long!

32 . ISSUE TEN VERTIGO

SPORT A GIRL’S GUIDE TO THE HOTTEST BALLERS IN SPORT After edition upon edition of hard hitting sports analysis, Vertigo’s Thanh Tu Nguyen provides our most definitive and important guide yet- a run down of the hotties that give you an excuse to watch the game, no matter how dull you may think it is.

FOOTBALL Perhaps it is no coincidence that the sport coined the “beautiful game” is played by some of the world’s most beautiful men.

Owen Hargreaves (Manchester City, England) “Oh, Owen Hargreaves you are the love of my life.

Oh, Owen Hargreaves I’ll let you shag my wife.

Oh Owen Hargreaves, I want curly hair too.”

That’s the song United fans around the world sang in Moscow 2008 when the Red Devils beat Chelsea to lift that coveted Champions League trophy. While his transfer to United wannabes Manchester City, has diminished his appeal somewhat, I can’t help but have a soft spot for one of the men that broke Chelsea fan’s hearts.

Gerard Piqué (Barcelona, Spain) This Barcelona defender not only plays for the world’s best team, he also played for Manchester United when he was a teen. Oh, and he’s Shakira’s boyfriend. But seriously, just take a look at this picture. What more needs to be said?

André Villas-Boas (Chelsea) Forget the fact that he manages Chelsea, this Portuguese dynamo, at 33, became the youngest manager to win a European club title with Porto. Look at that smile, I wouldn’t mind AVB bossing me around all day.

Sir Alex Ferguson (Manchester United) You’re no doubt wondering why a 69 year old is on the hottest footballers list. While aesthetically both Mourinho and Guardiola beat him, when it comes to coaching ability, the man is hot! He is the most successful manager in British football having won over 30 trophies at Manchester United. And he’s still going. Success and longevity.

What girl doesn’t like that in a man?

Honourable mentions: Xabi Alonso (perhaps the sexiest ginger to grace the pitch); Cesc Fabregas; Freddie Ljunberg; Cristiano Ronaldo and David Beckham (it wouldn’t be the world’s hottest footballers without those two).

RUGBY UNION Rocky Elsom (Waratahs, Wallabies) The former Wallabies captain isn’t your boastful, “let’s-show-off-my-body-and-strip-for-Cosmo” type of guy. He’s broad, strong, silent, and incredibly modest. The ideal man.

Dan Carter (Crusaders, All Blacks) He was voted the sexiest man in New Zealand. I think you can see why.

Honourable mention: James O’Connor (you know, if Justin Bieber is your type); Johnny Wilkinson; Frederic Michalak

NFL

Tom Brady (New England Patriots) The man upstairs must have been happy with the world when he created Tom Brady. Guys love him because he can play the game and women love him because he can do a mean blue steel. Gisele is one lucky lady.

Miles Austin (Dallas Cowboys) His team had to sit back and watch as the Steelers and the Packers fought it out on their home turf, but I don’t think he minded that much considering it was rumoured he got to go home with Kim Kardashian.

TENNIS Andy Roddick (USA) The poster boy of American tennis and former world no1, he isn’t as great as he use to be on the court. You have to say, at least aesthetically, that the guy still has it.

Ana Ivanovic (Serbia) The only reason why anyone watches female tennis.

Honourable mentions: Pat Rafter (Aussie legend), Anna Kournikova (naturally) VERTIGO ISSUE TEN . 33

SA REPORTS NEHA MADHOK STUDENTS’ ASSOCIATION PRESIDENT

Way back when I first turned up at UTS all I wanted to do was write for Vertigo. While that never ended up actually happening, I still got to contribute to Vertigo in a different and at least for me, much more exciting way.

I have always believed that education is right, rather than a privilege. Growing up in western Sydney my experience of public education may be considered unique for some, but a non-event for many others like me. When you share a textbook covered in graffiti with two other students in every class or when your table is literally held together with chewing gum, it’s only natural to question why the government doesn’t value young people, why the government doesn’t value its future and why the government doesn’t value each and every person and their potential, regardless of the person’s background or financial standing.

