On Dit Issue 79.9 by On Dit

Adelaide University Student Magazine

Vol. 79 / Issue 9 Featuring:

Contents Vox POP

Degrees of Knowledge

How To Crochet

National Service

The 27 Club

A letter To The Adelaide City Council

Young people And driving

The London riots

Photo Essay: Unseen academicals

Local Band bio: Slave girls from beyond infinity

Dance: MYTH

Splendour in the Grass

Square MEals

Now We’re cooking with garf

A Day In The Life of Gen Y Heroes

Columns

Procrastinetting

Diversions

State Of The Union

Go to www.ondit.com.au if you’re not a square, or become our friend: www.facebook.com/onditmagazine Editors: Sam Deere, Elizabeth Flux & Rory Kennett-Lister Cover Illustration by Lillian Katsapis Inside Front Cover Photo by Andrew Burley On Dit is an affiliate of the Adelaide University Union Published 22/8/2011

Volume 79, Issue 9

EDITORIAL Sam

Elizabeth

Though the quality of this magazine has undoubtedly caused us editors to live in your minds as finely tuned, error-proof grammar machines, in truth, we are somewhat less precise. While smashing out a column for this issue (which one…?) I happened to turn my mind to the word ‘rhythm.’ “Rhythm is an interesting word,” I noted. “No vowels.” “That’s not strictly true,” Sam ‘small desk’ Deere interjected. “I think it’s a bit of a cop out to say it doesn’t have a vowel, when, in actual fact, ‘y’ acts as a vowel.” “But I didn’t say, “nothing acts as a vowel in rhythm,”,” I said, “I said there’s “No vowels.”.” “But ‘y’ is phoneme for ‘i’ in the word,” Sam blustered, “so technically, there is a vowel.”

or plumbing the depths of her medical knowledge to find some biological basis — something to do with movement of the tongue — for a distinction between vowels and pretend vowels. Unfortunately for Sam, I’m going to hammer the final nail in his word coffin right here: a homophone for ‘y’ is ‘why’, itself a word with no vowels! (“But ‘y’ acts as a vowel,” imaginary Sam says in my head.) At this point you’ve either turned the page to read something of worth, or are considering it. I urge you — do it. We have a letter to the Adelaide City Council imploring for exemption from parking fines on the basis of visual trickery, an argument for an Australian National Service, cool photos from around Adelaide Uni, a column by Elizabeth and Tiny Fuppets! So get on it. Best, Rory (& Elizabeth & Sam)

“But we’re not talking of technicalities,” I retorted, “We’re talking of actualities.” The argument continued in a similar vein for some time, with much the same points disguised with various synonyms. Throughout this linguistic squabble Elizabeth maintained a healthy distance, and afterwards, an unhealthy silence. I believe she is still mulling over the finer points of reasoning,

Rory

PS. After reading this column to my fellow editors, Sam wished to clarify that he “just didn’t think it was fair to treat rhythm as some special, interesting word with all these special properties. People shit on about it like it’s special, when really, is it?”

On Dit Magazine

Contributors Illustrator Alex Weiland (“Youth Driving”, page 22) Alex is currently studying second-year Architectural Engineering and third-year German. She talks too fast and, according to vicious rumours, her text message reply rate is too slow. When not speaking grammatically dubious, but highly enthusiastic German, Alex likes to think up hobbies to list that are more interesting than her real ones. You can find her playing a lot of competitive table tennis against small children at her work and occasionally even winning.

Writers Mitchell Peterson TYM (“A Letter to the adelaide city council”, page 20) Mitchell’s appreciation of the potential applications of language began shortly after his 10th birthday when, after his father enlisted in the King’s First African Rifles, he moved from his childhood home in rural Formosa to an affluent boarding school in Sydney, Australia. Regaling the impressionable lads with impressively complex escapist falsehoods, he realised that the use of haughtily aberrant language to obfuscate reality, as well as his own values and beliefs, was a skill to be treasured and cultivated. After the waxing and waning of an extensive public life and scarcely a single parking fine, diction and heated discourse remain great passions for him.

Stella Crawford (“Youth Driving”, page 22) Stella is in her second year of a law/science double degree, and is beginning to be permanently bemused with the wild fluctuations in her justifications for taking it. She enjoys sleeping, especially in warm places. In the inevitable spaces between such sleeps, she has begun to worry that she doesn’t know enough about things, and is hoping On Dit’s cultured-ness might rub off on her. Similarly, in her spare time she enjoys collecting books to place on her nightstand in aesthetically pleasing fashion.

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Letters

Got something to get off your chest? Email us at ondit@adelaide.edu.au

To the Editors,

Dear On Dit,

I am writing concerning the upcoming student elections and, in particular, the group called IndyGo. I have held a position on the SRC for the last three years and have contested each election with IndyGo. I am the only original member of IndyGo still holding a position on the SRC.

Congratulations on the high journalistic & production values of recent times.

As is well known, IndyGo and Activate, another student political party, have had a very close relationship. In the past I have been satisfied that most members of Activate have had good intentions. This year, however, I have been extremely disappointed with the conduct of several members of Activate on the SRC. To date, they have attempted to increase the NUS affiliation fee to $17 000 (an increase of approximately 70%, taking this fee to more than half of the SRC’s budget), organised and charged a BBQ to the SRC without approval and put motions at SRC meetings granting the power for members to delete their names from the minutes, removing accountability.

The distinction between core biological `impairment’ and the subsequent psychosocial `disability’ is a handy one, provided the reality of impairment is not forgotten in the name of ability and left uncompensated. Churchill and Curtin like myself were manic depressive. They were immensely talented men of different political orientations and socioeconomic backgrounds. Their achievements were all the greater given their degree of impairment. Churchill had to battle the temptation of suicide between the wars, Curtin’s condition certainly accelerated his early death under the strains of high office.

For these reasons and more, I no longer support Activate and no longer wish Indygo to support them. As I am not contesting a position at the upcoming elections these decisions rest with new members of IndyGo who do not appear to share the same views as I do. I would like to express my disappointed in IndyGo’s continued association with Activate and I encourage the new members of IndyGo to act as representatives of the students of this university rather than simply accept the actions of Activate in order to gain preferences. I hope all those running have given serious consideration to who they are really supporting and the consequences of their actions.

In particular congratulations for Samuel Lymn’s piece `Disabling Disability’ [On Dit Vol.79 Issue 7]

These considerations are pertinent given the actuality of Commonwealth Government action on the Disability Support Pension and for a National Disability Insurance Scheme. The latter may benefit many who do not now receive the DSP, and real as opposed to illusory job support for the impaired is to be welcomed. The real concern is the objective of pushing 40% of pensioners off the DSP. This could well prove to be a grave injustice and poverty trap, throwing the baby of recognising impairment out with the bath water of `disability’, all under the banner of recognising ability. I think it necessary to inject this note of caution into celebration of the Lymn article. Best regards, Dr David Faber

Hayden Tronnolone

Cartoon: Rowan Roff

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Targedoku

E L A N

L A T I C E N U O

O U I A N L C E T

C N E O T U I A L

9 Letter word: Inoculate

I E L T A N O C U

A O N C U I T L E

U T C L E

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

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Crypt-O-Clue Acne Job Pheromone Draw Deer Booker

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Quiz Pete Best Leo Tolstoy The Okapi All of them 21 Tittle A utensil used to crush ingredients in

cocktails 8. Midnight’s Children 9. 26 10. 4 (Equitorial Guinea, GuineaBissau, Papua New Guinea, Republic of Guinea)

A N I

No peeking until you’ve done the Diversions on page 46

Answers

Vox POP

Anastasia

Galen

Connie

5th year, PhD in Psychology

2nd year, Law/Arts

Final year, Commerce Accounting

1. 2.

1. 2. 3.

3. 4. 5.

Raw Salmon. (a) Clover; (b) Sweet Potato; (c) Science Fiction. Forgery – school reports as a kid. 100 people. Yes, because a number of factors that came together was very large – even the weather. There’s no reason the same couldn’t happen here.

3. 4. 5.

Jellyfish. (a) Flower; (b) Fiddy cent; (c) Get. I killed a man in Reno – just to wath him die. 1 a month. No – I think we’re too lazy.

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4. 5.

Kangaroo. (a) Life; (b) Lie; (c) People. I broke a neighbour’s window when I was five. 1 a month. Yes – someone stole my scooter last week.

We asked our panel of randomly selected students: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten? Word association: (a) Leaf; (b) Rap; (c) Smart. What’s the most serious crime you’ve ever committed? Would you rather talk to only one person a month, or be forced to speak to 100 people a day? Could something like the London riots happen here?

Lewin

EMMA

Matilda

3rd Year, Aerospace Engineering

2nd year, Arts

2nd year, Marketing/Management

1. 2. 3.

4. 5.

Probably eel. (a) Dog; (b) Hip hop; (c) Dumb. Crashed into a telephone box in Melbourne. It was wet and we were having too much fun and went sideways around a roundabout. 100 people a day, any day. I think we’re too happy.

2. 3. 4. 5.

Weetbix with peanut butter and sprinkles. Cotton mouth central. (a) Green; (b) Lunch; (c) Ass. I stepped on a budgie when I was 9. It was traumatising. Probably 1 a month. Do we really have enough people who care? I don’t think so.

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4. 5.

Crocodile. (a) Plant; (b) Chicken; (c) IQ. Stole a rug off a QANTAS plane from business class. I still have it – will never let that go. 100. Yes, anything could happen.

Degrees of Knowledge

HISTORY History

is cool.

Fact.

You will know this if any of the following apply to you. Do you: a.

b. c.

Enjoy watching the midday naval films with your grandfather and bonding over all of the military terminology and equipment? Stay up late by yourself watching extremely grim SBS documentaries of Bergen-Belsen in the dark? Indulge an extortionate amount of money on Tudor costumes for every fancy-dress party (“Are you that wife of Henry VIII’s whose head got hacked off?” “No. I’m Anne of Cleves, isn’t it obvious?!”)? Spend hours in museums on holiday (to the Gold Coast) with your family/friends traipsing along behind?

