ON KAURNA LAND.
Nina Marni (translation: hello, how are you?).
Empire Times acknowledges the traditional owners of the lands in which the editors, contributors and readers live, and honour elders past, present and emerging. Bedford Park is a significant site in the complex Dreaming of the Kaurna ancestor Tjilbruke. We write on behalf of the students and faculty on this land, First Nations, NonIndigenous and Immigrant, who work and learn here. Empire Times is edited and distributed on the traditional lands of the Arrernte, Dagoman, First Nations of the South East, First Peoples of the River Murray and Mallee region, Jawoyn, Kaurna, Larrakia, Ngadjuri, Ngarrindjeri, Ramindjeri, Warumungu, Wardaman and Yolngu people.
Nina Marni (translation: hello, how are you?).
Empire Times would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the lands in which the editors, contributors and readers live, and honour elders past, present and emerging. Bedford Park is a significant site in the complex Dreaming of the Kaurna ancestor Tjilbruke. We write on behalf of the students and faculty on this land, First Nations, Non-Indigenous and Immigrant, who work and learn here. Empire Times is edited and distributed on the traditional lands of the Arrernte, Dagoman, First Nations of the South East, First Peoples of the River Murray and Mallee region, Jawoyn, Kaurna, Larrakia, Ngadjuri, Ngarrindjeri, Ramindjeri, Warumungu, Wardaman and Yolngu people.
We acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded, and that this land is stolen.
We acknowledge that sovereignty was never ceded, and that this land is stolen.
Angel Parker
Sage Haba
Contributors
Nathaniel Winter
Steph Walker
Nadia Metzger
Zoe Keys
Shai Wittles
Sage Haba
Mia Clarke
Angel Parker
Stephanie Goodwin
Kj
Olivia Paltridge
Valentine F. Locket
Courtney Shepard
Our Statement
Empire Times is a publication of Flinders University Student Association (FUSA). The opinons expressed herein are not necessarily those of the editors, Flinders University or FUSA. Reasonable care is taken to ensure that Empire Times articles and other information are up to date and as accurate as possible, as of the time of publication, but no responsibility can be taken by Empire Times for any errors or omissions contained herein.
empiretimesmagazine.com
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empire.times@flinders.edu.au
Editorial
Regrets & Mistakes: Fuel for the Fire
We all screw up, say the wrong thing, trust the wrong people, take the wrong path. Regrets creep in, whispering, ‘You should have known better.’ But mistakes are not an end, they are a spark. They can ignite something new: wisdom, defiance, a refusal to repeat past mistakes.
Don’t let regret paralyse you. We can’t change yesterday, but we can set fire to the things that hold us back. Learn, adapt, and move forward. Louder, stronger, unafraid.
Mistakes are not failures; they are battle scars. Wear them with pride.
This issue for Empire Times is themed ‘This was a mistake’ and ‘I can fix them’. It was definitely fun to see how our authors and artists interpreted this, ranging from the deep depression of today’s politics to resilient and determined feminist, trans and First Nations advocates. Although I love so many of these articles I have to say – if you want tension - read Stephanie Goodwin’s ‘A Visitor’.
Nadia
We live and learn. For this issue we partly played with the concept of ‘mistakes’. I love this, because I feel like I make a lot of mistakes, but everyone does! The way I see it, if you are not making mistakes, you are not living. What’s important is what we make of our mistakes, should we allow them to motivate or debilitate us? Either way, we can learn something from our at times questionable decisions and actions.
The non-utility of bodily pressure would confound a robot, overheating in the Australian sun. It would not understand that it is more comfortable to lay on its chest, sweltering, than to be apart from it. And, as the weather cools, it would grow closer to you—siphoning your heat so its joints don’t freeze—but, come summer and it would once again be baffled by your touch. This is by design. The robot is designed for selfpreservation and might not be as receptive to you as you expect.
Term 2 Presidential Statement
A message from Nathaniel Winter, Student President.
If you see Nate around campus, don’t hesitate to stop for a chat, and if you have any questions, concerns, or ideas, feel free to reach out.
student.president@flinders.edu.au
Hello everyone,
I hope your semester is going well and that you’re settling into term 2 and the rhythm of uni life—finding your way to tutorials, getting into group assignments, and juggling everything else along the way.
A big shoutout to everyone who’s been getting involved on campus, especially through clubs and student-led events. Clubs are the heartbeat of student life, and the work done by club leaders and volunteers genuinely makes a difference. Thank you for everything you do.
Thanks also to everyone who filled out our recent survey. Hearing directly from you about your experience at Flinders helps shape the work we do at FUSA. We’re currently reviewing all the feedback and looking at how your ideas can be worked into our future plans. I’ll keep
Nate at the recent Holi Festival in the city.
you posted in upcoming Empire Times issues and in upcoming FUSA newsletters.
Now that things are in full swing, I know it can be a challenge to stay on top of everything. Here are a few tips that might help:
Don’t procrastinate
We’ve all done it—leaving things to the last minute only makes assignments more stressful and the results usually worse. Starting early and working steadily makes a huge difference. One tool suggested by students in a recent poll was https://goblin.tools/
Keep a schedule
Between lectures, club meetings, work shifts and assignments, it’s easy to lose track. Use a calendar or planner that works for you. I use the Flinders Outlook calendar, but if you prefer something physical, grab a free Student Planner or diary from the FUSA office— they’re super handy for staying organised.
Look after yourself
It’s easy to get caught up in everything happening at uni, but make sure you’re also taking
care of yourself. Take breaks, get enough sleep, and don’t burn yourself out. You’ll feel better and get more done. Also, drinking water.
Use the support available
If you’re struggling with anything—academic, financial, personal—don’t go it alone. FUSA offers academic advocacy and financial counselling, and the university provides free counselling services too. You can find all of these, plus heaps more, in the Student Support Directory on the Flinders student website. It’s a one-stop shop for everything FUSA does plus other great services like the Student Learning Support Service and wellbeing resources.
