Pets or Meat

Long Live The Radical Feminists

strummer66 — Sat, 10 May 2008 06:18:57 GMT

I stumbled across this great interview while doing some research for uni, it’s with John Stoltenberg, who was Andrea Dworkin's long term partner. It is particularly notable, as it gives a very personal insight into Andrea and personally allowed me to get another perspective to this very controversial character. Enjoy http://www.andreadworkin.net/memorial/stoltinterview.html

Missing gigs in the music capital

strummer66 — Sat, 10 May 2008 04:11:14 GMT

The last few weeks have been incredibly hectic with work and Uni and as a result my gig pig tendencies have had very little in the way of outings. Adding to this is the sheer dumb luck I have been suffering from on the few occasions that I can find the time and money to check out live music. It all started a couple of weeks ago when my mate Lil and I organised to go check out a band on a Saturday night; the only problem was that we wanted to see two different bands. I had planned to check out SixFtHick at the Ding Dong Lounge and Lil wanted to see Front End Loader at The Tote, so we met up in the city and decided that as both of us had seen SixFtHick before and neither us had seen Front End Loader, we would be heading to The Tote. What is the punch line to this story I hear you ask, well it came when we got to The Tote and quickly realised the BOTH SixFtHick and Front End Loader had been on THE FRIDAY NIGHT! As you could imagine, we were both dually impressed that separately, we had done exactly the same thing! My bad gig karma continued that same week, when I was forced to choose between The Cherry Rock Festival with The Supersuckers and The Raveonettes on the Sunday and Henry Rollins spoken word on the Monday night. Having been a lifelong Rollins fan, I decided to go with the Monday night, only to find out that afternoon that the show was sold out. “No problems” I thought to myself, I’ll just grab some scalped tickets. To cut a long story short, after waiting outside the comedy theatre for over an hour, I found myself without a ticket when the big guy hit the stage and as a result I missed my first Henry Rollins tour in over 15 years! So it was with a sense of trepidation that last night I once again made plans with Lil to check out a local band called Love of Diagrams at the Ding Dong Lounge, to my relief I made it to the gig in one piece and found that it was the right night. Having seen LOD once before at the Big Day Out, I was looking forward to them, but was truly unprepared for how fantastic they would be in the intimate confines of a club. Their rather unique brand of angular, punky new wave reminded me of why I so love living in the great city of Melbourne. I know that many cities around the world have similar independent music scenes, but seeing such a world class band in such a small venue for only $12, just makes me so darn thankful to be living where I do.

Van Sant Style

strummer66 — Fri, 09 May 2008 04:01:33 GMT

A short time ago, there was a Gus Van Sant retrospective held at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI). I personally find Van Sant’s body of work to be greatly frustrating, as for every work of poetic genius he has crafted (Gerry, Elephant). There is a watered down pile of wank (Finding Forester, To Die For). The film that I was most intrigued about watching at the ACMI season was Van Sant’s first feature ‘Mala Noche’ (Bad Night), a film I had heard a great deal about over the years, but a copy of which I had been unable to procure. The film, shot in grainy black and white, follows the life of Walt, a working class gay man, who lives in Portland and who scrapes by working at a liquor store. When Walt becomes enthralled with an illegal Mexican immigrant working in the area, his pursuit of the young man leads his life into an interesting direction. I found this film to be a revelation, with a powerful visual style and a thought provoking narrative, particularly in terms of representation of queer identity on the screen. While the character of Walt could not really be deemed as positive representation in any traditional sense. The amazingly paradoxical nature of the lead character, whose racist contempt of the local immigrant workers stands in stark contrast with his fetishisation of them, creates a character who is not always likeable, but who is always powerfully and undeniably real. Another positive point comes by the way of, that for all his redneck faults, Walt comes across as a surprisingly content character, sure there are moments of angst, but Walt is not some self-loathing, suicidal mess, which was the traditional approach to queer characters in American film of the time. While there are moments in the film that show the depths of Walt’s pathetic nature, i.e. - a scene where he attempts to bargain a monetary price to have sex with the object of his affection, he does so with such an air of frankness, that one can’t help but feel a level of grudging affection for him. Also, seeing that this film came at the time of full blown AIDS panic and its resulting homophobia, there is no mention of the epidemic, and Walt’s inherent status as an outsider could be just applicable to his poverty as it is to his sexuality. All in all I view ‘Mala Noche’ as a groundbreaking and underrated film. It’s bloody hard to track down, but believe me it’s well worth the effort.

I'm still alive

strummer66 — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 02:41:50 GMT

FUCK, it has been way to long since I last blogged, what has been happening? - I finally made it to the Meredith Music Festival, which was a whole heap of fun. The Gossip, The Black Lips and The King Brothers all kicked arse. - K-Rudd finally made an apology to the stolen generation, it was heartfelt and powerful, and I was so elated to hear it that I couldn’t stop punching the air with my fist. It really felt like a new beginning for this country; let’s hope that the good stuff keeps coming from Mr Rudd. - I was evicted from Wellington St, Richmond, along with the rest of the household. Currently living in a nice place out in West Hawthorn, but still missing Richmond, James, Stacey and yes even Kerouac. - Made it to my 11th Big Day Out, the new venue blows, but Bjork and The Arcade Fire were amazing….oh and yeah, Daniel Johns is a total fuckwad. That’s all I can remember for now, but going to make a conscious effort to keep up with the blogging this year. Catch you soon.

