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Harl’s Thought For The
Week:
FEBRUARY 18
FEBRUARY 11
FEBRUARY 4
I
think that we’ve got it all wrong and that the world has finally gone
completely, irreversibly bonkers. That’s what I think. Why? Hamas just won an
election in Palestine, for starters. Millsy is still getting work in 2006. Coke
Zero – full stop. Australia’s Biggest Loser is about to be screened EVERY night
for THREE months. Tracy Grimshaw has had a face job, dyed her hair blonde and
bobbed up on A Current Affair. The fact that A Current Affair is still being
produced, despite having reached the very pinnacle of trash cultural
iconography. Tom Cruise was upset that he didn’t receive a Golden Globe
nomination for War of the Worlds. AWB have been caught funding Saddam Hussein’s
regime red handed, and are wasting millions of taxpayer’s dollars by pretending
that their staff are illiterate morons with the memory span of a standard gold
fish. The biggest selling toy for Christmas 2005 was a robot dog that remembers
your name and tells jokes – isn’t that what partners are for? There’s more, of
course, but hey … we don’t want to be negative, do we now?
JANUARY 28
I can’t believe that ‘I
can’t believe it’s not butter’ is not butter. It tastes like butter. It looks
like butter. I can’t believe that it isn’t. Can you? I don’t believe you if you
say that you can – how could you? How can you not believe that it’s not butter?
Alas, I digress. Now, even though I genuinely can’t believe that ‘I can’t
believe it’s not butter’ isn’t actually butter, I can, however, believe that
there was a serious (and probably at times, extremely heated) discussion between
the manufactures of the butter that isn’t really butter and their hired
advertising and branding agency. Could you imagine the pitch meeting? “Well,
we’ve spent a lot of money on market research and the overwhelming response from
participants s one of sheer disbelief that the product isn’t actually butter –
they really can’t believe that it isn’t. And so, it’s our suggestion and
professional opinion that you should re-brand your product as precisely that: I
can’t believe it’s not butter”. I can’t believe they fell for it. Mind you, it
is more than slightly memorable, and I for one can’t wait for some similarly
branded products to emerge. Perhaps ‘I can’t comprehend that this isn’t toilet
paper’, ‘How could you possibly think that this isn’t mince meat, you dick?’ and
‘I don’t understand why this isn’t called margarine’ are on their way … I’d
believe it.
JANUARY 21
I read today that there
is a new product on the shelves, people. Nothing new there – they pop up every
day as quickly as we snaffle them up. God bless consumerism. That being said,
even I, a self-confessed consumer, was surprised to read that there is now
something called a ‘Litter Kwitter’ on our already-bustling shelves. What prey
tell is a ‘Litter Kwitter’? Well, here’s where things go decidedly wrong. You
see a ‘Litter Kwitter’ is a new product which, to cut an extremely technical
yawn fest description short, facilitates (mechanically with infrared, yada yada)
cats to use human bathroom toilets. Yep. As if waiting for your housemate or
partner to clear the porcelain throne in a timely fashion wasn’t bad enough, now
some overly clever bastards with way too much time on their hands have designed
something which could potentially see you standing with your legs crossed while
you wait for your cat to take a leak. Blimey. I’d prefer to slam my little
finger with my car door repeatedly than share my toilet with my cat. It doesn’t
mean I love my cat (and yes, I do actually have one) any less, it simply means
that I take the threat of animal to human disease and infection with an adequate
degree of zealousness – look at how the chickens are trying to kill us at the
moment! The world has truly gone mad. Am I the only one feline this way?
JANUARY 14
Welcome one and all to
the ‘Year of the Dog’. Sounds funny, doesn’t it, if not a little negative – i.e.