And finally, I’m always here to support you. If you’ve got concerns, ideas, or just want to say hi, feel free to reach out or drop us a message on facebook and Instagram
Wishing you all the best for the rest of the semester!
I met Ryan on a autumnal Friday morning at City Campus— Academic Advocates visit on Fridays, by the way, and you don’t have to be a city student to book in. I found meeting all the advocates that they all have that calm reassuring vibe that instantly makes you feel less stressed, even if you rock up mid-crisis.
“Most of my days are meeting students, reviewing appeals, and jumping into meetings with them,” he told me. “The best part? That moment a student realises they’re not alone in it anymore. You can feel the relief.”
Another point of reassurance if you’re booking an appt - “Some students think they have to do what we suggest—but it’s totally their choice. We just give them the tools.”
I swung by Amy’s office at Bedford Park Campus. Her office is full of colour—bold artwork on the walls, bright sticky notes, a half-drunk coffee cup on her desk. She waved me in mid-email. Amy helped push changes to a new Uni procedure to include actual protections for disadvantaged students. “They didn’t take everything we said— but they listened. And we’re still in the room.”
Ally’s office is totally different— soft lighting, a chill vibe, and a wall full of little postcard-sized art from her travels. “I like that students feel safe here,” she said. “This job can feel heavy sometimes. You’re often dealing with systems that don’t bend easily, even when the student’s got a really strong case.”
“Students sometimes think we’ll immediately contact their lecturers—but we never do anything without their consent.”
One case still sticks with her:
A student about to lose a job offer over a final grade. With
her support, the appeal went through, the grade changed, and he graduated on time. “That’s why we do it,” she said. Each of the advocates brings something different—but what they share is clear: they show up, they listen, and they genuinely care.
And yeah, it’s free. It’s confidential. And you don’t have to deal with everything alone.
Head to fusa.edu.au/academicadvocacy if you ever need a hand with things.
Steph Walker
Reproductive rights –specifically the violation of them – has always been a dominant presence in Australia’s post-colonial history. On the 8th March at the International Women’s Day March, Zoe Keys refers to Reproductive Justice, a concept developed by US Black activists as one that outlines three core principles:
“The right to have a child, the right not to have a child, and the right to parent the children we have in our homes, in our families.”
The right to have a child, and the right not to have a child speaks to body autonomy and consent. It speaks to how the wishes and boundaries between sexual partners must be respected. With conversations between a patient and a doctor remaining between the patient and the doctor – with options discussed and chosen with empathy and respect to the patient’s bodily autonomy. Rights that are horrifically neglected across Australia and across the world.
According to the National Student Safety Survey 2021, 1 in 6 people since starting university have experienced sexual harassment; with 1 in 20 experiencing sexual assault. Although abortion has been decriminalised across Australia, access to abortion service providers is not always accessible both physically and socially. Zoe Keys in Abortion, Autonomy, and Justice speaks further to the access to abortion service providers.
The right to parent the children we have in our homes and in our families speaks directly to the child welfare system, Australia’s ‘Aborigines Protection Act’, and the forced domestic service of First Nation women.
Khatijia Thomas, a proud Kokatha woman spoke of how, ‘We all benefit from what our mothers and grandmothers before us have brought to this country’. Speaking explicitly to how First Nations women in domestic service raised many of the children – black and white – in Australia. How
they were forced to place a white woman’s child before their own and had their own children stolen from them.
Where they were told,
“You are incapable of loving your children.”
Though many will wish to dismiss it to the past, saying that it’s stopped now – have been failed by our government and social systems to educate them on the ongoing stolen generations facilitated through the child welfare system and the criminalisation system. Through Kharijia words, it tells us,
As a Blak woman, my blood memory tells me you are less than a white woman. You are less than an animal. “
This deeply personal acknowledgement of history, of family, is a testament not only to Khatija’s own resilience, but also how far we’ve come in allyship with non-Indigenous women. In platforming Khatija Thomas, Aunty Elaine Magias, and non-Indigenous voices on Australia’s colonial and ongoing processes that often positions Indigenous women against non-Indigenous women is a fundamental, yet explosive step towards reproductive rights, Reconciliation, and unified strength.
By Nadia Metzger
Abortion Autonomy and Justice
While abortion is decriminalised in SA, true access remains unequal—especially in regional areas. There is an ongoing fight for accessible, compassionate abortion care. Written by Zoe Keys.
Abortion, and our ability to access timely, affordable and judgement-free abortion, is one of those issues that comes in and out of the public conscious. It is often assumed that abortion is decriminalised and available, and so it is not something people feel the need to worry about; after all, the mess that is happening in the US around abortion seems much bigger and more dramatic.
You would be right in thinking that abortion is decriminalised across Australia. South Australia
decriminalised abortion in 2021, with the laws coming into effect in 2022. The South Australian Abortion Action Coalition (saaac), of which I am a member, was established in 2015 with the goal of ‘Better Abortion Access’, and we have been advocating and working in partnership with allies, organisations and like-minded politicians to achieve this goal ever since. Many members of the Flinders community, including researchers, academics and students, are members of saaac.
It was the work of saaac, under the convenorship of co-convenors Barbara Baird and Brigid Coombe, that saw abortion decriminalised in SA. This was a long-fought for achievement. But achieving decriminalisation alone has not solved the problem of access, especially in rural and remote communities.
Across Australia, including here in South Australia, people who need abortions cannot always easily access them. While we have amazing service providers in some areas, those living in regional and remote areas often lack easy access to abortion services. People who need access to abortion will sometimes travel many hours to a service provider. Meaning people will have to firstly, find a doctor or service provider who is willing and able to provide that care, and secondly, coordinate
travel, childcare and leave from work.
