On Dit Issue 80.5 by On Dit

ON DIT 80.5

contents. featured contributors

letters

open letter: break-up sex

wild horse

president(s)

vox pop

molyjamminâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;

the law school & marriage equality

live below the line

get high (sans drugs)

nasa

krypton disks

telstra

internet sex scandal(s)

how to: sell stuff on craigslist

creative

stuff you like

columns

diversions: bumper edition!

retrospective

Editors: Galen Cuthbertson, Seb Tonkin & Emma Jones Cover photos by Nic Peterkin (writewithlight.com.au). Inside Back Cover poetry by Fletcher. On Dit is a publication of the Adelaide University Union Published 23/04/2012 Visit ondit.com.au, or hit us up on facebook.com/onditmagazine. Go on. You know you want to.

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the gospel of seal, chapter 1

1 In the beginning Seal created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of Seal moved upon the face of the waters. 3 And Seal said, Let there be light: and there was light. 4 And the light hit the gloom on the grey. And the light that he shone could be seen. 5 And Seal said, Let there be a graying tower alone on the sea: and it was so. 6 And then, Seal said, Let me be embodied in a man, and let that man also be called Seal, because as the creator of heaven and earth I am entitled to embody myself in the form of a man and to relish the narrative ambiguity entailed by naming myself myself in both forms: and it was so. 7 And Seal had a face that was scarred like the dark side of the moon. And it was so as a result of a type of Lupus called Discoid Lupus Erythematosus; a condition that specifically affects the skin above the neck. 8 And Seal was kissed by a rose. And the rose was nameth Heidi Klum. And Seal married the rose. And the rose was in bloom. 9 And Seal did not directly begat a child in the beginning, but instead adopted a child that the rose was already begatting. And the Seal was by all accounts a good father to the child. 10 And then the rose and Seal began begatting, and

eventually begat three children in addition to the first. And they were named Helene, and Henry, and Johan, and Lou. And all had many middle names. And none were of note. 11 And Seal walked the earth, and Seal saw that it was good. 12 But then the rose dumped him. And Seal was heartbroken. And Seal walked the earth, and Seal saw that it was not so good. And the eyes of Seal became large, and the seas swelled from his crying. And Seal concluded that the Klum remained his power; his pleasure; his pain (baby). 13 And to cope with this, Seal began wearing fluoro nail polish. And Seal became a coach on a relatively unremarkable Australian show called The Voice. 14 But Seal was nevertheless impressive. And Seal came to be the idol of the On Dit editors, the sometime soundtrack to their editing. And so it was that the Gospel of Seal was written by one of the editors at the urging of the others. And then edited/laid-out in a series of nights which one editor came to facetiously refer to as â&#x20AC;&#x153;The Council of Nicaeaâ&#x20AC;?. 15 And it was at this Council of Nicaea that the following passage was enthusiastically added: Enjoy the following pages. Read them and find them to be good. Liketh us on our Facebook page, or emaileth us at ondit@adelaide.edu.au. Love, Galen (and Emma and Seb)

featured contributors Justin McArthur

Ruby Niemann

Rowan Roff

(a really big rocket, p 24-27)

(live below the line, p 18-19)

(wild horse)

Justin is a third year Media and Arts student, and just pulled an allnighter. The only things keeping him awake to write this thirdperson biography are three cups of coffee, five donuts, a lot of leftover Easter chocolate and a whole bunch of terrible terrible dubstep. At this point, he’s just hoping the On Dit editors won’t notice that he’s increased the spacing and shrunk the margins to make it look like he has written more.

Ruby began her writing ‘career’ as a fresh-faced first year embarking on the exciting adventure of a Law/ Arts degree. She continues it now as a slightly tarnished second year, because writing articles is more fun than focusing on a degree. One day she would like to get paid for the stupid stuff she writes, instead of givin’ it away for free.

Heir to a large family fortune made from heavily investing in fold-up scooters just before they became ‘hip’, Rowan donated his many millions to the L’Oréal Institute to help them make advances to the RevitaLift skincare range for the good of humanity. Rowan’s best traits include having a warm heart and being a master of the boardgame ‘Trouble’.

The On Dit editors would like to thank the following friends for their help with Issue 5... Angus for his slavish devotion to distribution. All the party people, except for Idris. Holly and Joel for filling in for Psychic Psusan (who is on leave). Sam for vox popping, and for taking awkward photos of us after hours in the Hub. Stella for vox popping also. Balconi Trancetto (what are you and why are you so tasty?). The Exeter for its vicinity. And of course, the manufacturers, for a good and instructive day.

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correspondence PAGE

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an alcoholic responds to rebecca mcewen’s piece in issue 80.4 on ‘the hunger games’. the on dit editors make amends. Dear editors, I’ve been hearing a lot about racism lately, mostly from films where white guys (or gals) are portrayed as… Ahem, not white. See Thor and Hunger Games as most recent examples. It’s annoying, I know, but not because ‘those terrible racists are at it again’ but because of a much simpler truism we all seem to have forgotten, namely: Who cares what racists think? When did we decide that loud bigotry was suddenly worthy of our attention? It’s like snapping at the attention seeking forum commenter who is just trying to provoke us before laughing at our internet-rage and vanishing. Not that all racists are just trolling. I doubt it’s a conscious effort on their part to annoy us all - that’s just too terrible to contemplate. The thing is, though, these articles about how wrong they are aren’t exactly likely to show them the error of their ways. Not to generalise but your average white-powertis-of-thee racist isn’t usually the most… cognisant, or self-analysing person (or else, one feels, they wouldn’t be racist). So by the same token they aren’t going to be the ones reading our enlightened modern uni student ‘racism are be wrong’ articles. We’re preaching to the choir here so that’s why I say we just ignore them. Take a deep breath, contemplate the horror of the world, and forget about them. We already know they’re wrong and we can be as smug or *adjective of choice* (Eds: we will not indulge your laziness, James) about that as we want. They’re products of a bygone age and will have to eventually learn to live in a world that doesn’t tolerate their ignorant opinions anymore. Drunkenly yours, Whisky Jim

Dear UniLife Magazine, Last issue a contributor made mention of you in a less-than-flattering way. We’ve been coy, but it’s time for us to come clean – that wasn’t what we really think of you. Like a junior primary crush, we were only being mean because we like you. *blush* You guys are doing a real good job and we believe everyone should put aside inter-campus competition and check out your magazine at unilifemagazine.com.au. In solidarity, On Dit Magazine

Bursting to opine on something that’s in the magazine (or should be)? On Dit accepts your emails at ondit@adelaide.edu.au. Or get all social-media on our facebook page: facebook.com/onditmagazine.

answers

see diversions (p 46)

previously in on dit... AUU censures charlotte thomas for on dit article. words: seb tonkin On April 18th, at their most recent meeting, the Adelaide University Union Board voted, for the first time in years, to censure one of their directors. The motion, moved by directors Idris Martin and Sam Davis, condemned Charlotte Thomas for her article titled ‘Can You Count On Accountability?’ in On Dit 80.4. Important to note: Charlotte remains a Board director with full rights and responsibilities. In that sense, censuring is a totally symbolic action – but it’s still pretty rare. And significant enough that it generated a stream of letters to us (most or all from members of Liberals on Campus, which Charlotte is a member of). Most went something like this: Dear Editors, Looks like we see a bit of union thuggery creeping into our own Student Union! Last week AUU Board Directors Idris Martin and Sam Davis moved to censure fellow director, Charlotte Thomas, for simply stating her views in this magazine. Charlotte’s article last week did not reveal any confidential information nor did it in my view breach any of her duties as a board director. She simply recounted her opinion that she has previously stated many times in board meetings – if the AUU made their minutes available online everyone would already have known her thoughts! Just a bit of bullying by her fellow student directors I reckon. Regards, Sam Hooper Is it, as the Liberals would have it, a simple case of the AUU shouting down dissent? Not really. The AUU Board has a media policy that requires any media releases from directors to be approved before publication. While Charlotte argued she wasn’t making a ‘media release’, her article quite clearly identifies her as a Board director, and that was why Sam and Idris brought the motion. At this point it’s probably important that we clarify a couple of issues with the content of the article itself that were raised in the meeting. Charlotte mentioned that the Board occasionally goes into secret ‘in camera’ sessions. That’s true, but also not at all unusual for a corporate body. ‘In camera’ sessions are usually private for commercial reasons (the AUU does own a couple

of businesses, remember). Of course, the nature of the sessions means we can’t know for sure what they’re about – but that they exist isn’t really cause for alarm or conspiracy theories, which you might possibly have thought from reading Charlotte’s piece. Charlotte also commented on the Student Services and Amenities Fee, stating that ‘the AUU can spend it how it wants’. That was factually untrue. As we’ve mentioned a couple of times in this magazine, the SSAF is paid to the university. The university will probably allocate some of it to the AUU, sure, but almost certainly not all of it. You’ll know how much and what for when we do. Idris and Sam argued that those issues (as well as the general implications of the article) meant that Charlotte broke the requirement that Board directors do nothing to ‘bring the AUU into disrepute’. This is one that serves to illustrate an almost split personality of the AUU. The AUU Board directors are elected like politicians, but expected to act like, well, corporate board directors. Once in place, the Board isn’t really a political chamber, it’s a strategic one. That means plenty of internal disagreement, but a united public front. As former president Raff Piccolo said during the meeting – a decision might be made that some directors disagree with, but in the end they have to ‘wear it’, for the good of the company. Whether Charlotte should have been publicly condemned for her actions is something the board is at least a little ambivalent about – the censure motion passed with only seven of fourteen votes, and a number of abstentions. Director Rick Smith had the last word, congratulating the Board for not additionally trying to censure On Dit for publishing the piece. We echo that. Don’t censure us, bros.

Catch the excitement first hand! Both SRC and AUU Board meetings are open to observers. Check lifeoncampus.org.au and facebook.com/adelaidesrc for details.

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an open letter to: the ex-sexer. PAGE

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Dear Ex-Sexer, You’ve just been through a serious break-up. He’s cheated on you; she’s lied to you; they’ve fucked up big time. Or you’ve just drifted apart. However it went down, it’s over. You’ve done the awkward/painful/furious goodbye, suffered through the days of anguish, inching towards a healthy state of regret and cynicism about the fleeting nature of relationships in general. It’s over, and you will be a better person for it. But now they’re back in your life. Maybe you went for the post-break-up coffee too soon. Maybe you ran into each other on a night out. Maybe they turned up on your doorstep weeping at 2.37 in the morning, with a mariachi band in tow to serenade you in beautifully tortured Spanish. Whatever. I’m not impressed. You can’t keep it casual and someone is going to get hurt.

I’m saying this as a friend – no good can come of taking the easiest route out of your (temporarily) painful state of existence by getting back together. I’m not saying that it’s impossible; but you have to remember that there were feelings strong enough to warrant one of you saying those awful words: I don’t love you anymore. A few weeks and a half bottle of vodka cannot erase the hurt that was caused by that unfortunate phrase, nor the underlying sentiment. So, recent exes, please think long and hard before you have that break-up sex that everyone bangs on about (pun intended). It’s messy, it’s awkward, and it’s helping neither of you to move on. Healing requires space, time and clarity (you can trust me, I’m a psych major). None of that is worth jeopardising for a cheeky root – what you get, more often than not, is a complete head-fuck.

