On Dit Issue 80.2

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ON DIT

80.2



contents. featured contributors

3

letters

4

wild horse

5

open letter: that guy

6

president(s)

8

vox pop

10

for & against

12

phds

16

student radio

18

buses

20

travel

22

republicans

24

dachau

26

fringe guide

30

the garden (unearthly)

32

fringes we love

36

creative writing

38

stuff you like

42

columns

44

diversions

46

retrospective

48

Editors: Galen Cuthbertson, Seb Tonkin & Emma Jones Cover artwork by Sam Young On Dit is a publication of the Adelaide University Union Published 24/02/2012 Visit ondit.com.au, or hit us up on facebook.com/onditmagazine. Go on. You know you want to.


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(miscellany)

Usually, an editorial in On Dit – especially one this early in the year – is a light-hearted affair. I’d make a few jokes, covertly reference Friends, and then give you an overview of the pages to come. I’d write something that fits well with the goofy editorial photo above. My aim? To get you keen to read the magazine, and send in some contributions. Usually. But I’m sorry, not today. On Tuesday the 21st of February, around 5:45pm, a 21 year old former student drowned as he tried to swim across the River Torrens. It happened in daylight, in the middle of O’Week. And it happened barely a hundred metres from where I’m sitting now, typing this, in the On Dit office. Typing. Sometimes, you hear people (generally student politicians and/or uni admin) talk about ‘campus culture’ and a ‘campus community’. And for a lot of students – myself included – it’s not always a meaningful concept. Sure, I have my friends. And sure, I hang around on campus. And it’s true, I value my time here as much as I do my education. But a community? A group of people? A group of one mind? At times like this, though, it seems as if there maybe is one. We are, I think, shocked. As a group. As a ‘university community’. It was, and is, a tragedy.

Some of us – perhaps a lot of us – are doing what people do in tragedies. We’re asking questions that mostly end with ‘why?’ Some of those questions are valuable: questions about safety on campus, about looking out for your friends, about risk-taking, and drinking culture, and the role O’Week plays. We all know that life can be brutal, and unfair. We know that tragedies like these are never simple. We know that, but we’re shocked and maybe grieving. The weeks will pass and, for those of us on the periphery, the memory of this will fade, but let’s not walk away from this tragedy. Let’s take the opportunity, over the coming months, to build a safer ‘campus culture’. To start a conversation about some of those less lighthearted questions I mentioned earlier. Because as students, this is our campus. And On Dit is our student magazine. This is your place to voice your concerns. Love, Galen (and Seb and Emma)


featured contributors Lisa Norwood

Sam Young

Chloe McGregor

(dachau; p 26-29)

(covers, photography; p 30-35)

(fringes we love; p 36-37)

This is my fourth year at Uni, just finished my B.A. and have one year of Teaching to go. Have recently caught the travel bug. Can’t think of anything better than spending quality time with friends! I have a somewhat embarrassing addiction to trashy tv and Austen mini-series – don’t judge!

Sam is a third year law/arts student, which is to say he doesn’t spent much time studying. Instead, he likes to take photos, ride bikes, and spend his time volunteering for the Australian Youth Climate Coalition.

Chloe is a graduated illustrator fending for public gratification via On Dit bombardment, one issue at a time. She draws celebs she has crushes on, tries to poke the proverbial lol and can’t quite refrain making her typography 3D. Otherwise, Chloe lurks behind the counter at Red Cross Rundle, come say heyyyy!

The On Dit editors would like to thank the following special peeps for their help with Issue 2... Daisy, Max, Molly, Sam, Stella and Forrie for desk-manning/popcorn-grabbing/dance-mocking in O’Week. Holly and Joel, for being such Pretty Women. The office ghost. San Giorgio’s for the basil stuck in my teeth. Sloths. Chris Arblaster, for being a good sport. Steph Walker, for beers, cigarettes and feedback, all in equal measure. Honourable mention: Max Cooper, vomit photographer extraordinaire and long-time provider of food, appliances and milk. We are in your debt.

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(miscellany)


letters to the editor PAGE

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(miscellany)

in which rose and casey try to clarify the baclava of confusion that is ‘ssaf’ payment. February 20,2012

February 23, 2012

Dear editors,

Hi Editors,

I am writing concerning Casey Brigg’s ‘State of the Union’ column- specifically his assertion that the SSAF can be included on your HECS/HELP loan. Students, take note: not true! A separate loan called SA-HELP is available, and to get it you MUST fill out a separate application. SSAF is not automatically put on your HECS, and if you don’t pay it, you don’t graduate. Perhaps better fact-checking could be employed in the future? Much concern, Rose Pullen, member of Flinders Student Council.

Rose is correct in pointing out that the loan you can get for the SSAF is technically different to the loan you get to pay for your courses, and that this loan requires a separate application. I did not go into this distinction in my column because of a strictly enforced word limit. However, it is my and the University’s understanding this application will be a part of the enrollment process, in much the same way that the current HECS-HELP application is completed through Access Adelaide. You will not need to seek out an additional application on top of your enrollment to be eligible to defer the SSAF. I hope this clears up the confusion. Regards, Casey Briggs, AUU President.

Corrections: In issue 1, we failed to credit two photos to the wonderful Chris A rblaster. Both Joel Parsons’ featured contributor photo and C asey Briggs ’ state of the union photo were taken by Chris . Sorry!


(see page 46; word: unearthly)

ANSWERS

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R H Y U N A L T E

U T A L R E H Y N

L N E Y H T A U R

E Y T N A L R H U

N U L H Y R E A T

H A R E T U N L Y

Differences spottable in the spot-the-minor-differences: First, let me ask you this: what is a difference? What is it really? It’s a superficial, arbitrary distinction. When we try to ‘spot the difference’, we’re really starting down a long, dark, violent road. We’re creating a ‘you’ and a ‘me’; an ‘us’ and a ‘them’. We’re creating an ‘other’ to be externalised, distanced; to value against ourselves, and to ultimately oppress. Fuck that. There are no ‘ differences’. Not really. On the surface they might be different, or they might not be. But ultimately, there’s just two photos. Equally valuable. Equally valid. Two photos, sure, but one world. One peace. How’s that for fucking difference.

wild horse

(miscellany)

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an open letter to... that guy. right there. PAGE

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(miscellany)

Dear Parserisas, 56-yearold newspaper vendor from Mexico, I am awfully disappointed in you, but not in the way you would think. I have no problem with your fascination with Julia Roberts. I get it. I can respect it a little. I mean, it’s better than a Rebecca Black obsession, or a Jam/nipple fetish. Julia Roberts has done some wonderful things: she played a hooker once, she was able to bear being in an entire movie with Hugh Grant, and she sometimes looks real. She wouldn’t be my top choice of people to admire. I mean, Ellen Degeneres is still alive. I get it, though: you like her. I admire that you admired her so much that you decided to get 82 TATTOOS OF HER FACE ALL OVER YOUR BODY! Now, as weird as it is to permanently have a strangers face postered all over your body, I have no problem with this. Tattoos can be a wonderful way of telling someone about yourself. They can be a wonderful way to express yourself. I honestly want to get one when I can (I’m poorer than a street urchin in venice). However, I am still disappointed. Why? Because it’s BAD Julia Roberts. BAD JULIA ROBERTS! Literally, every face of Julia

Roberts is bad! I mean, it’s like ‘awkward Myspace photo Julia Roberts’. Where is ‘just arrived at the Oscars’ Julia Roberts, or ‘I’m no longer a hooker’ Julia Roberts. NO! You have failed, sir. Failed! This is 82 versions of ‘I haven’t seen a mirror yet this week’ Julia Roberts. You adore a woman enough to get her face permanently attatched to you forever, yet you choose the rejected offcuts that not even her mother would appreciate. What kind of perverted admirer are you? I don’t understand how you could fail at this level of creepy. I mean, you are a ridiculous human being, and I am scared for your mental state, but surely you would prefer to have a ‘half-naked pin up’ Julia Roberts, than that mashed up zombie family you have on your chest. I’m sure you are judged, but I say they are probably judging you for the wrong reason. You’re obsession is nothing too crazy, everyone obsesses over something, that’s nothing to judge you for. What I am judging you for is your failure to do so successfully. I mean, you’ve spent an extensive amount of time getting Julia Roberts all over your body, why not use an actually nice picture of her. I hope for your sake, Julia

Roberts looks passed this clear disregard for her ability to be a beautiful human being, and instead pays attention to the utter creepiness of getting her face tattooed onto your body. I suppose, if she can spend time with Richard Gere on a piano, she could probably appreciate your adoration.

Love, Sam Lane

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.


writer? illustrator? photographer? student? ON DIT. On Dit magazine is seeking the above (and associated passionate and creative folk) to help fill its 48 fortnightly pages. On Dit is Australia’s third-oldest student magazine, and in 2012 celebrates its 80th birthday. Famous Adelaide alumni like Colin Thiele, Shaun Micallef, and Julia Gillard (and Christopher Pyne!) have graced its pages. Now you can too. If you’re interested in contributing, email us at ondit@adelaide.edu.au, slide something under our door, or check out ondit.com.au. We can’t wait to hear from you.