Improving and advocating for better service provision across SA and Australia is a primary, and deep-felt, concern of saaac, and of abortion activists across the country. The improvement of the availability of these services is a structural issue; the lack of attention to service provision indicates that abortion is still often viewed by states as an issue for individuals.
I believe abortion is an issue of community care, and that responsibility for providing abortion access should sit with governments and health departments, as other forms of reproductive healthcare do.
“
"When abortion is hard to access, stigmatised, or something we just don’t talk about, we impede the progress for justice and equity for all of us."
When abortion is hard to access, stigmatised, or something we just don’t talk about, we impede the progress for justice and equity for all of us.
”
But the story of better abortion access is not just about improving access for all abortion seekers. Just last year, here in SA, a bill was introduced to the parliament that sought to force pregnant people seeking abortions later in pregnancy to give birth and place the child for adoption. Similar bills have been put forward in other jurisdictions in Australia. This bill did not consider that abortion care, no matter the gestation, is always provided with compassion for the person and their families. It did not consider the multifaceted ways in which people seeking abortions make their decisions.
Instead, it framed abortion seekers, once again, as deviant. I would urge you to pay attention to these kinds of legislative attempts to erode access to abortion. While the bill was defeated (by 1 vote!) it opened the opportunity for people who are anti-abortion to construct abortion seekers and abortion providers as not acting with the interests of the pregnant person and their family in mind. Abortion providers are healthcare professionals. Abortion seekers are people seeking health care, who should be able to make decisions about their bodies and their pregnancies with the help and care of their families and medical team.
Abortion is part of all our lives. Whether it is something you have accessed or not, I can guarantee that we all have a friend, a neighbour, a partner, or a family member who has an abortion experience. Perhaps you’ve supported someone in their abortion journey. Perhaps you’re one of the one in three who has accessed one.
Abortion is a key component of any social justice fight or framework. Access to abortion allows people with uteruses and their families plan and manage their lives. Access to abortion allows people to go on with their lives if they are not ready to parent. It should be easy and free and available because it is a part of life. When abortion is hard to access, stigmatised, or something we just don’t talk about, we to impede the progress for justice and equity for all of us. Abortion care is health care.
In the US, transgender people have been removed from military service, prohibited from using facilities that align with their gender identity, and are facing prospects of further rights and protections being stripped away. This violation of human rights is rippling across the world with Tim Nicholls – a State member for Clayfield, and Queensland’s Minister for Health and Ambulance Services– carrying this transphobic ideology into Australian policies. This is reflected in the Queensland Governments action to stop hormone treatment for new transitioning patients under 18, a policy implemented earlier this year in January.
To face these rising injustices, the first trans-led national organisation has stepped up to advocate for trans and gender-diverse human rights. Shai Wittles is an active member of the Trans Justice Project and is also working within Flinders University as the Queer Officer. The project has only recently begun in South Australia with Shai saying they’ve just started meeting regularly since November 2024. After seeing him carry out flood-the-mail campaign and being at numerous trans-rights and LGBTQIA+ events, I (nadia) had the privilege of asking him some questions about the Trans Justice Project.
The Trans Justice Project is a national movement, ‘standing up for freedom, justice, and equality for all trans and gender diverse people.’ What does this mean to you and how do you embody this in your role as Queer officer?
To me, freedom, justice and equality means that trans students need to not only be represented but actively included at every level. I’m pushing for increased visibility for trans students through events like ‘Trans Day of Visibility’, but also for sweeping changes in curriculum. Especially in medicine and allied health, to be inclusive of trans health and bodies.
Outside of my role, I’m heavily involved in trans activism, especially around access to Gender Affirming Care (GAC).
How did you get involved in the Trans Justice Project?
The President of the Adelaide University Pride Club invited me along to a meeting, and I realised that I wanted to do more
work on a wider scope than just Flinders, so I got heavily involved in organising.
Why is it important that Trans and Gender diverse people are represented/included in queer and heteronormative spaces?
Just like everyone else, we deserve to exist, thrive, and be seen for who we are. And the first step to normalisation and acceptance is accurate and informed inclusion and representation.
But I think that we need to go beyond just representing trans people. When centering trans issues, we need to go beyond representation and visibility, and move towards true inclusion, justice and equity.
Are pride events like the one Christies Beach pride march inclusive to Trans and Gender diverse people?
I find that many pride events still centre cisgender people. And while our gay, lesbian and bisexual community mates absolutely deserve to be centered and celebrated,
trans people should be equally included. This to me means including us on planning committees, centering our voices, and speaking up for issues that affect the trans community, not just celebrating how far gay, lesbian and bisexual rights have come.
What are some of the things/ issues the Trans Justice Project respond to? Do these align with what you respond to in your role as Queer officer?
Recently, we’ve responded to Tim Nicholls’ ban on Gender Affirming Care for minors, and called for the decision to be reversed to bring Queensland’s healthcare system in line with the rest of Australia. More broadly, we’re working to combat disinformation about trans people, and to collect pledges from politicians leading up to the federal election to ensure they protect and expand trans rights, such as the right to safety and healthcare. I find this work to be far more broad than what I do in my role as Queer Officer, which focuses on resources for LGBTQIA+ Flinders students.
What is one of the projects of the Trans Justice Projects (or one of yours) that you’d like to highlight?
A project I’d like to centre is Project 491, which is helping trans youth in Queensland access GAC. As they can no longer access this vital healthcare through the public system, Project 491 is crowdfunding to help the 491 Trans youths affected by the Queensland GAC ban access the private system.
How can allies/questioning and queer people get involved?
The Trans Justice Project is trans-led, and ally supported. Trans people can get involved by googling “Trans Justice Project” and selecting “Join A Group” to find their local action group. Allies can get involved by donating to the Trans Justice Project or Project 491. And of course, everyone can support us by showing up to our rallies!