Three cheers for Krudd

strummer66 — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 04:30:25 GMT

As you might have guessed from my last post, I was a tad pessimistic about the hope of the Labour party finally gaining power in this country. But as it turns out, I was wrong…and gladly so. The time had well and truly come for J. Ho to get the fuck out. Yes, he presided over a time of great economic prosperity, but by focusing on that we apparently forget that Howard himself said over ten years ago that it didn’t matter who was in charge, an economic boom was coming for this country. So we mustn’t overlook that Howard’s “main claim to fame”, namely his economic management was a combination of luck and riding on the coattails of the payoff from the Hawke-Keating years and the move toward neo-liberalism made during that time. I found my anger building today while reading Howard’s eulogy in The Sunday Age, where they are already attempting to rewrite history by claiming that Howard’s adoption of ‘One Nation’ ideology was about defusing the party. With nothing what so ever to do with racism. What an absolute load of bollocks. Howard adopted those policies as it allowed him to create a scapegoat, a racial bogeyman, to stoke the fear that has been so prominnate in the political landscape worldwide since 9/11. This wasn’t a case of a strategy to eliminate One Nation. This was, to quote Greg Palast “the New Meanness”, an uncalled for and completely unfair attack of defenceless refugees, fleeing countries devastated by the wars we were starting. It was not surprising to see that in the mindless puff piece by John Roskam, that there was no mention of ‘Children Overboard’, nothing relating to ‘The Tampa’ and he must have run out of room to discuss the Australian Wheat Board scandal, because that was completely left out too. But I did have a bit of a chuckle to myself to see that according to Roskam, Howard’s refusal to say sorry to the indigenous people of this country wasn’t, as many thought, a damning indictment of race relations in this country under a coalition government. No, it was about changing “The terms of the debate….Because of Howard, the public argument shifted away from just being about whether to say sorry to the question of how to improve the living standards of out fellow citizens”. If this is the case, then why did it take so long for Howard to take action in remote indigenous communities? Oh yes, that’s right, because he was a lying, war mongering bigot. So screw you Mr Roskam and your piss-weak attempt to try and wash the blood and grime off Howard’s hands, no less than a day after he was booted out of office for his sheer vileness. Also a goodbye Mr Howard and Mr Costello, but in no way, shape or form do I wish you good-luck. May your consciences forever interrupt your sleep for the actions you have both taken in making this nation, however flawed, a new bastion for meanness and intolerance

It's been a long time between drinks......and I'm real thirsty

strummer66 — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 04:30:39 GMT

WOW…..I’m just taking a look at the date of my last post and realising how long it has been since I last vented my spleen. I finished my last exam on Monday and I am writing this 24 hours out from zero day. Yes, tomorrow Krud and J. Ho both enter the ring of which only one can leave the victor. It has been a pathetic and disappointing election campaign that revelled in economic ignorance and good old fashioned racism. With no boat people on the horizon this time around. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who was waiting with baited breath to see who Howard would make into a scapegoat in order to distract the largely moronic population of this country. But with the announcement of an end of immigration of Sudanese refuges, coming with a great heaping of racially motivated media beat up supplied by the Herald-Sun and its like. It was surprising to find out that no matter how hard you try and prepare yourself, it’s always worse that you could possibly imagine. The appalling blatantness with which the government was able to divert the attention of a complacent people boggled my mind. They were ably backed by many of the ‘independent’ media outlets such as channel’s 7 and 9, who played “Exclusive reports” showing “Ethnic Gangs on a Rampage” as evidence of why we should stop Sudanese refugees from coming here. The only problem with this is that when you have Police Commissioner, Christine Nixon on one side saying that Sudanese teenagers have no higher involvement in crime rates than anyone else. And examination of the footage you’re holding up as evidence of Sudanese violence, showing no involvement by Sudanese youth. You tend to come across as the incompetent Liberal shrills you clearly are. My anger relating to economic ignorance around this election comes from the fact that Howard has managed to harp on and on about what a good economic manager he is and that the election of a Labour government would only lead to a rise in interest rates. The fact the J. Ho has barely been challenged on this, despite FOUR interest rate rises in the last few years is enough to drive you to drink. It is also infuriating to see ad after ad shrieking how incompetent the Labour party are at financial management, when the Liberal party were only continuing the economic reforms laid out of the Hawke – Keating years. Let us not forget that it was Hawke and NOT Howard that began to ditch most of the traditional Australian economic policies such as protectionism and centralised wage fixing. However, it comes as no surprise that in a nation apparently lacking in the ability of critical thought, such as this one. The example laid out by the Bush administration that you don’t need even a skerrick of proof for anything, you just need to repeat the mantra over and over again and the masses will soon be parroting along, proves itself to be far too true. Just listening to the radio at the moment and hearing reports of a prediction of a landslide Labour victory this weekend, unfortunately I am not so optimistic. If there was finally going to be some mass awakening to the extraordinary amount of bullshit that the Howard government has been feeding us for the last six years since 9/11, than it should be showing itself by the sentencing of Howard and co. to a lifetime of hard labour in a maximum security prison. Rather than merely showing up as only a 4 point gap in opinion polls. With their mimicry of Howard ideology in social AND economic policy, Krud has well and truly fucked up a great opportunity to show that The Third Way, namely a framework that adapts politics to a changed world, transcending old-style social democracy and neo-liberalism, could work in Australia. As in their refusal to call a spade a spade and call out the Liberals for the racist and homophobic liars that they are, the Labour party has missed a massive opportunity to turn this once great nation towards a new beginning. Away from the intolerance, bigotry and fear that has blighted our national character for far too long. I do not have a great deal of faith in what the Labour party has in plan for this country, but one thing that I am sure of, they are a far better alternative to the shitheads that have been ‘leading’ this country for far to long.