Keep your dignity and try to find the strength to move on. Can’t go back, never go back, always go forward.

Yours sincerely, A disgruntled (but caring) friend.

Got an open letter you need to send? It could be printed right here on this page. Send your open letter to anyone or anything to us: ondit@adelaide.edu. au. You vent that spleen. Vent it REAL GOOD.

wild horse

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wildhorsecomic.com

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The Board is not there to get involved in the day to day running of events and other services. For that, we have a great team of professional staff and student volunteers (that work so hard for us, and I can’t thank them enough).

state of the union

The Board is not a parliament. It is not a place for people to debate political points of view or make decisions based on ideology. It is not really a place for students to launch campaigns or have their say on student and political issues (that’s what the SRC does). Photo: Chris Arblaster

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with CASEY BRIGGS, auu president. In its April meeting, the AUU Board approved a number of substantial changes to the AUU Constitution that would change how the Board operates in a major way. It is relatively likely (provided that the university approves the changes too) that these changes will go to a referendum of all students later in the year, so that you can have your say on whether they are enacted. I’ll roughly explain what the proposed changes are in a moment, but first let me explain what the role of the AUU Board actually is (and what it isn’t). The AUU Board is responsible for the financial and strategic oversight of the AUU. This means setting the budget, reviewing the finances to make sure everything is going according to plan, setting the goals and strategy of the organisation, and ensuring that the AUU is operating according to all the relevant rules and regulations. Basically, the Board needs to take a overall supervisory role over the AUU.

With that in mind, the Board has approved amendments that would reduce the number of students on the Board (from 16 to 10), increase the length of Board Director’s terms to two years, and allow the Board to appoint up to two Directors that are not students. These external Directors would bring financial, legal or other expertise that it is not realistic to expect students to have. The changes are not about reducing the influence of students on the Board, they are about increasing the Board’s effectiveness and the level of experience of Board members. In fact, the changes are likely to actually increase the influence of students in governance of the AUU. The changes would turn the AUU’s structure into a similar one to many student unions across the country, and reflect a typical structure as exists in other not for profit organisations. All students will get the chance to have a final say on whether these changes go ahead. We’ll have much more information on the proposed changes and the reasons the Board has decided to recommend them later in the year if a referendum proceeds. Casey Briggs President, Adelaide University Union Email: casey.briggs@adelaide.edu.au Twitter: @CaseyBriggs

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address the problems that could possibly arise.

student representative column

I don’t want to focus this issue’s column on those happenings though. Instead, this time, I want to offer you an important piece of university history.

Photo: Shaylee Leach

On the 10th of May, 1972 Dr George Duncan, an academic at the University of Adelaide, died after being thrown into the River Torrens out the back of this very university. He had arrived in Adelaide only a few weeks before he was murdered. He didn’t have any established networks and he had no known family. Dr George Duncan was murdered because he was a gay man. Following his murder and the large amount of media attention it received, homosexuality was fully decriminalised in South Australia, making it the first state in Australia to do so. What is sad is that you probably didn’t know who Dr George Duncan was before you read the previous 100 words of this column. Dr George Duncan, who had to die before South Australia decided it was time to start to end discrimination against the queer community.

with IDRIS MARTIN, src president. When you’re President of the SRC, there are some things that you need to address that come up regularly: tutorial sizes, online learning, cost-cutting, student printing and internet quota, for example, are issues that every student activist has had to tackle for the past decade. Of course, every now and then something totally unexpected happens that catches you off guard. For instance, I learned in the past few weeks that every university in Australia is now responsible for vetting all prospective international students and granting them student visas. In the past, universities merely had to sign off on their academic credentials for their visas and the Department of Immigration would handle the rest. Now, however, universities get to do it all themselves. This is an interesting development and I wonder how our new Pro ViceChancellor (International) Kent Anderson will help

This year marks the 40th anniversary of his murder and the SRC wishes to honour his memory with A Day In Memory of George Duncan. Join us on the Barr Smith Lawns on the 10th of May from 12pm to 2pm to celebrate queer culture on campus. Whether you’re queer or a straight ally, join us to remember Dr George Duncan and to celebrate how much safer we have made university for queer students and how safe we aim to keep it. Idris Martin President, Student Representative Council Email: idris.martin@student.adelaide.edu.au Twitter: @IdrisMartin

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VOX POP

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Charlie, Arts/Music

Jason, Music

Gemma, Science

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

1. 2.

Cats. Mars. Lots. Cos. (Cos it’s awesome.) Octagon, because you can’t tesselate it. 6. Cardboard.

Myself. Mars, so we can f*** that s*** up as well. 3. 30 m. 4. Iceberg. (It’s topical.) 5. Dodecahedron 6. Rubadubhub.

What is that? Oh, my TV cabinet, because it’s ugly. 2. Mars. 3. I should know this, because I do Geology, but ... 4. The cheap stuff at the market. 5. The ramp in the hub. 6. MyHome@Adelaide.

In which On Dit asks six random students the following questions... 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

What would you sell on Craigslist? Which should we colonise first: Mars or New Zealand? How far above sea level do you think we are? What’s your favourite type of lettuce? What’s your least favourite geometric shape? Word Association: MyHub@Adelaide.

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Tresor, Development Studies

Azhar, Petroleum Engineering

Daniel, Psychology

1. 2.

I’d sell this guy (points to guy beside him). 2. Mars. 3. 2 m. Just dig. 4. Burger ones. The ones they put in burgers and shit. 5. Triangles. 6. Boring.

Rocks. They have a lot in the Geology school. 2. Mars. 3. 90 m. 4. The green one. 5. Hexagon. 6. R.

Furniture. Of course Mars. It’s easier. If you want to colonise New Zealand you have to fight a war. 3. 200 m. 4. I don’t have any. 5. Square. 6. Bean bags.

photos: sam young vox popping: stella crawford

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photo: nic peterkin | writewithlight.com.au

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what would molydeux? words: sam crisp

Molyjam is about innovating without being solemn. It’s about looking at our medium of expression and wanting to make something more of it, while being able to laugh at ourselves for trying.

At the beginning of April, game developers around the world coordinated a global game jam: 48 hours for individuals or teams to create a video game from scratch based on a particular theme. For this jam, participants had to adopt a game idea from Peter Molydeux (with a D), a novelty Twitter account based on an exaggerated persona of Peter Molyneux (with an N), a famed game designer known for his boasting of ambitious game ideas which often fail to come to fruition.

developers alike. What I found fascinating about Molydeux was that the line between faux-inspirational satire and genuinely inspirational design innovation was so blurred. It was only a matter of time before people started to turn his ideas into something tangible.

Molydeux’s tweets are often preposterous or token explorations of game designs which are supposed to be emotive or poetic, subverting the tropes of popular modern games. For example: ‘Imagine an action game where upon killing each enemy you see a 1 minute unique cutscene flashing through their entire life’ The Twitter account exploded in popularity among gamers and

Titled What Would Molydeux?, the game jam took place across over 30 cities around the world, including an Adelaide branch hosted in the University’s Lady Symon Building. I met up with fellow students Chris Johnson and Matt Trobbiani to create a game. Nay, to change the world. We quickly discovered the inherent difficulty in trying to actualise the lofty ideas. Namely, a lot of them didn’t make any sense. The tweet we decided on was particularly problematic: ‘You know, what if the aim of the game was to resist actually completing it? That kept me up all night yesterday.’

It’s interesting to consider. Do you make a game that is continually pushing the player towards a conclusion which the player has to fight back against? But then this is just reframing the problem. Whatever the player must do to ‘resist’ then becomes the goal of the game - and then we’re back at square one. We struggled with this for a while. So we asked ourselves, What Would Molydeux? Actually, we didn’t. We just side-stepped the problem with a handwave and made it about sex (a handjobwave?). We ended up with a game called The Spandex Parable, whose title is a reference to the game The Stanley Parable, both of which are games about choosing to obey or disobey an overbearing narrator. Our narrator promises the player a lewd sex scene upon reaching a castle at the end of a simple Mario-style platformer. Naturally, the player may choose go the opposite direction of the castle, forgoing the sexy ending to

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‘You know, what if the aim of the game was to resist actually completing it? That kept me up all night yesterday.’

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the increasing frustration of the narrator. It becomes obvious he really wants to watch it. One of my favourite games to come out of the jam is Unbearable or: How They Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bear, a game about controlling a bear who wants to hug people. Hug too hard and you crush their bones. At the end of the game, you get to read unique profiles (or obituaries) of how your hugging changed (or ended) the lives of these people. In an industry where video games often involve killing countless, faceless people, its very much in the spirit of a visionary like Molydeux to reverse this and take the idea to its logical conclusion by meticulously humanising each and every person you come in contact with. Another game, I, Crow-Bot, has you playing the role of a robotic scarecrow in a world with only one bird. If the crow dies, you stand alone, lamenting the loss of your one friend, as the sun rises and

sets endlessly in the background. Excerpts from your diary of this tragic post-crow world appear at the top of the screen as a bar displaying your robot energy gradually drains to your death.

authenticy is blurred. There’s an unspoken elephant in the room behind the self-deprecation of it all. We act as though we’re doing this ironically, except, really, we’re not.

‘Day 2: Filbert. I had named him Filbert.’

At the end of the jam, Molydeux posted the following message on his celebrated Twitter account:

Most of the games that were made have a tongue-in-cheek vibe which echoes the sentiment of the Twitter account. We laugh at these crazy ideas for creating emotion through video games, but in reality we’re taking it seriously. Molyjam is about innovating without being solemn. It’s about looking at our medium of expression and wanting to make something more of it, while being able to laugh at ourselves for trying. From the 250 or so games made over the weekend, many were self-parody; games that exist only to set up a punchline. But some of them were real innovations. Like the Twitter account, the line between satire and

‘Sincere thanks to all who took part in this event. We have created a new world together, a world in which bears can hug in space.’ And really, what more could we ask for? ◊

You can play all entries at whatwouldmolydeux.com or get inspired by following petermolydeux on Twitter.