>>>You can follow Trans Justice Adelaide on Instagram to find out more details about upcoming events and campaigns.
AQUARIUS
Ipad as divination. Stare into the black glass until you see the future. Steve Jobs, are you in there?
PISCES
That thing you saw the other night was a weather balloon. Dude, it was swamp gas. Smudge on the le—
ARIES
Doors are portals to other places, thresholds between realities. Climb through windows where possible— less treacherous.
TAURUS
If you find yourself deciding between Gold and Silver, why not try plastic?
GEMINI
Music is a healer of spirit. Play music out loud on the bus or train to heal everybody’s spirit.
CANCER
As the weather changes, clouds will become patterns for you. Interpret them liberally, and do as the sky commands.
LEO
A cat is an omen forewarning chaos. This is not necessarily a bad thing for you, though it certainly will not be easy.
VIRGO
Heavy machinery and your role as a component of it. Recall the superstructure of society and play your role, cog.
SCORPIO
Bugs are blessings, even if you do not like them.
SAGITTARIUS
Check on your runes. I think something is wrong with your runes. Ye Gods, I hope this gets out to the right person.
LIBRA
The shards of shattered dreams are better than the nightmare mirror world and everyone is evil there.
CAPRICORN
You open your wallet and a little fly flies out. You can sell that, you know.
In a twist on the typical narrative of cybercrime, a feminist anarchist group known as the “Bea Arthurs” has been conducting a series of targeted micro-thefts across Australia, affecting men and boys with a peculiar and symbolic frequency. Mirroring the average menstrual cycle, the group executes up to 15 unauthorised 50-cent withdrawals from their targets’ bank accounts each month, cleverly disguised as ordinary grocery purchases.
The anonymous group named after famed Golden Girl, Bea Arthur have openly stated that their actions are intended to highlight and satirise the socalled “pink attax”- the higher prices women often pay for products specifically marketed towards them, including
essential health items. By flipping the script, they aim to draw attention to gender-based pricing disparities and provoke discussion on the subject.
These micro-thefts are a form of protest against the additional financial burdens placed on anyone with a uterus. So we’ve target men with malware to remove on average $4,000 over time. If men had to endure similar costs imposed by societal norms, perhaps there would be quicker, more comprehensive reforms.
The campaign has been cleverly designed to evade immediate detection, with the small amounts typically going unnoticed among more substantial bank transactions. However, as more began to
report these deductions, the pattern became clear, and the underlying message of the attack came into sharp focus. Public reaction to the Bea Arthurs’ campaign has been sharply divided. While some dismiss the thefts as trivial and even somewhat amusing, others describe feeling a deep sense of violation, with many men feeling quite hurt.
As this unconventional form of activism continues, the story of the Bea Arthurs challenges the public to consider the everyday inequalities faced by those who menstruate in a direct and somewhat jarring manner. Whether one views them as villains or vigilantes, the financial attacks have been a real kick in the guts for those affected.
By Mia Clarke
Launched in 2002 Monster quickly clawed its way to the top, becoming a formidable force against its competitors. Monster has fueled countless late-night study sessions.
Angel Parker provides this definitive, albeit wonderfully subjective ranking. >>>>>
1. This is the ultimate monster, truly elite. It reminds me of apples, and I am a big apple lover. This flavour has gotten me through some of the most gruelling assignments. It has been there for me during the hard times. I’ve probably almost loved this flavour as much as anyone or anything I have ever claimed to love.
2. This is quite tasty, LOVE the mango and tropical flavours. Truly no complaints, is very good just not as good as the green one.
3. I love the white Monster for its classy, refreshing taste and elite status, cherished mainly for nostalgic reasons. It reminds me of carefree afternoons at my first job, bonding over its great flavour with colleagues who became lifelong friends.
Despite their popularity, Monster drinks come with health warnings. They contain high levels of caffeine and sugar, and there have been several reports of adverse effects, especially when consumed in large quantities or mixed with alcohol.
The City of San Francisco once sued Monster for marketing its highly caffeinated drinks to children. The lawsuit challenged the company’s marketing strategy, accusing it of engaging in deceptive advertising by promoting its products as safe for adolescents and adults alike.
4. The biting sweetness brings a smile to my face. Another nostalgic flavour, bringing me back to silly times with lots of laughter with my friends after high school. Another strong reason for loving this one is because it tastes like pink, I love pink, everything is better pink.
7. This is one of the newer flavours, its sweet, peachy and simply nice. Would recommend.
5. I cannot distinctively remember this flavour, but its pink, everything is better pink and I remember it tasting great.
8. this one is something, something great. World altering.
6. the beer of monster energy drinks? I don't know my dad drinks super dry. This is citrusy, crispy and fresh. A surreal experience.
9. This one is alright, tastes nice and sweet, The pinkness is pleasing, but it did not live up to my expectations, its nothing special.
10. Don’t get me wrong, it tastes good but oh my god does it have a lot of sugar. Why would I choose this one over the sugarfree version which tastes just as great? If I am going to put poison or something in my body, I’d rather choose the less poisonous one. Choose your battery acid wisely.
11. I'm someone who says original is always best but this original option is truly mid. Definitely tastes like battery acid (in a bad way). There has been times where I’ve decided I liked this flavour, but that was at the peak of my monster energy addiction, clearly a flawed judgment.it’s giving RADIOACTIVE
12. no. just no. DISAPPOINTING.