If you have answered yes to any of these, then a history degree is for you. Unless its just ‘b’ in which case that’s pretty distasteful. If you identified with all of the above then you are officially a history nerd, well done! Glad to have you. As most know, with every arts degree comes a time when you have to choose

between the plethora of completely unrelated and hit-and-miss courses and choose a major and minor area of study. Most history students admit to a momentary hiccup where they consider philosophy as their major instead:

My marks for that course where we watched the Matrix were pretty good. Maybe I’m the next Kierkegaard and just don’t know it yet! Then (fortunately) a memory of tutorials with actual philosophy students springs to mind. History it is! Little did we know that we’d end up with the same amount of quality-time with Marx, anyway. This decision welcomes a moment of relief. Finally, I can tell people I’m ‘majoring’ in something, just like in college in American movies. Also, following your resolve to embark down the (let’s face it, pretty old) road of history are loads of questions. Usually surprised or completely mystified ones: “What is the actual point of studying history? I mean, if it’s all in the past, then why does it even matter? Are you going to be like one of those BBC historian chaps with the elbow patches?” (Here’s to hoping). Consequently, after deciding to major in history, I formulated a few routine responses to these

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queries. Thankfully, these have evolved since the original reply: “because history is FUN.” None of the pros mentioned, however, seem to express the demented wonder I experience when I see a rusting plaque with a dead person’s name on it above the date that they did something really great. I’ll try anyway: the pursuit of historical knowledge can lead to many stimulating and worthwhile pathways. One is that you get to become that irritating prat who cannot sit through any movie comprising any form of historical context without objecting to the factual “inaccuracies.” “That battle armour is completely wrong,” you say offhandedly, “British knights didn’t have metal ‘buckler’ shields until at least the 16th century...” Granted, you can ride the moral (Trojan) high-horse with a few films, such as Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy. Any film involving Eric Bana as an archetypal Greek hero is just embarrassing in my book (and that hair!) Same goes for Eric Bana starring as Henry the VIII. Or as an Israeli assassin seeking revenge on 1972’s Black September massacres in Spielberg’s Munich. Suffice to say that it is a very grim day when Full Frontal’s

An insider’s look at something you don’t study Words: Georgia Lawrence-Doyle

VB-guzzling ‘Poida’ assumes his role as history’s pin-up boy. Some just take history-wankery too far. In a “World War Two in Film” lecture I once overheard a girl who claim that the Harry Potter series was a poor attempt at historico-political satire of eugenics and white supremacist 1930s Germany. “VOLDEMORT DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A MOUSTACHE!” I bellowed (in my head). You also become the most popular travel companion because your friends won’t have to pay for a tour guide. Or rather, you are for the first day. Then your constant interjections of (most likely inaccurate) trivia may border on the irritating. “Did you know that this very boulder is a classic example of...” Unfortunately, unless you continue with honours, after three years a typical history major finds themself a fount of wisdom on... well, not much. You graduate with knowledge of lots of completely disparate and unrelated fields of history and not really a ‘major’ in anything at all. This is especially apparent when people say to you: “oh, history. That’s interesting. What specific history do you

study?” This is your cue to squirm your way through an extremely vague and wide-sweeping response and hope that they don’t notice the difference between early modern witchcraft and Colonial Australian art.

the second time as farce.” So why would we stop ‘bothering’ to study or question the events of history if we have a second, more hilarious version of the Russian Revolution around the corner, right?

Luckily, people love facts and rarely question their source. This is handy because most of the time the dates you reel off sound mighty impressive and the majority of people will have no clue that you’re about two centuries off the mark. It doesn’t matter if you’ve got no idea as to when The Crusades happened because you can just sigh and say that the time-frame remains ‘contentious’ (historians’ favourite cop-out line). All you need to know is that they went for a really, really long time.

If something has happened already, perhaps a long time ago, does that mean that it is any less pertinent to our society than the latest ‘hot’ issue on Channel Ten’s Can of Worms (don’t answer that). And even as historical ‘facts’ become more and more difficult to obtain, can we not just appreciate what are incredible stories of our own existence? I happen to be of the extremely biased opinion that not just studying history, but engaging with it is one of the most important things a person can do. Yes, you will be the saviour of awkward pauses on first dates and an absolute maestro at Trivial Pursuit, but you will also become a more interesting and selfaware person. I can’t help thinking that if Hitler had been a good boy and read his Herodotus for homework then things would have been very different. O

Admittedly, one of my favourite parts of studying history is that I know stuff. I like the idea that I can kind of collect knowledge and carry it around in my head every day. A bit like Harvey Krumpet and his necklace of ‘fakts’ (without the Tourette’s). Back to our old pal Marx (or ‘Karl’ as I feel comfortable calling him now). He argued that history didn’t repeat itself, rather that all great world-historic facts speak twice: “the first time as tragedy,

Volume 79, Issue 9

How To

Crochet Like A Boss Keep

a keen eye open the next time you

North Tce. You may notice that some of the trees and poles have, in suitable winter fashion, donned a scarf. That is, some caring, crafty individual has donated his or her time and wool to the comfort of these, our vertical friends. Yes, technically it’s graffiti, but only the most anal city take a stroll down

(Or some kind of boss grandma...) Words / Illustrations: Serrin Pryor

council member would seem to have any problem with that. It’s called yarn bombing, and its aim is to beautify the often grey and monotonous exteriors of modern cities. What could be better? An activity that will both boost your street cred and gain you brownie points with your grandmother. Who knows – she may be so impressed that she makes you

some actual brownies. To get in on the action, read on. Then you might want to take a trip to Spotlight. What you’ll need is a crochet hook and some wool. And a bit of patience (or a lot, depending on the level of your manual dexterity).

First things first: holding the hook. Do it like you would a pencil. [1]. Next, you need to get the yarn on the hook. To do this, you make a ‘U’, then twist to make a jesusfish. [2]. Bend the loop over one end of the yarn and pull this up partway through the loop. [3]. Insert the hook into the loop and pull on both ends of the yarn to tighten. [4]. Phew. Now we’re ready to rock’n’roll. [5].

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The most basic ‘stitch’ there is, is the chain. This little wonder is what makes crocheting so versatile – it means you can go in any direction you want with ease. It cannot but make knitters green with envy. With the long end, bring the yarn over the hook (codename: YO), from back to front. Keeping the little knot in place with your thumb and index finger, pull the yarn through the loop. [6]. This is where the hook end of the hook comes in – to get the yarn easily through, you must catch it in the hook. Once you’ve got this manoeuvre down, rinse and repeat. Before you know it, you’ll have a chain worthy of… a dungeon? Maybe. [7]

You have selected <circle>, which means you’re going to learn how to do a slipstitch and so turn your chain into a circle/ring/empty monocle what have you. Bring the end of your chain up to the hook and insert the hook through the first chain stitch you made. [8]. YO and, remembering to hold your circle in place, pull the yarn through the two loops on the hook. [9]. Done and done. [10]. If you make the chain long enough at the start, you could even make that special someone a friendship bracelet! To finish, you simply break the yarn off, pull it through the loop on the hook and tighten.

That’s all there is to it. Well, not quite, but there’s not much you can’t now do with these three basic stitches. If you’re still a little confused, there’s plenty on the internet to help you out. But better

Now you can go in either of two ways (well, actually there are really an infinite number of options – trust me on this, I’m a Maths student, I know infinity – but for the purposes of this article,

You have selected <linear>, which means we’re going to be working up and across with single crochets (sc)*. Now that you’ve got your chain, we’re going to go back and insert the hook in the middle of the second chain stitch from the hook. [11]. Then YO and pull through the first loop on the hook, which will leave you with two loops on the hook. [12]. YO again and pull through the two loops, which will leave you with one loop on the hook.

you’ve got just the two). If you’re feeling circular, go to the left. If you’re in more of a linear mood, head on over to the right.

Et voilà! You have yourself a single crochet. Insert your hook into the next stitch and do it all over again. When you get to the end of the row, chain one and flip your work around – then you’re ready to start the next row (for the first stitch, insert the hook into the second stitch along from the row you have just done). Keep doing this, and you’ll get a nifty square. If you’re really enthusiastic, you can keep going until you get a scarf.

*This is a US ‘single crochet’ which corresponds to a UK ‘double crochet’ (dc). Sometimes it seems like people want to be different just for the sake of being different.

yet, take a trip over to level 2 of the Plaza building and see the guys at the Maths Learning Service. That’s right, not only can they help you with all your mathematical queries, they are

Volume 79, Issue 9

also handy in the crafty arts. I’m quite serious, go see them; I’m sure they’d find it a nice break from helping first year Maths students prove that √3 is irrational. O

Picture: Michael Dawes / www.flickr.com/photos/tk_five_0

In Defence of

Words: Galen Cuthbertson

It’s true, I think, that most of us are instinctively against the idea of National Service. Why? Well, we think of conscription during the Vietnam War, and the impact it had on the people involved. We think of veterans battling nightmares and flashbacks, often struggling with drug dependence, and haunted by forced participation in a brutal jungle war. And it’s true: the draft had a profound and terrible impact on a generation of Australians. Our sympathy for veterans — be they drafted or otherwise — is real and valid. Instinctively,

we also think of the National Service in places like Israel: a conscripting program that serves to further expose generations of youth people to violent conflict, perpetuating harsh, nationalistic divisions at precisely the point in their lives when diversity and multiculturalism would better end the cycle of violence. And, at the end of the day, the revulsion we feel towards this kind of conscription is entirely valid. But that kind of conscription isn’t what’s at play here. In what follows, I’m not

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going to attempt to argue in support of the ‘National Service’ Australia has seen in the past. Not only was it repugnant at the time, it’s not in the interests of the nation today. To my mind, there’s no valid justification whatsoever — we’re not allies in a World War; nobody’s bombing Darwin or advancing through South-East Asia. Instead, I’m suggesting that Australia adopt an entirely different kind of ‘National Service’. I envisage a model (which we know works in other countries today) which wouldn’t involve active service overseas, but which would

National Service instead encourage citizenship, civic involvement, and create a ‘defence force’ far less distasteful and abhorrent than our current one: a defence force that truly ‘defends’.

Creative Destruction When we look around the world, we see that National Service can be constructive and valuable. How do we know this is true? Switzerland, Finland, Norway, Austria, Denmark, Russia, and (until the

end of last year) Germany all have successful National Service programs. Now I know some of you are thinking, “Sure, but other countries - particularly Iran and Israel - have National Service, and their programs have hardly been ‘constructive’ or ‘valuable’.” Well, I’ve got two rebuttals for you, bucko. Firstly, I said “can be” not “is always”. Secondly, those examples are countries situated in volatile regions, using conscripted troops to bolster active militaries. Australia isn’t like that: politically, we’re

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not threatened by invasion or attack. Though John Marsden’s Tomorrow When The War Began series would have us believe otherwise, Australia is actually positioned in a pretty safe corner of the world. And in those terms, we’re more comparable to Switzerland, Denmark, or Germany than we are Israel or Iran. What we need is a Scandinavian Model: a kind of ‘National Service’ that is fundamentally defensive and unmilitaristic. In Switzerland, all male 19-year-olds