‘You are a bear but for some reason your oxygen comes from hugging people. Problem is that hugging people breaks their bones. #poeticgaming’

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‘You are a scarecrow in a world with just 1 bird’

i do. do you? adelaide university law school says a big YES to marriage equality. PAGE

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words: stella crawford There’s always an awkward moment when you see lecturers outside of their natural habitat, the lecture theatre. But it is apparently possible to react positively to seeing, either in person or in print, a little more of your worthy instructors than you’re comfortable with. For instance: just lately, a whole bunch of lawyerly professors and lecturers from our humble university up and wrote a submission to the Senate Committee on the Bill for Marriage Equality. And they said all the right things. To back up a few steps, the issue is this: Recently, the federal government has been humming and haing about passing a Bill for Marriage Equality, and so, like in the good-old-Kevin-times, they gave it to a committee to talk about. And this Committee said they were open to the idea of submissions from the public, and in due course, they received a few. Around 75,000, that is. There are a lot of fun things to be learnt from those submissions. You can find out, for instance, that ex-Judge-of-the-High Court Michael Kirby considers himself to be suffering from ‘paradoxical legal conservatism’, or that the Salvation Army considers it necessary to get involved to protect the institution

of marriage, lest we ‘tear down a foundational stone of society’ and ‘add to the sense of brokenness and dislocation which already exists in Australian society’. You can find out that some people in the AMSA (Australian Medical Students Association) are not only very well-researched, but also pretty forward thinking. And you can find out that the Clarence Wing of the Christian Democratic Party thinks both that Comic Sans is an appropriate font and also that serious ‘grammatical implications’ might result from any legalisation of same-sex marriage. Among the 350 such submissions the Senate Committee published online was one by the ‘Adelaide Law School’. Well, not exactly by the inanimate collective itself, but by an assortment of lecturers, professors, and indeed, the Dean of Law himself, Professor John Williams. Now, the legality of any potential Bill comes down to whether the Commonwealth’s power to legislate marriage (from s51(xix) of the Constitution) can stretch to a different definition of marriage than the one that, at the time of writing the Constitution, was the accepted meaning. It’s accepted that this has to come down to what the Court thinks, as Parliament can’t be

trusted with it.1 As to whether the Judges of the High Court are open to arguments about the changing definition of marriage as a legal institution, everything is basically up in the air. They simply haven’t said. There are two sides this coin could fall – the originalist position; simply put, that the only relevant thing here would be what the word meant in 1901 when the Constitution was written – or the second, progressive view, which argues that interpretation of the Constitution should not be entirely ruled by what meaning as the drafters would have understood it, but rather should reflect the changing needs of society. It’s arguable that the government is going to use this uncertainty as evidence that passing such a bill will end them in a long and costly legal battle; and to be honest, that does look pretty likely. To prove the point here, another group of lawyers, fittingly described as the ‘Lawyers for the Preservation of the Definition of Marriage’ managed to argue the exact opposite of our dear professors of Law. ‘The meanings of the 1. They could, in such a case, decide to define marriage as chocolate. Though actually, chocolate is probably already covered by the foreign affairs power. Everything’s covered by the foreign affairs power.

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words “matrimonial cause” and “divorce”’, they claimed, ‘admit of no potential for ambiguity since they have never been applied to any legal relationship other than traditional heterosexual marriage.’ And while I’m sure that the authors of the Law School submission believe it is based on sound law, it does at this point seem degenerate into (educated) guesses. Sure, they make comparisons to the High Court’s interpretation of the word ‘alien’, and all manner of cases are cited, but it’s difficult to not feel that the opposite ‘originalist’ argument could just as easily be made. No, the strength of the submission doesn’t come from the six pages of correctly cited 2 legal arguments. The strength comes from them having the guts to argue for secularism and the guts to stray from pure legality and talk equality and discrimination. It comes from the guts to admit the distinction between formal and substantive equality, and to not diminish this legislation nor expect it to be a cure-all. 2. Although cite number 19 appears to end with a semi-colon rather than a full stop, and 29 lacks either. And the amount of satisfaction I got from finding that is actually ridiculous.

It comes from the guts to argue a side of a question-coin that is up in the air. It’s always brave to come down on the side you’re on, to lay your cards on the table. It was brave of them to act, when they could have not done so. The point here is this: this may not sound like activism, but it is. Reading the submission in question, it’s admittedly hard to get particularly enthused. I can almost guarantee, for instance, that spontaneous bursts of applause won’t be necessary. A line like: ‘continuing formal discrimination against same-sex couples in the definition of marriage is both paradoxical and incoherent’ isn’t exactly a slogan you can put on a placard. I personally, however, found it hard not to give a little internal cheer when they argued that ‘the legal exclusion of same-sex couples from the definition of marriage is a damaging symbol of the failure of secularism in Australian society, and a direct rejection of the personal identity and choices of a large minority of Australians based on their sexual orientation.’ So this week, on campus, that’s what I’m proud of. 3 ◊

3. Next week: The Science Faculty Walk-Out in Support of Student Protests against Increases to Printing Fees.

“The strength comes from them having the guts to argue for secularism, to stray away from pure legality and talk equality and discrimination. This may not sound like activism, but it is.”

Thanks go to the authors of the Law School submission: Gabrielle Appleby, Dr Laura Grenfell, Anne Hewitt, Associate Professor Alexander Reilly and Professor John Williams and the listed supporters Dr Judith Bannister, Professor Lisa Hill, Cornelia Koch, Rebecca La Forgia, Nicole Lederer, Professor Rosemary Owens, Professor Ngaire Naffine, Beth Nosworthy, Dr Bernadette Richards, Professor Andrew Stewart, Kellie Toole, Dr Alex Wawryk, and Helen Wighton; all of the University of Adelaide.

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words: ruby niemann art: mike stanford How much do you think you’ve spent on food today? And I mean really think about it – not just the $3.50 you spent on coffee, or the $6 sandwich you had for lunch – think about how much the cereal you ate for breakfast cost, or the pasta you had for dinner, or the muesli bar you had to tide you over between lectures. Tally that all up. How much money do you think you ate today? More than $2? Hell, even that coffee cost more than two dollars. So how well do you think you’d go living on less than $2 worth of food a day for five days? It doesn’t sound great, does it? Well, welcome to the Live Below the Line campaign. This is a campaign run by the Oaktree Foundation, a totally youth-run organisation, promoting awareness and raising money to fund education projects and eradicate poverty in developing countries such as Papua New Guinea and Cambodia. This year,

thousands of people from across Australia and the world will be living on $2 a day – roughly the amount set by the World Bank as the line for extreme poverty – from May 7 to May 11 to raise funds for these important projects. So yes, it’s for a good cause and all – I don’t think I’m being too radical in saying that, on the whole, people shouldn’t starve to death – but... $2 a day sounds pretty daunting, even for just five days. How exactly are you expected to live on that? Well, I took myself off to the Adelaide launch party for Live Below the Line (that’s right, launch party – fancy) and asked a few people exactly how they expected this craziness to go down. The number one thing I got from everyone I spoke to was how rewarding Live Below the Line was – and how, surprisingly, they managed to not starve. Most of the people at the launch were members of the Oaktree team who had been involved with Live Below the Line in previous years, and they frequently slipped into sounding-like-cult-members territory when they spoke about it – in a really good way. It was clear that they really cared about their cause and their campaign. Hayley, a member of the Oak-

tree Foundation’s Live Below the Line team, called the experience ‘eye-opening’, and said that it was ‘challenging, but doable’. Hayley was part of a group of people who actually camped out at Flinders Uni for the whole five days of Live Below the Line one year. Her advice for surviving the challenge? A surprisingly delicious-sounding vegetable stew, made from lentils, carrots, pumpkin, and vegetable stock. Other tips: buy everything at the Central Markets, and get used to lots of porridge and rice. Some more ideas on feeding yourself include an incredibly cheap basic white bread (recipe included over the page), and a no-frills pasta made from cheap, canned diced tomatoes, garlic, and carrots. So, Live Below the Line isn’t easy. You’ll probably be hungry. But it’s for a pretty great cause – the profits from last year’s campaign helped reopen a school in the Yangis region of Papua New Guinea that had been closed for over fifteen years – and imagine how much money you’d save only living on $2 a day for five days. Also I’m pretty sure that almost any given uni student could stand to eat more wholesomely for a few days, so why not take the challenge this year? ◊

How does it work? If you’re interested in taking part in the Live Below the Line challenge, head to their website at www.livebelowtheline.org and sign up for a profile, which you can edit and update. You can direct friends and family to your profile and ask them to donate online through PayPal. Offline donations are also accepted, and all donations are tax deductible, so even your stingiest friend has no excuse. The Live Below the Line website encourages participating as part of a team, which means you can pool your money and share your food. For more information on finding a team, you guessed it, check out the website. It’s all there.

What if I get hungry? You will get hungry. But there are ways to make sure you don’t get sick. Have a look on the Live Below the Line website for advice from an accredited dietician and nutritionalist. Mmm, lentils.

Here’s that bread recipe Ruby promised you: Ingredients 1 teaspoon dry yeast 1 teaspoon sugar 400 g plain white flour 250 mL warm water or water/ milk mixture

Method 1. Mix together yeast and sugar and stir into a cup with a little of the warm water. Yeast is ready when it is very frothy on top. While doing this, preheat oven to 200 degrees Celcius. 2. Place half the flour into a large bowl, make a well in the centre and add yeast mixture and remaining warm water. 3.

Combine with a fork

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adding remaining flour. Once dough is drier, work with hands until dough is soft, pliant, and not sticky. 4. Knead dough on a floured board for 10 minutes. Shape dough into a ball. 5. Return dough to bowl, cover with a clean cloth and leave in a warm, draught-free spot until dough doubles in size (because bread is apparently magic.) 6. Knead on the same floured board (or a different one, it probably doesn’t matter) for another five minutes. 7. Cover dough in bowl (again) until it doubles in size (again). 8. Remove dough from bowl and mould it into the shape of the bread tin you’re using. 9. Place dough in a lightly oiled loaf tin, cover it, and leave it for 30 minutes in a nice warm place. 10. Bake for 30-40 minutes at 200 degrees C. Bread is ready if hollow when tapped. 11. Remove bread from pan, and place it on a cooling rack. And voila! Delicious, cheap bread! And as an added bonus, your house will smell awesome.