‘I’ve had a dog of a day’, or ‘I bought an absolute dog of a car’, or even,
‘you’re a lying, cheating dog’. Doesn’t exactly inspire confidence for a
cracking year, does it? The other Chinese horoscopes are much the same, in that
they pay homage to a series of creatures that mankind either fears, disrespects,
eats, or loathes: for example dragons are scary, we make glue out of horses,
rabbits are pests that spread disease, and rats dwell in our sewer systems etc.
So how about mixing things up a bit and coming up with some new ones, I thought
to myself the other day – which was quickly followed by another thought: shit,
this is going to be very difficult. Where does one begin, I struggled? New
animals? Or, perhaps something entirely different? There’s no point renaming the
Year of the Monkey the ‘Year of the Lemur’, for example, because both creatures
are of equal stupidity. Hmmm. I then resigned myself to the fact that due to the
enormity of the task, that this will be a ‘thinking work in progress’, but I did
manage to rename this year: 2006 Year Of The Prog!!!! Stay tuned …
DECEMBER 17
I think that for just
$200, the Room680 Summer Super Pass is possibly the best thing since sliced
bread – and we’d all be fucked without that, wouldn’t we? Imagine how big our
toasters, plates and knives would have to be. Not too mention the sandwich bags.
Anyhow, I digress. For $200 you get your feet on the floor at Pete Tong, Benny Benassi, Tiefschwarz and Spektrum, and Satoshi Tomiie; and a $100 drink card;
and free entry to Room on any night (Yo-Yo, Look, Volume) until the end of
Summer. So what do I think this week? I think anyone who doesn’t buy one should
buy the new Shannon Noll album, move to a quiet country town, get a job at the
afore mentioned town’s bakery or newsagents, have some kids early, and leave
those of us who are even half serious about our dance music to get on with
rocking and clocking it!!
DECEMBER 10
If by thinking, I
therefore ‘am’, what ‘am’ I if I don’t think? Think about it next Sunday morning
at 6am when you get home from the club … it’ll do your nut in.
Seriously.
DECEMBER 3
I think the time has come
for some of us to get together, make some suits, work out some names, pick some
violent criminals to go after, and give the world some genuine superheroes. Why
the hell not? Okay, besides the fact that acts of vigilante behaviour are
against the law, why the hell not? Okay, besides the fact that our suits would
probably look homemade and crappy, and involve wearing tights, why the hell not?
All right, you might have a point – there could be massive arguments about which
names to use and the risk of people laughing at them once dedided – but other
than that, why the hell not? Okay, violent criminals are usually scary, violent
people who might actually put up a ‘fight’ – we will probably get hurt – but
aside from that, why the hell not? Okay, I think it’s a really bad idea … but
I’m happy to help you come up with the names and write your articles for The
Daily Planet. No, not THAT one.
NOVEMBER 26
I think the fight against
plastic bags at supermarkets has gone way too, far – that’s what I think! I
purchased two items from my local retail maze today and wasn’t given a plastic
bag to put them in. “Bruv, you’ve forgotten my bag … could you grab one,
please?”, I said to the checkout guy. “Sorry sir”, he replied. “You don’t get a
bag for two items or less any more unless you ask”. And upon the words ‘don’t
get a bag’ he pointed at a large sign and urged me with his eyes to join him in
looking at it. ‘Say NO To Plastic Bags’, it read in officiously red and bold
type. Now, I get it. Dolphins can choke, they take ten billion years to
biodegrade, and they’re used once and thrown away … yada yada yada. There are
certainly some issues with plastic bags and what happens to them outside of the
supermarket. But what I take exception to is the implication that the bags
themselves have done something wrong. I mean, they’ve been the standard mode of
‘shopping to car’ and ‘car to kitchen’ for as long as any of us can remember,
and then … bang … see you later … plastic bags must be avoided at all costs …
whatever you do, don’t use plastic bags – even though have been for all of your
life – in fact, here’s a big bloody sign so you think twice about using the evil
little buggers … it’s ridiculous … I think, anyway. So, never one to keep
quiet, I also think I’ll start wearing a suit made entirely of plastic bags when
I do the weekly shopping from here on in: let’s see if they serve me, or tell me
‘NO!’