The Students’ Association is a place for all students, regardless of their ethnicity, gender, sexual identity or economic background and it isn’t just a place that is open to all but it is actively accepting of diversity in fact, it encourages it. It’s a place where students of diverse backgrounds can get together and organise around their issues with other students who have similar experiences, it’s a place where we can reclaim our space, the Students’ Association exists to empower students and I encourage each and every person to engage with it in whatever capacity they feel comfortable, you’ve already engaged in it right now, reading Vertigo, a publication by students for students, Next year will be a defining year in higher education we will see an end to regulated places at universities around Australia, we will see a Student Services and Amenities Fee (SSAF) and UTS will be undergoing its audit. Now more than ever it is important that we see a team of active, progressive, diverse and experienced students running your Students’ Association in 2012 and beyond. With deregulation we will see UTS pushing to meet the government’s targets of 20% of all its students being from either an indigenous background and/or a low socio-economic background which is fantastic for equity and diversity at UTS but also means that we’ll have an influx of students in our most popular faculties, as courses will be run according to student demand, rather than according to a set number of places being available.

We will also see the implementation of the SSAF where for the first time since 2006, student organisations around Australia will start to experience real funding once more, we will organisations all over the country re-building after five years of running on almost no funding and the UTS Students’ Association will hopefully have the opportunity to grow and

34 . ISSUE EIGHT VERTIGO

expand its services and collectives beyond anything that students have ever seen before – it may be ambitious, it may be idealistic, but unless we go for the big goals, unless we strive for that which seems unachievable, we don’t get anywhere.

This year we’ve seen the Bluebird Brekkie Bar – the Students’ Association’s Wednesday morning free breakfast- come into fruition after activists from the SRC had been pushing for a funded and sustainable welfare breakfast, we have a free legal service in the works which looks to be ready to go next year, real reform being undertaken in UTS Housing – where sexual harassment is finally being taken seriously. We have also have an active Student Representative Network that will, with the Students’ Association ensure active voices for quality education at our university. Though one of my favourite campaigns from this year was definitely working with the Communications students to fight the generalisation of their degrees.

Now it’s time for the various thank-yous, if you don’t know these people you’ll probably be really bored but who cares, read them anyway and you can learn about some of the amazing people who have devoted so much of their time to be part of the Students’ Association. Firstly presidents gone-by: Rach, you are an inspiration I have no idea how you have so much energy and patience but I know it’s always appreciated, it’s been great working with you and learning from you. Emma and Petra you guys inspired me to get involved in the student movement, David Barrow you are a crazy crazy man but I’m so glad you and your energy have been bounding in and out of the office all these years.

Danielle, Douglas, Amelia you guys have worked so hard over the years and we’ve made an amazing team thank you so much for answering all of my phone calls, emails and texts begging you to help out with campaigns. Tim, Kristina and Leticia, you’re the friends in and around the office who have kept me sane (well, vaguely sane) your advice and humour make it all worthwhile. Jade, I am so excited for what lies ahead, you will make an amazing leader and I can’t wait to hear all your stories. Lyndal, Rochelle, Alison and Sarah, watching you guys grow and become such active members of the Students’ Association keeps my inner control-freak at bay, I know no matter what happens it’s passionate people like you who will keep the UTSSA strong in the years to come. Finally, thank you to NLS and especially Rosa and Paddy for interstate hilarity and support. Thanks also to the amazing Vertigo editors of 2010 and 2011 who have been so patient with the reports from the office bearers, you guys have all done amazing jobs for this magazine and thus this organisation.

WOMEN’S COLLECTIVE Hey there UTS feminists!

So what has your wonderful Women’s Collective been up to lately?