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GET HIGH NOW

in which On Dit tries to get a visual and auditory high on www.gethighnow.com. words: rory kennett-lister art: stephen lang

One of the On Dit editors sends you an email asking you to write an article. Embedded in the email is a link to a website that purports to provide methods for getting high without drugs. For the moment you worry why they have chosen you for this task; sure, you’ve had a few pro-drug conversations with them before. But you’re not the only one, right? Why choose you? Are you the biggest stoner they could think of? Maybe not. Maybe you’re the most organised dabbler they know, the kind who can appreciate the finer points of rolling a doobie — the requisite saliva to paper ratio, the right tobacco/contraband mix — and still manage themselves enough to write an article about it. ‘Whatever.’ You put this out of your head and try to concentrate on the article idea. It could be cool. Imagine getting high without inhaling smoke. Though you acknowledge there’s something undeniably, unexplainably

satisfying about smoking, you can’t help but think getting high without drugs might solve some problems. Like when you’ve got no papers and the bong’s been neglected but the last time you used it you put in cordial to try and sweeten the smoke but you forgot to empty it and now it’s growing mould, and even though you wash it out, letting the boiling water and detergent fill it over and over, you can’t shake the feeling that when you inhale mould spores are travelling into your lungs, multiplying, replicating like cancer, lying silent until you can’t breathe. Simultaneously caught between the desire to be ‘cool’ and get high, and be ‘adult’ and appreciate the purity of a sober existence, you click the link searching for a cure to your ambivalence. “GET HIGH NOW” is emblazoned across the top of the page. ‘Ok,’ you think, and move to shut your laptop. As you do you scan across the other text. ‘Oh,’

you think, ‘they want me to use the website to get high.’ There are two choices — visual hallucinations or auditory hallucinations. You left your headphones in your bed last night as you fell asleep with a plate of cookies balanced on your chest and some far-out ambient noise blaring you into a drool heavy sleep, so you choose visual hallucinations. Things look promising. On the screen is a list of things like “Syd Barrett-Dedicated Fractal Acid Words”, “Equiluminance”, “Ouchi Goochi” and “Vomit Vectors”. Salivating — some Pavlovian response to the prospect of getting high — you click the first link… and… are bitterly disappointed. ‘An optical illusion!’ you mutter to yourself, feeling your mouth dry, ‘I google this shit all the time!’ Admittedly, this one, “Benham’s Disk”, is pretty cool. It spins, getting faster and faster, until, amid the black and white you begin to see hints of colour, neon

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blue and green. ‘That’s neat,’ you think. But if you’re being honest with yourself, it doesn’t really compare to coughing a lung and playing Mario Kart 64 for four hours.

myself in my own half-baked, pseudo-scientific theories about why stuff happens. Stuff like, “the Oreos taste awesome with milk because they have milk in them. The combination causes a reaction within the Oreo cream, increasing the flavour. Like when you put two magnets together”.’

to lurch inwards, as if sucking back into space, just like the lights on the CD player did that time you ate a bunch of mescaline and started tripping balls. Awesome. But then you look away and you realise that you’re not staring into a black hole from the event horizon; you’re sitting in your room staring at optical illusions on the internet.

Acknowledging your duty to the On Dit editors, you power on, following each link to its inevitably disappointing conclusion. Finishing It’s not that on a high (so the illusions to speak) you e m are bad, it’s decide to try o ve h your o r just that you the auditory d to ou n y i e were promised hallucinations. g e tim re pullin state you h t some sort of You walk to r be id h we o g m u n e u mind addling your bed, pick o a o rem nd, as y thr par g r u d n o e u i experience, the headphones Y o “ ha n y ’d follow ce, wish I g i . h d some kind of off your e y t reall way, far rself you ight silen awesome brain crumb-riddled seizure and bedspread and drive nced you the midn eport.” i l v e n i t this registers plug them in at n , co uld ere o h c t more as a tick, your computer. t u sa yo and a momentary A sucker for loss of control. synaesthesia, Next to each you click on illusion is an “Coloured explanation Noise”. There of why your are four brain perceives the image as You do manage to find one choices: Brown; Pink; Violet; it does. Though this is very image that brings a smile to your White. You may as well do this informative, it lessens some of the face, both because of the name logically. Brown it is, then. You visceral amazement, replacing it and the effect. “Vomit Vectors” — hope it isn’t the famed ‘brown with ‘interesting’, ‘noteworthy’ blue dots on a green background note’. This flicks some switch in science. ‘This isn’t what being — warps the screen, leaving you your mind and you remember the high is about,’ you tell yourself. rocking in your chair, unsure of time you drove home really high ‘When I get high I want to lose horizontal. At one point it seems and, as you were pulling into your

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driveway, farted. In your paranoid state you convinced yourself you’d followed through and sat there, in the midnight silence, wishing you could teleport. You press the link and make sure that there’re some tissues on hand. You don’t need them. In your ears something close to static crinkles loudly, hinting at repetition, never quite revealing its pattern. Closing your eyes your mind begins to wander, at first tentatively, taking a few steps out into the ether. Gradually you’re adrift in the brilliant blackness of your mind, losing the crumbs you leave out for yourself, so that when you look back, you have no idea how you got there. You’re curiously calm, enjoying this swirling trip into the unknown. After a while you remember you’ve got a deadline and open your eyes. The explanation on the screen mentions something about “hypnagogic and other altered states of consciousness”. ‘Trippy,’ you think. You make your way through the other colours, achieving the similar results, unsure of how much the ‘colours’ affect the experience. Clicking on “Holophonic Sound”, you strap yourself in for more of the same. But as the sound of rattling matches moves around your head — not inside it, but outside, in some kind of invisible sound halo — you begin to freak out a little. If you close your eyes there is unmistakably someone in the room. When you open your eyes you can still hear them, but they’re gone. You need to know how this works. “Holophonic Sound is based on binaural recording, a technique in which stereo microphones are fixed within a

prosthetic head—replete with ears and sinus cavities—to mimic the complex auditory system of the human head.” ‘Cool,’ you nod. Progressing through the rest of the sounds, some of them fascinating, some of them boring, you keep thinking back to the rattling matches. ‘Why matches?’ It’s as though the Holophonic Sound is trying to tell you something. A thought that has been moving in the darkness, from the first time you set eyes on the site, breaches the surface of your mind. A moment of epiphany — ‘Where’s the lighter? I should get high and play around with this.’ ◊

Get high on your own supply (of internet megabytes) at gethighnow.com.

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sick of taking notes in lectures? write for on dit instead! stuff you like! open letters! short stories! poetry! columns! features! original artwork! photography! other stuff! email us your ideas and we’ll party down. if it’s your first time, we’ll be gentle. we love fresh fish. ondit@adelaide.edu.au - for all your distractory needs.

a really big rocket, and a future on mars

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words: justin mcarthur art: lillian katsapis In August 2011, NASA said farewell to its rocketships. For a brief while, while the Space Shuttle program was down, it seemed that the American dream would never again take flight, soar, achieve lift off, or explode in a miasma of fire and destruction – or at the very least, this dream would never take flight on an American spacecraft. Rather, American astronauts would have to share a ship with Russian or Chinese astronauts, the exact kind of communism that the Cold War was fought to prevent. Luckily for red-hating rednecks, then, NASA noted just a month later: by the way you guys, we’re only stopping the Space Shuttles to build something much bigger. Kids, do you remember stomp rockets? Because in September last year, NASA effectively put its thirty-metre-high foot down, in order to set up for the sending up of a 102.22-metre-high rocket called the Space Launch System. It’s big, it shoots flames out of

its butt, and it’s set to change the future of humanity. So Team Shuttle may be done with, but Team Rocket will soon be blasting off again. The Space Launch System is NASA’s first foray into manned deep space exploration, with the capacity to take us as far as the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. Even though, as a scruffy-looking nerfherder, I don’t like to be told the odds, I am informed that the possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately 3,720 to one – or six million to one, depending on whether my source is, you know, ‘scientific’. At any rate, we’re unlikely to travel further than the asteroid belt soon – yet the opportunity for human travellers to go to Mars and return is suddenly within our reach, and for nerds like me, this is a grand cause for celebration. In his discussion of the Mars rovers (especially the three that went up in 2004) nerd hero Professor Brian Cox summarised the

worldwide reaction brilliantly. ‘The Mars rovers have really captured our imaginations,’ he said. ‘They genuinely are explorers, in the old-fashioned sense.’ Soon, human explorers will have the chance to be further capturers of imaginations. Like Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and the other guy that stayed on the spacecraft, human explorers of Mars will have their names remembered for generations to come as the pioneers of our collective future. But why Mars, specifically? Why not Venus? The answer lies in the field of astrobiology, from the Greek astron (‘constellation’), bios (‘life’) and logia (‘study’), meaning ‘the study of life in space’. Venus is a dry volcanic desert with gravity 92 times that of Earth, surrounded by clouds of sulphuric acid, with its days lasting roughly 117 Earth days. Mars is also mostly a volcanic desert, but it has polar ice caps, its gravity is only 1.88 times that of Earth, and it has water,

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Naysayers may have a few to Mars seems to be this goal of carbon, and geothermal energy. questions at this point. ‘What constant growth. Robert Zubrin, In addition, a Martian day lasts do you want with a rocketship?’ aerospace engineer, says of Mars, around 24 hours and 40 minutes of I hear them ask. ‘What business ‘so there’s the choice in life. One Earth time, helping you work, rest do you have on Mars?’ Well, one either grows or one decays. Grow and play just that little bit longer; argument is that, as a species, we or die. I think we should grow.’ Put to quote astrobiologist Penelope consume far more resources than this way, it seems reasonable. No Boston, ‘at one time, in the ancient one planet can provide. According one is arguing in favour of death past, Mars was very similar to the to a carbon footprint-measuring – certainly not me. However, this conditions of early Earth’. This website, if everyone consumed is unlikely to help human nature gives Mars, of all our planetary sociologically, neighbours, the and behavioural highest chance “The opportunity for human travellers to change is the only of being able to means to support human go to Mars and return is suddenly within real adapt to a resource life – and since our reach, and for nerds like me, this is a crisis that would the Space Launch require 3.29 Earths System is the grand cause for celebration.” for our current initial means to number. Even get us there, we if we colonised will soon have the Mars, it would not be another capacity to send humans to visit, energy like I did, we would require and explore it on foot, and then 3.29 Earths – and I don’t own a car, Earth, and it would certainly not be another 2.29 Earths. Critically, return, with a view to establish a start forest fires, or communicate this view also dismisses our third more permanent presence in the with smoke signals. But if we could option, which is to try to be long term. In other words, we are build a base on Mars, it is argued, sustainable and constant rather looking at a future in which we can we would have a greater chance of than increasing or decreasing realistically see human colonisation being able to continue the growth our output, and it also dismisses of the red planet. of humanity. Indeed, a large our fourth option, which is to amount of the reasoning for travel

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reduce our output without dying. Therefore, for my environmental concerns, the nobility of this goal is questionable.

giant leap for mankind, we’ll dip our toes in the water of a new planet for the first time. And then we’ll realise that the water’s frozen.