National Service are required to give roughly 300 days of National Service. From the end of training until the age of 34 (sometimes longer), they’re required to remain part of the military in a Reserve capacity. The Swiss policy of neutrality mandates that (with the exception of the Swiss Guard in the Vatican) no Swiss citizen be permitted to serve in a foreign army. Further, the explicit focus is on a defensive armed militia: all trained Swiss citizens are required to keep their equipment (including weaponry) at home. As a result of all this, only 5% of the Swiss military is professional: the rest consists of NationalService-trained reserves who are only capable of acting to directly defend the country if invaded. In Australia, we have a subtle dishonesty inherent in the naming of our military. We call it a ‘Defence’ Force, yet it consists of highlytrained, professional soldiers being sent into dangerous conflicts across the world. Arguably, our involvement isn’t even significant: we don’t have a large enough population to support significant involvement like the United States does — the best we can do is send a few troops into harm’s way to back up a major ally’s involvement. Surely, if we’re going to be honest about it, a ‘Defence’ Force is something that simply defends the nation directly. What better way to do that than create a force that can only defend? Something like the reserve system seen in Switzerland. Reduce the size and cost of our standing army, and in its place train the Australian population to defend the nation directly. The German system was similar to that of Switzerland, although the required service was only six months in length. It had a further advantage worth highlighting. While Switzerland has this to a lesser degree, the German ‘National Service’ highlighted two streams. One involved defensive military training (but not deployment in active conflict), the other

was a ‘civic’ stream. This ‘civic’ option was taken by twice as many draftees and was, in my opinion, the true success of their National Service model. Instead of receiving military training, drafted participants served in aid and disaster relief overseas, or within Germany in emergency services, underprivileged schools, hospitals, and aged-care facilities. There was also a third option: you were discharged from all duties if you could show that you were a ‘development helper’ working overseas in a developing/aid organisation for at least two years. Germans are disproportionally represented in these aid and development roles today, and it’s been argued that civic National Service is responsible. How? Well, young draftees interact directly with poverty and illness overseas and in their own community, when they often wouldn’t have done so otherwise. As a result of these experiences, they continued to work in the field far beyond the required time. At the end of the day, I think we should be honest with ourselves as a society. We should front up to the fact that we maintain an expensive professional army and deploy it around the world, yet its impact on events is inevitably quite small. We should front up to the fact that we call this military our ‘Defence Force’, yet its job is far from defensive. Moreover, we should be honest with ourselves about social problems. We talk about equality and mateship in this country, yet do our best to ignore the rougher edges. On any given night, there are over 100,000 homeless people in this country, roughly a third of whom are children; yet how many of us have talked honestly to a homeless person — instead of brushing them off and refusing them spare change? In a given year, well over 72,000 sexual assaults occur within Australia; yet how many of us are actually working to stop that? Worldwide, 1.4 billion people live below the extreme poverty line, equivalent

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to US$1.25 per day or less. Every day, you could fill a large football stadium to capacity with the number of young children that die of preventable causes — approximately 24,000 under the age of five alone. Every day. Yet how many of us are working directly to solve those problems? We’re all shocked and appalled by these figures, sure ... and we should be every time we hear them. But I think being Australian and truly believing in ‘equality’, ‘mateship’, ‘a fair go for all’ - I think that requires more than just ‘shocked and appalled’. I think it requires direct action: to help those less fortunate, and to treat them with equal compassion and respect. And not enough of us have that in the front of our minds. And if we’re honest with ourselves about those facts, that’s why we should institute a ‘National Service’. I don’t mean conscription like we’ve seen it before in Australia. I mean something along the lines of what we know works. Something like the system in Germany, or Switzerland, or in the other Scandinavian countries — a system that emphasises responsible and active citizenship. That brings together young people from across the country and exposes them directly to the social and political issues of their lives. That humanizes and connects. That promotes equality and mateship. A system that helps. It’s a model of ‘National Service’ which would make being Australian positive and meaningful again. Not with boot camps, a glorified military, and a need to ‘keep the boys fit’. No, it would make our national identity positive and meaningful through involvement. Let young Australians be faced with the task of helping the disadvantaged and defending the nation. Let every young Australian personally front up to the profound struggles some people face. And then maybe, just maybe, more Australians will work a fraction harder to make the world a better and more equal place. O

27 BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL Words: Emma Jones / Illustration: Annie Rudduck

Amy Winehouse. What

a dick.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. We all make mistakes, and dealing with fame can’t be easy. But I draw the line at being photographed barefoot in a bra with blood on my face. It’s no wonder the poor dear took out an injunction against the paparazzi. If my life was that messy, I wouldn’t want it to be recorded either.

She said no, no, no Video footage of Winehouse’s last

concert in Serbia shows the singer dancing the way I’d be dancing if I’d had twelve tequila shots and the DJ was playing “Raspberry Beret”. She mumbled through all her songs and reportedly left the stage twice during her set before being booed off stage. Her people cancelled all subsequent shows, issuing the statement, “(Winehouse) has agreed with management that she cannot perform to the best of her ability and will return home. She would like to apologise to fans expecting to see her… but feels that this is the right thing to do.” Just a month later, Winehouse was

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found dead in her North London apartment. The famous wastoid had finally lost her ongoing and highly public battle with substance abuse. Social media was whipped into an illiterate frenzy by the news, with stars like Mark Ronson, Kelly Osborne and Russell Brand tweeting tributes. (FYI Kelly Osborne, “breath” is not a verb. NOT A VERB. I know you’re grieving but seriously. See that key that has a vertical line with three horizontal lines coming out of it? That’s an “E”. PRESS IT.) It wasn’t long until somebody suggested

that Winehouse, having lived a mess and died at the golden age of 27, should be canonised forever in the 27 Club. Glossy magazines seized on the headline, and whether we like it or not, the Jewish soul singer has been promoted to join the ranks of icons like Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison.

The curse of 27 The 27 Club, also known as the Forever 27 Club by sentimental wanks, typically consists of seven famous musicians

all immortalised at the age of—you guessed it—27. Before Winehouse, the most recent addition was Kurt Cobain in 1994, who some (myself included) feel was more deserving of the accolade, having actually managed to perform coherently on stage in his lifetime. Soz Amy. The seven are linked by their musical talents, trainwreck lifestyles and public downfalls, spurring speculation that a combination of drugs and fame is responsible for all seven deaths. But plenty of rock stars overdose. So why is it that these seven were all taken at the same age?

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Simon Paine, founder and author of website www.forever27.co.uk, has posted a collection of myths and conspiracy theories about the untimely deaths of so many pop cultural icons. Apparently Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin and Brian Jones—all original members of the 27 Club—had, in their possession at the time of their deaths, a white BIC lighter. All four of them died before 1972, and BIC lighters weren’t invented until 1974, which immediately points to either bullshit or time travel. You choose. Other conspiracies include the return of Saturn, bringer of suffering,

into our zodiacs between the ages of 27 and 30, or the fact that the New Testament has 27 books. These conspiracies are so ridiculous that one is left to wonder—is the 27 Club really a mysterious collective of chosen souls, or just an unlucky coincidence?

Is it real? A week after Winehouse’s death, Brian Dunning posted on www.skepticblog.org some statistics pertaining to rock star death and the 27 Club. The results were, predictably, random. Musicians’ death by age spiked and plummeted indiscriminately; just as many musicians died at age 38 as at 27, but Dunning pointed out the obvious absence of a 38 Club. The causes of death for musicians were also measured against one another, with heart attack, drug overdose and suicide the leading causes by a mile. Speculates Dunning, “I’d expect the stereotypical causes (drug overdoses, suicide) to strike musicians more often, and probably at younger ages when they’re not yet accustomed to the pressures of life as a rock star. For this reason, I think it’s probable that we’d find musicians are more likely to die in their twenties than the population at large.” That makes sense. All seven members of the 27 Club had issues with fame, whether (like Winehouse) they detested the paparazzi, or just rooted groupies in droves and then couldn’t get rid of them. So maybe we can just put it down to a human failure to deal with the pressure of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Wait a minute. Failure to deal with sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll? Can that be? In our twenties is that not all we want? They’re living the dream, man! There has to be more to it than that. A chap with the username Trimegistus agrees with Dunning, but frames his argument in terms of numbers, posting, “it’s kind of inevitable, if you think about it. Nobody’s going to become a good professional rocker until about age 18… it takes about 5 years to ‘pay your dues’ and get successful, that puts you at 23. At that point… the dough starts rolling in. Spend a year getting drunk or high, then a year in rehab, get hooked on harder stuff and it’s two years to overdose. Basically, if you’re predis-

posed to substance abuse, 27 is about when you’ll have the opportunity to die of your addiction.” Check yo age. I’m 23 and the dough sure ain’t rolling in. Fuck you, Trimegistus. But anyway.

What does that mean for us? The downfall of Amy Winehouse has brought back to public attention the escalating use of illicit drugs among Australian youth. The 2007 National Drug Strategy Household Survey revealed that 23% of young people aged between 15 and 24 had used illicit drugs in their lifetimes. The same survey showed that the average age for trying cannabis for the first time was 19, moving on to methamphetamines at 21 and ecstasy at 23, mirroring the timeline suggested by our pal Trimegistus. Does this mean that, in his words, “27 is about when you’ll have the opportunity to die of your addiction”? Based on information from the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ 2007 Causes of Death collection, the annual number of drug-related deaths between 2004 and 2006 was 78. Put simply, drugs accounted for 6% of all deaths among young people aged between 15 and 24. Scarily enough, the rate of drug-induced deaths doubled in the next age group— including the age of 27. Time for a reality check.

False idols This leads me to question our idolatry of members of the 27 Club. It’s one thing to hero-worship a brilliant musician and a dictator of popular culture, but we need to separate these things from the habits that eventually killed them. All seven members of the 27 Club, Winehouse included, have given us music that will remain immortally popular—in the weeks since her death, Winehouse’s album Back to Black has already retopped the charts. Perhaps, however, grouping them together in this way is kind of stupid. The 27 Club tells us that cool rock stars die of heroin overdoses and suicide. But wouldn’t you rather be famous for smelling like teen spirit than shooting yourself in the head? O

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THE 27 CLUB: MEMBERS ONLY Robert Johnson Died: August 16 1938, aged 27 years 100 days Cause of death: suspected strychnine poisoning/sold soul to Satan Robert Johnson was an influential blues singer and musician, who supposedly sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his wicked musical talent. The story goes that Johnson took his guitar to a crossroad, where he encountered a large black man a.k.a. the devil. This man-demon took Johnson’s guitar, tuned it, played it and returned it to him, along with supernatural mastery of the instrument. In his song “Me and the Devil”, Johnson wails, “Hello, Satan, I believe it’s time to go” before instructing listeners to “bury my body down by the highway side/So my old evil spirit can catch a Greyhound bus and ride”.

Brian Jones Died: July 3 1969, aged 27 years 125 days Cause of death: Drowning The founding member of the Rolling Stones, Jones lived in the eternal shadow of Mick Jagger’s lips and Keith Richards’ hair. The poor guy’s substance abuse and resultant mood swings and general assholery led to his estrangement and departure from the Stones. Around midnight on July 3, Jones was discovered motionless at the bottom of his swimming pool. The coroner’s report, citing “death by misadventure” as the cause of death, noted that his heart and liver were grossly enlarged as a consequence of drug and alcohol abuse.

Jimi Hendrix Died: 18 September 1970, aged 27 years 295 days Cause of death: Asphyxiation Possibly the world’s most famous

guitarist, Hendrix needs no introduction. The psychedelic demi-god was last seen at a party, being picked up by his girlfriend Monika Dannemann at about 3am. An ambulance was called to her Notting Hill apartment later that morning, at 11.27am. Hendrix had choked on his own red wine vomit—not the best way to go. Dannemann claimed that Hendrix had passed out as a result of having taken nine of her prescription sleeping tablets.

Janis Joplin Died: October 4 1970, aged 27 years 258 days Cause of death: Heroin overdose Singer, songwriter, painter and dancer Joplin died only sixteen days after Jimi Hendrix, which sucked. Alarm bells rang when Joplin failed to show up for a Full Tilt Boogie Band recording session at Sunset Sound Recorders on Sunday October 4. The band’s manager, John Cooke, found Joplin dead on the floor beside her bed. It’s believed that Joplin was accidentally given a stronger hit of heroin than usual, as many of her dealer’s other clients died of overdoses that same week.

where there is evidence of foul play. It is believed he died of heart failure after heavy drug use.