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funded for teaching, and called for an increase in the total amount of Base Funding provided. If this were to happen, I would welcome it with open arms. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time it’s been suggested that the government increase funding to universities, so I’m not very optimistic.

state of the union Photo: Chris Arblaster

(on-campus)

with CASEY BRIGGS, auu president. Sometimes, really important stuff is a bit boring. Especially when it comes to government legislation, since everything gets bogged down in jargon and bureaucracy. In this column, I’m going to talk about one of those really important but bureaucratic issues (and hopefully not also bore you to tears) – the Base Funding Review. Put simply, Base Funding is the money that the government gives to universities to assist with the cost of delivering teaching. This, topped up by your contributions (which most of you defer on HECS) is what pays for your degree. The Federal Government is reviewing the way that this funding is given to universities, and asked a panel to investigate. A report was released in October and included 29 recommendations to the government. The panel recognised that universities are under-

Another recommendation was about the fees that students pay for courses. Currently courses cost different amounts, depending partly on how much you’re expected to earn once you graduate, but also based on ‘whatever the government decides on a whim’. That’s why law students pay a lot more for their degrees than arts students, even though they cost about the same to teach. The panel has suggested that this system be thrown out the window entirely. Instead, they say that students should pay for their courses based on how much they cost to teach. The proposal is for 60% of the costs of a degree to be covered by the government, with the other 40% being paid by students. If you’re a law student your fees would halve, but brace yourself if you’re a science student, because your fees would more than double. I’m sure we can all agree that the one thing this world needs is more lawyers. That’s why this proposal doesn’t make much sense to me. The government loves to talk about how it is increasing the number of students in the university system, particularly from disadvantaged and other nontypical uni student backgrounds (basically anyone that isn’t rich and Caucasian). But increasing HECS fees so dramatically will only decrease diversity in universities. I attended a consultation session along with Idris Martin (see the next page) to put these concerns to the government. Representatives from the universities were also present, and I’m pleased that for the most part our Vice-Chancellor and Deputy Vice-Chancellor (Academic) agreed with our point of view. We’re awaiting the government’s response to the report (where they’ll tell us what they plan to do and it’ll become apparent what they want us to forget about), but I’m confident that this is something that the SRC will be looking at later in the year. Casey Briggs President, Adelaide University Union Email: auupresident@auu.org.au Twitter: @CaseyBriggs


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Justice Officer. Let me take a moment to congratulate her and everyone else who has been involved.

student representative column Photo: Shaylee Leach

To celebrate this achievement, the SRC and the AUU are running a Fair Trade and Social Justice Expo on the Barr Smith Lawns on the 14th of March. At the Expo, exhibitors will be able to show you what being a Fair Trade institute actually means, how to keep our certification and what you can expect on a Fair Trade campus.

with IDRIS MARTIN, src president. Now that the SRC has taught you How To Have Great Sex, it’s time to turn our attention to the other issues that affect you. As you’ve probably read in the State of the Union, Casey and I attended a stakeholder consultation with the government on the Base Funding Review. I won’t go into the details of it since he’s covered it, but I do want to reassure you that the SRC is on top of this and will continue the fight for students. If you have any thoughts or questions on Base Funding, don’t hesitate to get in contact with me. So what’s new at the university? In case you haven’t heard, the University of Adelaide recently became a Fair Trade certified institution. The Fair Trade Collective on campus has been campaigning and working towards this goal for a few years now and the SRC got on board with the campaign when Bec Taylor, current AUU Board Director, was serving as the SRC Social

The ‘social justice’ part does sometimes confuse people since they aren’t really sure what ‘social justice’ is about. ‘Social justice’ focuses on equality of all people, regardless of any differences between them. Equality of opportunity and accessibility should not just be lofty ideals that we name; they should be realistic goals that we strive for. So if you find yourself with time to kill on the 14th of March, check out the Fair Trade and Social Justice expo. Finally, just something I’m interested to hear from you on. The university recently introduced a number of ‘advanced’ degrees. The major difference between them and a regular degree is an included research component and guaranteed entrance into Honours. I initially didn’t really have a problem with them, but a couple of students have expressed concerns, so I’m keen to hear more thoughts on this topic. Email or tweet them to me! Idris Martin President Student Representative Council Email: idris.martin@student.adelaide.edu.au Twitter: @IdrisMartin

(on-campus)


VOX

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(on-campus)

Lauren, 1st year Pharmaceutical Engineering

Tom, 3rd year Chemistry

Jacqui, 2nd year Music

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

Orange Juice! (see face) What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? I did read something – I don’t like it, cos I have to pay. What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? 3 days. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? Toffee Apple. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. Amazing and original. Love it! Word association: BOX. Office.

Owesome. ‘Awesome’ with an ‘O’. What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? Exceedingly little. Does it exist? What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? The minute it’s due. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? The one about amusing childhood memories. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. Five words? That’s difficult. Goodly. Word association: BOX. Plot.

Obscure. What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? I’ve got to pay, like, $200 or something, right? What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? Five minutes. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? Mr. Clickety Cane. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. Awesome, exposure, thrilling, exciting, fun. Word association: BOX. Shoe.


POP

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(on-campus)

Rachel, 1st year Dentistry

Lachlan, 3rd year Law/Economics

Amrita, 3rd year Health Sciences

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

What does the ‘O’ stand for in your O’Week?

Oh no, I have to go back to uni next week.

Overpriced! The drinks are too expensive this year.

Orange. What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? Nothing. What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? An hour. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? I don’t know any – I’m an international student. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. I don’t know about it. Word association: BOX. Wood.

What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? Too much. I wish more people knew about it. What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? Two hours before it’s due. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? Toffee Apple. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. Lots of cool stuff. Go. Word association: BOX. Pop.

What do you know about the new Student Services and Amenities Fee? Nothing. What’s the latest you’ve ever handed up an assignment? Like a week. What’s your favourite Peter Combe song? Juicy Juicy Green Grass. Describe the Fringe Festival in five words. Awesome. Best time of year. Word association: BOX. Plot. (Ed: what is it with you nerds?)


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(on-campus)

the src wants you! Keen to get involved? Interested in activism, advocacy and representation? The SRC currently has two vacancies and you can be the person to fill them! Available positions: Education Officer Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Officer (You must be of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander descent to apply for this position) Postgraduate Officer (You must be enrolled in a postgraduate program at the University of Adelaide to apply for this position) To apply or to find out more information, contact SRC President Idris Martin at idris.martin@ student.adelaide.edu.au.


SSAF SS

for & against

Last October, Parliament passed legislation to allow universities across Australia to charge students a compulsory additional fee for study - the Student Services and Amenities Fee, or SSAF – which can only be used to fund, well, student services and amenities. The University of Adelaide has elected to charge the full fee ($263 per year) to most full-time students, reportedly amounting, this year, to around $3.8 million (expected to rise as commencing international students begin being charged). The fee, like HECS, is not necessarily up-front, and can be deferred on a HELP loan scheme. Unlike compulsory union fees (CSU), the SSAF is paid to

universities, not to student unions – though universities are expected to allocate at least some proportion of the revenue to student organisations. As with any new fee, the SSAF is proving controversial, with positions ranging from advocacy to ‘STOP THE SLUG’. Turn the page to read arguments from both sides of the student debate. More information from the University can be found online at adelaide.edu.au/students/finance/ssaf/. You’ll hear more from us about where that money ends up in the weeks and months to come. Send us your thoughts at ondit@adelaide.edu.au.

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for:

fletcher o’leary, former president of the adelaide university union I’ve been hearing about SSAF proposals since 2008, when the Federal Government first released their report into student services and amenities, which found that without the student services levy collected on behalf of student unions around the country, there had been $170 million worth of services lost. The saddest thing about the SSAF debate is that it has been decided by ideology, rather than common sense. Fifteen years ago, there was acceptance amongst even Liberal-leaning students that people should pay for services and representation. In the end, I think Natasha StottDespoja put it best when she argued that this sort of fee should be considered the same way that a council rate is. As a student, you exist in a community that requires certain services and amenities to make it an enjoyable community to be a part of. It seems like a no-brainer to me, but I’ll take the opportunity to rebut some of the things I’ve heard over the years: ‘I shouldn’t have to pay for these things’ You already do – you just didn’t realise it. After services levies were forbidden by legislation, the University had to pick up the slack from their own funds (which should have been going towards your education), or the services had to be shut down. So that’s several million annually that has been taken from your education anyway. The SSAF means that money that should be spent on your education can be spent on your education, without endangering essential services.