NOVEMBER 19
I
think I had a huge night on Saturday night. I also think that even though it’s
Tuesday, it still hurts to think – a lot. I think that I’ll stop thinking now.
Actually, no I won’t. I think that this week I’ll share with you all (presuming,
of course, that there is more than one of you who actually read my inane
ramblings) some puns that have the word ‘think’ in them …
If you think and drive,
you’re a bloody idiot.
Okay, so right now I
can’t think of any more. I think that’s enough thinking for one day, anyway.
I’ll have one more think
for the road.
Oh dear.
NOVEMBER 12
With summer approaching
faster than a fat kid at a free ice-cream cake, the time to decide which music
festival takes your fancy is nearly here. I know. Bugger. ‘Decision-making’
might be something that our generation whacks down as a skill on our CV’s for
good measure; however, it’s somewhat of a rarity for it to be accurate. Good
luck party people!!
NOVEMBER 5
WARNING – SERIOUS
THOUGHT! WARNING – SERIOUS THOUGHT! Now that you’ve been suitably warned,
and now that you’re alert, but not alarmed … I have only one thought for this
week: Thank God for the proactivity of our Federal Government and its law
enforcement agencies. At a time when the world is being systematically rocked by
senseless and cowardly acts of terrorism, I for one am completely stoked with
the fact that the people we pay with our taxes were able to stop potential
threats in Sydney and Melbourne before they went down. This makes us the only
nation to do so … What I can’t understand, however, is why people like Lyn
Allison from the Democrats can’t see past their own pathetic political
divisiveness at a time like this … she suggested at a doorstop following the
operation that the arrests could be a plot by John Howard to justify the passing
of new anti-terror legislation. Here’s a thought: perhaps the new legislation
could be expanded to detain politicians who are so irrelevant in the political
spectrum that they have to resort to undermining the outstanding efforts of over
400 tactical officers and staff, who risk their lives and safety on a daily
basis to help protect the wider community? I’d certainly scream ‘Aye’ in the
Senate for that, people … grrrrrrr.
OCTOBER 29
I had a crazy thought
this week, check it out: I think therefore I am. Or, am I? I think I am.
Therefore, if I think that I am thinking that I am, and I am thinking, then I am
both thinking and being, all at the same time. I think I’m remarkably bloody
clever if that’s the case … don’t you think? I also think there’s something in
that for everybody
OCTOBER 22
As I left a great little
Chinese place in the city during the week, I was inexplicably struck betwixt the
synapses with a remarkably under whelming, yet suitably startling thought:
Fortune cookies, I thought, are grossly disappointing things in the main … you
know, a bit of a let down, an anti-climax if you will. So with the Walkman now
the Ipod’s bitch, the 3.5 floppy now the 200GB USB zip’s belly button lint, and
the VCR now the DVD player’s gimp, why have we not updated and revamped the
highly enjoyable and popular fortune cookie? “The river is deep, but the forest
is wide”. Whatever. “He who seeks never finds. But he who finds, has always
sought”. Lame. Why not give us something useful, eh? I mean, it’s not like the
cookies themselves are the world’s finest culinary offering, is it? You hardly
give them the nod at Chinese restaurants or pluck them from the supermarket
shelves because they’re a terrific snack, do you? So the least one can expect is
that the ‘fortune’ (i.e. ‘cryptic message printed on plastic paper and inserted
into the cookie’) is at the very least, helpful. So, after a few lagers with
Volume’s legendary ‘Promoter’s Promoter’, Monsieur Roberto, we came with a
highly creative (if not slightly silly) thought for how fortune cookies could be
more helpful in 2005 … Indeed, we introduce … drum roll … the ‘four-choon
cookie’. The concept is simple. Instead of containing mindless cryptic drivel,
the four-choon cookie would instead contain something brilliantly useful to any
discerning clubber: a list of four ‘must have’ choons! Brilliant! Finish your
Chinese meal, wipe the Peking sauce from your cheeks, the cookies arrive and -
ding! You’ve got a handy list of four wicked tracks to download from geek land
or buy from the corner vinyl slinger! Ideal for DJ’s … perfect for trainspotters
… and above all else, too clever a piss-take name not too use.