But this should not be grounds for dismissing all exploration of Mars. I think we can all agree that, largely, human exploration is of Mars is just a really cool idea. ‘Mars is a world of wonders,’ said renowned astronomer and astrophysicist Carl Sagan. ‘It has a giant rift on its surface 5,000 kilometres long. There is a volcano as wide as Arizona.’ And this exploration would be more usefully conducted with a base on Mars, a colony of sorts; if space is the final frontier, then a base on Mars is our first real step towards exploring our future in it. Proposals have been drawn up for the colonisation of underground caverns around one of the volcanos, Arsia Mons, with the possibility that these caves may contain ice, gases, mineral deposits, and even subterranean life. With one small step for a man, and one

Perhaps a more significant criticism, then, is the fact that it’s not just human colonisation we’re looking at here – it’s American colonisation, under the governance of one nation rather than a collective of interested nations. With that comes the same key objectives of most colonialism, the imperial monopolisation of resources and dominion. For example, Britain colonised New South Wales for land, India for spice, and Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) for copper. In fact, the colonialist Cecil Rhodes, for whom Rhodesia was named, once declared ‘all of these stars [are] vast worlds that remain out of reach. If I could, I would annex other planets’. So we’re not only looking at the extension of the capacities of humanity, but also at the expansion of the American

‘empire’, in a sense, and this has all sorts of implications in and of itself. Not to take a cheap shot at the States, but Bush and Bush have already put in a good effort of ruling the galaxy as father and son. One hypothetical could posit that the United States are in a difficult spot financially at the moment, and one of their largest expenses is their space program – so, what if they privatised it? Well, then you’d end up with the East India Trading Company, key to the rule and exploitation of the indigenous people of India in the 18th century. And while there aren’t exactly indigenous people on Mars, there will be early settlers, and the administration of the United States Government will be hard to maintain when they’re around 58 million kilometres away, at a minimum. How will the leaders of this new colony be sanctioned? Would you have to pay a minimum wage on Mars? They’ll ‘genuinely [be] explorers, in

the old-fashioned sense’, to return to Cox – but is that a good thing? What happens if they turn the rest of the inhabitants into worker drones, like the early settlers in the 1990 film Total Recall? There’ll be Mars exploitation, leading to a War of the Worlds, and finally Mars independence, either led peacefully by Mars Gandhi, or violently by Doug Quaid from Total Recall. And do we really want that? Actually, there was a threebreasted woman in Total Recall, so yes. Yes we do. So yeah, I’m off, with my sonic screwdriver in my dressing gown pocket, dismissing my own rhetorical questions as readily as I would dismiss those of Andrew Bolt.

only be President until 2017 at most – but significantly, the dialogue of space exploration is approaching us. In time, the politics of space will become the politics of Earth, and this is good, as there are clearly many questions that still need to be asked about the ethical implications of space exploration. It’s also highly amusing, because we get to hear politicians try to talk science, and that’s rarely their strong point.

American presidential nominee Newt Gingrich claimed earlier this year that, if elected President, he would put a permanent base on the Moon with the capacity to house 13,000 residents. Sure, ‘scientifically’, that would be an impossibility, given that he would

For now there’s just one question that I hear you all asking: when can I leave? Well, the first launch of the Space Launch System is proposed for 2017. And my bags are already packed. ◊

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the end of an era.

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words: lauren varo art: sam decena After 13 years in trade, Glenelg’s iconic music store Krypton Discs has met its kryptonite. The independent record store announced its closure date of April 30 via the official Krypton Discs Facebook page on Tuesday 27 March, yet again symbolising the rapid demise of physical music sales in favour of the digital downloading movement. Despite overwhelming success, voted as Independent Retailer of the Year at the 2012 ARIA awards, the closure of Krypton Discs reflects the recent trending ends to a series of Adelaide’s independent music retailers including Mr V, The Muses and Rundle Street’s Big Star Records. Krypton Discs’ official statement cites ‘many factors affecting the business’ as the reason behind the close, factors which undoubtedly include the increasing popularity of both legal and not-so-legal online accessibility of music. With the domination of Apple’s iTunes store, ever escalating radio repetition and the likes of YouTube, SoundCloud and Last.fm, the sharing of music has become a phenomenon of mass production in which any artist of any kind can be discovered at the click of a button. Making the fad all the more seductive is the cheapening of art, now sold

online for lower than the price of a Double Cheeseburger. In the face of this virtual world, one must question the place of original record stores such as Krypton Discs, and furthermore, their future presence. Come twenty years, will music stores be a mere fad, akin to the op-shops and antique stores selling history to the elderly with an urge to relive their youth – or will they simply become non-existent? Unfortunately Krypton – and the music industry in general – is not the only trade to suffer such a fate, with similar closures of major book retailers Borders and Angus & Robertson within the past year. For a brief moment and glimpse of hope it seemed as though today’s indie hipster movement might bring a revitalising spike in the sales of CDs and books alike, but even the power of oversized sweaters and Buddy Holly glasses fuelled by the organic goodness of gluten-free grains appears overwhelmed by the demands of mass consumption. There is something to be said for the physicality of music, however. The racing pulse when you open the cover and analyse every inch of the album art. The first bliss when you play the disc in its entirety, ponder over track

listings, lyrical composition and song titles. Being able to hold the offspring of musical genius in your hands is something online music can never provide. In this sense, digital downloads merely cannot compete. Krypton Discs and I have had a love to love relationship over the years, from buying my first Big Day Out ticket, to creating a lucrative enterprise selling my mother’s old DVD version of The Eagles ‘Hell Freezes Over’ and holding up my end of a poorly considered dare when purchasing the $2.50 ‘I Heart Porn’ badge for my crisp clean Catholic school blazer. Needless to say, Krypton brought me many new beginnings. For now though, the future of Krypton’s Glenelg location remains a mystery. Whether we see another grand invasion of yellow by an unnamed discount music retailer on the scenic beachside precinct, only time will tell. While everyone from The Who, The Doors, Marilyn Manson to The Buggles told us that ‘Rock is Dead’, true music fans will no doubt continue to uphold the dying tradition of record stores – rain, hail or shine. ◊

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the five stages of grief waiting for telstra

words: katherine matthews art: alex smith

Telstra is, let’s face it, a big pond of crap. They couldn’t organise their way out of a cardboard box, and attempting to communicate with their customer service team is like trying to give a physics lesson to a baboon that keeps flinging faeces at you. Recently, I moved out of my parents’ ‘guest room’ and had to go through an Australian rite of passage – setting up my phone and internet with Telstra. The harrowing experience will haunt me for life, but I like to think that I emerged a stronger person after going through the Five Stages of Grief Waiting For Telstra.

1. Denial It’s fine. I’m sure the Telstra guy is just running late. They said they’d be here anytime between 7am and 6pm and it’s only 5.50pm. He’s still got another ten minutes to make it. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now. Any minute… now? Any minute now? Now? NOW?

2. Anger Where the hell ARE you people? It’s 6:01pm and I still don’t have any goddamn internet! What do you mean you’re not coming? Do you not realise I’ve been sitting in my house for over ELEVEN HOURS waiting for you pricks? I ran out of toilet paper at NOON! Couldn’t you have at

least CALLED to let me know you weren’t coming, you overpaid, self-important fuck? No, YOU’RE a dial tone!

3. Bargaining Look, I’m not unreasonable. I can wait here another hour or two. Can you please just send ***someone around to install my internet by tonight? Yes, I know it’s after the agreed time, but since it was YOU that didn’t show up… I see. Well, what if you put me down for first thing tomorrow morning? Oh… okay then… can you at least narrow down the window a little bit so I don’t have to take an entire day off this time? Half a day? A morning? No? How long then?

4. Depression Oh god, I’m not going to have internet for three weeks… what am I going to do? How am I going to function? How will I know what’s happening in the world? Why, why, why couldn’t Telstra just send a guy over to set up my internet? Was it something I said? Something I did? … oh my god, is it me? Am I just a bad person who doesn’t deserve to check her Facebook? What did I ever do to deserve this? Just kill me now…

5. Acceptance Argh. Fuck it. Let’s just play some Xbox. ◊

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by gina chadderton

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, m i a , ! y e r d a fi e r ack b

On Dit ponders on the inherent issues behind the short-lived phenomenon that was GOBS 2012. words: emma jones

Who wants to catch Kony when you can instead catch some kind of sex disease? Three high school girls aren’t worried about the abduction and enslavement of 30,000 African children. Fuck that. For the founders of the GOBS 2012 movement, ‘a world without gobs is a scary place’. These gobs1 aren’t just for pleasure, though. Like Jason Russell’s 30-minute epic, the four-minute GOBS 2012 campaign video has an important message. By offering 1. I’m writing this at work, where urbandictionary.com is blocked, so you’ll have to settle for my own definition. A gob is a blow job, people. I don’t know when this word became a thing. I’m too old for schoolyard sex slang.

gobs for 80 cents per minute ‘for as long as you last’, says founding member Middle2 , ‘we stop men from raping girls, because they already have that pleasure’. Uh huh. Because prostituting fourteenyear-old girls for under a dollar a minute sounds like the perfect way to eradicate rape worldwide. Why didn’t somebody think of this before? I’m not the only one to find the premise of this video problematic. 2. Given the takedown of the video, even though the girls’ names are used in it, I’m going to call them Left, Middle and Right. And I won’t mention the name of the school. You all know it anyway.

Again, like their predecessor Jason Russell, Left, Middle and Right (and their trusty Smartphonewielding cameraman) suffered the consequences of flash publicity. Except that instead of being caught slapping pavement in the nude and masturbating in public, they got suspended from school.

‘We’re trained professionals, so we’re up for anything’ There’s no denying it – the KONY 2012 video worked. Well, kind of. Weren’t we supposed to

put up posters on April 20? Or did we postpone that event due to the incapacitation of our faithful leader? Despite its maker’s descent into public ridicule, the video made its point. Millions of people watched it, and now millions of people know who Joseph Kony is (some of these people think Carl Weathers is Joseph Kony. He is not. He is Tobias Fünke’s acting coach okay). Well, people – what did we learn from this short-lived phenomenon? More specifically, what did a bunch of relatively politically ignorant fourteen-year-old girls with Facebook accounts and iPhones learn? Nothing substantial, apparently. Just the internet’s single great truth: if you use it right, social media will make you famous. So they created GOBS 2012. And in less than 24 hours, more than ten thousand people had seen it. Have you? I tried to watch it once. I couldn’t get past the bit where Left said she’d happily put a muffin in her armpit whilst fellating for money. I rolled my eyes and dismissed them as stupid girls. But writing this article, I watched it again, all the way to the end. It is undeniably the brainchild of teenage girls looking to make a joke. Come on. Muffin fetishes? Gobby pins3 ? T-shirts with dicks on them? It’s Summer Heights High all over again. Anyway, I don’t know if the girls are famous now, or how they’re dealing with this ‘fame’. In a somewhat pathetic attempt to figure this out, I had a poke around 3. ‘We also do, for the girls, sell Gobby Pins, which are basically bobby pins but they’re yellow, and they hold back your hair so when you’re busy giving gobs, they don’t cum on your hair’.

on Facebook. They’re either not there or have upped their privacy settings to the max. That was probably a wise move; the girls are now victims of a tsunami of public ridicule. Julia Gillard called them ‘silly’ (ouch). And as if being named ‘a bit more expensive because she’s a bit more qualified and you’re allowed to cum on her anywhere’ in the video wasn’t disparaging enough, poor Right has her own Facebook Page called ‘Being The Awkward, Ugly Bitch on the Right in the GOBS 2012 Video’. It has 90 likes. Further to that, what started as a joke is now being treated as a potential crime. South Australian Police Commissioner Mal Hyde stated, ‘the matter’s been referred to police. I don’t want to say charges are or are not possible’. At this stage, it doesn’t look like any kind of conviction is likely, but even jokes about underage sex and prostitution aren’t jokes. One of the girls’ dads spoke out in an interview on 5AA radio, sticking up for his ill-fated daughter. ‘I don’t think that they actually had any idea that the things they said would have an impact like this,’ he said. Too right, mate.