We’ve been daring, fearless and spreading the feminist cheer at UTS through our burgeoning bounty of submissions to Women’s Vertigo. Let me just say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has submitted articles to us. We could do with some more, but get them in quick because submissions are closing soon! Please email to utswomenscollective@gmail. com.

Members of the Women’s Collective, Students Residents Advisory Committee and the Students’ Association President Neha Madhok are currently in negotiations with UTS Housing to introduce measures to improve safety at student residences for women and minorities. We want to hear from you about issues around safety at UTS Housing, so please email utswomenscollective@gmail.com.

The Women’s Collective would like to congratulate Sarah Henderson who was elected unopposed to UTS Women’s Officer 2012. Sarah has been an active member of the Women’s Collective this year, writing content to the Women’s Vertigo and keeping us laughing every week at Women’s Collective meetings. The Women’s Collective wish her a great year ahead and will be alongside her to keep fighting the good fight for feminism!

This is our last Vertigo hoorah for the year, but you can still get involved in the Women’s Collective for the rest of semester. We have our meetings every Thursday at 5pm in the Women’s Room, and if you can’t make it along to our meetings you can still find the UTS Women’s Collective page on Facebook, the UTSSA Women’s Collective Facebook group and follow @UTS_SAWomen on Twitter. Or you can just send us an email at utswomenscollective@gmail.com to find out how you can get involved!

Finally, an enormous thank you goes out to all the incredible members of the Women’s Collective and our supporters who have been involved this year. Our collective has grown from just a few members to a burgeoning group of amazing women who are working on great projects on campus. Whether you attend our meetings every week, have come along to one of our events or even just bought a cupcake at one of our ironic bake sales, every bit of support has been greatly appreciated.

You have helped our collective to grow and spread the feminist love around UTS! Catch you next year wondrous Vertigo readers!

Peace and Feminist love, UTS Women’s Collective xo

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SUDOKU

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1. What is the largest source of human-made greenhouse gas emissions?

2. What year did the preeminent NASA climate scientist James Hansen first bring the issue of climate change to the attention of the US Congress? a)1977 b)1988 c)1992 d)2000 3. What is the earth’s current atmospheric concentration of greenhouse gases (in parts per million - ppm)? a)158 b)391 c)503 4. And what concentration of greenhouse gases do scientists estimate we need to achieve to ensure a safe and stable climate? a)110 b)350 c)600

ANSWERS: 1)a, 2)b, 3)b, 4)b

SPOT THE CLIMATE CHANGE PHONEY!

a)Coal-fired power plants b)Agriculture c)Transport d)Deforestation e)Swans

1.Bill McKibbon is an American environmentalist, journalist, author and founder of 350.org – the world’s first and largest global climate change activist organisation PHONY: Lord Monckton was a former economics advisor to Margaret Thatcher. He believes climate change is a communist conspiracy to establish an oppressive oneworld government.

2.James Hansen is Director of NASA’s Godard Institute for Space Studies, prominent climate change campaigner and recipient of the Carl-Gustaf Rossby Research Medal, the highest honour bestowed by the American Meteorological Society, in 2009.

PHONY: Tony Abbot famously called climate change “crap”. He has given Australians a “blood oath” to repeal the Governments clean energy legislation if he is elected.

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3.Rajendra Pachauri is the chair of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and head of Yale’s Climate and Energy Institute. He was formerly chairman of the board of Columbia University’s International Research Institute for Climate and Society.

PHONY: Ian Plimer is a geologist, director of three Queensland mining companies and author of numerous popular books on climate change. His book “Heaven and Earth” was has been widely discredited by scientists. He has never published a peer-reviewed article on climate change.

4.Tim Flannery is mammalogist and paleantologist at Maquarie University and author of ninety scientific paper.

He is also chairman of the Copenhagen Climate council and was named Australian of the Year in 2007.

PHONY: Michael Crichton was a best-selling science fiction writer. Though he has never published a peerreviewed scientific paper on the topic, he was invited by George Bush to the White House as an expert witness on global warming.

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