What should be ranked next? or would you like to rank something? Your metric can be whatever you want it to be. >>> empiretimes@flinders.edu.au
My year 9 teacher, Mrs. Van Dyke, once told me that I was destined for great things. She said I would go on to change lives, similarly to the way I had changed hers. She kindly put a hand on my shoulder, thanking me for reigniting her passion for teaching by being a receptive and curious student. It made me uncomfortable. She is dead now. She died last year of a premature heart attack. She was only 39. I think maybe sometimes things happen for a reason, but most of the time things happen for no reason at all. Pure chance. Humans always seem intent on giving things reason, but maybe that is not a good thing. Reason does not give you anything. Maybe, it makes you feel like you have purpose, but bad feelings will pass, nonetheless. What does reason really do? What does knowledge really do? I think it makes you sad. I’m in year 10 now and my mom says I’m grown up and should be able to make smart decisions, but that if I needed any help she would still be there. I think that’s nice. She said I am a man now but
that I would always be her child. All I could think is that I might be a manchild, and I don’t think that is a good thing. I don’t really know what it means. Yesterday, I made the decision to start a rumour about a girl who was mean to me in middle school. I wanted to see what would happen and how far it might go. I told a few people that she sometimes sticks defenseless animals together with superglue. People started thinking she was crazy and scary and then the guidance counsellor contacted her parents. I don’t think that was smart. But maybe it was, if it was in the pursuit of knowledge. Is it smarter to pursue knowledge or avoid hurting people’s feelings? I can’t tell. Empathy. Is it useless? In an individual sense. Maybe people without empathy are happier. Maybe they are smarter. I have empathy, and I am sad sometimes. People like the Joker don’t have empathy and you never see him sad. But then, that’s why he’s always in trouble with Batman. I don’t think I really understand anything about humans or the world.
Attention, Cheese Lovers!
Ever wondered about the history of the humble cheese grater? This everyday kitchen tool has a fascinating history that is as rich as the cheese it helps us enjoy.
Let’s take a quick trip through time!
Ancient Beginnings
Early Tools: The first graters date back to ancient Greece, where bronze graters were found among the items in graves. These early versions were simple but effective, using metal teeth to shred cheese.
The
Renaissance Revolution
1540s Invention: Fast forward to the 1540s, when the two inventors, François Boullier from France and Isaac Hunt from England, both claimed to be the original inventors of the modern cheese grater. Talk about a cheesy rivalry!
Design Evolution
From Metal to Modern: Graters have evolved over the centuries from bronze or iron to various other materials and designs. With
handheld and box graters making cheese shredding easier and more efficient among cheese lovers.
Fun Fact
Cultural Icon: The cheese grater isn’t just a kitchen tool but also a pop culture icon! Who can forget the Grate Man from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? (Aka Shredder)
So, next time you grate cheese for your favorite dish, just remember the rich history behind this simple yet essential tool.
It’s not just about making your food taste great; it’s about honouring centuries of culinary innovation! (And Ninja Turtles.)
Thursday I Don’t Care About You: Discussion is a dirty word.
I am not interested in being in a ‘safe space’ for the purpose of circlejerking, in being trapped in an echo chamber of only opinions I agree with. I want discussion and debate; I want to hear from opposing sides. I want to be challenged, and I want to be uncomfortable.
I am not interested in being protected from so-called controversial voices or different opinions. I know how to identify genuine hate and denial of facts when I hear it. I don’t need things hidden from me.
What’s most offensive is that I feel like I am not trusted to think critically and make choices. So much so that my world needs to be diluted and curated to make sure I make the right choice.
I want to show up for the challenging and hard discussions. I want to analyse the information and think about all of it. I want to have that discussion that makes me uncomfortable and makes me think critically about the topic.
I want to do this without being harassed and bullied. Now, you may be different. You may choose not to show up for these challenging discussions. And that’s okay. That is your choice, your right.
However, I believe that by not showing up, not being willing to discuss, and not being willing to be challenged, you are just handing the argument to your opposition.
Something to think about…
Evangelia Karageorgos
Melvil Dewey the Douche Behind the Name
Take a peek at the controversial life of the Dewey Decimal System’s creator.
The Dewey Decimal System is that numerical code lurking on the spines of library books everywhere. It’s the reason you find Ghosts hiding in the 130s instead of a chaotic pile on the floor. Invented in 1876, this system revolutionised libraries and remains widely used today by book-nerds around the world, and students.
Melvil Dewey was a prodigy of order and efficiency – and also,
a jerk. By 25, he had conjured up his decimal system to tame every topic (of which there are ten). He was so fanatic about streamlining, he even chopped letters off his own name –Melville became Melvil, and even Dewey briefly became Dui. Dewey helped found the American Library Association and the first library school, insisting on admitting women as students – a progressive twist that would soon turn sour.
Behind the genius librarian façade lurked a man with a catalogue of flaws in character. Dewey had what one biographer diplomatically called a “persistent inability to control himself around women,” a more modern, less diplomatic writer would call it being a fucking creep. He required female applicants to his library school to include photos, you know, like a gross dude. However, in 1905 four prominent librarians reported Dewey’s unwanted advances, forcing Dewey to resign from the very association he co-founded.
It wasn’t just sexism in Dewey’s catalogue of flaws: he also wrote blatant racism into the rules of his private Lake Placid Club, banning Jewish people and Black people from membership.
The backlash to this hateful policy got him publicly rebuked and kicked out of his New York State librarian job.
It’s a cosmic irony that someone so deeply flawed left an indelible mark on education and libraries. Melvil Dewey managed to imprint his name and system on the very institutions that later shunned him. There’s a bittersweet humour in this legacy: every time you navigate our library’s orderly shelves; you’re using a system created by a man you’d never want to sit next to on the bus. History has a way of shelving the bad with the good, and in Dewey’s case, the decimal genius and the douche are filed right next to each other – an absurd reminder that great contributions can come from notso-great people.
Armchair SuperHeroics
Apolitical beatings resonate louder than motivated ones. It’s hypocrisy that rings hollow like a bell. It’s hard to have much faith in cops with masks. Hard to take seriously the Authoritarian Boot when it’s Green and Purple.
And yet, many do.