‘It pays for useless things’ Hmmm, not really. The money can only be spent only on a specific set of services that benefit students, like counselling and advocacy services, and supporting sports and clubs which help students but which don’t always have the money to pay for themselves. In past years, fantastic services such as free dental care were offered at some universities, and in future years it may be possible to look at things that should be provided to students that aren’t currently available. ‘It should be user pays’ University can be a tough place when you don’t have support, and the people who need the support to get through university are also the ones who aren’t in a position to pay for services. Perfect case in point: you’re having a tough time navigating the Centrelink labyrinth. If you’re in need of Centrelink, you aren’t in a position to pay for someone to give you a hand with it. There are other things that can’t logically be ‘user pays’ – for example, lobbying for more funding for education, or representation of students on university committees. Do only people who have paid get the benefits of increased funding or an improved system in the university? I’ve been told that the first allotment of the SSAF money at Adelaide will largely go towards much-needed upgrades for sports facilities. The university would be poorer without them, but the sporting clubs couldn’t afford to maintain them alone. ‘It’ll just be spent on fringe politics’ The myth that money gets spent on ‘fringe issues’ that students don’t

care about really needs to be done away with. There are provisions in the AUU and SRC Constitutions for General Student Meetings to overrule decisions made by the Board or Council. On top of that, if you don’t like what they’re doing, you get to vote them out – every single year. Even so, past student organisations have a good record. In the 1950s, students overwhelmingly opposed the White Australia Policy, and the National Union submitted survey results to the government for consideration. The University of Sydney SRC participated in the 1960s ‘Freedom Rides’ to desegregate NSW. A little closer to home, Adelaide’s 1971 anti-apartheid Springbok tour protest was directed from our very own Union House, with the assistance of a mimeograph and some handheld radios. The talltales spun from ‘boomer radicalism’ may take on a life of their own, but belie far more benign truths. In the words of Public Enemy, don’t believe the hype. Under the SSAF legislation, your money can’t be spent on party politics. Any other political advocacy is ultimately under student control, in yearly elections. Whether lobbying for better youth allowance, better student housing, and better funding for education is ‘fringe politics’ depends on your perspective, I guess. Anyway, it’s about a week until my next Centrelink payment, so tonight I am making another masterpiece using cheese, bread and a toasted sandwich maker. But I am happy to pay the SSAF, knowing that I will have the services that all students deserve, and that my university experience will be a better one because of it.


jack batty, president of liberals on campus Welcome to the second edition of On Dit since the Government introduced the Student Services and Amenities fee! Now the student union has more of your money we can look forward to a bigger and better campus-culture-packed student magazine in 2012. Perhaps we can afford twice as many articles promoting the Occupy Movement or await even more pages spruiking a carbon tax! Maybe the 2012 editors will get to go on several interstate ‘training’ trips this year instead of the measly single annual junket they had to put up with under VSU. And all of this thanks to you and your hard earned money! But what if you don’t read On Dit? What if you’d rather spend your money buying Cleo or Zoo? What if you don’t like reading at all and would prefer to spend your money on beer? Too bad! Pay up anyway. Whether you like it or not, all full-time students at Adelaide will be slugged an extra $263 a year to bankroll this and whatever else your student union wants. Last year the Gillard Government delighted the ideological left by introducing the new fee, which represents a return to compulsory student unionism (CSU). The basic argument against CSU remains, as it was in 2005 when the Howard Government got rid of it, one of choice. Students should not be forced to pay for ‘services’ that they might never use or might not want. The reintroduction of CSU is particularly insidious though

against:

because the last six years have been nothing but a glowing advertisement for Voluntary Student Unionism (VSU). Contrary to the claims of the left, campus culture has not disappeared. The quality of education and useful student services has not regressed. The world has not caved in. Instead, we have seen that if services offered on campus are good enough they will earn the support of students without compulsion. Rather than relying on a CSU slush fund, student serviceproviders have worked harder to genuinely serve students. They have been forced to deliver only services that students actually want and choose to fund. VSU did, however, reduce two types of ‘services’. Firstly, superfluous services and activities were reduced. Students do not want to pay an extra $263 to fund services and activities already being provided by universities, the government or the voluntary sector. Students don’t need to be treated differently to everyone else. If someone outside university needs help they go to Centrelink or Legal Aid or an NGO like Lifeline. If they want to play a sport they contribute money to a club or association. We simply don’t need cashed up student unions wasting our money by replicating these services. Secondly, VSU helped reduce politicised student unions rorting our money on fashionable left-wing causes. The Government pays lip service to preventing the political abuse that was a hallmark of the previous CSU regime by including a tokenistic prohibition on money

being spent on political parties and candidates. The Act, however, is silent on money being spent on quasi-political organisations or issues and completely devoid of effective enforcement mechanisms. The vast majority of the student body takes no interest in student politics and do not want to fund the fun and games of the Labor left. At Adelaide University a little over 10% of the student population voted in the most recent student elections. A similarly small minority chooses to pay to join the student union. Clearly, an overwhelming majority of students do not want to pay student services fees unless they are forced to do so. There is mainstream opposition to this new tax. Students already struggle to pay for textbooks, transport and rent. The last thing we need is the government slugging us an extra $263 a year to go to uni. Poor students will suffer most as work pressures mean they have less time to spend on campus enjoying subsidised activity. While some will relish the increased funding the SSAF will bring to certain niche left-wing causes, most will see it for what it is: a thinly veiled reintroduction of compulsory student unionism by the government and an ideological money-grab by student unions. Students should continue to fight for freedom of choice on campus.

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(on-campus)


pretty huge deal. PAGE

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Considering doing a PhD? In 2010, enrolment in postgraduate research programmes across Australian universities rose by six per cent from the previous year. Across the ten years 2001-2010, enrolment rose by 28 per cent. Enrolment of international students in that period rose by a whopping 140 per cent. Only one in seven of these enrolees will complete their postgraduate research programmes, and of those, only a quarter will end up working in academia. 44 per cent of all research postgraduates – that is, people who have been awarded a PhD or Masters by Research – find work in the higher education sector. Further research suggests that almost half of these people actually win administrative, rather than academic, positions. Of the lucky quarter that win academic positions, a growing proportion will end up in ‘teaching-only’ positions, where they will be responsible for large numbers of students, with little time or financial support to conduct research and build a sustainable career profile. In South Australia, the number of ‘teaching-only’ positions in academia rose from five in 2010 to 63 in 2011. (These fluctuate wildly over time – in 2001, there were 36 of them.) The traditional first job for a recent postgraduate is a ‘postdoctoral’ research position, in which a newly-minted PhD is employed for two years on an existing well-funded project. These have all but dried up in the humanities, although a handful is awarded each year at the bestfunded institutions. They are more common in science and engineering departments, which are betterplaced to win large grants and

industry partnerships, requiring a reserve army of young researchers to work the laboratory factory line. But postdoctoral positions are awarded at low pay grades on temporary contracts; postdocs often work for two years on projects not of their choosing, contribute to a number of joint-authored papers, and still lack the experience in teaching, research and grant funding to be promoted to full academic status. It is not uncommon for a science researcher to go through several postdoctoral appointments before leaving the university sector for more security in industry or government. More common now, particularly for humanities PhDs, is the experience of cycling through casual and short-term contract employment during and after study. Tutoring offers enough money to pay rent and essentials for nine months out of twelve, just. In 2010, the aftertax weekly income for an honours graduate employed as an ‘associate lecturer’ undertaking four tutorials per week – that’s not just four classes per week, but also roughly 70 essays to mark twice per semester, course preparation, consultations, the flowing stream of e-mails, administration tasks (including photocopying for lecturers)and, if requested, the preparation and delivery of ‘guest’ lectures for no extra income – was slightly less than the combined Newstart Allowance and Rent Assistance. For that reason, many PhD candidates whose scholarships have expired take on a dozen or more tutorials across different campuses of different universities, in order to approach the bar and café wages of their students. Most young academics are employed as casuals, or on rolling six or twelve-month

contracts with no guarantee of winning permanent positions. When permanent positions are offered, competition is not limited within Australia. Many academics with permanent positions in Australian universities were trained, or have experience, overseas. This reality is rarely explained to postgraduate students when they begin study. (Completion rates are low enough as it is.) Most postgraduates are instead exposed to childish pep talks instructing them in the joys of publishing and applying for postdoctoral positions, without mentioning that for 75 per cent there will not be positions available for them. (Academic conferences often feature ‘postgraduate days’, where successful academics address groups of anxious young things, insisting on the power of positive thought.) The increased competition for academic positions has drastically altered the landscape of postgraduate study, but it appears that only a select few supervisors and administrators – often the younger cohort, with some experience in the tight academic labour market – genuinely understand this. The most common and yet the worst piece of advice given to commencing postgraduates is to choose a topic out of burning passion, to avoid boredom – as if that were even possible after years of dreary isolation. This is a reflection of a lovely academic ideal: the independent researcher committing to their life’s work. Many academics who stick to this hazy vision of academic impulse were trained and first employed in the aftermath of the 1970s, when the Whitlam Government expanded funding for university education. Since the 1980s, this funding has been contracted and subjected to a


words: dr parchili aepudan, phd range of competitive processes. If such a rosy ideal were ever applicable to the actual work of an academic, it is but a fairytale now. The actual work of an academic necessitates little actual research. According to recent studies of the constitution of academic success, the most successful researchers have reached their lofty career heights through the development of professional networks; the publication of many first- or single-authored articles in high-ranked journals; and success in winning competitive grant funding, or linking with industry, in order to pay for their own research and wages without making demands from tight university budgets. The result is that many successful academics spend months of their year preparing grant applications, despite the fact that in 2012 nearly 80 per cent of Australian Research Council applications failed. Others spend this time developing partnerships with industry that may undermine academic independence. The most successful academics concentrate on research areas that are profitable or fashionable, in order to convince business of potential returns on investment, or to convince grant funding bodies of the importance of being linked to this research. They know how to milk a research project for as many publications as possible, and often publish several articles in different journals from a single project, slightly changing the scope or angle each time – the journal Nature offers this the illustrative sobriquet of ‘salami-slicing’. Some journals have unofficial rules as to how much of an article has to be ‘new’ in order to be considered original research. Many

successful academics cite their own previous articles, thus influencing their citation rates, which is just about the only measurable indicator of research quality – in every other measure, quantity trumps quality. Underneath all of this, the development of professional networks –editors and reviewers of peer-reviewed journals, employment selection panels of universities, reviewers of grant applications, convenors of international conferences – is a strong indicator of academic success.