I don't know what I think about this

strummer66 — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 02:48:56 GMT

I was channel surfing on Sunday night and as I flicked onto Australia Idol I caught the end of one of the performances which just happened to be a cover of The Gossip's 'Standing in the Way of Control'. hmmmmm I can't work out whether performing a punk/soul song about gay marriage on Australian Idol is brillantly subversive or if it simply a progession of the mainstream co-option of alternative culture. The watering down of punk for the easy digestion of bogans. To quote Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.. ..."Whatever Happened to my Rock and Roll?"

Vision of the future?

strummer66 — Fri, 17 Aug 2007 04:23:46 GMT

So after a great deal of time off, I am finally back at study. Although I was worried that doing nothing but politics and sociology units would leave this semester being…well a bit dull. All my subjects for the second half of 2007 seem to be really interesting and engaging, which is great. However, there was an incident this morning, relating to the conservativeness of some of the younger members of the tute that just blew me away. The subject was Modern Australia with the focus of today’s lecture being the bust of the Australian economy during the 1880/90s, after the boom of the gold rush. When someone pointed out the parallels between what was referred to in the 1890s as ‘Freedom of contract’ (being that workers had the freedom to be on a contract…..or to simply not work) and the current ‘work choices’ legislation. A debate broke out on the merits of the current governments policies, and it unsettled me to see a large section of the tute argue for the ‘benefits’ of the Howard governments plan for the workers of this country. I know it might seem naïve, but I was just really taken aback by the focus of these people, as it all seemed to be centred about money and how much they could make. Everything else was secondary, particularly in relation to building a fair and balanced society. The mentality was very much looking out for oneself, stuff everything and everyone else. The concept of solidarity and comradery between workers was particularly alien to many of these people. A particularly surprising comment, that got a few people nodding their heads, was from a young marketing student (cunts), who lamented that she was concerned about languishing in a shitty job ONLY earning 50 grand a year! When the tutor questioned her about maybe earning less money, but working in a job that was either personally satisfying or was of some benefit to the world at large. This young girl could only reply with a blank stare. To quote Dr Smith ‘We’re doomed, we’re all doomed’

Fucking Arsehole

strummer66 — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 05:04:01 GMT

I was making my way to the Arthouse Hotel on Friday night, in order to catch up with a mate and see a few bands. I had missed a tram and decided to just walk it, and had just crossed over the intersection on Elizabeth and Latrobe streets (opposite Melbourne Central) when he struck. I was minding my own business when I first saw him. Looking how I do; I’m more than used to being approached by people asking for change. So the smartly dressed guy in a business suit, talking on a mobile phone barely registered in my mind. That changed very quickly when he took a few fast steps in my direction and hip-and-shouldered me into a wall. I was taken by surprise, so he had already walked a couple of metres past me before I turned around and asked him what his fucking problem was. The area was undercover and with my bad eyesight I could see that he was facing me, but with the phone still to his ear, I was initially confused as to whether the first “Fucking Cunt” was aimed at me or the person on the other end of the line. At the time I was wearing what I refer to as my ‘Skeleton gloves’, so when he shouted down the phone “This fucking faggot is wearing green gloves”, I knew I was in trouble. I foolishly called him a “dick”, shook my head and turned and continued on my way. It was only a matter of seconds before I heard him ranting behind me, “This faggot is wearing gloves, it’s the city, why is he wearing gloves in the city? I’m going to kill this fucking cunt”. I ducked a look behind me and saw that he was rapidly approaching and knew that I had to remove myself from this situation really fast or I was fucked. I picked up speed and crossed the road, barley noticing a tram ‘till it almost took me out. As I moved up the middle of the street to get past the tram I looked behind me and saw that he had also picked up speed in my pursuit. With the phone still to his ear, I caught another “Gonna kill this cunt” over the dinging of the tram bell. Getting free of the tram, I made it to the other side of the road with him delayed by traffic, now about five to ten metres behind me. I fast paced it to an alley that cut though to Swanston Street, as I reached the corner, I heard “Get back here cunt”. Once out of sight, I legged it. Thankfully in his drugged fucked state; he was a little slow off the mark, as I was about halfway up the street, before he hit the corner. As I looked behind me he was making a sluggish attempt to run, but as I turned the corner into Swanston Street, his abuse rapidly faded away. I kept running though, looking for a taxi, I just want to get far away as quickly as possible. I just wanted to see my friend. All that was running though my head was how I couldn’t believe that this bullshit was happening to me. I felt fear, I felt rage, and I felt like a coward for not facing off with this fucker. As I made my way up the street towards the Arthouse, I was constantly looking over my shoulder, even as the rage kept stabbing at me. I spat, I cursed to myself, I punched a ticket machine. I eyed off a metal plant stake and considered the logistics of going back and breaking every bone in this fucker’s body with it. The sharp squeal of car brakes, snapped me out of any thoughts of male posturing and answering violence with violence. Once I made it to the Arthouse, my friend talked me down, put his arm around me and told me all the things I knew, but really needed to hear from someone else. That running was the best option, that there would have been no point taking on this prick, etc, etc (thanks Graeme). But what really galls me is that not that this shit happened to me. It’s that this arsehole could have attacked anyone. Sure his focus was the green gloves, but clearly it didn’t take much to set this guy off. I was lucky, I’m a fast runner and could get away, but what if he had targeted someone who couldn’t get away like I could? I shudder to think of what this guy could do to someone, because he was so clearly out of his mind on ice or coke or something, he could have easily done me over really well and not even remembered it in the morning. Put simply, these kinds of people are just fucked. Obvious statement I know, but being articulate is not what is driving me at the moment.