The sincerity with which people hand their lives over to the propagandistic figures of myth personified who preside above us is shocking and, quite frankly, terrifying. If given the opportunity, the average person would seemingly happily entrust their life to anyone who can perform a half-decent magic trick. This is why Herocults pick up so fast. The ravenous fetishisation of categorically random genetic mutation is undoubtedly the cause for the social malaise of today’s world.
The intersection between happenstance and power make up a structure of chaotic politics that cannot be resolved by the people who benefit from its turbulence. Heroes and so-called Villains alike are lent legitimacy by our cultural obsession with their dramas which, in turn, enlarges their stage. It is no coincidence that the scale of the pageantry has grown in the last decade. Almost every month now, the global population is
threatened by some megalomaniac or undiagnosed psychotic.
Actual ideology has become less and less important, all while it becomes the foremost topic of international conversation. The words ‘Hero’ and ‘Villain’ have undergone continental semantic drift to the point Neoreactionary Nazis are calling themselves ‘Heroic Nationalists’ and anyone with Libertarian leanings: ‘Villainous Anarchists’. You see, the position that you yourself align with is Heroic, and the people you want to kill are Villainous. I have even seen contemporary Radical Left reclamation of Villainy, being the violent and often intricately machinated resistance to rightwing politics dressed in the semiotics of history’s greatest tyrants. Goosestepping progressives clad in bright red boots and gloves styled after Surgent’s infamous costume, which I remind you, was entirely white before his massacre.
So it seems with every passing day, not only our lives, but our spiritual selves are under siege from the forces of corruption. Not since the emergence of meta-humans in the early 40s has there been an aspect of life not tainted by their presence. Law and order are words for them now, not the unmodified common man, shambling between his anthills while Gods do war above them,
nescient of the dreams of ants. We are forgetting how to govern, losing a way of life barely anyone alive can even recall, because we no longer have the time to catch our breath. Yesterday, our oceans were in chemical peril—tomorrow, our sun is to be extinguished. It is no wonder why we pray to our League of Champions.
If there is any hope at all, it is in our youth and their sense of disillusionment. Their petty infighting and divisive ideology may be the key to unravelling the knot between metahumans and the rest of humanity. Many of the reactionaries I mentioned previously are not metahumans, but regular people sticking their minds into the global crisis. It is only when we all have a take, and make radical movements in the direction of our choosing, that we will be able to sway the Gods.
Sage Haba
A Visitor
By Stephanie Goodwin
At first, it was a soft thrumming on the wood of my front door. Then, it morphed into a pounding, a thick drumbeat that penetrated the air of my tiny apartment and echoed throughout my mind. My breath hitched in my throat. It was 10pm. I could think of nobody who would want my company this desperately at 10pm.
Switching off my insipid reality show, I started to pet my cat Felix for reassurance – whether it was for my own or his, I am sure – and crept over to the source of the commotion, honing my attention. The noise stopped as suddenly as it had started. The bolder half of me wanted to call out, to warn this stranger of my existence; the anxious half reminded me to stay still and quiet. After all, the stranger was likely already aware of my presence.
A peephole would be useful right about now. When he lived here, my husband had insisted on carving one into our door himself for safety purposes. But my mother had always warned us against getting one. She would give me vivid descriptions of how I’d become an easy target for criminals, who could use it towatch me when I was alone. I don’t think she fully understood how peepholes work.
The knocking resumed, and I felt my body stiffen. I glanced over at Felix, who was still in an
oblivious trance on the couch, his tail swaying with a sleepy rhythm. Surely he’d be on high alert if there was any imminent danger?
‘Jenny?’
My face flushed with a cold sensation that ripped through my entire body. An eerie silence engulfed the space as I processed this familiar voice. My vocal cords had fused and I was glued to the spot; I could neither open the door nor dash away screaming.
‘Jenny, open up!’
My blood drained. The voice was nostalgically warm and merry. My trembling hand drifted over to the doorknob out of pure, blind curiosity. It remained poised there for what felt like minutes before I made the decision, on impulse, to pull it open.
There he was, Edward, branded by the silver band on his ring finger and the wrinkled black “J” on his other wrist. He was as fresh as a sprouting sapling and as bright as a supernova. His scent was an intoxicating blend of sandalwood and leather. I drank in his broad, six-foot frame, uncharacteristically dark eyes, and pressed suit.
‘Sorry I’m late!’
He pecked me on the cheek and sauntered past me. A whirlpool of sickness began to swirl in
my stomach, threatening to rise into my chest, like a tsunami moments before it tears through a coastal village. My gaze remained locked on Edward as he made his way to the kitchen. He set his briefcase down on the dining table amongst strewn papers and ceramic mugs stained with cold, halffinished coffee. He reached into the fridge, and the room was bathed in fluorescent blue. Returning to the table with a fork and butcher’s knife in hand, he set down a container of shiny chicken and wilting vegetables. He began eating without a word, but I could not peel my eyes away from the comically large knife. There was blood. Fresh blood.
A few silent minutes later, a satisfied Edward glanced upwards at me, his eyes drilling into mine. With such intense eye contact, I became aware of the sunken cavities of skin beneath his eyes. I stood, frozen, rooted in the same place like a sturdy, old tree.
‘You’re acting strange. Are you okay?’
The flippancy of his tone was nauseating. That haunting phrase had become tattooed in my mind, just as it had been in his vocabulary. A litany of questions and assumptions danced along my tongue. All I could manage was:
‘I thought you hated my cooking.’
He looked at me, his expression vacant. My pulse quickened. I swallowed to remove the bitter taste of the bile that had been building at the back of my throat. Electing not to respond to me, Edward made his way over to the TV and planted himself down on the couch beside Felix. My stunted breathing was soon replaced by the blaring of my reality show from before, as he relaxed into the soft cushions.
‘You said watching that stuff with me was a waste of time.’ There was an evident tremor in my voice.
The thick silence between us superseded the preppy music emanating from the TV.