“... reality is rarely explained to postgraduate students when they begin study; completion rates are low enough as it is.” If you’re considering doing a PhD in order to enter into the academic profession, it’s best to think about all these things as early as possible. Even the degree you study can make a difference – since there are slightly more opportunities in economics and commerce than humanities, studying one of the former and manipulating your interests into that discipline can increase your chances of publication, grants and employment. When you select your honours supervisor, you should of course consider the compatibility of your research interests and the quality of your relationship, but even more important will be their networks and publication experience, as they mentor you through your formative years. Apply for any small grants – for travel or research – you can, for these always

look good on applications. Look at what grants are available before you start, and tailor your project to be applicable to as many as possible. Examine at the range of articles that have been published recently in your field, and tailor your research to follow those fashions. (Contrary to popular belief, independent scholarship is not fashionable.) Imagine your honours thesis as two journal articles, and submit it as such. Do not worry about rejection, because the most successful academics are rejected all the time. Follow the scattershot approach, and submit as much as possible – some of it will stick. Choose an honours topic that you can expand as a larger thesis, so that the prep work for the larger project is done before you start. Present your honours findings in conferences during your first year as a Master’s or PhD student. Find the best academics working in your area, e-mail them for advice, and ask them interesting questions at conferences. If you can impress them, they may ask you to help with joint-authored articles, or to write chapters in books they’re editing. Take on some tutoring, but not too much – tutoring and even lecturing does not lead to sustainable employment with anywhere near the success of grant funding or research publication. Don’t get too good at the shit work, I was once told, and that was excellent advice. Finally, don’t be too focussed on an academic career. Along with 75 per cent of us, I eventually escaped. The grass is actually pretty green out here.

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Adelaide University Student Radio is Australia’s longest running student radio program. It’s been running for over 30 years on Radio Adelaide (Formerly 5UV). Student Radio is the breeding ground of new talent and content in South Australia – so check it out! Tune in Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights from 11pm on Radio Adelaide 101.5 FM or online at http://radio.adelaide.edu.au. In 2012, the directors are Tim Molineux, Joel Parsons, and Tara Tahmasebi.


tuesday.

wednesday.

thursday.

11:00pm-11:30pm:

11:00pm-11:30pm:

11:00pm-12:00am:

left, right, and center.

sports talk.

spittoon.

Left, Right and Centre seeks to discuss local, state, federal and international politics. Our emphasis is on policy. As such, we are more likely to speak to experts than politicians when discussing the latest policy announcement. We seek to examine issues from all sides, based on their merits to people, not to politicians. With plenty of humour, cynicism and mockery, Left Right and Centre is there for those who need a latenight political ‘fix’.

Sports Talk aims to provide sporting information from local competitions, National leagues and international sports by discussing all the major headlines. While informative, Sports Talk also takes a look at the lighter side of the world of sport, like the annual wife carrying competition, bog snorkelling and the horse vs man marathon race. All of the action happening on the weekend will also be previewed and dissected.

What is Alien Hand Syndrome? Why were the gladiators vegetarian? When are we getting hover cars? The answers to these questions and more are tackled each week by the Ben and Tom on Spittoon. For one hour every Thursday night at 11pm the brothers discuss a theme through a variety of light-hearted stories from history, current affairs and science and nature. Where Tom is fascinated by the world, Ben is confused by it. Between the chats and the music the boys meet with special guests who weigh in on the debate, and are roped into the odd comedy sketch... and, occasionally, the very odd comedy sketch.

11:30pm-12:00am: devil’s den. Sick of the usual chart music? The Devil’s Den offers a mix of local Adelaide bands and DJs, filthy dubstep and gangsta beats, as well as music news, media discussion and band interviews. We aim to get you through Tuesday nights with a range of discussion topics and interesting news and interviews, as well as fresh tunes.

12:00am-1:00am: midnight static. Do you ever find yourself driving around in silence because there is nothing but rubbish coming out of your car stereo? Have you ever had to pull an all nighter on an assignment without the support of some awesome tracks and even awesomer people? Well not to fear… because Midnight Static is here! With a strong emphasis on unsigned artists, join Nina and Sally as they spin the best indie rock and electro pop tunes your way.

11:30pm-12:00am: gorilla radio. Inspired by such influences as ‘A Bit of Fry and Laurie’, Monty Python and the Goon Show, hosts Brendan and Jeremy lead you through a humorous and relaxed view of the week’s political and current affairs stories. Skits consisting of parody and satire, and often a mixture of none of them, are a vital part of the show, given we are often short of live material. Gorilla Radio will take over your stereo, and will leave you wondering just how on earth these guys were allowed to do live radio.

12:00am-1:00am: midnight static. Tom and Pat are hungry for musical variety, and the only way to quench their thirst is to host their own musical variety show. Each week these two crude dudes will choose a unique theme on which to base their musical selections as well as any discussion that might ensue. In between songs they will chat about the Adelaide music scene, local and international bands, upcoming events and other important topics. With goofs, spoofs, thrills, chills and spills, you can’t spell radio without ‘rad’!

12:00am-1:00am: midnight static. On Thursdays, Jake and Joshua host a show focusing on the local Adelaide scene, promoting local bands and solo artists and getting their music out to the community. Expect interviews, live band sets, gig guides, gig reviews, band profiles, general Adelaide music news and obviously most of all, the music itself. A one-stop-shop concerning gigs, bands and events surrounding music in Adelaide. Rejecting restrictions on theme or genre, Jake and Joshua take an all-encompassing approach, playing tunes from any style of music. Tune in each week for your gig guide on local, national, and international acts.

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fear & loathing on the 840f

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or; ‘ethnographic reflections on the commuter’ Scholastica Destitus

words: bryn lewis art and latin: daisy freeburn Like many university students, I rely on public transport. And like many university students, I bitch about public transport. In fact, complaining about the monotony of bus rides is guaranteed common ground between us students. At first, I found commuting dull and would spasm with shock if someone as much as looked at me on the bus, but soon, I began to find the predictability comforting and would find solace in reading. Over two years of study and two years of catching the bus, I have made some observations (outlined below) which I hope may be of use to any rookie commuters out there. To the uninitiated passenger, the bus is filled with an eclectic mix of people and the atmosphere, although drab, is one free from discrimination. However, the bus environment is not an egalitarian free-for-all and to the trained-eye, complex power dynamics within a highly regimented environment become apparent. Passengers

on the bus belong to six distinct categories. Or maybe species is a better word. First, we have the single mothers, who vary in appearance but all have one thing in common: noisy offspring. These creatures often sit in the front, monopolising the special section primarily reserved for people with disabilities, pregnant women and our next species, the elderly. These gentle beasts, who also have the special privilege of sharing the exclusive front section, go largely unnoticed by other commuters, but their presence is felt when Harris Scarfe has a sale. Over here, in the middle rows, are the middleaged. They are either commuting because they are environmentally conscious or due to financial stress; both sub-categories reek of forgotten dreams. Their faces tell a melancholy story of despair, not too dissimilar to that of Mexican cotton field workers. Whether it is global warming or lack of

money, they radiate a contagious aura of impending doom. Beyond this, if you look closely, you’ll see some students, easily identified by their tight jeans, large glasses and multi-trip tickets, and more often than not found towards the rear of the vehicle (with occasional overflow into the middle rows). Finally we have the unemployed and the homeless, who share a collective stench of cigarettes and cheap wine, combined with the irresistible mix of urine and vomit. This stench, I believe, does not exude from their clothes but from the death of hope; an embodied smell. It is the type of smell that seeps from the doors of casinos. The unemployed and hobos often share the back section with the university students, which makes for an interesting juxtaposition of fatalism and idealism. You can see why this habitat is a social minefield for non-regular commuters, typically unaware of the highly segregated, hierarchical environment of the bus and


Senex Harrisscarfeshoppus

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Mono Maternus

s ch e r u u s ca t

Within this rigid structure of passenger categorisation, there is little room for agency. There are, however, exceptions (as demonstrated by the middle-aged man listening to trance music at full volume). While most students use music as a form of relief from the numbing effect of sitting on a bus for two hours daily, there exists a rare sub-species who prefer reading novels as a form of escapism. It must be advised that those who do not conform to the bus’ strict social conventions do so at their own peril. Thanks to Hunter S. Thompson and Dostoevsky, members of this rare sub-species become social outcasts, earning a status which is equivalent to lepers. As they reach for a paperback, they will hear a chorus of groans. Other students look at them as if they do not belong. They receive stares that say, ‘shouldn’t you be in the middle-aged section?’ Brave members of the sub-species stare back defiantly, proud of their display of agency. These fearless individuals are truly the modernday equivalent of Rosa Parks.

nus B

As well as the overpowering smell, provided by our hobo friends, what no passenger can escape is the hybrid sound created by a struggling motor and a dozen iPods turned up to maximum volume with extra bass. Most of the noise comes from the students, who are either listening to music or complaining about the smell. Occasionally, you may find commuters from the middle section listening to music. For example, on the 840F, one regular from the middle section is strangely always on the same bus as me. It is uncanny; even when I miss my normal bus and am forced to catch a later one, he will undoubtedly be there too. He listens to repetitive trance music that is far too loud and it is obvious to everyone onboard that he is experiencing a mid-life crisis. A fellow student confided in me that she had flirted with the idea of stabbing him. I told her that if in the event of her stabbing him, I would gladly testify in court that his trance music is conducive to making fellow passengers go into an acute state of psychosis in which they can not be held accountable for their actions. I later told her that the common household pen

makes for a great shiv, you just need to aim for the jugular. This comment was perhaps taking the joke too far and was most likely an effect of watching too much Oz.