Kurt Cobain Died: April 5 1994, aged 27 years 44 days Cause of death: Suicide by firearm Nirvana’s frontman, founding member and primary songwriter had been using marijuana since the age of 13, and heroin since the age of 21. Cobain made an attempt at rehab in early 1992 after finding out that girlfriend Courtney Love was pregnant, and endured Nirvana’s entire Australian tour suffering withdrawals. He resumed heroin use on his return to New York, and survived an overdose in 1993. Love injected her baby daddy with Narcan rather than calling an ambulance, and Cobain continued to perform with Nirvana until they pulled out of Lollapalooza in 1994 amid speculation of a breakup. Cobain’s body was found in his Lake Washington home the next day, pumped full of heroin and Valium, with a suicide note and a gunshot wound to the temple.

Amy Winehouse

Jim Morrison

Died: July 23 2011, aged 27 years 312 days

Died: July 3 1971, aged 27 years 207 days

Cause of death: Unknown to public

Cause of death: Heart failure Lead singer of the Doors and unfortunate Val Kilmer lookalike, Jim Morrison left behind a life of serial drug use and womanising. He had a long-term relationship with Pamela Courson, was linked to Nico of Velvet Underground fame, regularly banged random fans and even participated in a Celtic Pagan handfasting ceremony with science fiction author Patricia Kennealy. Morrison was found dead in the bathtub of his Paris apartment, and no autopsy was performed as French law only necessitates autopsy

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Made more famous by the paparazzi’s obsession with a trainwreck than her two soul albums, Amy Winehouse appeared to have finally calmed down a bit, with a third album in the works, a new boyfriend and an apparently successful rehab attempt under her belt. That all went out the window with an abysmal performance in Serbia, resulting in a cancelled tour. Winehouse apparently spent her last few hours playing drums into the night, before being found dead in her North London apartment at 3:54pm the next day by her security guard.

A letter To The Adelaide City Council Words: Mitchell Petersen Tym Dear Sir/Madam, I’m interested in disputing a parking expiation notice I incurred on the 20/7/2011 (expiation number 61583715). My objections to the notice are threefold. First, my unconscious mind was betrayed by the effects of Selective Visual Attention and Confirmation Bias. Whilst looking for a parking space I had noticed a vacant space behind a van of an apparently commercial nature which was parked on the south side of Hindley Street. I apologise for not having taken a photograph of the van, but I’m sure your records will show an expiation notice confirming its presence on that evening, the ramifications of which I will explain shortly. Upon looking upwards for signage indicating the nature of the available space, I saw a sign indicating a Loading Zone. As this was appropriate to my purposes, I proceeded to park in the vacant space. Having noticed (less than 10 minutes later) that I had received an expiation notice and again inspected the relevant sign(s) I realised with a start that I had fallen victim to the deceitful effects of what I later came to understand to be Selective Visual Attention and Confirmation Bias. My very brain had deceived itself! Amidst the excitement of locating an apparently viable parking space, I had failed to take into account the patently obvious “Taxi Zone” sign which lay immediately below the “Loading

Zone” sign, and which was in effect at the time in question. Calamity! I have subsequently undertaken almost three weeks’ research on the topic in an attempt to further understand my own mental shortcomings and better myself as a human being. In the initial 15-20 minutes of that period of research I stumbled across David Laberge’s “Spotlight Theory”, which describes visual attention as having a focus, a margin, and a fringe1. The focus is an area that extracts information from the visual scene with a high-resolution, the geometric centre of which is where visual attention is directed. Surrounding the focus is the fringe of attention which extracts information in a much more crude fashion (i.e. low-resolution). This fringe extends out to a specified area and this cut-off is called the margin2 (pictured). As a result, the actual image (also pictured), would have appeared somewhat differently (also pictured). Further research yielded information on something psychologists refer to as Confirmation Bias. This phenomenon has been reported anecdotally since time immemorial, beginning most notably with the Greek historian and philoso1 Eriksen, C; Hoffman, J. (1972). “Temporal and spatial characteristics of selective encoding from visual displays”. Perception & Psychophysics 12 (2B): 201–204. 2 LaBerge D. (1983). “Spatial extent of attention to letters and words”. Journal of experimental psychology: Human perception and performance 9 (3): 371–379.doi:10.1037/0096-1523.9.3.371.

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Margin

Fringe

Focus Fig. 1: Spotlight Theory pher Thucydides3 (c. 460 BC – c. 395 BC) (classical fresco pictured). In brief, this is a natural tendency for people to favour information that confirms their preconceptions or hypotheses regardless of whether the information in question is true4. The biases appear to apply in particular to emotionally significant issues, such as the aching desire to find a vacant parking space on a crowded city street on a chilly July night in Adelaide5. It seems obvious to me now that, having noticed a van of a commercial appearance and significant potential for “loading” in the vicinity of the vacant 3 David Perkins, a geneticist, coined the term “myside bias” referring to a preference for “my” side of an issue. (Baron 2000, p. 195) 4 Plous 1993, p. 233 5 Taber, Charles S.; Lodge, Milton (July 2006), “Motivated Skepticism in the Evaluation of Political Beliefs”, American Journal of Political Science (Midwest Political Science Association) 50 (3): 755–769,doi:10.1111/j.1540-5907.2006.00214.x, ISSN 0092-5853

Fig. 2: Signs

Fig. 3: Signs, as seen by me

Fig. 4: Classical fresco of Thucydides

space, I rapidly made the conclusion that the space was likely to be of the Loading Zone variety and subsequently interpreted the signage as denoting a Loading Zone due to the twin deceitful presences of Selective Visual Attention and Confirmation Bias, whose capacity to deceive and swindle have never been more shocking to me.

only very recently been a measly $22.

individuals6.

Thirdly, and in confluence with my second point, I am currently but an impoverished student living within a budget of some $100 per week until I become eligible for youth allowance on the 1st of January, 2012. My dinners over the past four weeks have consisted of either a simple bean soup (pictured) or a basic omelette (also pictured). I have even been forced to forsake my beliefs in the ethical and culinary superiority of humanely produced eggs and purchase cage eggs, as I find that free range eggs are rather pricey. In addition, Australian free range legislation (or as I like to call it, “l-egg-gislation”) is rather lax, and prone to abuse by unscrupulous

Thank you for taking the time to read my request. I hope you will consider it kindly.

My second point of objection is that I am puzzled by the size of the financial penalty being asked by the expiation notice. Forgive me for expressing an unqualified opinion, but $107 seems a tall order, especially given that the standard penalty for contravening a parking restriction within the jurisdiction of the Adelaide City Council is but $43, having

Fig. 5: Simple bean soup

With many kind regards, Mitchell Petersen Tym

6 http://www.abc.net.au/landline/content/2006/ s1692262.htm

Fig. 6: Basic Omelette Pictures: somnoliento /http://www.flickr.com/photos/somnoliento smiteme / http://www.flickr.com/photos/smiteme

Volume 79, Issue 9

Damn Kid s Get off My R oad Young people : drivin g chan Words : Stell ges... a Cr awfo rd

/ Illust

In recent years,

the improvements to the public transport system have been made against a backdrop ofconstant stigma against youth driving. While a lot of young people have their driving licence regardless, there is always a pressure to justify why exactly youth should drive. Each time your registration becomes due, or you notice that the rates for parking on Victoria Drive have increased, the question is raised again. Should youth driving be easier or harder? A considered answer to the question requires an honest look at the motivations for driving, and the effects of youth driving on society.

While I can’t tell you the exact reasons why you drive, I can suggest that there are a few common characteristics that if you drive, you will most likely share. Either: 1. 2. 3.

You are living at home with your parents, You are working part time, or You live a significant distance outside of the city.

Accurate modelling suggests that at minimum, two of the three above are required for you to, on the balance of

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ratio n:

A le x W

ielan d

probabilities, drive.* To start with the start, it is immensely difficult to rack up the driving hours required to progress to your P’s (something like 70 now — weren’t the good old days of 50 pretty sweet?) unless you are living with a qualified adult driver. If that weren’t reason enough for living * I am probably obligated to tell you this may or may not be complete bullshit.

at home being a requirement, there is the additional fact that most people get their first car by appropriation: using the family one so much that, in practice, it becomes theirs. Working is the second reason, primarily

because driving is expensive. Petrol prices alone are enough to transform most people that drive into obsessive compulsives. Calculating the maximum distance

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it is worth driving to obtain the

cheapest petrol is transforming into the national sport. The mere process of getting your licence involves forking out several hundred dollars; when you count in rego, and insurance and getting it serviced, a car is pretty difficult to maintain. Additionally, getting to work and back is pretty often a primary reason for wanting to drive. Most people can deal with getting to uni on public transport, as the focus of the system is on routes going in and out of the city, but for getting to work across suburbs, transport can be terribly ineffective.

The third, the distance from the city, comes down to necessity. The further from the city you are, the more irregular mass transit options are, the less viable cycling or walking are. The hills dwellers among us have been, in my experience, the most prompt and regular in the pursuit of driving legality. I said at the beginning that two out of those three had to be invoked. Aside from attempting to make my model seem sophisticated, this also was to try and convey the idea that they all overlap. Not working or having money might not be an issue if you’re living at

home and your parents are willing to help you, but those parents might only be keen to help you because you live a long way out of town and they’re sick to death of driving you to the bus stop. Youth driving is a complex issue, then, seeing as how our ability to drive is necessarily linked to our holding a favourable position in life. People less fortunate in housing or work will simply not be capable of using driving as a means of transport – and while this sounds a bit obvious, the fact that it’s an element of privilege means we should take a serious look at how we use it.