I spoke with bated breath. ‘You’re not supposed to be here.’
The vibrant images of welldressed ladies in their Beverly Hills mansions were soon replaced by alternating bars of dark grey and white and a soft buzzing. Edward, who had been facing the screen, swivelled around to face me, his face etched with a melancholic expression. The moonlight on his translucent skin gave his gaunt features a new, more sinister glow.
‘Is that why you did it, Jenny? Was I just in your way?’
Swathes of guilt surged through me, swelling into my throat. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Did you and your lover plan it together?’
The venom with which he said the word “lover” sent an icy chill down my spine. Hot tears stung the edges of my eyes.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
Edward was now standing. His figure towering over me, casting shadows across the fraying carpet. I began to back away, my mother’s frantic voice echoing in my mind, urging me to consider how I could protect myself in every situation.
‘You’re a coward, Jenny.’
Edward’s eyebrows narrowed as his painful expression transformed. As he approached me, I tuned into my surroundings – chairs I could throw, the table to hide under, the fork and knife beside the empty container.
‘Tell me why you did it.’ The urgency in his tone sent shockwaves of adrenaline through my body. ‘Tell me!’
I began to scream – it was a primal, guttural sound that radiated from deep within my quivering chest. After a few seconds, I unscrewed my eyelids and glanced around the room. I was alone in the darkness. Just me, my cat, and my bloodied, trembling hands.
I am the saviour of the broken, the beaten and the damned. I am the psychic smith of mental illness. I am driven primarily by aesthetic attraction in this regard, towards alternative and underground dress and neurotic disposition. The aesthetically compelling naturally deserve cognitive analysis, as any work of beauteous art deserves. Their opinions, traumas and thoughts grip me in their passion, like narrative. The semiotics of suffering inebriate me. In the churning bottomless void of pain and illness I find sick purpose as confidant or lover. What better than to have purpose, to be beholden and loyal to a human being whose suffering is easier to recognise than my own. To live in service of
someone who thinks they need me. It is an inherently fascistic desire for purpose that drives me to worship at the altar of art. I conceitedly believe that I am interpersonally noncorrosive and can therefore maintain the illusion that I could provide value for someone who is sick. For, some part of me truly believes that it takes sickness to recognise sickness, and that only the sick can love the sick.
A girl once told me that suffering prompts more interesting art—which must be true—because ever since I stopped talking to her I stopped making art. What kind of a muse is that? Drowning me in static all while I dream of one day tuning in. Who am I meant to create art in service of? The pursuit of aesthetic production is a necessarily vain one—either egoistic or voyeuristic. What am I if not defined by the words I put to page? The artist is nothing by themselves but a ravaging force that erodes the perfection of pure aesthetics. And if my idea of you is perfect, why would I ever want to be an artist?
To bring a work of art into the world, it must first start as an immaterial idea. You may not ever speak to this idea, but it is there, somewhere. Often you will interact with the idea, turning it over, inspecting it, making plans for it. The idea has a firm grip on you, and you must imagine what your life will be like together. This stage is a lot easier than the next; you are pregnant with idea and soon comes labour. The birth of an artistic product is a necessarily messy one, often fraught with complications. Flawed reality—the disgustingly material—has ruined your idea beyond recognition. Many aesthetic pursuits are aborted at this stage. Many relationships with ideas ended. It seems that, for many of us, reality is fundamentally unfulfilling. Almost all of us have an escape of some sort, often in the aesthetic; the closest we can get back to the conceptual perfection in the immaterial.
I frequently find myself in interpersonal relationships wherein art is being produced as a byproduct by the psychic runoff of suffering and perfection. There is no valuable experience that is not art to me, and to be completely sincere: the most valuable art I have experienced with other people are the soft winds of contentment. Somewhere between the perfect idea and the flawed reality is a flowstate in which one is happy to simply be crafting product. There is a stage after anxious, brilliant mania and prior to complacency or complexity in the development of relationships where it is simply enough to be two sick people sitting under the stars.
So, if you are sick, despotic—and above all, aesthetically attractive—visit https://sageisblog.neocities.org/about Sage Haba
the single touch of my soul ripples sent to the far reaches of my body’s song repeating eternal like the last ring of a chime the vibrations ringing out everlasting petering out slow catching the wind
the love of an early sunday morning a lazy love a love full of domestic bliss a romanticised version of love only available on sunny spring days with the honey soaked floorboards and soft lacy curtains how is that meant to stand in winter with numb toes and drab grey skies the impossibility of it screams from inside you don’t notice the soft dustings of frost the early morning mists the crunch of snap frozen grass soft blankets wrapped around frostbitten fingers red tipped nose poking into a warm neck
Poem 2:
Poetry by Kj
Poem 1:
The Monster by Olivia Paltridge
I was born a Monster.
Fiery depths of hell I clawed my way out of. The rocks of the deepest ocean I crawled from underneath. An asteroid I clung to as I plummeted towards Earth.
It didn’t matter where I came from, for I was then on known as the Monster.
‘The Monster’ was the simplest name given to me. Diagnosers explained it with their tedious descriptions bulked with fancy words and statistics. They’d use an acronym or slang to be less harsh on the memory, but however they presented it, I was still a Monster.
A Monster, who had been born a Monster, called a Monster, but had not yet understood they were a Monster until directly spoken of the subject.
How strange an experience it was to have coal-black horns, to have a forked tongue, to have sharp claws, and to be completely unaware of it.
Some who misunderstand say, “Don’t feel bad, everyone’s a Monster.” But how could everyone be a Monster? Not all individuals possess red eyes, have fur over their skin, or have more than two arms. And if they did, they hid their unsightly features the second they realised they were there.
There was no cure for being a Monster.
There was treatment. You could cover up the horns with a cloak, or wear gloves to conceal the claws. You could take supplements which attempt at turning the burning fire inside to water, but only ever succeed in dimming the intensity of the flames at most.