No band more deserving.

strummer66 — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 04:29:43 GMT

I just found some footage of The Gossip performing at The Glastonbury Festival. It's so strange to think that little over a year ago they were a support act at The Spanish Club, and now look at them THE GOSSIP ROCKS http://youtube.com/watch?v=dTtvrl8SFOM

Doctor Martin Boots

strummer66 — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 04:09:26 GMT

I picked up a copy of the Melbourne International Film Festival guide the other day and have been rifling though it at every opportunity, reading each description carefully and taking note of the ones that sound good in order to make the most of my rather limited film-going budget. So it was with a sense of disappointment that I read the blog of Richard Watts and found out that over 60 films showing at the MIFF this year will be getting a wider release after the festival. It appears that that MIFF is now less of a film buffs paradise, and more of a preview season for upcoming cinema. Adding this to the fact that I have already seen the closing night film (and was under whelmed by it), kind of puts a bit of a dampener on this years MIFF for me. The closing night film this year’s MIFF is Shane Meadows’s ‘This is England’. Based on the film-maker’s own childhood, ‘This is England’ takes us into the life of twelve year old Shane during his summer holidays, as he is taken under the wing of a local group of skinheads in the time of Margaret Thatcher’s England. I have always had a bit of a fascination with representation of skinheads on film, from ‘Help Me It’s So Dark’ to ‘Romper Stomper’ to ‘Luna Park’ there have been some amazing films made about this sub-culture and the nature of their identity, such as what drives and motivates them. Unfortunately, despite all the hype ‘This is England’ fails to fully explore any of these themes, even while it points to them. The main problem I had with this film was the portrayal of these characters, don’t get me wrong there is some wonderful acting in this film, it’s just that I found the representation of skinheads as little more that care bears with shaved heads to be highly unrealistic. I also found the pacing of the film to be uneven, to the point where I was really gearing up to where the film was going to go next, only for the end credits to start rolling. Even without all the hype, I found this film to be very disappointing, as the subject matter alone offered potential for a powerful and insightful film. It’s a shame the Meadows took the simple way out, by offering us only the briefest of glimpses into the lives of these characters, and even more disappointing that so many people are willing to applaud and award this clearly underwritten film. I give ‘This Is England’ two out of five stars and order Meadows to go back and undertake a though re-drafting.

The Texas Chainsaw Massager

strummer66 — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 04:45:04 GMT

I've just discovered that I still have several weeks before I return to study, so rather than doing anything remotely productive. I am sitting at a computer, listening to Hanson on youtube (don’t ask) and blogging about my unproductively. Recently my housemates returned from Thailand with a truckload of bootleg DVD’s, a couple of which I have already checked out. When I found out they had purchased a copy of the new Quentin Taranteno, Robert Rodriguez film “Grindhouse”, it was an effort to not piss me-self as I am a massive fan of both directors works. However after watching most of the film, all I was left with was a massive sense of disappointment. I say “most” of the film, because the Taranteno directed second half is one of the most disappointing pieces of celluloid I have ever witnessed. I know they are paying homage to a particular kind of film, but what I have always loved about Taranteno’s films is that he has always incorporated a warmth and humanity into his characters, regardless of whether they fall into the categories of ‘good’ or ‘bad’. What I found in “Grindhouse” was flat uninspired characters that I was unable to connect with on any level. So it turns out that this film bombed in the U.S. not because it was too long.....it’s just that it it's no bloody good. On another note I have also watched “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre – A New Beginning”, as it’s a fairly average film, it’s only worth mentioning for the fricken hilarious mis-translated sub-titles. I had two favourites in particular, the first one being the headline to this post and the second being one of the most random and funniest things I have heard. The actual line spoken in the film was… “We have endured, we have persevered” But the subtitle came out as “We have an egg, we have a potato” Funny as hell.

Fucking socialists have posted over my band flyer*

strummer66 — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 05:47:30 GMT

The Palace has burnt down and San Zemanek has died….two unrelated incidents………or are they? Hmmmmmmm. *Have you ever noticed how they do that? Stupid whiney pricks

Eight things you might not have known about me

strummer66 — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 05:54:37 GMT

I have been meme-ed by http://iam-temporary.blogspot.com/, so here we go... 1. When I was about 9 years old I was a budding pyromaniac. On Christmas day of that year I almost started a bushfire by setting fire to the straw of my Mum’s potato patch………I also ruined the new clothes I had just been given. 2. The first person I came out to was the daughter of my Mum’s now ex-fiancée. Her name was Caroline, and even though I haven’t spoken to her in over 10 years, I will always hold fond memories of her. 3. When I was 7 years old, I stepped on and killed a baby frog I found in our swimming pool. I have always felt guilty about this. 4. When he was released from jail and came to Australia, my Mum gave my sister and I the day off school in order to go see Nelson Mandela in the city square. We bought T-shirts and I wore mine to school the next day and thought I was hot shit. 5. My first sexual experience was when I was 16. The location was the toilets next to spotlight in Collins Place. 6. For a couple of years when I was a kid, I used to go to church by myself every Sunday and at one point I aspired to be a priest. I don’t know where it all went so wrong. 7. I was obsessed with disasters when I was young. The bigger the death toll, the more enthralled I was, I have a memory of the Pontiac plane crash being my “favourite”. It would be an understatement to say that I was a little weird. 8. I have performed an exorcism; it was on the house that my family lived in, in East Gippsland. I was also told by the Nun that supplied us with holy water and blessed oil that I have the ability to ‘see’ what others can’t. So there we are, I am now meme-ing hotrodstacy http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=57197237, so best of luck and welcome back.