Ali e

instantly recognisable as they awkwardly shuffle back and forth in the aisle.


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fucking up in great britain and living to tell the tale words: ruby niemann art: katie hamilton Go on any website about a travel, read any newspaper’s list of ‘top ten travel tips’, or ask any welltravelled relative, and you’ll usually get the same few bits and pieces of advice. Don’t leave things to the last minute. Don’t do it alone. Don’t randomly attach yourself to strange people and assume they won’t murder you and leave your body in a canal just because they seemed really nice after a few Jager bombs. And for the love of God, don’t, do NOT, lose your passport.

London, I naively asked a guy for directions to King’s Cross Road, and ended up having to run away when he proceeded to demand I come live in his house with him. I leave my laptop in dorm rooms full of strangers, I walk around with my wallet totally unsecured and probably sticking out of my pocket – it’s a level of childish innocence which should have seen me lying dead in a gutter by now, but I’m actually an extremely lucky person … on the whole.

Hi there, I’m Ruby, and I’m here to tell you what it looks like when the worst has well and truly happened. And you’re stuck overseas. And you’re a massive, flailing drama queen.

But I’m not magic. All that luck had to run out eventually, and the breaking point came in a Manchester bus station about four weeks into my trip. It seems really weird that, considering how careless and easy-to-steal I make all of my important possessions, I lost my passport by accidentally tripping over and not realising it slipped out of my pocket in a bus station. It feels like it should have been stolen from me, along with my wallet, as I waved it around

I’m a bit of an accident-prone person. I’m not sure if I’m very stupid or very trusting, or a bit of both, but for some reason I just never assume that bad things will happen to me. I was once nearly kidnapped by a taxi driver in Modbury. My first week in

on a street corner, but no. It was a simple, stupid little accident that ended with me declaring a private war on Consular Office Steve.1 The Australian government doesn’t really like giving people emergency passports when you show up missing a passport and without anything that can properly identify you. Turns out that seems a bit suspicious to most people - even if you’re clearly just a dumb teenager who’s not great at taking care of her stuff, rather than a nefarious agent of a terrorist cell. To try and deter my obvious terrorist intentions, they gave me the most annoying roadblock of all time: Consular Office Steve. Honestly, the only time I’ve been so annoyed at another person was when I read The Fountainhead and ended up growling every time Elsworth Toohey’s name was mentioned, and that guy wasn’t even real. Now I could turn this 1.  Name changed to protect horrible, horrible identity.


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article into me ranting about Consular Office Steve – and believe me I really, really want to write that article, except it would just be terrible – but I’ll simplify it by saying he clearly thought I was the most criminally incompetent idiot ever to waste his precious time. To be fair, this is probably true, but I’m pretty sure it’s not his job to make me feel like it. The only way to survive the experience was to proceed with extreme stubbornness. I eventually just decided that I was going to be as useless as possible until someone made it easier for me to get an emergency passport. Which actually worked. So I guess the moral here is that if things don’t go your way, flail around like a marionette with half its strings cut until someone else fixes it. No, I’m totally kidding that’s a terrible moral. I’m not sure if there is even a moral to this story. But here’s what I took away from this: disasters will happen, and that’s

totally okay; it’s not shameful to have to email your parents begging for money, they expect it and they’ll love you anyway. The consulate will eventually help you out, but it will be really, really beaurocratic and annoying. And most of all, it’s not the end of the world. Pretty much everything is survivable, and if Flailing Drama Queen Ruby can handle it, so can you, imaginary trapped traveller who somehow got their hands on an issue of On Dit. Also? Fuck Consular Office Steve. That guy sucks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to drink my tiny train vodka and get ragingly drunk on the way to Glasgow.


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the republican primaries words: john eldridge photos: gage skidmore

If you hate elections, you

ought to be thankful you don’t

United States. Not only are the politicians more obnoxious (and more insistent on talking about their children), the election season stretches on for much longer. Right now the Republicans are conducting their presidential primary: it’s the election-before-the-election that will determine which rich white guy will be endorsed as the Republican candidate for President and take the field for the main election in November. If you think our pollies are bad, these guys make our pugilistic nutters look like Lincoln. live in the

Here are, at time of writing, the main contenders in all their godfearing horror.

Rick Perry

Ron Paul

He’s an idiot, but we love him

Libertarian nutjob

Perry is like most Americans. He fought in a war, married his highschool sweetheart, loves apple pie. He probably has a truck.

If a lawless dystopia in which you roam a blasted cityscape in an armoured van is your idea of home, then Ron Paul is your guy. Bent on dismantling the Republic in the name of freedom, Paul wants to radically roll back the frontiers of the United States government at home and abroad. He’d close the foreign army bases, kill off welfare, smash the IRS and so forth.

And he’s not too sharp. This is a guy who publicly forgot which Federal departments he wanted to abolish. Watching him debate is an experience similar to taking one’s beloved terrier to a family outing. At first he knows who everyone is and is just happy to have been allowed out around people, but pretty soon he’s skittering wildly hither and thither, muddling through with a baffled grin on his face. You know by that stage he’s just lost in the light and the noise. Thankfully Perry’s handlers took him out of the game on January 19. He endorsed Gingrich.

Oh, he’s also opposed to abortion. That’s right: Paul thinks the long arm of the state is a menace, but he still wants it to have a firm grip of your uterus. Paul has been more popular in this primary season than in the past, but there’s still no chance of him snagging the endorsement.


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Newt Gingrich

Mitt Romney

Rick Santorum

What a name

All-American squillionaire

Isn’t a newt like a gekko or something? In any case, former House speaker Newt Gingrich is slimier than any reptile. After a Congressional career marred by dubious ethics and a Kevin Rudd approach to teamwork, Gingrich retired to a life of self-promotion in which he patiently explains to news hosts how his brief presence in an American college at some time in the 20th century is evidence of his membership of the pantheon of American intellectualism.

Battling up from humble origins as a scion of the elite, Romney takes the lessons he learned as a management consultant to the political arena. Do you really need 100 senators all doing the same job? In this economy?

I feel sorry for the kids he homeschooled

Gingrich’s campaign was marked by an unaccountably vicious anti-judge line: he thinks the federal judiciary is out of control, and has promised that if he were President, he would have US Marshals drag federal judges before Congressional committees to answer for their zany decisions. Add to this Gingrich’s violent political imagination, in which the three branches of the US government function more or less as a tenuous Roman triumvirate, and you have a man whose ideas spell trouble.

Romney is the darling of the Republican establishment, and makes up with money what he lacks in charisma and authenticity. Likely to win the endorsement, Romney and his awful vests are going to be on your news feed a lot more this year. Expect also to see many more of Romney’s characteristic media fuckups: so far Romney has been caught on tape talking about how he likes to be able to fire people and about how little his political approach focuses on the poor. If he’s ever President, expect more trickle-down economics combined with a continuation of the Republican war on America’s already-thin welfare safety net.

Rick Santorum is pretty big on god. And god, apparently, is pissed. God wants red tape cut for small business. And he’s not too big on this gays-having-civil-rights thing either. A much-reported exchange from the Santorum campaign was a lengthy verbal battle between his holiness and a squeaky college student in which gay marriage was compared to all manner of implausible couplings. When it comes to minorities, Santorum has all the sensitivity and cosmopolitan open-mindedness of the Ayatollah Khomeini. If you thought the christian right was all senescent retirees with misspelt signs, Santorum will prove you wrong. He can do up his shoelaces without help, and can put together cogent, terrifying sentences. When you have a candidate as transcendently terrible as Santorum, one does start to wonder whether some divine force is at work.


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The Dachau Memorial Site is arranged so that the visitor takes the same journey as the prisoners did. To enter the camp you must pass through the iron gates that bear the famous words “ARBEIT MACHT FREI� (work sets you free). The gates, like the two dormitories that sit at the border of the yard, are reconstructed. The real gates were stolen not long after the war had ended.