JKS LOL As Charlie Pickering said on Channel Ten, the girls involved in GOBS 2012 were clearly trying to make a joke. Whether or not it’s funny is irrelevant. These girls are just kids, right? Are we overreacting? According to blogger Des: in a word, no. On blog grahamandkennedy.wordpress.com, she writes, ‘this incident has just further

lowered the bar of how we use young people and further from that, young women, in the media. Whether the video’s a joke or not, the laugh’s on us, as we created this monster.’ Des has a point, too. When I was a Year 9 student, I was reading Harry Potter under the quilt with a torch 4. 80 cents was for a Curly Wurly at the tuckshop, not a sexual favour. I may not have been the most normal Year 9 student, but it’s undeniable that times have changed. We live in a sexually charged society. Ten-yearold girls wear makeup and bikinis now. It’s important to look good. Not just good – sexy. Is Des right? Were these girls just doing what society had taught them by selling themselves as commodities? When is it okay to give gobs? Is there an age for that? I mean, legally there is, but if a fourteen-year-old girl wants to blow a guy, is that a shock when that fourteen-year-old girl has just come home from the cinema where she watched Katherine Heigl having sex with someone even though Katherine Heigl looks like a thumb and she equated that sex with love and approval? Is GOBS 2012 our fault? There’s a lot more to this video than meets the eye. Underage sex. The trivialisation of rape and prostitution. The fact that this video was filmed in front of the Carly Ryan Memorial – a reminder of online safety – and then posted online along with the girls’ names and school uniforms, making it really easy to figure out who they are. It was a joke, sure. It backfired pretty badly. Let’s just hope the GOBS Girls aren’t the only ones to have learnt from their mistake. ◊ 4. SO WHAT IF I STILL DO THAT

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how to ... sell something on craigslist

words: max cooper art: ann nguyen-hoang

One day you might find yourself in a situation where you need to take advantage of the internet classifieds. You might be poor, out of luck with paper classifieds, or just a hipster. But no matter why, I’m here to provide a comprehensive guide to how they work. Mostly this will apply to Gumtree, but should you be stuck in America/an American sitcom, you’ll be well set up for Craigslist. Now, let’s head straight into it:

ing you. In fact, no matter what be careful of creepy people emailing you. It’s the nature of the beast. Anyway, aside from the potential creepers, your most accessible audiences in placing an ad would be hipsters and broke students. For the most part, that’s because they’ll both be going for the cheapest option, as well as the closest

1 the basics For the most part, getting something off of a classified website is simple. It’s as simple as finding the section you want, searching for something you want, and then using whatever the website offers you to get in touch with them. To put a listing up, just follow the simple prompts on the front page. Post an Ad, Post to Classifieds, that sort of thing. It may sound like I’m glossing over how these things work, but it’s honestly quite straightforward. However, there’s so much more to this than you might think.

2 know your audience There’re a number of different types of people who lurk the deep, dark depths of online classified sections. This would be especially true for Craigslist. If you’re going on the personals section, be prepared for creepy people email-

to breaking down. The best way to distinguish between them is to see how they react to the mention of bicycles. Bikes provide cheap transport for students, but form a secret, all-consuming passion for the kind of hipster you’ll find on Gumtree. Hipsters normally have some money in them, whereas students are normally poorer. It’ll pay to know who you’re looking at. Of course, if you’re coming at

this from the opposite end, you should be careful of what someone is looking for. Make sure they’re not secretly looking for someone to have sex with (They’re probably looking for someone to have sex with. Weird, creepy kinds of sex.) Make sure you’re prepared to be disappointed – people often leave the worst features of something till you call or email them. A lot of details that might make the ‘cosy three-bedroom with friendly roommates’ less appealing. Cosy might mean tiny and friendly might mean convicted for rubbing up against strangers on the train. Of course, no matter how hard you try there’s always the possibility that five emails into a conversation about cleaning someone’s house they’ll send you a picture of the maid outfit you’re expected to wear. But at least it won’t break any decency laws?

3 be prepared It’s like Scar says in The Lion King. Ideally, you’ll end up happily trading your goods for money, or vice versa, and everyone will be happy. But if you’re unlucky, stuff can go bad. The spare batteries you’re picking up from that nice lady could be pre-loved. Not in the way that an old children’s toy is pre-loved (with the possible exception of the vibrating Harry Potter brooms), but in the way that in-

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volved them being put inside someone’s dildo. Of course, if you’re looking online for great deals on batteries, I’d take the chance. Same goes if you’re looking to sell – you’re not looking for friends here, as long as the money isn’t literally dripping in blood I’d be prepared to take whatever you get

4 personals Up till now, I’ve dealt with the pitfalls of what can go wrong in a financial transaction: people can disappoint you, houses and such can fail to live up to the pitch. But these websites have personal sections too. (Despite this, there will still be people looking for sex in most sections of the sites.) The personal sections are often just people looking for a date in a new way, creepy sex, a fun time in a new city, creepy sex, and of course occasionally the most depraved sexual acts you can imagine. Alternately, websites such as Craigslist feature ‘Missed Connections’. Such shining gems as ‘You: popular boy band

touring Australia Me: girl outside your hotel room in the bushes with a telephoto lens’ and ‘You: High-powred business woman on the 7.45 Belair train Me: That guy with the grey trackies’ are to be found here. Nothing against internet dating, but you should really look somewhere else. Because again, given the possibility for sex to appear in otherwise innocuous sections of these sites, what do you think this kind of place attracts?

5 grains of salt There’s a danger in my writing this article: scaring everyone away from the internet forever. I don’t want you to think you’ll never get anything off of Gumtree without getting stabbed. I’m telling you the truth of what can happen. The thing about the maid outfit? It happened to a friend of mine earlier this year. Last year my friend responded to an ad asking about a tutor and was then asked about her massage skills. It’s not all that’s out there, but it’s frightening what

you might find. Don’t be scared of classifieds, they can be a great and cheap way to find new housemates, or get rid of something you don’t need. Same goes for finding something. But honestly, I’m better at funny than I am at guidance, and there’s more in warning you of how things can go wrong than there is in explaining step-by-step how to register an ad on Craigslist. So there we go. Now you’ll know how to get something sold/bought off of Gumtree et al, and at the same time avoid some pretty bad pitfalls. Worst case scenario, if something goes wrong, you’ll have a funny story to tell your friends? If they happen to be needing something for an article, even better!

untitled. by rebecca mcewen

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I am unfinished. We all are, here. Some would call it a graveyard, but I think of it more as a junkyard. The flotsam and jetsam of the imagination wash up on these bleak grey shores, splashes of life and colour on a beach that stretches from page one to eternity. They topple, trundle, teeter, trip, and trudge until they reach this place. It is not the end, nor the beginning. We loiter in the middle, suspended between once upon a time and happily ever after. I am more fortunate than most. I was almost complete when I was cast up on the sand, my hair streaming around my face like seaweed. Brown hair, plain as you please, with a hint of a curl. My shoes, of course, were still on my feet. Those shoes never come off. Lime green, patent leather, outrageous, flamboyant, ridiculous. I like them. Not that I have a choice in the matter. We drift. Float through infinity, trapped by shackles of words and handcuffs fashioned from carelessly applied adjectives. This is the Graveyard of Forgotten Characters, The Cemetery of Fantasy, The End of Imagination. There are thousands of us here. Millions. Billions. There are some like me with their candy-coloured shoes and manicured nails, bright against the lugubrious grey of forever. Others are barely here at all, translucent, the barest hints of humanity. They frighten me. I wonder if people would write if they knew the cost of their words. Words have power. People have forgotten that. People drown in words these days. Newspaper headlines droning about the dire straits of the economy, glossy magazines spouting salacious rumours, neon signs with broken letters, pastel labels on bottles, weathered tattoos on sagging skin; there are words everywhere. Their

magic is ignored, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Words are no longer sacred. They are not the property of priests and princes. Everyone has them. Grabs them with greedy fingers and pins them to this and that, careless and clumsy. They are churned out in their thousands by soulless, sightless machines that know nothing of what they wreak. Gone are the curling latticeworks around each capital letter, the painstaking etching of every syllable. Words have lost their meaning. But they have not lost their power. She lost interest, of course. Most people do. We’re fantasies. Tricks of the light. We’re not real. They can leave us in a document and forget us, forget the hours they poured into our existence. The world has a habit of killing dreams, and we’re the blood splatters the clean-up crew wipes away. Pity we can’t forget them. Or ourselves. They’re all bewildered when they arrive here. When they’re born from the ocean, gasping and choking, eyes streaming with salt water. They want to know why. Why they have been created and tossed aside. I was bewildered too. Frightened. But I stayed by the ocean. Stayed, and watched, and learnt. Saw snatches of the Other World in the sky. I know more than most. Scientia potentia est. I speak Latin, though I never studied it. My creator never saw the Devil in details. We are the best sort of old lovers. We are as real as they make us, and when they throw us away like lolly wrappers and forget us we can do nothing. I’m every man’s dream, really. Sometimes one of us is lucky. They convulse, then still for a moment, and then start to change. You can almost see the words wrapping around them like armour, moulding to their insubstantial bodies, metamorphosing into blood and flesh and skin. Then they are gone, snatched up and borne away in the blink of an eye. All because someone, somewhere, opened an

old document or an old diary and decided to try to recapture a story they dreamed of long ago. Someone remembered. Sometimes they come back. Humans are fickle creatures. There are others here. Here on this beach I have chosen not to leave. I could start walking, but I’ve never seen the point of walking forever to get to nowhere at all. We stumble across each other, every now and again. He (I say ‘he’, for it’s the only name I know him by) found me one day by chance, sitting in the sand with the water snatching at my ankles. He tripped over my feet. He said sorry and I touched his hand. So he stayed. I could love him. I’ll never tell him that. Because the authoress never could decide what sort of lipstick I’d wear, and the blanks in her description have left parts of my face bare. He might want to love me, but I’ll never see it in his eyes. Whoever wrote him into existence overlooked them entirely, so his dark fringe falls into pits of emptiness. I write letters to him in the sand on the edge of the world. Letters he will never read. They wash away with the tides and I write them again. I have the time. We’d love each other, but we can’t. For I love a man who’ll never be good for me, who smokes a pack a day and drinks whisky neat. He loves a woman who wears her blonde hair in ringlets and swoons at the drop of a hat. We love those we were written to love. We will always love them. We love the fantasies of other people. And as the memory of us fades in the minds of our creators, as files are deleted and paper corrodes, as stories spoken aloud and stories tapped out on typewriters disappear into time, we will too. We are candles. Flowers. Vague impressions on a canvas. We are not real, so we mean nothing. We are nothing. So come on, try it. Pick up a pencil. Tap away at your keyboard. After all, it’s only a story. ◊

That flash of existence He was— Eden-faced & like any other Born to be Through insignificance. And from no notion of ‘Him’ Came He— College-cut & innocent-eyed— Forged from the fires Of the total animal soup Of time. And the gods of retrospect Are smug In their defeat of us all, Though even they are mortal Before time. And though we all stammer Into this place, He left before I And now Sorrow’s bedfellow Squats In her soul, Sucking Life and Time Through the vacuum Of forced reflection. And flickering on the screen In the darkest room In a distant corner Of my mind, He plays cricket And smashes a window in the backyard And is as young as he was When the screams of reality Were drowned By Death’s whisper. But then Mother Sits on the edge Of my bed To tell me The Horsemen have come for her And to say The Sun shines only once For the mind And that what was Is now No more.

benjamin zubreckyj

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pyre.