Get some culture in ya

strummer66 — Wed, 20 Jun 2007 07:00:35 GMT

Been keeping me-self pretty busy of late, on Sunday night I made my way to the final night of the Spanish Club. Tis a shame that yet ANOTHER Melbourne venue has closed its doors to live music, but I guess that’s the way it goes. Only caught The Meanies and Bob Log III, but was told by friends, who had been there most of the day, that I must see Trash Ivory. So I will be checking them out some where down the track. Great night though, despite the soreness I felt the following day from dancing too hard to Bob Log III. He really does rock you know. Had Monday off, so took a trip up to the Nova Cinemas ($5 Mondays!!!) and checked out a couple of Flicks. On a whim decided to see the Russian film ‘The Italian’ and spent the next 90 minutes getting more and more pissed off, while this may not be the worst film I have seen this year (hello Spiderman 3), it is certainly the most annoying thus far. I know I was meant to admire the little kid’s pluck and determination, but all I wanted to do was to put the little brat over my knee. The main character was simply a little brat whose motivations made little sense. I also really hate it when characters talk like they are in a film, so while this film is meant to be a gritty slice of life type thing, I simply couldn’t buy into it. As I find it very hard to believe that 7 year old illiterate Russian orphans use words such as ‘elaborate’, this was clearly written by a film wanker for other film wankers. Three stars out of ten. The second film I saw was the new Aussie film ‘Noise’, if I had to sum this film up in one word….REMARKABLE. While it isn’t an entirely successful film, the ending for example left me with more questions than answers, the exceptional acting and powerful story far outweighs any minor quibbles I might have. The plot circles around a mass shooting on a train and the discovery of the body of a murdered woman that may be related to the murders on the train. At the centre of all this is Constable Graeme McGahan (Brendan Cowell), a doubt ridden cop, who because he suffers from tinnitus, is put on ‘light duties’ and has to man the information caravan in the hope that someone from the local community will come forward with information regarding the murders. This slow burning but this wonderfully engaging film is, in my opinion, a must see. The cinematography is marvellous, but what really drives this film is the sound design. If you get a chance to see this film at the cinema, I urge you all to go and allow yourself the full cinematic experience, forget seeing, hearing this exceptional film is believing. Nine stars out of ten. http://www.infilm.com.au/features/makingnoise.htm

Look at me.....I'm a Martyr

strummer66 — Wed, 30 May 2007 04:47:29 GMT

So the Peel Hotel in Collingwood has applied for, and received permission from the Victorian Equal Opportunity Commission, to refuse entry to heterosexual and lesbian patrons. This just strikes me as such a piss-weak and narcissistic move on behalf of all of those involved. Complaining that heterosexual patrons were treating the gay male patrons as if ‘They were animals at a zoo’ was ‘devaluing and dehumanising’ to them, sure straight people can be annoying sometimes. But you know what is really annoying? PISSWEAK LITTLE WHINGERS WHO LIKE PLAY THE PERPETUAL VICTIMS! For crying out loud, if you want to be treated with dignity and respect by people…THEN DON’T LEAVE YOUR FUCKING HOUSE! Dealing with arseholes and being treated like shit, is just part of any ‘good night out’, and if anyone pisses you off, gay or straight. Grow some balls and do something about it. Confront them, walk away, grab a bouncer, but whatever you do, don’t go whingeing and wanting different demographics of people banned from different spaces. This particularly applies to the banning of lesbians, a group that is already marginalised enough. I haven’t counted lately, but my guess is you could probably count the number of lesbian venues in Melbourne on one hand. I suspect that this judgment has less to do with ‘Making gay men feel safe’ in the venue, than it does with a desire to turn the whole place into the sex-on-site venue that it currently is upstairs. As the last time I was at the peel (a couple of weeks ago). I witnessed two women, whose curiosity must have gotten the better of them. Attempt to slip upstairs to have a look about. With the way that the bouncers took off after them, you could have been mistaken for thinking that they had stabbed someone. The point that I would like to make, is that if anything, we should be working towards building more mixed spaces, particularly gay/lesbian ones, than segregating ourselves in our own navel-gazing bubbles. Because if the mainstream gay community (which I do not count myself as part of) insists on marginalising itself, than in my opinion, it cannot complain when the rest of society refuses to listen to it’s grievances. And as you can probably tell from this blog…….I like to complain.