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The most surreal moment of my time at the site was standing in the yard. It was here that they used to perform the roll call, which would see prisoners standing in the cold for hours without moving. It was a reasonably cold day, about 4°C and overcast. I was standing in the yard with thermal underwear, a long sleeve top, a down winter coat, a scarf and gloves on and I felt cold down to the bone. The realisation then hit that all the stories I had heard about prisoners’ experiences had happened right where I was standing. Suddenly I felt a connection to world history that growing up in Adelaide seldom affords.


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Many features of the camp, such as the watchtower above, still exist in the grounds or have been accurately recreated. The most daunting section for most visitors is the crematorium. Here the visitor may stand inside a gas chamber and view the ovens. I couldn’t spend long in there. Looking around the crematorium at the other visitors, I realised how individually we were all responding to our surroundings. Some were overcome with emotion, some were quietly taking everything in and others were taking tourist photographs of themselves standing in the gas chamber.


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A memorial statute stands outside the crematorium: The Unknown Prisoner, by Fritz Koelle. The inscription, loosely translated, means the dead are honoured when the living learn. It truly typifies, in my opinion, the experience of visiting the Dachau Memorial Site. The man slouches, a position forbidden during roll call. Some see him as defiant. Some see him as defeated. I believe everybody would see him differently.


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(fringe)

ON DIT PRESENTS...

fringe Everybody’s favourite place to hang during Fringe, The Garden of Unearthly Delights, is open until 18 March. The bars, the freak shows, the ferris wheel… it’s all there, but why don’t you check out some of these hip new hotspots popping up all over Adelaide? Gluttony returns to Rymill Park opposite the Garden, with hundreds of shows, delicious greasy food, bars and quirky venues. Not to mention the Gluttony Silent Disco, every Saturday throughout Fringe season for just $10. Add it to your East End list. Rekindle your romance with Adelaide Metro with a Tour of the Unexpected. Jump on board a free Fringe Bus at one of the stops on North Terrace, East Terrace, corner of Grenfell and Pulteney, Angas Street, King William Street and Currie Street. Your Fringe Tour Guide will show you some of the hidden gems of this year’s

Fringe. Pick up a free schedule at a FringeTIX Box Office. Hanging around the city centre? The Balcony Bar at Adelaide Town Hall is back, and open every Friday and Saturday from 5pm til late. I got very drunk there last year. It was fantastic. Check it out. Fancy yourself a bit of a wordsmith? A bit of a thespian? A bit of a bard? I’ll stop now, but you should seriously consider attending A Word on Words: Playwriting Forum, presented by Quiet Little Fox. It’s $10, it’s on Wednesday March 14 at 11am and it sounds fucking brilliant. Thanks to Bank SA, you can check out a free concert in the Garden every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday throughout Fringe season. They start at 5.30pm. Check one out. Or two. Or all. Walking down the mall is boring and full of high school

students. Walking down the mall during Fringe Season is pseudoerotic and full of drag queens on stilts. Free fantastical Fringe entertainment is at your fingertips. The Adelaide Street Theatre Festival runs from 9—12 March in Rundle Mall and Rymill Park, and opens with a bang at the Waymouth Street Party from 5pm on Friday 9 March. Still not sure which shows to buy tickets to? Fringe In The Mall runs from 27 February—18 March under the Gawler Place Canopy, and it’s free to pull up a chair and watch snippets of a wide variety of Fringe shows from comedy to cabaret and everything in between. Ah, the Tuxedo Cat. As elusive as its feline name suggests, it’s always moving the fuck around. This year it’s settled at 199 North Terrace, and it looks better than ever. Check out their neverending variety of comedy, theatre and performance art. Linger


binge photograph: sam young in the bar to have a drink and soak up the artistic chaos – it’s encouraged. While you’re there, make sure you check out Salty Mouth, a club night with music, entertainment and art on 3, 10 and 17 March from 11.30pm. $20 entry is almost definitely worth it. Not something you can really check out unless you break a leg, which On Dit does not advise you do, but sweet all the same – thanks to SA Lotteries, Fringe artists are hitting the hospitals both metropolitan and rural to put smiles on sick faces. Awww. This year, I’m really excited about Arcade Lane. A popup laneway bar and theatre located off Grenfell Street between Regent and Adelaide Arcades, it boasts a slick lineup of live music, comedy, DJs, cabaret, burlesque, theatre, physical theatre, short film and spoken word. Try to check out F O U R W O R D S on Saturday 17 March for DJs, VJs, art exhibitions and a live drawing display.

One of this year’s standout pop-up venues is said to be The Big Slapple, located behind the Convention Centre on the River Torrens. Composed of several minivenues, the expected highlight is the Blue Note Club, where you can catch free Fringe performances, watch an aerosol art battle, check out interactive art displays and soak up live music and drink specials. Other Big Slapple venues worth checking out include The 48 Lounge, where you can catch cabaret, flamenco and vintage jazz, and the Apollo Theatre, home to opera, comedy, cabaret and what the Slapple peeps call ‘voodoo-laced swamp funk’ and ‘post-apocalyptic future soul’. The 2012 program is full of must-see shows. Grab a copy of the Fringe guide – it’s not legit unless it’s as highlighted and haggard as a first-year’s copy of Great Expectations. Can’t choose? These websites run reviews that will help you make sure that you’re catching

only the best of the Fringe: www.fringebenefits.com.au extensively reviews almost every act at the Fringe Festival. Don’t forget to become a Fringe Benefits member for discounted tix! www.artshub.com.au provides reviews as well as arts news, vacancies and classifieds around Australia. Sign up to their e-newsletter for a daily dose of the arts. www.expressmedia.org.au/ buzzcut/ Buzzcuts is a program run for young Australian writers aged between 18-25. You’ll find a few of your fellow students churning out reviews on this one! And of course, keep checking out www.ondit.com.au. Seen a show you like this Fringe? Send your review to ondit@adelaide.edu. au and you could find it here, along with competitions, updates and all things Fringe.

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words: stella crawford photos: sam young The Garden of Unearthly Delights can mean, and be, lots of different things. Some of those things are quite exciting. First and foremost:

The Painting The Garden of Unearthly Delights is a painting by Hieronymous Bosch. It’s a triptych; a fold up painting that opens to show three separate panels which collectively tell a story, and it predates the lowly Adelaide version by a good 500 years. This first panel depicts, somewhat predictably, God passing over Eve to Adam, short of only clothes/gift-wrapping. Scholarly critique on the scene goes so far as to contemplate whether Adam’s expression is one of lust or amazement; suggesting either the deterministic doom of humanity or just that Adam’s been pretty lonely lately. In Panel #2 the catchwords are absurd complexity and basically a lot of sex; oversized fruit1 and oddly proportioned animals feature heavily, beside all the naked dudes and ladies. This is the Garden at its peak, it seems, full of good times™ and strictly 18+. And the shit gets crazy in the third; there’s a pair of oversized 1.  Yes, apples.

human ears (three times the size of the people nearby) brandishing a knife. 2 To give you an idea, someone’s actually written the sentence, ‘It is believed that the tree-man may represent the Antichrist’, though admittedly only on a Wikipedia page. So in short, all the obvious religious symbolism of the name of ‘Unearthly Delights’ is indeed canon, and now you know enough history to regale your friends with – for bonus points be sure to mention that you saw the painting in a Museo del Prado the last time you were in Madrid.

The CD “The Garden of Unearthly Delights is the eighth fulllength album by the British doom metal band Cathedral. It was released on January 26, 2006. The album title is inspired by the Hieronymous Bosch painting The Garden of Earthly Delights. [2] The limited-edition digipack version of this album contains an apple-shaped Sniff le Disc CD that emits the smell of an apple when rubbed on the label side or heated during playback in a CD or CD-ROM player.[3] However, this smell does wear off after a while and starts to emit an odour more like celery than apples 2.  Though what the ears mean to do with it is less clear.

whether this is intentional or not is unknown.[citation needed] ”

- ‘The Garden of Unearthly Delights (album)’, Wikipedia.

The Book There is nothing exciting about the book.