To explain by example, the more of us legal drivers that drive to uni and back every day, the less passengers on the bus, and in the long term, the less buses available. The more we are willing to pay for parking in town, the more space in town the Adelaide City Council is prepared to invest in car parks. Which means less public space for those that don’t drive. The filtered down effects of our decisions are visible in society at large – 5.6% of the State Government revenue for 2011 -12 budget will go to transport, of that, by my count, 80.8 million will

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go on public transport related projects, and 67.9 million on road maintenance and upgrades. The State Government is responsible for transport infrastructure and maintenance, but ideally they engage in major projects with the support of the local council. The Adelaide City Council was involved in the roll out of the city tram network; if they weren’t it would have been nigh impossible to achieve. The Council 2011-12 budget allocates more than 20% of available funds to building an ‘Accessible and Connected City’. The spending is said to be in order to meet the goal of making a universally

accessible city, and while funds are still being allocated to both on and off-street parking, this policy is pretty consistent, and certainly fits with the support of the tram network. Hence, together the two governments present a vision of public transport as a vital, beneficial part of the system. The government acts on reflections on the current makeup of society, in that they aim to cater to the needs and wants of the populous, but they also attempt to direct those actions in the future. When it comes to getting to uni,

Youth Driving

most of us uni students rely on public transport to some extent. Driving into the city is almost universally perceived as expensive, inefficient and slow. It’s always difficult to get a spot when you actually need one, and the fees for parking are immense. The negative pressures (or ‘push’ factors) of inconvenience and expense are, however, not the only factors at play. Our choices are also partly determined by the ‘pull’ factors: public transport being cheap, convenient and reliable. In the relationship between private and public transport, the balance between the ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors, however,

is a difficult one to strike. If a government makes it too difficult to drive cars, without instituting a viable alternative, life can get very difficult indeed. On the flip side, it’s not possible for a government to provide only ‘pull’ factors. They simply can’t afford to commit to a large outlay on, say, a city tram line, without any promise of use. So the push factors of higher parking costs and registration serve as a negative motivator – pushing people into using the new system, and as an added bonus also provide the funding to subsidise the development. So, given this, should we support

measures that make it easier for youth to drive? Well, I would argue that the importance of the public transport system is difficult to overstate; it is a public service in both name and nature. It is more universally available than any other form of transport, and when run well, provides universal benefits in a way that driving cars can never achieve. Everybody driving cars inevitably leads to shortages of space, as ordinary uses compete with the need for roads and car parks, and more and more of our shared space is given over to the people that

drive. Trains and buses, but trains especially, don’t detract from shared space to benefit the privileged, but actually benefit the less fortunate more so than those that can afford to drive. A developed public transport system underpins the themes of equal opportunity that run through our political rhetoric. Here is where we get into the socialist vibes of the issue. Promoting public transport above private forms means that the better off are forced into giving up freedom in favour of a benefit to everyone, and so to develop such a transport system is to bring about pretty

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radical social change. The more trains and buses are used, the more those forms of transport take precedence over others. Considering, though, that it is the least fortunate in society that have the least private space of their own, it would seem reasonable that the public space available was used for purposes that suited them. Historically, the first to adapt to large of social changes have been youth, simply because they haven’t yet internalised the patterns of behaviour that make it so very hard to change thinking patterns. Certainly youth are overrepresented in the public transport ridership, and most

people I’ve talked to genuinely wanted to use public transport. We haven’t yet become accustomed to driving. It is simply when public transport lets us down that we look for other options. So I guess my point is this: it’s ok to complain when the council jacks up the price of ticket parking on Victoria Drive, or when the rego expires again. If there’s push but no pull, well, we’re not going anywhere. But if the money is going to better, cheaper, more reliable and more frequent public transport, well, don’t complain to me. O

The London riots Next person to make a Kaiser Chiefs reference gets their car torched... Words: Sam Deere / Photography: Joshua Nicholas

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London has a long history of rioting. Sure, in typical British style, some of them were a bit quaint; in 1268, the tailors and the goldsmiths got all up in each other’s shit, and in 1391 some townsfolk apparently got a bit hot under the collar about a loaf of bread and started breaking things. However, many of these riots have been brutal. Scores have been killed in the streets, many more hanged or tortured for their involvement. The images we now see of London burning, rendered in all their terrifying glory through stuttering, low-resolution mobile phone video cameras, certainly have a historical precedent. On the 4th of August, as part of a sting operation, police shot and killed Mark Duggan, an alleged drug dealer and gang member. Duggan was armed, but subsequent tests indicate he hadn’t fired his gun. Two days later, Duggan’s family led a protest to the Tottenham police station, demanding information. While the Duggan’s remained peaceful, a small contingent broke off and started torching police cars. All hell broke loose. *** What makes someone do this kind of thing? We’ll it depends who’s putting in their two cents — the commentariat has exploded with theories. If you’re Prime Minister David Cameron, the situation can be explained away as ‘mindless criminality’. The sentiment is echoed by hundreds of devastated business owners and terrified residents, whose livelihoods and lifestyles have been shattered by the violence: ‘Where are their parents?’ ‘These kids are scum, rats, feral.’ The Bishop of Manchester suggests nothing less than an ‘erosion of public morals’. Of course, maybe you’re of a more ideological persuasion. Maybe you remember the 1985 riots in Broadwater Farm (one suburb over from Tottenham), or other violent Thatcher-era strikes. Maybe you’ve seen footage of Syria, Libya or Egypt, and made a few connections. If that’s the case, you’re likely

to see this as a social movement, an upwelling of fuck-the-man, V for Vendetta style anarchism; the underclass rising up, united, against the shackles of a repressive, capitalist society. Sure, there aren’t too many class-conscious ringleaders, and most people seem to be trying to acquire fancy shoes and widescreen TVs — icons of aspirational consumerism. Still, if you’ve been waiting since 1836 for the revolution to arrive, you’re probably ready to claim anything as a sign. No explanation seems too farcical. Authorities are investigating ways of restricting access to social media, like Twitter (because, as we know, social movements just don’t happen without Web 2.0). People are quick to point fingers. Can the destruction be the result of poor parenting? Poor values? Simply being poor? Nearly 70% of Britons attributed the riots to either ‘criminal behaviour’ or ‘gang culture’, according to one poll. And of course this is true, almost by definition. Arson, looting and violence are all criminal offenses. But to write off a tendency towards social unrest as an immutable part of a person’s character is to ignore the underlying causes. Such explanations focus on symptoms, and not the disease. And the cure will not be found by cracking down on social networking sites. The underlying sickness that pervades the underprivileged echelons of British society is not one of law and order. Consider the counterpoint — why don’t people commit crime? Why do people follow trite social conventions that advocate against stealing a bunch of shiny stuff then torching the joint’? It’s not like it would take much to throw a brick through a shopfront here in Adelaide. Put simply, it’s worth a lot to me if everyone conforms. I sleep much better at night knowing that my neighbour won’t break into my house and take my TV. Call it mutual respect, a social contract, or the logical extension of our species’

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penchant for game theory. Perhaps we could just go ahead and call it society. We care about society, because society cares about us. Society offers us protection from harm; it offers us friends, houses, and entertainment. The people in the underclasses of Britain have been pushed out by society. Riot hotspots like Tottenham, Brixton, Croydon and Hackney (not to mention Manchester and Liverpool) are all associated with high unemployment. The British obsession with CCTV, and a police force that disproportionately subjects people in poorer areas to random search-and-seizures, has hardly engendered respect for the rule of law. It’s unsurprising that Cameron doesn’t really want to engage: after all, his government imposed a suite of harsh austerity measures, dramatically reducing social benefits, public housing, access to education, and public sector jobs. Whatever the long-term gains of reducing public debt, the short-term effects have been devastating. This isn’t to condone the violence, or make excuses for it. Rioters know that their actions are wrong, and the justice system needs to protect society from this kind of unrest. However, when the UK government’s only response is a stock-standard ‘tough on crime’ approach — be that an increased police presence, imposing ever more punitive sentences, or (as one bureaucrat has suggested) removing anonymity provisions for youth offenders — we’re not exactly reinventing the wheel here. Britain needs to reach out to those on the margins, not ostracise them further. Social inclusion isn’t just a bleeding-heart buzzword — it’s the foundation on which the desire to behave like an upstanding citizen is built. Faced with no future, is it any wonder that some people find it hard to care about property rights, or propriety? For many of these young Britons, joining the mob is about as empowered as they’ve ever felt. O

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Unseen academicals Unusual views on campus... Photography: Andrew Burley

Volume 79, Issue 9

Anechoic chamber, Engineering North A series of tubes, Chemical Engineering

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The Reading Room, Barr Smith Library The view from the top, Schultz L12

Volume 79, Issue 9

Local Band bio

Slave girls from beyond infinity Words: Rory Kennett-Lister “Slave Girls From Beyond Infinity” might, at first glance, seem like a deliberately obtuse ‘zany’ band name nefariously designed to sick in your brain like a crampons into an ice drift. But on seeing the five-piece live, it becomes obvious that the name is perfect — except for maybe the ‘girls’ bit. Interestingly, the guys planned on forming a doom metal band, but quickly found themselves ill equipped, literally. As synth-man and vocalist Simon Vine explains, “We started off with the vague idea of playing heavier music, but we really didn’t have the equipment to make it heavy enough. So we added intensity on other levels.” What has resulted is band prone to repetition, psychedelic freakouts, and awesomeness. The band play long, loosely structured pieces that forgo archaic concepts like ‘verses’ and ‘choruses’, opting instead for wacked-out journeys into psychedelic oblivion. But it’s not just a bunch of unwashed dudes stooped over their guitars making whale-noises — all their songs have a cathartic, bodily affect on the audience. This is, in part, due to the solid, repetitive foundation that forms the basis of the sonic voyages. These guys are, if you will, ‘slaves’ to the beat. Simon Vine, Slave Girls synth and vocal guru, explains that the band “use that kind of repetition as a form of meditation.” Mention of meditation may have you meditating on the music of Enya, but Slave Girls won’t put you to sleep. This is where ‘beyond infinity’ comes in. Around the unyielding bass and drums of Tom Hutton and Joseph Blackwell, guitarists Patrick Keeley and James DeLorger entwine melody and dissonance

like the snakes of the Rod of Asclepius. Through the noise, Vine’s vocals pulse like some yogic mantra pushing out into the void. Though influenced by psych trailblazers Acid Mothers Temple and Hawkwind, Slave Girls also draw inspiration from more unexpected fields. On ‘Palace of the Skeleton Sultan’, Vine “sings in a vaguely raga-ish scale,” thereby bringing ancient Indian classical music into modern Adelaidian freakouts. Vine and DeLorger have also taught themselves Tibetan throat singing, though this is yet to make it into the Slave Girls live set. Though the band has yet to get an EP together, there are plans to do so. For now you’ll have to be content to seek them out at one of Adelaide’s premier dingy pubs — the Exeter, the Metro, the Crown & Anchor, etc. But this is, quite frankly, the best way to experience Slave Girls. A few weekends ago, crammed into the Metro beer-not-quite-a-garden-not-quite-aroom, I had the privilege of seeing the band, dressed in suits — it was Keeley’s birthday; don’t expect that shit every time — rattling the walls with sonic bombast. They played three songs, all of them over 15 minutes, and not once was I bored. Halfway through the second track I found myself manically bobbing my head while thinking about whether the (hypothetical) creatures that live in the Spindle Galaxy are likely to have record players to play Mozart’s 5th when Voyager 1 or 2 crashes into their unassuming planet. “Wait,” I thought, “what the hell am I thinking about?” Then I looked up and saw the band sweating into musical ecstasy. I realised I’d been flung into the infinite, and we were still only halfway there. O

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MYTH

It’s a dance dance revolution.

Words: Joel Parsons

Choosing a career

path can be difficult, and this is particularly so when one is interested in making one’s passion for creative ex-

pression a basis for a career.

A successful

creative vocation is perceived as an intimidating prospect.

An artist’s path

is notoriously

fraught with difficulty, false starts, and disappointments.

Let us consider a bleak sign of the times. The ABC has recently cut funding to arts programming. Art Nation, hosted by Fenella Kernebone, has been relegated to Auntie’s cutting room floor, while other programs have been left at the mercy of some independent production company. Now this is complete speculation, but I

don’t for example, see Southern Star Endemol (Wipeout, Gladiators, Deal or No Deal) producing an exposé on the icons of Australian public art for the ABC. Has interest in art really dwindled to such an extent that even ABC viewers aren’t interested in it anymore? Will you

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find, whilst withering away in front of a black box running Windows XP and some tediously decrepit administration software, that when you break your tether to the desk in the hope of absconding to the circus, they’ve all been sold off to Ten for revision and rebranding as reality television?