Message from Betty Bowers A.K.A. - America's best christian

strummer66 — Fri, 18 May 2007 03:51:04 GMT

Dear Bereft Brothers and Sisters in Mourning: Verily, I am crying as I type. You can imagine my shock in hearing that Reverend Jerry Falwell had been found dead, lying in a pool of his own gravy. First Anna Nicole, now Jerry. Frankly, the Lord seems to be on a fat, attention-whore killing spree! I’d stay indoors if I were Rosie O’Donnell. Well, on second thought, if I looked like Rosie O'Donnell, I'd be running through the streets screaming, "Here I am Lord! Come and get me!" Gossipy paramedics told me that Jerry died of a faulty heart. Frankly, my only surprise was that he had one at all. Nevertheless, his yammering mug finally being silenced because he had a failed heart seems marvelously fitting. After all, while he was alive, this obscenely wealthy miser's heart seemed to fail him at even the most mundane opportunities. Jerry never gave anything to anyone other than an interview. Indeed, so parsimonious was this vain, oily swindler, in the aftermath of our nation's great tragedy on September 11, 2001, the only thing Jerry thought to give those who grieved was blame. I first met Jerry when he swooped down on Heritage USA to pick Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker's bones clean of any easily-liquidated assets and studio equipment. They weren't the first people to be trampled when Jerry smelled money -- or bacon. As I told Tammy at the time, it's downright suicidal to stand between Jerry and a working television camera. After all, Jerry was most TV talk shows' go-to guy when they needed the snaggletooth-hillbilly point of view, a notoriously un-telegenic demographic. When CNN called, Jerry would drop everything except pounds for a chance to squeeze much of his face into unforgiving aspect ratio of pre-HDTV television. With his smarmy smile and affable facility for slapping a perfunctory "but I love him in Christ" at the end of even the most vicious, artless insults, he was rather effective in putting a charming, folksy face on demeaning other human beings and their children. To us in the booming Christianity industry, Jerry was our Bill Gates, only he made his money marketing the actual bugs instead of the patches. So fleet was his ability to turn any sorrow or situation into an opportunity to tout the politics of self-satisfaction, he never seemed to get bogged down in all those many words Jesus blathered, long before America, when Christians were surprised to have a house, not disappointed not to have a beach house. The type of Christians Jerry spoke to where rich people looking to get richer -- or poor people stupid enough to give what little they had to make those rich people's selfish dreams come true. While Jesus commanded that we help the poor, Jerry was a man less preoccupied with poor helpings than second helpings. Frankly, Jerry was always more devout when it came to the GOP than the GOD. The Gospels were written with a canny eye to a crucifixion-crazy Roman government that jealously patrolled power. As such, they are rather careful to direct Christians not to meddle in government. Before you go and accuse Mr. Falwell of intentionally disregarding these Gospels, the jury is still out on whether he ever got around to reading any of them in between the all-consuming demands of both media and meals. In any event, Reverend Falwell's legacy is the marvelously cunning idea of having a democracy run by people who think only their voices matter. Perhaps, thinking "render onto Caesar" was simply a delicious admonition to pile more anchovies on a salad, Jerry, in helping to move America from republic to theocracy, rather deftly countermanded not only those troublesome Enlightenment Founding Fathers, but also that inconveniently socialist, pacifist called Jesus. When it comes to people who distort Jesus' message of charity and austerity to make an enormous pile of cash from credulous people with televisions, I hate to speak ill of the competition. But it takes admirable courage and nimble logic to devote your life to issues Jesus completely ignored (abortion, global warming, tax breaks and homosexuality) while completely ignoring issues Jesus told you to devote your life to (love, charity, nonmaterialism -- and not devoting your entire life to being judgmental prick, I mean prig). Frankly, ignoring the worshipped is a wonderfully dexterous approach to worshipping. And what a streamlined, busy-girl-on-the-go approach to Christianity it is to slough off words Jesus said in favor of simply saying the word "Jesus" as your only sign of faith! Believe me, you get more cash stuffed in offering plates and envelopes from the "Support our Troops" crowd when you turn a blind eye to the words of Jesus than when you turn a slapped cheek to the words of enemies. And speaking of enemies, Jerry's death calls for the one thing that fell most easily from his lips: that is, blame. (And I bet you thought I was going to write something about that time he tried to eat a whole jar of pickled-pigs-feet in one gulp!) Frankly, I blame the homosexuals, abortionists, liberals, feminists -- and Hormel -- for Mr. Falwell's death. The Lord apparently lifted His mercurial veil of protection, saw how truly hideous this obese con artist had become and slapped the self-serving glutton into a place where his self-aggrandizing wickedness would go relatively unnoticed. After all, to Jerry, Hell will be any place without media attention -- and a buffet. After Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart, Pat Robertson, Ted Haggard, Jerry Falwell and sundry other greedy frauds, it's a wonder the Lord hasn't pulled the licenses on all of His American franchises. But the 2,000-or-so-year delay in the perennially postponed Second Coming (to say nothing of sitting out that whole Holocaust thing) proves that the Lord is in no particular rush to do much of anything. Nevertheless, even the laziest deity must grow increasingly exercised (and trigger happy) in the face of someone devoting his entire life to giving that God a bad name. So, let's face it: when the Jerry said the Lord had revealed to him that he was living in the Final Days, a follow-up question for more specifics might not have been remiss. Who knows what final straw caused the Lord to reach down and finally wipe Mr. Falwell from the airwaves. I suspect the Lord's patience reached a breaking point while eavesdropping on Jerry's recent conversation with Christiane Amanpour. Jerry told that troop-hating, Rory Gilmore-flattering, liberal pawn of the Mainstream Media: "If I have 20 more years, I will be able to accomplish my vision." I suspect that was a threat of such certain devastation even a Lord who played canasta throughout Katrina was moved to act. As for the final destination on Jerry's journey, well, who amongst us mortals is to say for sure? Well, me, of course. Indeed, I performed a fairly reliable exercise in prognostication during lunch, almost more out of genuine curiosity than any anticipatory gloating. I had my help try squeezing a mildly anorexic camel through the eye of a generously wide needle (I am, if nothing, a fair woman when wishing ill on others). Alas, the results of this messy undertaking did not bode well for dear Jerry. So close to Jesus, I toyed with telling Jerry, "That's enough bacon, dear" the day before, Mrs. Betty Bowers America 's Best Christian http://www.bettybowers.com/index.html