The Literal Place The Garden is a four sided patch of grass, bordered by a fence, of the easily scale-able kind, located in Rundle Park – the area bordered by East Terrace, and Botanic Road, just opposite the Botanic Gardens. It seems official but it’s surprisingly not – according to the website it’s an ‘ independent venture produced by Buxton Walker and Strut & Fret Production’, whoever they are. Actually, it’s relatively easy to find out who they are, but it doesn’t get a whole lot more exciting than ‘production company’. Buxton and Walker seem to handle promotion – reasonable considering they count as previous clients Arj Barker, The Chasers, and the entirety of the Melbourne Fringe Fest - leaving the equally corporate sounding Strut & Fret Production to do the, um, production. Also management. S&FP name drop less successfully, with the Melbourne International Comedy Festival listed, and then


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(fringe)

the somewhat less illustrious Brisbane Festival. They own the tents, and are also responsible for touring some of the main shows the Garden hosts outside of the Adelaide season; Cantina being the biggest name. None of these companies are local, and it’s not officially tied to the Fringe. Reading up on it eventually gives you a queasy feeling of insider trading, as well as making you wonder how much the Council charges them to use the parklands. That’s information you won’t find anywhere; though the Council does an online consultation about the Garden’s use of the land every year it’s limited to listing the facilities and capacity of the place, rather than the trickier ‘why’ and doesn’t show any of the responses or reasoning behind the decision to allow it. But to guess: it’s been there ten years – won some awards, and had a screw-tonne of visitors. That is, a serious amount of visitors: last year it had 800,000 through the gates. Compare that to the 780,000 that scored the Tour Down Under ‘Best Major Festival’ in the Australian Tourism awards in 2011, or the 80,000 that WOMAD managed over four days, or the 277,800 the Clipsal 500 achieved, and you’ll see that the Garden is a force to be reckoned with. Sure, it’s open

for a month, unlike the week/endlong events, but with a maximum capacity of only 8000 at any one time, it’s not surprising that queuing becomes inevitable when there are that many people trying to get in.

Comparatively I don’t really understand its specialness. It never struck me as odd, unusual – until I tried to write about it and worked out that by rights it should exist at all. Nothing about the Garden is that remarkable – you could get the lights and the fairground tricks at the Show. You could get the underground-excitement of the pop-up venue at the Tuxedo Cat or Arcade Lane, or this year, The Queen’s Theatre and expanse of the Adelaide Festival Centre plaza. You could get better food at Gluttony right next door in Rymill Park – no, seriously, try their burritos. And yet, before those places even get here; before the Fringe has kicked off, and then for a little while once it’s gone, the Garden is a siren call to action; a reminder of what Adelaide has and what it’s like when we use it. It’s all of those things in one place; it’s all that, and a bag of chips.

Sincerely, The best thing about the Garden is the high heel boots, strewn on top of a pile of bags while their owner dances to a band with a brass section. The best thing about the Garden is that there are people getting drunk and driving dodgems and there are people getting drunk sitting on deck chairs. It’s a place you can decide to wear flares to, or not. It’s remarkable that people go, night after night, regardless of queues and the ordinary predisposition of Adelaidians for a quiet m/t/w/th/f/sat/sun night in. It’s remarkable that every review for the Garden online unfailingly mentions either chips in a cone or corn on a cob. It’s got tasteless like nowhere else in the Fringe, and a sign over the Entrance with big hanging silver letters spelling out the name. It’s not a hugely exciting story; the Garden. Like the website says: it is what you make of it. It’s people like you that make it special; deciding to make it their place, and coming home to it each year.


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(miscellany)


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(fringe)

fringes we love art: chloe mcgregor

mick jagger

winona ryder


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marianne faithfull

david cassidy

courtney love

alan ruck as cameron frye


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(creative)

the life and times of darren flemington

#1: The Wedding by ben crisp It had been nearly twenty years since Darren had last been to church. He remembered sitting on the hard wooden pews, eyes clenched tightly shut, praying desperately that the flatulence he could no longer keep from passing would be – if not odourless, which would be asking too much even of the Almighty – then at least silent; its origin not locatable by his schoolmates or teachers. Now, as he watched Susan walk up the aisle in that slow motion, stilted, ice-skating shuffle that characterises the bridal procession, he wondered why he was there. Not in any philosophical sense; he simply wondered how many of Susan and Richard’s friends and family had cancelled on them to result in him – Susan’s ex-boyfriend – being invited to make up the numbers. It irked him that Richard clearly did not consider him any kind of threat. Darren had always fancied himself as the brooding loner; the strong, silent, darkminded type that women glance at in bars and restaurants over their boyfriends’ shoulders, wondering what is going on behind those glasses, behind the pages of that novel. More and more these days he had begun to suspect that what all these women were wondering is why a man in his twenties should sit in a bar or restaurant by himself to read a novel, surrounded by happy couples growing uncomfortable at his singular presence in their plural lives. Richard looked good in his grey suit; better than Darren in his brown jacket that pinched the shoulders and gave up halfway between his elbows and wrists. But then, Richard had always looked better than Darren: at Susan and Richard’s company picnics, at Susan and Richard’s birthday parties, or whenever Darren went to hospital for the countless corrections to his deviated septum, when Susan would always invite Richard for moral support. Darren had often remarked to Susan that she deserved a better looking,

better earning, less deviated man than himself; but it had always been meant more as a compliment than as the serious, thoughtful, silence-inducing revelation that she had started to interpret it as towards the end of their relationship. Seeing them together on the altar made Darren uneasy. He had pictured himself up there with Susan, not sitting towards the back in the throng beside her great-uncle’s business partner – an elderly Japanese gentleman who nodded sagely and frequently as only those who do not understand a word being said will do. Darren’s gut began to tighten as the vows began, and once again he felt as though he was back in school, surrounded by people who recognised him but did not know why he was there. With a sickening realisation he felt the force in his bowels that signified the approach of that old familiar bodily function – a mounting need to empty oneself of a build-up of pressure; not of solids, nor liquids, but that third and most damning state of release. He shifted his weight slightly, clenching his buttocks in a time-honoured opening gambit to delay the inevitable, and assessed his options. He was at the geometric and numerical centre of the pew, with an equal count of knees and shoes to manoeuvre past in order to evacuate. The distributions of gender and age were standard to his either side, thus equal measures of nuisance would be caused whichever path he chose. The exit was at the back of the church, a target that would bring his bright red face into recognisable view for the aft twothirds of the gathering; the toilet was at the front, ensuring the attention of the entire f lock but only on the back of his head, with the promise of anonymity should he remain water-closeted until the proceedings were finished.


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To his horror he discovered that in reconnoitring escape routes he had passed beyond a crucial point of no return. Signals from below were warning him that any sudden movement would activate the airlock, as it were; that to rise from his seat with intent to save face would now be impossible without an equal and decidedly opposite reaction. Seconds passed by in agonising slowness. The vicar motioned for the guests to stand, and Darren remained glued firmly to the pew like a soldier sitting on a Hollywood landmine – the magical kind invented by writers that won’t explode so long as your weight stays on top of them. He avoided the glances of the elderly guests who had noticed his indulgence of their geriatric seating privilege, and thought madly. His only chance now was camouflage. What sound effects feature in a wedding, he wondered, that could cover the worst case scenario? Darren cursed the good taste of the music: the harp was too subtle, the flute too soft, and unless she was prone to hiccups the oboist was unlikely to do anything helpful. Applause! There would surely be applause: ‘You may now kiss the bride,’ the vicar would boast, and a rapturous chorus of colliding palms would be bound to follow. If he could hold out until then, then freedom was certain. He sucked in his breath and shifted again, and a high and piercing squeak rang out in the silence. Eyes turned on him, and Darren felt he was in a dream. Had he? Did he? No, he thought incredulously. It was his trousers. His cheap, constricting, Madein-Korea, beige polyester slacks rubbing against the polished pine pew had sung out a psalm of odourless irony. The burn of Susan’s glare stung him all the way from the altar, and Darren’s mouth hung open helplessly. He pointed a finger at the Japanese man; the only one it seemed who had not heard. ‘Not me,’ the man said, with a shake of his head. With a cough the vicar adjusted his glasses. ‘You may now kiss the bride.’ As one the crowd stood and cheered the couple locked in an unselfconscious embrace; all but Darren, who sat, burning – his wind passing silent beneath the ovation. Susan was married. He felt no relief.

(creative)


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nymph stuart gatz Nothing that’s here can shake this tree. No wind seems to displace her leaves, As roses in autumn’s sorrow; Petals refusing to follow. Anchored within the earth so deep, Roots spread so thin (ever so meek) But nonetheless they work better Than any other I will see. A wooden beast-thing that towers So far above mainstream bowers, Untouched by predator and prey: They only hear her lovely fey That whistles through the hollowed dusk And paints a shade of summer green. The pages from enchanted tomes Dance freely through the wind and stones, She tries to join them willingly But then she sees she’s just a tree.


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stuff you like

(miscellany)

fizzy red: casey briggs likes this. Squares call it ‘Raspberry Soft Drink’, but to everyone in the know it’s simply Fizzy Red (or is that just me?). Perfect for when you want a drink of something deliciously bubbly, but don’t want to deal with the guilt of drinking Coca Cola. The sugar, the artificial flavours, the Columbian slaves! Yes, we all know those problems apply equally to this particular drink, including the slaves, but at least you can pretend to not know any better. It’s fruity (sorta)! It’s colourful (in a radioactive kinda way)! It’s Fizzy Red!

extremely loud and incredibly close: holly ritson likes this. Everything Jonathon Safran Foer writes changes my life. For the better. This latest book was brought to my attention after seeing (read: crying over) the trailer for the recently released film of the same title, and boy am I glad I read the book first. Promise me you’ll do the same. This book reminds me why e-books will never be as good: you need to be able to turn each physical page one at a time to appreciate Safran Foer’s magic in writing, and styling, a book. Part adventure story, part ode to New York post-9/11, part reflection on love, loss and language, Safran Foer will take you places you never knew existed.