OCTOBER 15
I think my thoughts have
been way too long in recent times. That’s not to say that they won’t be lengthy
again in future, however, in lieu of every man and his hamster running low on
time and energy this week for various reasons (exams, hangovers, post-raceday
sunburns … the list goes on) I thought it best to throw a few quickies at one
and all … so here goes:
1. Rad is a great word
that isn’t used enough in 2005. It makes no sense, really. ‘Dude’ made it
through the 80’s okay. So did ‘stoked’. But unfortunately for lovers and users
of ‘rad’ everywhere, the likes of ‘wicked’, ‘ill’, ‘phat’, ‘dope’, ‘fly’,
‘awesome’, ‘brilliant’, and ‘fuck off’ destroyed its vernacular credibility,
somewhere in between 1991 and 1994. 2. Gnarly is another rad word that’s not
used enough these days. Originally a skate term (like ‘rad’), gnarly was cast
into the nether regions of the linguistic and grammatical wasteland with more
force than that employed to abandon ‘rad’, but at about the same time. It’s
believed that the first generations of rollerbladers weren’t ‘down’ with the
term and were instrumental in replacing it with ‘sweet’. 3. Bodacious is not a
gnarly word, nor indeed is it in any way rad, so any attempts to revive its use
in modern Australian vernacular should be thwarted with swift precision. No,
seriously. Unless you’re a pizza eating turtle who takes orders from a 7-ft rat
wearing a kimono, you have no business uttering its shameful tones.
OCTOBER 8
After a monster night on
Saturday night, it’s fair to say that I have done too much thinking, as it were,
so far this week. However, despite my grey matter’s sluggish start to the
illustrious second week of the tenth month in our universal calendar, I did
still manage to pluck the odd gem from it – albeit fleetingly and with a
considerable amount of effort and application. So, folks, here they are … you
have been warned … which is highly pertinent, because this week’s banter centres
around the colostomy of warnings and advice that our elders have passed down for
generations: 1. Your mum and prep teacher with the lovely eyes were both right,
you should NEVER run with scissors: unless you are representing your state or
country in a ‘running with sharp pointy objects’ race or the like – but even
then, demonstrate extreme caution and ensure that your shoe laces are tied
correctly; 2. When the hot chicks wouldn’t pay you any attention at school, your
dad was 100% right: the best looking ones turn out to be the fat and ugly ones
(and vice versa) in less than five years of finishing school: amazing and
amusing, but true; 3. You should never put off tomorrow what you can do today,
unless of course, what you have to do tomorrow must indeed be done tomorrow and
can’t be done any sooner: in this case, you’re in the clear, so have a fag and a
coffee to celebrate; 4. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, unless of
course the bush in question has been purpose-built to trap and incarcerate
birds: in this case, the solitary bird in your hand may be grossly inadequate
compared to the potential dozens caught in the cleverly designed (and
tri-colour, mock foliage finished) ‘Bird-O-Matic Bush’; 5. Your grandma was spot
on when she told you that a stitch in time would save you nine, unless of course
the garment in question has been torn to shreds by your housemate’s new terrier
and requires at least 900 stitches to mend sufficiently: in this case, you can
spend your time singularly ‘stitching in time’ without in fact saving anything
at all …
OCTOBER 1
I’m not a
negative person - indeed anyone who knows me is aware that my glass is
perennially half full, I wear rose coloured glasses 24/7, and I’ve chosen ‘it’s
all good’ as the epitaph on my (inevitable) cemetery headstone. But, despite my
keen ability (for example) to remain chipper in the face of adversity, to be
supportive in the face of treachery, and to pour fear a drink, give it a ciggie
and tell it to ‘chill’ in the grips of dark times; there is one thing that I
simply cannot be positive about - and quite frankly, it’s doing my nut in. Is
it the war in Iraq? Nope. Is it the new fascist-style anti-terrorism search and
detention laws? Nuh uh. Is it the tragic manner in which 2005’s ‘30-something
parents’ are dressing their kids in tacky designer labels and raising a
generation of thankless mini-Brads and mini-Britneys that will one day run the
country? No siree. It’s the Commonwealth Games, people … they haven’t even hit
town and I wish they’d farque (French) off already. Why am I so down on the poor
man’s Olympics? Here’s five reasons that spring to my NQR mind immediately, and
will hopefully stay in yours for the next six months of pre-Games media
masturbation and political opportunism:
1. Justin ‘I’m so thick that my Carlton teammates used to
call be Harry – after the big dumb dinosaur in that 80’s movie’ Madden is the
Minister for The Commonwealth Games … 2. Canada, England and Trinidad are
Australia’s biggest rivals in the Commonwealth Games … gee, how exciting … 3.