Melbourne International Comedy festival 2007 - Over and Out

strummer66 — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 03:52:32 GMT

Well comedy Festival has wrapped up again for another year, and while at 15 shows I came no where near breaking the record 38. I’m still pretty happy with that amount. …and the full list is (in no particular order)… The Glass Boat Jackie Loeb –Things I can’t talk about Sam Simmons – and the sex and science of boredom (see photo above) Adam Hills - Joymonger Hot off the press Fiona O’Louglin Rhod Gilbert – Knocking on Heavens door Allison Bice – The wizard of Bice Amelia Jane Hunter – is Keith Flipp Anthony Morgan – Sackful of Bullfrogs We are Klang – Invite you to a KlangBang Mickey D – Shame 101 Geraldine Quinn – Sex, Death, Bowie Christina Davis - Sex Daniel Kitson – It’s the fireworks talking A tie for best show this year, with Sam Simmons – ‘And the sex and science of boredom’ and Fiona O’Loughlin showing that there is hope for Australian comedy. Runners up include ‘The Glass Boat’ and Daniel Kitson. I hate to be negative, but I also need to pan both Christina Davis and Jackie Loeb for their efforts, as both ‘Sex’ and ‘Things I can’t talk about’ just came across as missed opportunities. Particularly considering the promise given by not only their titles, but also the promise shown by both performers in their previous efforts, also a note to Jackie Loeb, the impersonations you did this year, WERE THE SAME ONES I SAW YOU DO OVER FOUR YEARS AGO! You cannot expect to build a fan base if you keep recycling the same material, I for one felt royally ripped off having paid my hard earned dosh, only to hear the same tired Cher and Macy Gray routines.

Comedy festival...the story so far

strummer66 — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 05:10:00 GMT

As I have mentioned before, as I have no role in this years comedy festival, I am alas without participant's pass this year. Which means NO FREE SHOWS!!!! Crap. However I have managed to check out a couple of shows so far, thanks to the dear Richard Watts*...ah, the joys of being a professional hanger on. On Friday night I met Richard outside the Forum Theatre to check out the latest Adam Hill show 'Joymonger'. I have to admit I have never been a massive fan of Hills, and was viewing the night as a good way to catch up with Richard, more than anything else. However, my tune changed within moments of Hills taking the stage, as much as I hate to pun on its title, 'Joymonger' was a joy to watch. With Hills performing a wonderfully engaging show, with a warmth and charm that many try and immitate, but only a select few (such as Hills) can actually pull off. In all my years of seeing comedy, I have never seen a audience respond with such adoration to a performer. 'Joymonger' is well worth checking out. *For more on Richard Watts, check link to his blog below.

I SAW THE PIXIES LAST NIGHT!!!!

strummer66 — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 02:46:58 GMT

I'm still in a daze. Amazing amazing amazing, greatest hits set, but no silver which was a shame. Kim sang sweetly and plucked away, Frank screamed and Joey was a guitar god. Bliss For those interested, Look up for some mongy footage taken on my digital camera Also check my Flickr site for photos

Kinship

strummer66 — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 04:04:42 GMT

At the moment she died, Jessica May Black had a vision. She saw herself walking up an all too familiar street, towards the house that was responsible for most of her childhood memories. The trees she remembered as proud and vibrant were now as dull as the evening dusk and groaned as they leaned over her. She stood outside her house and remembered all the scents that had been part of her formative years. The warm, enveloping smell of her Mother’s cooking and the sharp tang of the lemon tree outside her bedroom window, but also the smell of her Father’s leather belt when it was used as a strap on her hands. Winching at the thought of her Father’s punishment, Jessica slowly made her way down the garden path, her feet cutting a swathe past the weeds that had broken though the pavestones and up to the door, tentatively she opened it and stepped inside. The air inside was musty, colder than outside, as though no one had stepped inside since her parents had sold it when she was seventeen. Ever mindful of the rules that had bound her childhood, Jessica removed her shoes and her stockinged feet felt the familiar texture of the cool slate hallway. She looked around and smiled to herself as memories of childhood games returned to her. Blind-mans bluff and hide go seek, adolescent games played with the intensity of a high rolling gambler “G’day Scout” On the mention of her childhood nickname, Jessica spun around and locked eyes with her Brother. Her adored Adam, whose suicide had instigated the family’s flight from her childhood home. Throughout her life Jessica had imagined this moment and had imagined many scenarios where she could ask Adam why he had done what he had done. But with her sibling finally standing in front of her, his wrists still dripping claret, all she wanted to do was to throw her arms around him and hope that the love that was unable to save him all those years ago, could at least offer some comfort for him now. She felt like she was crying, her eyes pouring out her loss, but when she rubbed them with her hands, they came away dry. She felt a moment of confusion, before remembering her vow. She had woken up one morning, several weeks after his death, with her eyes sore and her checks glistening with tears and was struck by the fear that she would never recover from her Brother’s actions. She pulled herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She dried her eyes and blew her nose on the hem of her slip and ordered her heart cold. She made a pact with herself, With God, With Allah and With Budda That she would not grieve for those who did not have the courage to fight for life. Many people noticed this change in Jessica’s demeanour; this acknowledgement only lasted for a short while however, as it quickly and simply became part of her personality. This change didn’t always serve her well. Jessica’s two ex-husbands were ultimately mystified as to why their marriages broke down. But Jessica knew, while initially she had been drawn towards these men for their passion and vitality. Over time, their zest for existing had fallen away and morphed into caution and fearfulness of life. These changes had frightened Jessica as much as they had disgusted her. So she had walked out of the marriages, turned her back on two men she loved, because of fear. The fear that the sickness that had infected her Brother would infect her too. This thought made her break her Brother’s embrace and she opened her mouth to speak but her brother’s honeyed voice cut her off, “This is not the life I wanted you to live” Jessica smiled ruefully and slowly nodded her head. “It was not the life I wanted to live either” she said “But after you left I felt I had no other choice” A sadness flickered across Adam’s dark features and he shook his head “Choice was all we had” He offered before falling into silence They both turned and faced the window; the wind picked up and made the tiger lilies beat back and forth. The dancing garden bought a smile to Jessica’s face, allowed her to push away a lifetime of pain and regret. She reached over and took her brother’s hand, still sticky with the dampness of his life and together they continued to gaze out the window.