It was a non-infectious sickness. A sickness that only spread from within, that only affected others short-term; if they remained by the Monster’s side for too long, were subject to the Monster’s unsustainable heat.
The Monster never intends to harm others. Its aim is its description: an ugly, frightening creature. One that is harsh to look at, can occasionally cause a slick cold tremor to go down one’s spine, but never a creature that seeks out vengeance for the burden in its blood.
A Monster is the burn obtained from the sun when it walks along the beach shore, gazing at the horizon in hopes of finding an island.
A Double Life Epic
I have a secret talent, It’s quite simple really, Now don’t call me gallant, And don’t call me silly.
My talent is strange, I can sit in my chair, My world will change, Without ever touching my hair.
I have flown on the backs of dragons, Watched a bloodied crown fall, Helped bandits search through wagons, And bet on an illegal brawl.
I have fought off monsters, Sailed through storms, Given safety to plotters, Been trapped in haunted dorms.
And while those adventures, Borne from words and pages, Don’t put me through any parental lectures, They are no story for the ages.
So when my talent comes in short, And I am missing that fresh wind, I pull out maps of any sort, With start to finished pinned.
These adventures outside, Make more than one story, With the trail as my guide,
I can gain some small glory.
So I have climbed mountains, And skied through snowy valleys, Had many wildlife encounters, And rested in wooded alleys.
I can say those stories are true, I’ve got the scars to prove it. Now I must say to you, Just go out and do it. While reading in a chair, Gives me some comfort, Nothing beats mountain air, And feeling triumphant.
My books give me perspective, An adventure easy won, But they are not as effective, As a hike well and done.
But I will still read my books, Especially on a rainy day, And I will hike through brooks, My adventure, my way.
Valentine F. Locket
Valentine F. Locket
Sleep-eaters are bed dwelling botherations spirits who feed off energy, given exclusively unwilling, from the prey.
Every account of sleep-eaters have correlated with a person under time pressure centred stress, i.e, events, presentations, flights, meetings.
They feed off the energy of their prey by mimicking the likeness of someone the prey knows. As they mimic, they encourage the prey to stay in bed, where they are able to feed off their energy until they are full.
To deter sleep-eaters is very tricky, as most sleep assisting remedies encourage them to dwell and feed. They are drawn to lavender, melatonin vapour and intense narcotics as it is almost always an indicator that the person is under stress, which is a sleep-eaters preferred form of energy to consume.
However, if you are in need of sleep assisting remedies but are wary of the possibility of encountering a sleep-eater, there are three tried and true methods.
1. A bucket of cold water by the bed. A sleep-eater is attracted to a mind that is sluggish. By slashing oneself with cold water awakens the mind almost immediately, which then banishes the sleep-eater from the environment.
2. Sleep-eaters, when mimicking, are easily distinguishable from the real person by their inability to get out of bed. When talking to a mimic sleep-eater, you must encourage them to get out of bed, either by getting you a glass of water or some other small task. Sleep-eaters cannot mimic an entire body, and being told to do tasks makes them irritable enough to leave you alone.
3. Never sleep. Do not fucking do this. It will only get worse. Please for the love of god sleep.
After spending some time away from the bed after a sleep-eater encounter, you can remove them from your bed by finding their corporeal form. Sleep-eaters, when not feeding, are small feathered creatures the size of a chicken egg. Also when not feeding, they are asleep. You can simply grab one, and dispose of them by placing them in a bucket of water. Have no care for their screaming and the purple gas, they are fine. I think.
To minimise the reoccurrence of sleep-eaters nesting under your bed, place small dishes of syrup under your bed. They are deterred from sugar and most things that give high energy bursts. You may also get ants, but that’s your problem.
Sleep well!
And remember, a scouts aim is to learn about non-normals.
What Type of Student Are You?
Pick the answer that best fits you for each question, then tally up your most frequent letter at the end.
1. It’s 8:50AM and your 9AM lecture is up on the Hill. What’s the move?
A. Already there, front row, double-shot espresso in hand.
B. On the bus, running late but vibing with my podcast.
C. Online. I don’t do uphill.
D. Jogging in with three tote bags and a dream.
E. In the car park, watching ducks and reconsidering my degree.
2. Group project time! You’re most likely to…
A. Take over. If it’s gonna be done right…
B. Lead the icebreaker, then vanish until submission day.
C. Make a spreadsheet before the others even reply.
D. Edit the video, design the slides, write the script. Quietly.
E. Contribute an obscure reference and leave everyone impressed.
3. Your go-to lunch situation?
A. Meal prepped quinoa, baby.
B. Coffee and vibes. Maybe a banana if I remember.
C. The campus café knows my name.
D. Whatever's fastest between tutorials.
E. Car snack royalty. That glovebox is a pantry.
4. Your ideal way to spend a free hour on campus?
A. Extra reading, obviously.
B. Vibing with my Magpie mates.
C. Bouncing between club meetings and the library.
D. Secretly fixing the group assignment while no one’s looking.
E. Hunting for a car park like it’s the Hunger Games.
Your Student Type:
Mostly A’s — The Overachiever™
You colour-code your calendar and finish assignments a week early. No one asked, but we respect it.
Mostly B’s — The BNOC (Big Name On Campus)
You’re chaotic good energy with a uni-famous social life and no idea what your major is. Ducks love you.
Mostly C’s — The Group Ghoster
You mean well. You really do. But life be lifin’. That “sorry just saw this” text? You wrote it.
Mostly D’s — The Nerd-Nerd
Hardworking, humble, and terrifyingly competent. You’re the reason group projects pass. We salute you.
Mostly E’s — The Cool-Nerd
You know obscure facts, speak fluent meme, and somehow always have snacks. Effortless icon.
Bridging Now to Next
27 MAY –
3 JUNE