Of course, the answer is no. I can report that the performing arts still exist. Erin Fowler is a young Adelaide dancer and choreographer on the verge of a career in the performing arts. A recent graduate of the Adelaide College of the Arts, Erin has found herself performing in, and choreographing her first ever full length work, MYTH with fellow dancers Mikaila Roe and Jessie Oshodi. Erin has been dancing since the age of four, and while it has been an ongoing passion, dance as a career was never a certain path. “For a while there I was trying to see how I could still stay in the dance industry. I was looking at doing physiotherapy, doing journalism to be an arts journalist, or psychology. I started a psychology degree because I was interested in dance psychology. After a while I thought perhaps I should just go and do dance, which was the best decision I could have made.” For a period, modeling commitments saw Erin travel overseas, which acted as a brief hiatus from dance. “It kind of shifted the focus without me even realizing, but looking back I think having a couple years break wasn’t such a bad thing because it made me realize that that’s what I missed and that’s what I really wanted to do” I wondered about the supposed “Adelaide Factor”. It is undeniable that the bulk of creative industries in Australia predominantly operate interstate. Often what results is “Melbourne Syndrome” — the perception that it’s all happening “over there”. If you want to make it, you have to make it on the east coast. But is this notion of Adelaide as a cultural vacuity really justified? Erin’s experience so far seems to suggest that, contrary to prevailing impression, it is possible to lay a solid foundation for a performing arts career in Adelaide. While the overarching nature of the business frequently means that “you can be in full time work for three months and then not know what’s going to happen”, being savvy in seeking

out funding can assist greatly in getting a good start. As Erin explains, “I’ve been really lucky in receiving small amounts of funding from different sources. I got a JUMP mentorship at the beginning of the year and then there’s the Helpmann Academy which funds recent graduates. I think tapping into grants that are specifically for emerging artists, rather than just jumping out into the big wide world where everyone is, really works well.” Of the “Adelaide Factor”, Erin suggests that it can be beneficial. “I’m working here at Australian Dance Theatre and they’ve been supporting me by giving me rehearsal space. There’s a lot of people in SA in the industry who have supported me so I think perhaps being a slightly smaller market and city than, say, some of the bigger cities, has worked to my advantage.” I was also interested to see how Erin views her craft, particularly in the current cultural environment. Reflecting on the apparent cacophony of messages and forms of communication currently used in contemporary society, can dance pierce through the noise? Why is it unique? “Dance has the capability to communicate quite differently to the other art forms, and I guess that works to its advantage. But it is also part of the reason that it maybe alienates a part of the community, because its quite an abstract art form. People have to create their own interpretations and their own meanings, as opposed to say, a play where, while you can still take your own interpretation, it’s quite kind of clear about what they’re doing. Dance can be quite abstract. If you can find a way to help people access that, I think it can be quite powerful when you connect your own experience and you can draw from it what relates to you.” The clutter of communication, specifically the proliferation of preconceived identities and roles within it, is also a theme in Erin’s work. MYTH is described

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as an exploration of the many representations of the female ‘species’ and how women are often portrayed in ‘perfect’ and unattainable ways. The work uses tongue-in-cheek David Attenborough style narration as a vehicle to explore the proliferation of various mythic images of women. “In the work, we investigate or tap into a few key images that stood out to me or seemed inspiring, and I guess just look into those myths. We have the Goddess at the beginning which is the ancient figure of femininity, then we go more to the Broadway beauty and that sort of excessive perfection. Perfection is a real theme as well. In a lot of these mythical images its that perfection which is beautiful and wonderful, but I guess I was looking at what effect that has.” Erin is quick to point out that the show is not offering of critique of beauty itself, but is exploring the effect of idealised images and their ability to restrict one’s behavior and perception of choice. “I guess it’s something that I’ve found, especially now that I’m investigating, realising how much it does influence all of us. A lot of it is subconscious and perhaps you might not realise that that’s why you’re making that decision. I’m not really trying to criticise beauty or any of those things, but more just the way that society is moving into these excessive images or perfection, and wondering what kind of an effect that has on people, when they feel like they have to conform.” For those starting out in any performing arts career, Erin believes that while it can be difficult, the first step is perhaps the most important, that is to give it a go. “You don’t know quite where it will lead you – I didn’t expect to be creating a full length work the year after I graduated. I guess it’s just ignoring the part of you that’s going ‘I can’t do that”. O

MYTH is at Nexus Cabaret from August 24-27.

Volume 79, Issue 9

Splendour in the Grass A few weeks ago I went to Splendour in the Grass for the first time, with a couple of close mates from high school. For the second year it was held in Woodford – about 80km north of Brisbane – after being temporarily relocated from Byron Bay, while a swankier permanent festival site is built there. Splendour is one of Australia’s biggest music festivals. Held over three days and providing a vast area on which to camp, it offers huge variety of international and homegrown artists . Admittedly, it is not cost friendly to uni students travelling from Adelaide when one calculates the requisite funds needed for the ticket (over $500 if camping), return flights to Brisbane and money for food and booze. On top of that, due to a ridiculously early return flight on Monday morning, we hired a car from the airport for the weekend which had an excess of $6000 attached to it if it sustained ANY form of damage, regardless of who was culpable. Having said all of this, the experience was certainly worth sacrificing several weeks wages. So now I’m going to blow your minds by taking the conventional approach of describing my festival experience chronologically (say what?!?), beginning with the Thursday. After obtaining the keys from the condescending car rental lady at Brisbane airport and suspiciously eying every motorist who came within a 20 metre radius of our vehicle, we arrived at Caboolture. Here we bought supplies, i.e. food and water, and proceeded to Woodfordia, the festival site. (I should point out that a bus service is available to take revellers from the airport directly to the festival. Upon entry our car was not searched for alcohol, despite warnings from past festival-goers, meaning we could have smuggled beer into the compound. Perhaps the raids

were random. Pitching the tent was relatively straight forward — thankfully it didn’t collapse at any point during the weekend — and we met our friendly bearded neighbour. A direct saunter from tent to entrance took 10-15 minutes with another 15 to get to the amphitheatre – the main stage. (Unsurprisingly, we got lost when walking from our campsite to the festival entrance for the first time.) Inside the festival grounds were the usual collection of food stalls, makeshift bars and hippie clothes outlets. Since there was nothing happening on the primary stages, the first night was pretty chilled for most, unless you were one of those intent on burning a hole in your wallet to get successfully inebriated and dance like a jerk at one of the bars featuring a DJ. We attempted to frequent one of these bars to be “where it’s at” but my always reliable friend left his ID in the car and our wristbands were not sufficient, so we called it an early night. With the ludicrously overpriced ticketing system to purchase alcohol and our complete inability to pick-up the ladies, it really was all about the music for us — neither the fairer sex nor drunken stupor proving to be distractions from taking in the performances over the following three days. On Friday we got to the amphitheatre early to support the opening act, the Splendour Unearthed winner Millions, who put on a solid performance followed by the equally capable British Sea Power. In an amusing incident the drug squad and sniffer dog leeched onto my Asian mate just outside the festival entrance, possibly because of Panadol in his back pocket. As a result he was interrogated by a couple of undercover macho men for 5 minutes while I pretended to put my partial legal education to use, ensuring his civil liberties weren’t violated. I

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maintain the dog racially profiled my dear friend. After all, we were in Queensland. Or, we could have been stopped because of the sachet of heroin taped to his buttocks. After luncheon we saw Jebediah, as the hill and mosh pit started to fill up. The highlight of the afternoon was James Blake, who beautifully delivered his soulful vocals over his recognisable keyboard chord arrangements, electronic backing and serious, earth-shaking bass. It was a shame that apathetic members of the crowd felt the need to talk throughout the entire performance. Soon after we made our way to the GW McLennan tent to see over-hyped Boy and Bear. We had to settle for standing at the back, just outside the tent, because we got there as they were starting. As expected, they played songs from their forthcoming debut album (which has now been released) and their Crowded House cover, ‘Fall At Your Feet’, had the entire audience singing while making the hairs on my arms and neck stand up. We caught the second half of Eskimo Joe’s enthusiastic set at the amphitheatre as we secured a prime spot on the hill near the standing area. Modest Mouse, a band I knew little about, were on next and delivered a balanced performance with a laid back attitude and some great jams. Predictably, ‘Float On’ got everyone moving and joining in. The Hives put on an impressive, high-intensity set with their brilliant showmanship and frenetic garage punk. They also played new stuff which didn’t disappoint, as the front man polled the crowd on whether certain songs should be included on their next album. Finally, Kanye West laid down the best performance of the festival with an entrance in the middle of the mosh pit and the use of a dozen female dancers. The absence of Jay-Z, de-

Words / Photography: Tom Macura spite being sighted at the airport and rumoured to be performing, didn’t detract from the spectacle. Kanye performed a sensible mix of classics and tracks from his latest album while managing a change of outfits and effectively command the stage. He interacted with the crowd just enough, passionately and clearly delivered his lyrics and dedicated the performance to his late mother. As you might imagine, the state of the bathrooms was not great and queues formed for showers during peak times. My tip to you is this: don’t shower. You can get buy on baby wipes and deodorant and this gives you the full festival experience while helping the environment by saving water. After 2 days you’re halfway there and you get used to it. Saturday’s line up was the weakest but there were some fun acts during the day. Jinja Safari played some infectious beats and the frontman ended the set by crowd surfing before running between the spectators on the hill, followed by the majority of the mosh pit. Scottish punk band Dananananaykroyd were highly entertaining and orchestrated a ‘wall of death’ in the standing area. Foster the People easily managed to get the crowd dancing and singing along to their electro-infused sunny pop tunes. Kele’s highly energetic set was impressive; he constantly interacted with the crowd between songs and included a few Bloc Party hits. I couldn’t get into the Mars Volta because of the whining, incomprehensible vocals and over-indulgent endless songs, but I’m sure their fans were satisfied. However, I enjoyed the set by Gomez, a band I knew nothing about, who played accessible all-American rock infused with country and blues elements. Afterwards, we patiently waited

for Regina Spektor while crammed next to her weird fans near the front of the stage in the McLennan tent. I had high expectations but it was a mixed performance. Twice she made an error and stopped, relying on the jetlag card which doesn’t pass muster, considering she is a professional musician and all. Some of her songs, including ‘Samson’ and ‘Fidelity’ were lovely, but her quirky cuteness and sense of humour was largely lost on me. What we saw of the Jane’s Addiction set back at the amphitheatre was pretty underwhelming — they have clearly passed their peak. Another festival tip: make sure your posse wears easily identifiable clothes as it is easy to lose your mates at night – particularly if it is your round at the amphitheatre. However, do not wear an animal suit. You won’t be the only one and you’ll look like a douche. Funny hats are acceptable. Sunday’s line-up didn’t disappoint with an impressive start by Grouplove — a Californian band I thought I knew nothing about before recognising three of their infectious songs. Hungry Kids of Hungary and Cloud Control fulfilled my expectations as a fan who has seen them before. It was amusing to see them both bribe the crowd with beach balls. The spontaneous dancing and running up and down the hill by an increasingly sizeable contingent of people also added to the festival vibe. I just wanted to see someone fall and cause a hilarious domino effect. The Middle East delivered a moving set, one of the festival highlights, filled with their beautiful harmonies before dramatically announcing it was their last EVER performance. Towards the conclusion of the last song, the band members individually threw their instruments to the floor and exited the stage, leaving the member who is allegedly responsible