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etica pizzeria: max cooper likes this.

trucks that sell food: walter marsh likes this.

your submissions: on dit likes this

Etica Pizzeria is a new restaurant who specialise in ethical eating – they’ve got vegetarian and vegan options all over their menu, and even their meat dishes are ethically sourced. A bit pricy by student standards, but even for a restaurant restaurant rather than what counts for a restaurant on my budget it’s pretty excellent food, and the owners give it a wonderful ambiance.

Ever sauntered down North Terrace craving some home made lemon water on your way to Uni? Ever sat in a restaurant, eating a gourmet burger from a table when you’d rather be outside attempting to juggle its greasy delights standing up or sitting in a gutter? Me neither, but that isn’t to say demand isn’t peaking for ad-hoc, fixie-friendly portable food merchants. The time is ripe I say!

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 50100 words and our email address is this: ondit@adelaide.edu.au.

Sure, customers might feel frustrated by your limited range and your inability to adequately cater to demand, but they have Hungry Jacks for that. Sure, the rentpaying food outlets you’ve parked in front of might make a huff about siphoning business and council rates. But do they have wheels? HECK NO!

KGO.


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cop this marriage equality ALISON COPPE avoids hideous acronyms. Ah, Marriage Equality: code for marriage between ‘the gays’. This issue has been getting a lot of press lately, most recently exploding at the ALP National conference; this baby just won’t be thrown out with the bathwater! Unless you’ve been living off old Cheetos from under the couch, wedged between your two Guitar Hero controllers, you will have noticed the Marriage Equality bonanza. Let’s just meditate on that for a moment—marriage, equality. I may be wrong, but historically the two haven’t really gone together. They haven’t been a natural pair, so to speak. This may be an unpopular view, but as a lesbian and feminist living and working in these our modern times I have to ask myself—why the fuck would anybody want to get married? And secondly—why do so many gay people seem to want to get married? For me, this is a massive WTF issue. I don’t speak for everybody who identifies as lesbian, gay, or as a feminist (thank God!), but I wanted to share a little of my confusion because the editors gave me this column, and well, just because. Let’s be real here. Marriage is an institution built on the oppression of women. Relying on them to provide free domestic labour—things like mothering, cooking, cleaning, heterosexual-ing, and so forth. Marriage is about social organisation, not love or commitment. It’s about drawing lines around the shit you own. For many women around the world,

marriage simply means that her husband owns her, as opposed to the previous landowner—their father. So who is equal? Just think about all the women suffering across the globe; is that tied up with marriage? Domestic violence, rape, sexual assault, sexual abuse, intimate partner homicide… how much of this occurs within this sacred union of marriage? What’s the connection? I’m no Germaine Greer1, but I’m guessing that there is some connection between all of the above and being in a domestic partnership, a marriage, which reinforces patriarchal power (Google it). Now, I know everybody knows about those men who get bossed around by their wives who are these wifemotherworkingfulltimebossysexyurbanamazons, but why do women, now that we’re equal, have to do everything? It’s like you’re a failure if you’re not a wifemotherworkingfulltimebossysexyurbanamazon. Everybody struggles, but not everybody struggles the way women have—the way they do—within the institution of marriage. I mean Eve got a pretty raw deal, and she was Adam’s second wife. I’m not suggesting that I’ve got the answers; far from it. These are difficult questions. I just don’t understand the desperation to be involved with marriage itself. The ‘Queer Community’—I’ve used ‘Queer’ to avoid a hideous acronym—has, in my view, a lot of other shit on their plates. So it follows that we must really, really, really want to be able to get married if this, year in and out, is topping the list. So, again, I’ve got to ask why? Is this some kind of grab by Queer people to ‘fix’ marriage? Is marriage between gay people going to become the new standard? Are we going to get it right? Will our marriages be equal? I hate this picture of myself banging on the cubby house door trying to get into the hetero playground. Don’t we homos have better things to do than slip into a doily and snake our lust in front of our friends and family? Maybe not. So how do marriage and equality fit? They don’t. Who is equal here? Men and Women? Children and animals? Old people and young people? Equality? EQUALITY MY ASS! For all those people for whom marriage really is all about love and commitment, surely there is another way to go about it. Maybe have a commitment ceremony like a lot of gay couples do, or if you’re really stuck for ideas, a large donation to the Alison Coppe fund should not be overlooked as an option. Cop that.

1.  If you do not know who Germaine Greer is, go to the Barr Smith Library in the Main Collection and borrow number 305.42G816f – thank me later.


sex and the uni don’t die alone ROWAN ROFF is not here to learn. As I walk the many pathways of our fine educational establishment, I am disheartened to see some obviously confused students rushing to their classes, completely oblivious to the reason they are at university. Unfortunately, it would seem that too many impressionable kids have been absorbing the ridiculous propaganda being spewed from the mouths of heartless lecturers, backstabbing tutors and soulcrushing faculty admin staff. So then, let me spell out what should be told to every new student at the time of enrolment: YOU ARE NOT HERE TO LEARN! Well, not really. If you learn something inadvertently while you are cramming for your exam or wiki-thieving your essay then I guess there’s probably no harm in that. But education should be taking a definite back-seat position during your time here at university. First and foremost, you should be trying to pick up bitties (or if you are that way inclined, mitties). ‘But Rowan,’ I hear you shout, ‘I have been using all the techniques that I have stolen from TV shows and movies and still have had no luck!’ That’s where I come in! In this column I am going to explain some big concepts such as why you have been having no luck with the opposite sex, why you should not be paying attention in lectures, why the University staff want you to die alone and, if there is still time, how to get furniture creases out of carpet.

The Problem The most frequent error that students make when trying to add another bedpost notch is to use moves that they have seen Neil Patrick Harris use. While there are some gems in there, none of the methods used on sitcoms or romantic comedies are aimed at university life. Sexual advances made at university are a different kettle of fish to those made at a club/bar. You can’t simply pump a few Long Island iced teas into the situation and show some nip. You have to be delicate. Although there are a few aspects to this conundrum, in this issue I’ll start by answering the first question on everyone’s mind: where do I look?

Where to Pick Up The short answer is: everywhere! Obviously the Bar Smith Lawns just ooze sexual energy and you’d have to be lucky to make out of that long grass without being pounced on by a wild Pokémon (copyrighted sexual metaphor), but there are many less obvious places as well. Lectures, tutorials, the library, cafeteria, construction sites and that strange room on level 13 of the Schulz building are all fair game. If you’re feeling especially dirty you could have a crack on the intercampus bus! (Oooh you dirty devil!). And I think we’ve all heard that rumour about the triumph of young love in the bike shed (finally, a practical reason for wearing lycra!). What you really have to do is get it out of your head that classrooms are strictly there for classes and that the Scott Theatre is strictly there for buying drugs outside of. Take me for example: When I look at the reading room I see girls. When I walk across the footbridge I see girls. When I close my eyes I see girls. When I’m with girls I see more girls. When I’m eating a sandwich I see a girl inside my sandwich eating another sandwich with a girl inside that sandwich. I think I may be losing my focus slightly, but the point I’m making is that you need to change the way you perceive university from an educational institution to a free-range love-inducing sex farm. .

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DIVERSIONS spot the differences


crystal bollocks with psychic psusan

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Aries: Vaseline is not a valid alternative to hair gel. Also, that Lynx body spray you’re using is wafting off you like heat on a desert road. It’s a weapon, sure, but not in a good way. You’re hurting the people you love. They don’t love you back. You need to stop. Taurus: It’s not a great week to make drastic changes. Wear the same clothes every day and try not to shower if you can avoid it. You don’t want to upset the powers be. Gemini: That hot date you’ve been looking forward to is bound to disappoint. It won’t be all that hot, and the conversation’s flatter than a pancake with post-natal depression. Cancer: Avoid conversations about star signs. Cancer jokes are tacky. Leo: Thou should beware walking i’th’street of Hindley, for skanks be watching thee unkindly. Virgo: They say the pen is mightier than the sword. It’s also less likely to attract weird looks in lectures. I guess what I’m saying is don’t take notes with a sword.

Libra: Everything’s coming up Libra! Luck swings in your favour this fortnight, so take some risks. Place some bets. Place some bets on the bets that you placed and then place some bets on those bets, too. Scorpio: Humanity is like hair. You can cut away the dreadlocks, but they always grow back. You’re one of the dreadlocks. Sagittarius: For every cheeseburger you bring to the On Dit office, you will have a small amount of raspberry jam rubbed on your left nipple. (If you don’t have a left nipple, we’ll surgically arrange one for you.) (No pickle, no nipple.) Capricorn: Never start an argument with a photocopier. It will win, but at least your butt cheeks will get a tan. Aquarius: Maybe you were a little lonely this Valentine’s Day. Maybe you had sex with an apple pie. Maybe you should get yourself tested. Pisces: Venus is in your house this month, so keep your grooming standards high and be ready for unexpected visitors. At 2am. Naked.

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

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H Looking for answers? You and me both, my friend. You and me both. See the bottom of page 5 for all your existential-crisis- and diversion- related needs. No peeking, mind. That takes all the fun out of life.

N

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(diversions)


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(retrospective)

retrospective From Volume 46, Issue 1, 1978