Bore Me Bracks and his team get another chance to open a bunch of venues and
launch a range of developments that they had absolutely nothing to do with, as
per usual … 3. No Two Tribes at Melbourne Park in March … Canada and Fiji will
be playing table tennis, instead … 4. The Melbourne City Council are removing
every piece of graffiti and stencil art from the CBD’s walls so that Games
tourists won’t get the wrong impression … instead, they’ll leave thinking we’re
all as exciting as Victorian Minister for Transport, Peter ‘Basil Brush’
Batchelor … zzzzzz-snore-zzzzzz … 5. The AIS have already started making excuses
for why our Australian squad won’t do very well … aren’t you glad that you and I
personally fund the illustrious dreams of teenage jocks with pushy parents
through taxes, only to find out that the media and communications team that
looks after them (that we also pay for) is being paid to publicly denigrate and
belittle them?
SEPTEMBER 24
At
the risk of sounding insidiously nerdy, let it be said right here and right now:
collective nouns rock my world. A gaggle of geese … a pride of lions … a sleuth
of bears … a school of fish … a pod of dolphins … where would be possibly be
without the lateral beauty of one of our languages finest grammatical
inclusions? I tell you where, in fact, bugger it, I’ll show you: A group of
lions … a bunch of bears … a whole lotta’ fish … hardly inspiring on any front
are they, eh? But upon closer inspection of the literary phenomenon of
collective nouns, a couple of things occurred to me. Firstly, there is no
collective noun for collective nouns, themselves. Curious, don’t you think? In
my mind this is like Apple launching iPods worldwide but calling them ‘portable
MP3 players’ in their ads. Stupid. So what, then, would be an apt collective
noun for collective nouns? A ‘description’ of collective nouns, perhaps?
Or maybe even: a ‘smart ass’ of collective nouns? The second thing that
struck me about collective nouns (or ‘noun du collective’ en France) was that,
as per usual, dance music culture has yet again been neglected by a highly
important function of English literature – bugger. Sure, we could dwell on this
and get horribly forlorn (maybe even slightly drunk and belligerent) but that’s
not really in the spirit of our collective Gen X ‘can do’ attitude, is it? Nope
…So instead, and in the spirit of rectifying, rather than dwelling, on the
situation, here’s a couple of collective nouns for our beloved culture and
lifestyle that I think should be adopted and woven into everyday vernacular … A
crate of DJ’s … a deck of DJ’s … a clench of gurners … a line of clubbers … a
knob of producers … a flare of bar staff … a hanger of cloakroom attendants … a
headlock of bouncers … a magnum of hosts … a group text of promoters … a strobe
of lighting operators … a balance of audio engineers … a mop of cleaners … a
stampede of Red Bulls … and finally, of course: a spectacled geek of writers!
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