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for the break up, due to his desire to pursue a solo career, to close the set. The all-British affair at the amphitheatre to wind up the festival was a lot of fun with the swaying music and soaring vocals of Elbow setting up a lively Kaiser Chiefs performance that produced their sing along hits and plenty of charisma from the frontman. This was exceeded by the showmanship of Pulp who excellently delivered their sultry pop-rock before an amazing show by Coldplay which included a break to celebrate drummer Will Champion’s birthday, with cake and balloons. Coldplay played songs from their upcoming album in addition to emotionally charged classics such as ‘the Scientist’ and ‘Fix You’ which were ably supported by the crowd – myself included. Getting out of the venue was somewhat of a nightmare in the early hours of the morning – at least we packed up the tent early on Sunday – but we arrived at the airport well before our flight, even having the luxury of getting a couple of hours sleep in the rentals car park. It was interesting to see Jarvis Cocker from Pulp at the airport with his family only a few hours after performing in front of over 10,000 people. I’m proud to say I wasn’t one of the jerks who felt the need to acknowledge his presence. Overall, the experience was hugely enjoyable, despite passively inhaling 5kgs of dust. It was after returning to Adelaide and reflecting on the festival that I realised I’ve genuinely fallen in love with music. I’ve had an open mind for a while in terms of appreciating diverse genres and new artists but I finally understand the importance that music has in the world. Or whatevs. Here’s to the next festival. O

Square MEals

The Royal Hotel / Hackney Gourmet Deli Words: George Stamatescu

HGD: Nothing but love and good food at glorious prices Hello, everyone. This week we’re taking a 15 minute walk down north terrace, along Botanic Road and then again onto North Terrace (continued, confusingly). We’re investigating a hot spot, the Royal Hotel and Hackney Gourmet Deli, which face each other at the beginning of north terrace (cont.), just across from the wine centre. Now, I don’t frequent the Royal or its kind; normally tacky suburban pubs leave me not wanting to eat anything, and the $10 schnitzel and chips (all day everyday) did not seem that great at first glance. It’s a fair hunk of meat, with any sauce you want, but not many chips. But that’s when your eyes fall upon the self serve section; bread rolls, butter, roast pumpkin, sweet and regular potatoes, vegie bake, steamed vegies, and 4 salads (garden salad is constant, the cous cous was a nice change of pace last week). The drawback of this place

is what it is; a tacky pub (and of course the lack of choice on the menu proper, if you want low prices, and you want low prices). You can almost escape reality, sitting out the back, looking at the back of an apartment block across the road. Two old European men sit on this tiny balcony, arguing and smoking for hours, but it’s still a pokie-filled outer suburban pub right next to the city, and pokies are so fucking depressing. If you cross the road to North Terrace House and walk into the deli alongside the Russian store with no customers, you’ll find three charming young ladies serving home cooked meals. The $4.50 soup of the day is huge, and the schnitzel burger at $6.50 isn’t shabby, 3 delicious cold rolls for $5.50, and I’m yet to try the lemongrass chicken roll. The main hot meals you can have come either with chips, or with roast pumpkin, steamed vegies, roast cauliflower with

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cheese and potato bake, which all beat the Royal’s equivalent by a mile. With those you can have roast pork, steak or schnitzel, all under $10 (schnitzel is $8.50, which is amazing). The schnitzel there isn’t one of those huge pub ones where they’ve mashed a couple chickens together, it’s just the individual pieces you’d cook yourself at home, but about the same size as the Royal. So which do you choose? Well, morally you know which way to go. The Royal’s only for you if you’re (typically) a guy and want to eat an unreasonable amount of food, otherwise it’s probably not worth it. The deli’s meal is huge too, and for me, saving $1.50 seals it. The Royal’s special won’t last in its current form, so if you do want a beer with a friend and feel like exploiting the self serve, go nuts, and feel no shame; pokies are the devil. O

Now We’re cooking with garf

Pistachio Biscotti Words / Photography: Garf Chan

I came up with this recipe after baking almond biscotti twice to get it just right. In my second trial, I baked for an elegant lady in her sixties, who likes to spend her afternoons oil painting in her studio. I never choose anything with a lot of butter involved when I have a chance to bake for her, and biscotti, with no butter involved, seems like the perfect option. She said she enjoys my baking, more than the fancy patisseries she usually goes to. As she ate my biscotti with care and grinned like a child, she insisted that she wanted to have another batch. To be honest, I am glad she wanted more biscotti and not the banana cake that I made for her a few months

Dry

Ingredients

ago. Bananas are expensive. At least I can still afford a bag of pistachios (for now…). With our busy lives spent studying, working, hanging out with boyfriends, girlfriends, going to parties… it is easy for us to forget that there are family and friends who truly appreciate our effort in spending time with them (or for them). It is not so much about the effort that one needs to put into cooking, but more about the fact that, for every one of us, it is nice to know that someone out there, no matter how busy they are, remembers us.

Wet

•

150g of pistachio nuts

•

1 teaspoon of almond extract

•

2 cups of plain flour

•

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

•

1 cup of sugar

•

2 eggs (large)

•

½ teaspoon of baking powder

•

1 pinch of salt

Directions 1.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

Preheat oven to 170 degrees. Line a baking tray with baking paper. Roughly chop up pistachio nuts. Place on baking tray and bake for 5 minutes until golden. Place all wet ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Place all dry ingredients in a larger bowl. While using an electric mixer to mix the dry ingredients, mix 1/3 of wet ingredients. Then add 1/3 of wet ingredients to the dry ingredients as the mixture gets a bit crumbly. Let the pistachios cool a little, then sprinkle into the dough. Mix the remaining wet ingredients into the mixture. Use your hands to kneed the dough. It should come together nicely. Separate into 2 balls of dough and form a log shape. Approximately 15cm x 10 cm. Bake for 20-25 minutes in a 150 degree oven. Check whether the centre is still a bit soft. If so, cook it for another 5 minutes or so. Let the logs cool. Then, slice the biscotti into 1cm thick horizontal slices. Place on the baking tray again, and bake for 10- 15 minutes under 170- 180 degrees until light golden brown. When cool, store in an air-tight container. Eat when you have a cup of tea or coffee, or give it to someone you haven’t seen in a while.

Volume 79, Issue 9

ADiaryDay In The Life Entries By Generation Y Heroes Internet Hero

Environmental Hero

Radical Christian Hero

Dear Diary,

Today marks 2 years since I started arguing with xoxBeLiEbEr28xox on a random Justin Bieber YouTube vid and I’m the clear runaway winner. This is by far the most intense of my 19 current YouTube comment fights and I don’t even care that I had to drop out of uni to commit to the argument full time.

I ran out of breast milk ice-cream today. Everyone at VAG (Vegans and Greenies) can’t get enough of the stuff! I’ll have to get the breast pump out tomorrow for Sandy from next door – she’s such a powerful woman. The VAG meeting was successful and we’ve decided that tomorrow we’re going to the Hindley Street McDonalds to protest. We’re going to turn up naked, covered in sunflower seeds, and sing U2 songs until everyone leaves. I’m prepared to do this every day for a year if it means that one McDonalds closes down.

May the peace and love of our Saviour be with you always. My brothers and sisters and I performed God’s work today; we spent 4 hours harassing unwed pregnant women in the abortion ward. Abortion is never the answer and the Lord told us that in Job 10:8-9.

Also YouTube related, Diary, I still hold the top comment on Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On: “More like My Fart Will Go On!” 37 likes, Diary! Hilarious! Other news in short: I am now the admin on 118 Facebook pages; my new record is 14 continuous hours of doing nothing but correcting grammar on Facebook; and my 7 blogs have received a record 3 comments.

Oh Diary I have the best news! 6 months ago VAG stalked state politicians, vandalised bus shelters and kidnapped children to help combat environmental issues and I’m pleased to announce that our hard work has finally paid off: same-sex marriage is now legal in New York!!! I love VAG!!!

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I’ve spent all week spreading His word. I’ve been door knocking, posting online and preaching in the mall trying to save as many lost souls as I can. Lord, if they don’t convert to Christianity they will burn in Hell’s fires for eternity. I think that homosexuals are a lost cause, though. It’s just so eewie what they do! I’m seeing the theory of evolution being referred to more and more these days but people don’t understand it’s just a theory! A CONSPIRACY THEORY! I know for a fact that the world is only a few thousand years old. May the Lord please strike down the non-believers – especially the Buddhists (Buddhists are eewie).

Words: Tom Sheldrick

Radical Atheist Hero

Sick Hero

Dear Diary,

To Diary,

Oh man! Today my favourite atheist, Richard Dawkins, posted the greatest article ever (I reblogged and posted it on Facebook). He basically disproved religion (not that it needs to be disproved) once and for all – man I wish I was that guy! HE’S GREAT!

Got Mike at the shop to start paying me cash so, like, I’m unemployed but got a job still. So, like, I’ll get cash for working but still get Centrelink money too. Can sell mad dope now too coz, like, it’s cool at school and shit again so hell kids are buying it off me. Gonna have enough cash to get my car out of the impound place.

Ok. So I’ve been to, like, 9 different religious seminars (this fortnight) and told as many people there that they’re idiots for believing this crap and that existence is meaningless. There is no God. It’s so obvious and it’s so simple. Any logical person can see there is no God. That’s what I was telling the preacher in Rundle Mall whilst I was throwing eggs at him for an hour. If only they would listen to Richard Dawkins. THAT MAN NEEDS AN AWARD!! Anyway, I now own 7 different proatheist t-shirts and 7 different anti-religion t-shirts so I never have to wear a tshirt that doesn’t insult someone for not being an atheist. It’s great. I can’t wait for a world without religion. Religion is the cause of all wars, did you know? Oh I’ve written this before haven’t I? Anyways, it’s not atheism because there is no religion so there is no atheism and – actually I’ve written this before too.

Can’t believe cops pulled me over, like, shouldn’t they be saving lives and stopping murders and shit? I was only doing 100ish in a 60 but it was, like, 3am so there was no one around besides me and my mate I was racing and my 8 mates in my car. He just had his 21st bday drinks down the pub and I would’ve had 22-25 standards – I can drink so much, bro! His crash didn’t seem that bad coz, like, in movies they still live even if they blow up. I didn’t even crash donno why I got defected and fined and arrested and now I’m here at this cop-station writing this report for some fat pig-officer. Youse pigs better not keep me much longer ay. O

Ok I’m gonna go annoy some religious idiots online at religiousforum.com. I hope logicISatheism and dawkins_for_ world_president are online!