They say the Bible’s a co mfort in the da rkest of nights . Tonight there’s no moon; no sta rs, and no light. And God is no co mfort. We are terrified. We lov e him. I sta nd at the door with his friends and his sister. He beats himself as if on fire. As if his sk in burns (he says it burns) with the sins of the Father. He is curled foetal. Between the cracks in his weeping, I can see fla mes. The bed is a duck-feath er sea. He is dra ined of the sal t that is rightf ully his. He is a vessel, distorted and dr y. We are the rough-hewn fig ures of restra int. We hold him back from the edge of the edge. The crosshatching of wrists, the desperate Ke tch colla r.

We hold him, his agon y. We are lost, and he burns. Street. Night. Hour of emba lming. La mps like the brothels, ful l of the Father. His Father, who art in heaven. His Father, not mine. Forget the fire as you wa lk, and you wa lk. Forget the fir e. Hunt first; cook later. Go ho me, and let the others worry. Don’t sta nd in the doorway. Feel the aspha lt, cold on your toes like the ice of the cit y. Here: the masks are spinning . Here: the children laugh, and are loved, and the streets are alive. Sm ell the salt of the earth, of the dust, of

the people. Sweat. Even now, at the hour of emba lming . But here: children laugh, are lost, are cry ing, and now the masks are laughing, the children spinning, and— I am back at his door, vir gin again. Show him the lig hts of the cit y at night. Drive now, for dinner; trespass for a vie w. Sit in the ga rden. Ta lk. Watc h the sky. I am become Love in the sta rlight. Love in the hil ls. Love in the river. Love in the ear th as we sit and we tal k. Confess weakness, feign strength. We are young. Ta lk of destiny. Beat of my heart: synco pated, nervous, tight as a dr um stretched, weathered raw. The night turns like ba d wi

ne.

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He is cry ptic. We go ho me. We shiver together in the na ked chill of our autumn passion. They will kil l us for sport. Mortality is thick in th is da rkness. We are lost tog ether. Found together. Wolves on the pra irie. A bird’s nest en tangled. The sun rises, and again we tal k of destiny. Come now the months. Your confessions of ‘fault’ for inv isible bruises. A past like a he ll—like now, with your skin as it burns. I choke ‘not your fault’, ‘I’m here’, ‘let me help you.’ You dra w a line. You brood. We don’t tal k about it. Come now the stress. W e fight. You cry. I hold you. Yo u whisper your fea rs. You are glass, now,

made of sand. Ready to

break.

Come now the black do g, a featherweight trigger. You are lost. I cannot find you. Back, now, to the doorw ay, but later, post-’help’— You: ‘W hen will I be be tter?’ Me: ‘I don’t know.’ I wa nt to say ‘never’. Ne ver, never, never, ***never. M adness is an illness infl icted. An d yours? Yours is a festering wo und. You will always be the old, broken child. I wa nt to say ‘you’re str ong enough,’ but you’re not. Yours is a shadow, stretched long on the road. He will always be there. Behind and in front, spinning as you spin,

with the sun, through the day. Ghost in the heavens. Yo u cannot escape him. 11:35 (a.d.). John, you are

clay. Weep for the ghost. W eep for the son. Weep for the wound, for the crown, for the fathe r. We are all broken, re-bro ken. Mended with Scotch Ta pe. We will get through th is. You will never be ‘better’. Bu t you will live, unemba lmed. Mended. Undestined. I will take you, with baggage, down to the sea . We will hew from the sand som ething new for ourselves. We will lau gh and cook dinner. You will we ep less. ◊

anonymous

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ian somerhalder: erin bernhardt likes him.

elles: lauren varo likes this.

More of a ‘someone’ than a ‘stuff’, I guess, but that’s not the point. The point is, not only is this man exceptionally stunning to look at (just check out The Vampire Diaries if you doubt me - those eyes! *swoon*), but he is also a softie when it comes to animals and incredibly environmentally aware; so much so that he started up his own foundation to raise money and awareness for these issues (www.isfoundation. com). In his spare time he co-owns a recycled timber furniture store with his brother, owns a pizza place, blogs, tweets, and organises en masse cleanup events in California... *double swoon*

This year Palace Nova’s Alliance Française French Film Festival provided movie-goers with a foreign film fix, featuring the very best of contemporary French cinema. Of significant note was the Australian premiere of Malgorzata Szumowska’s Elles, a controversial drama following a journalist’s investigation into underground student prostitution. Once you overcome the well-deserved R18+ classification, Elles is much more than a sex-for-kicks flick, but rather an insight into the struggles of female sexuality, causing viewers to question central perceptions of gender, relationships, money and social status. What makes the appalling measures of student prostitution even more horrific is the stark juxtaposition between explicitly raw sex scenes and seemingly serene regularities of reality.

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glen osmond road: holly ritson likes this.

light bulbs: rowan sanders likes these.

your submissions: on dit likes this

Well, at least that 20m stretch of it that Unley and Burnside City Councils will have you call “The Gateway”. But really, those 20 metres have so much to love, it makes up for the general seediness and traffic hazardousness of the rest of the road that welcomes all east-coasters to Adelaide. Delicious coffee and food from the friendly folk at Bar9, cute finds at Somethin’ Somethin, Choices op shop and the newly relocated Littlest Vintage and more lingerie shops than you can wave your bra at. And with it’s ever changing line up of travel agents, factory outlets and Greek takeaway shops, there’ll always be a surprise in store to keep you coming back for more!

Having a light bulb is like having the Power of God. When you flick a light switch you literally are ‘letting there be light’ and by God if it ain’t so, why you need to replace the light bulb. In the fridge, no matter how often we go for our late night snacks, the trusty light bulb always provided a warm soft illumination so that we don’t have to grope over stale left-overs and mouldy cheese. Now I’m not saying the sun has gone and done its dash, but light bulbs are definitely making a show for the podium.

Sharing is caring. If you like something, tell us about it here. Review anything at all, whether it sucked or blew your mind. You’ve got 50-100 words and our email address is this: ondit@adelaide.edu.au. KGO.

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maximum musicals MAX COOPER hears the people sing. I come from an oppressed people. Our interests are discouraged and disparaged, people think we’re strange. Fathers are not proud of you and sisters act ashamed. But I’m going to talk about it in On Dit, because someone has to drag it into the light. I’m not talking about my sexuality, I’m talking about my interest in… musicals. When it comes up that you like musicals, you can expect anything from suspicious looks to outright mockery. You can’t even trust how your own family will react. Now, obviously, ‘people don’t agree with me about a form of popular entertainment’ is a first world problem of the highest calibre. But, then again, you’re reading a student magazine – you’ve probably got a fair set of first world problems of your own. My own sister once told me that ‘musicals ruin the movie and the music’. Aside from her blatant disregard for theatre, I was agog, I was aghast. I loved musicals. From Disney through to Pasek & Paul, they enchanted me. I disagreed so fiercely that I couldn’t even argue. But now, I discover this wasn’t just my sister picking on me: musicals, as an entertainment form, just aren’t too well loved. That isn’t to say musicals can’t be successful: look at Moulin Rouge, or Broadway, or even Wicked

in Adelaide. But then try suggesting a musical to someone. From experience, I can tell you you’re much more likely to get ‘A musical about AIDS? Wouldn’t it be sad though?’ (Rent) or ‘Oh, that’s not a real musical’ (Moulin Rouge. Also all Disney ever). Apparently ‘real’ here means ‘one I dislike’. But some of us still soldier through this negativity and lose ourselves in the fun of musicals. So, why do I think musicals are so good? At the core: it’s a nice way to tell a story. It’s fun. I like music. I like plays/movies. I like good stories. Why not combine them? And, the storytelling component is an important one. A different way of telling a story is a fantastic thing to have. But, to return to a point I made earlier on – part of my concern regarding musicals comes from how people define them. Whenever someone likes a musical it’s because it ‘isn’t too musical-y’. Or it ‘isn’t even a musical. It’s just a movie with singing’… (The difference is something I’ve yet to hear explained). I ask you: how many of you grew up on Disney? Did you not want to see Prince Ali? Couldn’t you pity the Poor Unfortunate Souls? Didn’t you ever learn to Be Prepared? I Won’t Say I’m In Love with musicals, but I think they’re clearly something we enjoy. (If you even try denying still loving Disney just a little bit you’ll either need to prove you have no soul or be branded an obvious liar. I mean, The Lion King. Come on.) So what am I asking? I’m only asking for a little tolerance. Give musicals a shot. I’m not even asking for acceptance, as I would if this were a real issue rather than just idle complaining because I’m an arts student and writing this beats writing essays. Next time someone mentions liking musicals, why not humour them? Let them explain why. Even try seeing one, rather than being turned off by the idea. If you’ve tried and it’s not for you, that’s fine! I feel the same way about action movies. But at least give it a go. It might not be for you, but you might discover you dismissed something that’s buckets of fun a little too quickly. It might even get more musicals, hell, more theatre at all, going in Adelaide. And personally, I think that’d be wonderful. ◊

i’m a total disaster chef don’t eat if EMMA JONES is cooking. Now when I say I can’t cook, I mean I REALLY can’t cook. I live on grilled cheese, boiled eggs, frozen garlic bread and food cooked by other people. I’ve tried to cook. I made a curry once in the slow cooker and it tasted like the bottom of the fridge. When I cook rice it goes all hard and sticky and coats the saucepan so stubbornly you have to hack at it with the blunt end of a knife to get it off. Sometimes I get all nutrition-minded and make steamed chicken and salad, which is about as far as I can culinarily venture without killing myself and/or others. This wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t obsessed with food. I love to eat and I love to eat things that are almost as hard to cook as they are to say out loud. When I go to my parents’ house we put on the Lifestyle Food Channel and I happily watch people like Rick Stein and Maggie Beer and Nigella Lawson doing things I’ll never be able to do in the kitchen and I comfort myself with an inner monologue like this: it’s okay Emma you’re only 24 and you don’t even have a husband or children and you only really need to worry about knowing how to cook the day you find out you’re knocked up because kids need to eat and you can’t bring up a child on frozen garlic bread no matter how freaking delicious it is. Then my mother says that I have a weird look on my face and am I okay and I reply with yes but sssh the guy on Choccywoccydoodah is making a 50 KILOGRAM CHOCOLATE REINDEER which is why I love this show even though it has the most