Volume 79, Issue 9

C O L U M N S

Columns

C O L U M N S

Driven To Distraction Words: Elizabeth Flux Slowly it dawned on me. Things were not improving. Look down. Back up. 62km/h and yet Barbimbo was still attempting to

become one with my car. Highway fever: engage. I don’t really think of myself as an unreasonable person in general. So long as you don’t read over my shoulder. Or pronounce maroon wrong. Or argue with me over that one scene where Harry should have Aguamenti’d directly into Dumbledore’s mouth. Or expect me to decide where to have lunch. Unless there is Phở. Whatever. All that aside, when it comes to driving, and in particular, tailgaters, I regress. Not back to teenagerdom, where everything sounds (and somehow looks) like ‘Forever Young’. Not even to childhood (just as well, as for a while there I insisted everyone call me Cinderella and passed my time making fake treasure maps and burying them in my garden). No, somehow, the thousands year old cells in my body remember the good old days where clubbing was how you got dinner, and not a socially

awkward experience, and I hit the accelerator. Or my face against my palm. Or my swear threshold. I’ve now been driving for around three years, and in that time, I’ve had the Tailgater Experience at least once a week. It always begins the same way. Sidetrack just a moment: here I wanted to make some witty remark about how when someone is driving too close, my sixth “spidey” type sense kicks in. However, Peter Parker’s spidey sense isn’t triggered by spiders, so to make a suitable-yet-accurate-phrase for myself, I’d have to say something like “my Liz sense is tingling,” which just made me feel creepy and uncomfortable. Much like I’d imagine wearing earwig-print underwear would be. Anyway, when my rear view mirror fills up with car, my eyes consequently fill with red, and my mouth fills with variably creative profanities. Or M and Ms. I eat M and Ms in my car :) At this point, things can go one of two ways. If the newest potential resident of my boot is smiling and laughing, they get streamed into the blithering oblivious idiot category and the safest route of escape is into the next lane, as usually this category of driver wouldn’t notice if your car was in fact a dragon

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running on cake fuel. If they have their fight face on, despite you actually already being over the speed limit, then generally (and somewhat unfortunately) I always seem to fall into a “Who is the bigger douchebag” competition. I slow down. They tailgate more. I tap my breaks. They back off for about three seconds, then their car decides to demonstrate its degree in Zoosemiotics, majoring in canine, and they’re back in the game. Unfortunately, however, the game is duel lane Monopoly and not Grand Theft Auto, and generally they just change lanes and speed off with sour expressions. Sometimes they speed off into a flashing light and those moments are made of pure unadulterated amazing with a generous helping of schadenfreude, but more often than not I’m just left seething with rage whilst ABBA (or, more recently Sam “The Chairman” Deere’s debut album) plays in the background. O

Dietary Requirements Words: Michelle Bagster For me, this next sentence is a lie: “I have green eyes.” It’s probably a lie for you too, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen proper green eyes before. People who tell me it’s their eye colour often disappoint me with a pale hazel or some kind of grey-blue combo. Then I shake my head in dismay. I often practice this in front of the mirror to get the dismay just right. So I was interested and just a little sceptical when I was told that, whilst I look into a mirror and see mud-coloured eyes looking back at me, my eyes are in fact green waiting to happen. Or at least according to my Mum’s naturopath. And if I stick to this diet, they probably will go green, because the brown in my eyes is a reflection of the lack of purity in the food I eat… or something. This brings me to a topic I try to avoid. For about three years now, I have been bouncing from diet to diet trying to correct some problem that I’m not sure exists anymore. These diets vary depending on what health book my mum is reading at the time, and I have a growing vocabulary of the different obscure “super” foods I’ve tried. Sadly, I was misled by the “super” part of the name. Super foods do not wear tiny capes, They just taste funny. My favourites are chlorophyll

(neon-green plant vomit that will allow me to photosynthesise when I stand in the sun) and macca powder (an exotic ground root vegetable that is allegedly excellent for libido). Of course, every new health book requires some drastic dietary change, because no two are remotely similar. I concede that they often share a “never eat this” column, like chips and chocolate. Dairy is off the menu because cows are evil and the dairy industry is out to kill us all, and of course breads and refined carbs are simply out of the question. The last time I ate alphabet soup the little noodles spelt out “will inflict damage on your vital and lesser organs.” Coincidence to some, but I took it as a sign. But then there are the stark differences. One book had us eating nothing but vinegary chicken broth for breakfast, but the next one said that cooking anything for that long destroys all the good beetles in it. Instead we should all just eat leafy greens. Then yet another book told us that leafy greens are from the “brassia” family, and will destroy our thyroids and turn us into zombies with bad thighs (I assume that’s where your thyroid is). With all this conflicting advice, I have grown to understand that the only way to appease all the naturopaths at once is to eat absolutely nothing at all. But not

Volume 79, Issue 9

for too long because your digestive tract needs to always be digesting something. No wait, you need to have long periods of fasting every day to stay healthy… If this sounds like a rant, that’s because it is. Every time mum comes home from the library or the naturopath, I hold my breath in anticipation. I have been asked why I follow through with this succession of diets. Is it a masochistic urge to torment myself? Do I want to live until technology advances enough to put my brain into a robot? Am I insane? Probably. But I liken it to finding yourself in the middle of a half marathon in a dream (because why would you do a half marathon in real life?). It’s kind of a “I’ve made it this far, I just need to know what’s around this next corner” type of feeling… even though I have the sneaking suspicion that the next corner will have a giant moose behind it, just like the last corner. I just need to be sure. Or maybe I just really want to see how I look with chlorophyll-green eyes. I bet it’s entrancing. O

Procrastinetting The Hard Copy Blog Words: Sujini Ramamurthy

STRANGE

TALES

FROM

THE

INTERNET

Tiny Fuppets - Http://www.tinyfuppets.com/ Yugoslavian porn-parodies aside, I’m not generally into knockoffs of The Muppets, until now .The Tiny Fuppets are ostensibly a Portuguese version of the Muppets (Kormit, Animanuel, Tummi, Gonzor and Ms. Woman) who are barely coherent, yet absolutely hilarious. Blind creator, Arturo Lima, first doodled “Kormit during a fan-boat expedition. He shows the expedition leader, who laughs so hard he falls off the boat! He is quickly rescued and the Fuppets are born.” Hundreds of Fuppets videos (actually six) have followed, Sound the Bells! I can lift eight grams, and escaped an owl today! Type the address into the alphapanel and watch the video of your prefer with the select-orb!

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The Last Meals Project - http://www.lastmealsproject.com/ Brooklyn photographer Jonathon Kambouris has been working on the grim food-photography series, The Last Meals Project, for the past five years. The site pairs photographs of death row inmates with their last meal requests. Notable examples include: James David Autry, convicted of a double murder and executed by lethal injection in 1984. Autry ordered a hamburger, French fries and Doctor Pepper (delish!), convicted murderer Odell Barnes Jnr, executed by lethal injection in 2000, who requested “Justice, Equality and World Peace” for his last supper (lame), and Victor Feguer, executed by hanging in 1963, who sought a single un-pitted olive (ano). It’s dark, but really fascinating.

And Now A Message from the President: Wisdom from the White House http://presidentialmessages.tumblr.com/ America is an American folk rock band which included such musical luminaries as Gerry Beckley, Dewey Bunnell and Dan Peek. You may remember that they had a horse. It had no name. That’s unfortunate. America is also a group of lands in the Western Hemisphere often referred to as the New World. The United States of America has had a large number of Presidents, some of whom have been total babes, and others who apparently have not had wooden teeth (decidedly un-babeing behaviour). If you wanna learn a thing or two about them, check out this site. Did you know that in Mexico, Johnson was knows as El B.J? Or that Hoover is a name synonymous with sucking? You did? Well, have a look anyway. It’s a good one.

Volume 79, Issue 9

Diversions Answers on page 5

Mr Squiggle You should totally go ahead and draw something in the box:

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Diversions Triviarama

Crypt-o-Clues

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Who was the original drummer in The Beatles? Who wrote Anna Karenina? What is the closest relative of the Giraffe? Which is correct: Octopuses, Octopi or Octopodes? How many years has The Simpsons been running? What is the dot over a lower case ‘i’ or ‘j’ called? What is a muddler? With what novel did Salman Rushdie first win the Booker Prize? 9. How many bones are there in the human foot? 10. Currently, how many sovereign countries have the word ‘Guinea’ in their name?

AWKWORD

1. 2. 3.

That broken cane made your face all red (4) The task was tested by God (3) Smell that? Reminds me of that regal Egyptian moan! (9) From this ward you can extract (4) The stag is very precious to me (4) This prize makes reservations (6)

4. 5. 6.

Targedoku

Find as many words as you can using the letters on the Sudoku grid (including a 9 letter word). Words must be four letters or more and include the highlighted letter. Use the letters to solve the Sudoku (normal Sudoku rules apply)

“Lover” What it means: a person having a sexual or romantic relationship with someone, often outside marriage. What it sounds like it means: Though the specific meaning of the word does not change, it is, like flabby legs in sweaty sheets, inextricably tangled with images of heaving, bloated, wrinkled bodies deep in the act of coitus. Reason: The word is one not usually uttered by those under the age of forty. This accounts for some of the Pavlovian synaptic condition that results in the ‘lover-aged’ connection. Though merely a hypothesis, it has been suggested that the word’s frequent usage in Mills&Boon novels — with all their associated mental linkages — accounts for the mental shudder we feel on hearing its accursed syllables.

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Volume 79, Issue 9

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State Of The Union Words of wisdom from your benevolent union president Words: Raff Piccolo

I know what you might be thinking — it’s that painful time of year where the walk across the university becomes that much more difficult. The Barr Smith Lawns are packed with people and perhaps some entertainment. Normally you would be enticed to venture on over and have a gander. However this is not your ordinary event. It’s Student Election time. You might be a little sceptical about the whole process and I can empathise with you somewhat. But I also know that most students get involved because they genuinely want to ensure that your time on campus is all that you want it be. This involves ensuring that the best interests of students are at the forefront of thinking when it comes to the delivery of university services, and development of curriculum structures. eted life. So be sceptical, but don’t just wander past. Get better informed, question, and then cast your vote. Go to our website to access more information and the election broadsheet. On another topic altogether we have seen a rise in the use of social media. It took me some time to come around to recognise the utility that social media can play in the creation of communities and with the spread of information. Needless to say, I am now a convert. However I think we have to be careful about how we use social media, because I believe it is a double edged sword. On the one hand, it is useful for maintaining connections and spreading information and knowledge. However on the other hand, it could lead to social isolation and closeted lives. Moreover it could lead to the degeneration of communities. Firstly, people may begin to favour online connections at the expense of real world connections. As a result they may be unable to ‘unplug’ and hence fail to maintain their real world connections. Furthermore they may fail to maintain the social skills needed to facilitate real world relationships. Also they may become less exposed to real world experiences, nuisances and hassles. Simple tasks may become more distressing or troublesome for the person concerned because of their clos-

The real sense of community is created and maintained through human interaction. It is something that can be complemented by online interaction, but cannot be replaced by the online environment. The spread of social media as a means of communication amongst young people may seem to suggest that young people are less community orientated or concerned about the wellbeing of their fellow human being. I for one do not believe this to be so, however the ever increasing demand for young volunteers would suggest otherwise. If you want to give back to your community, build some real world, meaningful relationships and disconnect from the cyber world for a bit why not consider becoming involved in our V-Connect programme. It will offer you a chance to create the world in which you want to live. Stay tuned for the launch date. O

Need to get in touch with Raff? w: auu.org.au e: auupresident@auu.org.au f: facebook.com/raff.piccolo

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