ridiculous name of all time. My dad sits and watches these conversations with a baffled look on his face and wishes he’d had more sons. ANYWAY, the point is I wish I knew how to make delicious food. I wish I knew how to fillet a fish. I wish I knew how to make Rogan Josh not from a jar. I wish I had a little herb garden on my windowsill and chopped fresh thyme into my pasta sauce that I am making on the spur of the moment because I just happen to have a fridge stocked with Atlantic salmon and crème fraiche. Does thyme even go with that recipe? Is thyme even existent outside of Simon and Garfunkel? What even is thyme? And why do I even want to know how to cook? Aside from the fact that eating is fantastic and I’d love to be able to do it all the time without having to get dressed and leave the house, it’s impressive. How much more enticing is ‘come over for dinner, I’m making lobster bisque’ than ‘come over’? I mean, my supposed natural endowments should be enough to dazzle and delight without needing to hurl gourmet dishes at a man until he relents and goes to bed with me. I just feel as though it’d be an advantage if I could cook something with more than three ingredients. I shouldn’t worry. It’s not the 1950s anymore. (Incidentally, can you imagine me in the 1950s? My debonair husband would come home from work at the advertising firm to a messy house and 2.5 snottynosed children with the weird combination of my jaw and his lips and I would be standing in the kitchen sobbing over a collapsed soufflé and there would be some kind of batter all over the walls and flour on my face and he would stand there in his suit and pomaded hair and RUE THE DAY HE MET THIS INCOMPETENT DEMON OF A HOUSEWIFE and then just as he is about to break the ice and suggest we go to his mother’s for dinner instead which I don’t want to do because I swear that bitch hates me the fruitcake in the oven that I had completely forgotten about spontaneously combusts and our house explodes and falls in flakes of ash on the sleepy neighbourhood and all the people come out and hold their hands palm-up to the sky and wonder why it’s snowing failed marriage.) But it doesn’t matter because I could just order Domino’s and put on Master Chef and suggest that my date and I try and merge our sensory receptors and pretend that what we’re seeing is what we’re eating so that low-grade pizza miraculously transforms into a magical feast in our mouths. I LOVE TELEVISION. ◊

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diversions SUPER-SPECIAL BUMPER EDITION!

agon-dit aunt Dear Agondit Aunt Why did the mushroom go to the party?

Fun Guy, Glenelg East

Dear Fun Guy, Was that supposed to be funny? It wasn’t. Mushroom puns are shiitake.

‘new direction’, if you know what I mean. Hope this helps, AA Dear Agondit Aunt, Why does my heart feel so bad? Why does my soul feel so bad? These open doors. Thanks,

Richard Melville, Modbury Dear Agondit Aunt How does 3D printing work? wood

Wants A Free Car, Nor-

You won’t get a free car. All printing is 3D. Hope this helps, AA

Hi Moby, Your question presupposes a substance-dualism ontology. As a materialist in the vein of Daniel Dennett (though holding a less hopeless view of the conceptual usefulness of qualia), I reject your premise. Or maybe you’re just having a heart attack. Hope this helps,

Dear Agondit Aunt, What is One Direction?

Directionless, Prospect

Hi there Directionless! Children with six-packs may be abnormal, but they give me a

AA In need of advice, comfort, or the loveless embrace of cold academic explanation? Send your letters to ondit@ adelaide.edu.au. Agondit Aunt is here to help.

on ditâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s patent-pending seal & seals word search N I X U M R P C R D R W J H J W E Y X R Y J H A D E D Y R R H G A G A O

Y S Q P V I N G R W F X W E Q W Q X Y T B B U U V D D V J F J J X C Y U

M L D F K K B A T M A N D I Q T H G T F C W J Y T E B W B K B M W B O U

X C I A K U M N C U T H S A D A L O E D A R E H T N G Y R N E H D I L L

D R N A C L T G M P J Z Q V X T M R R O B T Y V G N A L Y L W B E K D I

X W Q K N Z L G V I Z H B Q V F M W A S L C D L Q B P W L S F J R V V E

V I K Q S M X V E U A Q S D K G F P R V R G S E B X N S U K Y P U J H M

X E I B B I U V L E B T U T O L B W A L R U S I R C H F W C R V T M G B

Y F H I G I R T A E E H H X B C O O E Y F I I M H K G C F S K G S P O B

X Y U A E E A H M A K O Q Y U Q F D Y U M K A Q Q S A W M S E A L S R M

P O L L W Q R O X D S U S O T A M E H T Y R E S U P U L D I O C S I D O

H U G O H O W N T X H F H J V Z B X Y P O K F F X Q V P E V U U C O C M

D Z P Z Y W I E F R Z F U Z D J N D E P I N N I P N Q U N J S C P N Y K

S E A L H E N R Y O L U S E G U N O L U M I D E A D E O L A S A M U E L

R N M D S N E Q L M W R F Y W Z X Z L M O D H B M Z F C O G O F V C J N

Q N F B C E U H C Q J Z R N A I L P O L I S H W L I Z U L M T T J Q H Z

P A I N E P U G Y J Y N Q C P U W Z W P K X I G L S F F E T O O B X J K

Y P Z S Y X D Y N T K A E O Z D M Q P M A V X T D E X W F R H W I Q U X

P O X P R W C K W G A L O U S U L O L A A X M N N D Z O O A Z Y H C C G

A I C I Y W I P K F D E B B I N A R O X D D N G E D H U N C M L E S M O

W W O S E E E K I H Y N R U N I K N P L E A S U R E L R N N C V R F F V

T Q C L C Q J Z F B R F L H P V O F M K S W V H L F I K J J E Q O Z J E

D W J W F K B I P O O P H J F M Y Q G W N Q I X Z L R D S H D B L I E A

W E F G H Q W V F F V F N T F D Z B Q P L P R E E R T J L Y M Z G S M V

N S E U K C Q P H X C A E H B F Z T R P K X M Y E K V J I H K Q O U F D

O N E V O H S O B I N E L E N E L E H J Y U F W Y N Q P U P U R W T B Y

A B R T S D R C Y C M L H M E B R I R D L Y O I P S A H N R A B J K E J

K F C G Z H X D F Z P A N L W Q E E I K O T J O Z C Q G R M H J C R O M

words to look for: seal clubbing seals heidi klum discoid lupus erythematosus kiss from a rose batman the voice

seal henry olusegun olumide adeola johan riley fyodor taiwo lou sulola henry gĂźnther adeola dashtu helene leni boshoven kadyrov graying tower power

pleasure pain baby nail polish fluoro pinniped walrus

D V Q J V Y I Y F H Q E S U M L Z S I D G V I I W M Y D O D F M G Y C U

D Y K P T I X T O H L S I B Z V A D O N T Q L B N Z B R S D I G J I J F

M H P D C Y A X O J L Y L M U N I R I G K Y J Z Y L F R D T A O E J T S

S I V W I X V Y H G X S T R F E T Y B D G K D G V S W J R W X X H S P Z

A K X L J T J Q B G K W Z Q H A A X D Y I I E F S E P Y D O V K Y G K M

I W J T G E F W G L H E N Z I R C Q Z M A D R I E U Q J I L U O B Y G W

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U R S A W X Z E K I I X J W G M P I Y P N Q K W H I F P V Z D T A H B Q

Z T Q G N I B B U L C X O Q P B B T H E V O I C E Z L A I Y Q Q B W H D

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answer on page 4.

crystal bollocks with joel and holly. (psychic psusan is on leave until term 3) Aries: Mars, the fiery planet of war, is making an elliptical orbit of the sun, so prepare for actual chaos when your boss/sister/Hollywood star has a very public divorce. Some shit will happen and you’ll end up falling for your sister’s ex. Career prospects don’t look so good. Taurus: Unless there are big negative influences, this lunar cycle is, or should be, positive. After an epiphany regarding your spiritual starvation you will commence an intense process of self-discovery. You will fuck off overseas to eat a shitload of food and have sex in Bali. Perhaps you will pray to a God of some description. Gemini: Venus is moving into the 69th house this fortnight, and so you will discover that an evil conglomerate is contaminating the local water supply. Assuming the role of hope beacon for your cancerriddled community, you will tirelessly coordinate a class action lawsuit while single-handedly transporting your children in your shitty wagon. Be careful when interacting with banal pale-faced lawyer types. Cancer: Venus, the love planet, is making a rare transit into the sun, so be careful not to break any hearts when a struggling bookshop owner falls for you. Orange juice is not your friend this month, so avoid wearing white. Keep an eye out, though, for floppy-haired, awkward Englishmen. It’s not easy holding a relationship together when you’re the most wanted woman in the world, but persevere. Leo: The Pisces moon conjuncts Mercury this week, so focus on learning to understand that work can be important as well as the kids or other dependents such as pet kittens and guinea pigs. Live in the moment, be there for the tears, the joy, and each other. And watch out for scary ex-wives, despite their mellow appearance. Virgo: A new lunar cycle begins, so your struggles will be over when a wealthy older man gives you his credit card and allows you to splurge on Rodeo drive shoulder fashions, helping you to become the woman you always were. Libra: The new moon is in a Piscean cycle, so pack your paint-by-numbers and head east to a prestigious though hardly progressive girl’s college and encourage others to open their minds to a different idea. Be

careful though; they can smell fear. Scorpio: The new moon opens your third eye, but this fortnight, you need to shut that mofo down. You’ll need to have full vision to make sure you don’t trip over your train or shoelaces as you bolt from the altar, again! Also be wary of older misogynistic journalists out to stop you from making the relationship commitment you really want to make. Or who just want to tap that to satisfy their ego. Whatever. Sagittarius: Pluto is making a beeline for the second house, so you’ll almost certainly be duped into flying to Europe to help resurrect your debonair partner’s elaborate art heist. Your uncanny resemblance to an actress named Julia Roberts and a faux pregnancy will be used to assist in the swindle. Take extra precautions around hot Europol types. Capricorn: It’s not every day that a major planet makes a once-in-165-years entry into another planet, so as Mars enters Uranus, remember to use your power for good, not evil. Take this as an opportunity to influence powerful friends with your right-wing, Christian fundamentalist views; after all, we all know that money is the only way to ensure that all really is fair in love and war. Aquarius: With Mars still in retrograde from last month’s full moon, now is the time to remember that a rose by any other name still smells as sweet, or looks as beautiful. Just because your friends have names like Ousier or M’Lynn, doesn’t mean they can’t be there for you when you need them most. Just remember that even drought-resistant plants need a bit of TLC from time to time. Mind you, no one really likes cacti, so go get your hair done instead. Pisces: Last month’s new moon has energised your house of learning, and this couldn’t come at a better time. You’ve probably noticed a decline in your passion for both your work and your love life, but the appearance of a pathetic, balding mature-age student will quickly turn things around. Get embarrassingly drunk so that you have an opportunity to reveal your true feelings, but then quickly return to the cold hearted bitch persona you know we all love. ◊

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retrospective From Volume 15, Issue 6, 1944

(retrospective) (miscellany)

For your consideration: what might have been the first science pub-crawl ever. Also note the misprinted paragraph, four-digit phone numbers, and, in the ad for the W.E.A. Bookroom, a subtle acknowledgement that, yes, there was still a world war going on.