Cat Chuck (catch up)

strummer66 — Fri, 23 Mar 2007 02:57:55 GMT

Haven’t blogged much recently due to a combination of being flat chat between work/study and also having absolutely nothing to say. So with assignments due and reading to catch up on I have decided to procrastinate and catch up. Tickets for the Pixies went on sale today at 9am and sold out in five minutes, and due to the fact that the guy behind me in the line couldn’t get any. I am to assume that I bought the last two Pixies tickets for their show at the Palace. YAY FOR ME. My dear sister is getting married on Saturday, but due to the fact that the ceremony is over in Italy. No one from our family is able to make it over. Eliza, if you are reading this we will all be together and thinking of both you and Antonio on Saturday night and all my best wishes and love are with you both

..and then his larynx just came flying out

strummer66 — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 04:10:07 GMT

Went and checked out the Deftones at Festival Hall last night and my two main thoughts about the night are... 1. The Deftones are an amazing band, both musically and lyrically they are far beyond any other metal band around at the moment. Nu or otherwise, and 2. Singer, Chino Moreno is an very, very sexy man

The floors turned into the walls

strummer66 — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 05:31:14 GMT

He looked at the carpet then looked at the walls. The beigeness of his surroundings made it difficult to put things into perspective, to think with a clear head. So he made cloudy decisions, choices that were foolish, but nevertheless were the only ones he was able to make. Even later, when he thought he had straightened up, mistakes were still made. Only now, the rage he felt at himself began to colour those around him.

Blood, Sweat and Beers

strummer66 — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 00:54:26 GMT

In the constant push to discover the new ‘Kool’ thing in rock, it can be all too easy to overlook that which has become familiar. The seemingly endless line of new bands doing a different interpretation of the Stones, the Beatles or the Sabbath, one can become distracted and lose focus as to what rock and roll music is really all about. The first time I saw SixFtHick was at the Offshore festival in 2000, and I was immediately astonished by their energy and passion. But was mainly blown away by how much they just fucking rocked, and over the next few years I rarely missed a Melbourne show. I became particularly fond of the early Sunday evening shows at the Greyhound hotel. These shows have gone on to become legend, even if only in my own mind. This was something that up until that point, I had only heard about in hushed whispers. This was a real ROCK N’ ROLL show, with all the danger, sex and good old ‘blood, sweat and tears’ that I had never previously had the joy of experiencing. Singer, Ben could regularly be found in the rafters, naked and on fire, while still howling like a werewolf. All the while devil girl “Miss Jasmine” was doing her darndest to take out the other members of the band, including the second singer, Ben’s Brother Geoff. So many great gigs, so many fantastic memories. So it is with this in mind that I made my way to the Greyhound hotel last night. It has been well over a year since I have seen the band, and with the venue about to be transformed into a fully fledged queer venue, I jumped at the chance to see The ‘Hick for what may be one of the last times in this illustrious time slot. I managed to get there in time to catch the second half of W.A. outfit ‘The Jacknives” set. With my wannabe feminist urges, any rock group where women outnumber men is going to catch my attention and with their Cramps inspired rock, the Jacknives did a first-rate job of holding it. But I suppose the fact that guitarist Maisen is a fox may be affecting my judgment at the same time. After The Jacknives wrapped it up, it was a surprisingly short time before the brothers Corbett took to the stage with the rest of the band. Can there be any real questioning of this band being the kings of Rock and Roll, when before a note has even been sung, Ben has stormed his way though the crowd, grabbed three empty beer glasses off a pool table and smashed them over his head? I personally have been to many a gig, where the highlight of the show has come when the singer, guitarist, whatever, has left the stage and made his/her way into the audience. The breaking down of the barrier between the audience and the performer is related to the spontaneity that so many people love about rock and it can also go a long way towards enduring the band to the crowd. But this is not a situation one faces at a SixFtHick gig, this is not a case of when or if the singers are going to make their way into the audience. It’s a case of when or if…they are going to stop. Make no mistake, to simply watch SixFtHick is a contact sport, if you don’t want to be bowled over by a singer, tripped over by a mic lead or otherwise molested, it’s probably best if you just leave the venue. This is rock unleashed, with all the fear and danger you could possibly want or need. Having not seen the band for some time, I was only to assume that they couldn’t have the same effect they had on me all those years ago. I was older, they were older… and surly they must have toned it down a little bit? The answer to this question came a bit after the fourth song, when Ben shoved his hand down the front of his pants, and after groping around for a bit. Shoved said hand into the face of Brother Geoff, who, far from being annoyed at being confronted with a handful of his brother’s ball sweat, seemed to rather enjoy it and proceded to suck on Ben’s fingers. This incestuous homoeroticism has become a major aspect of the sexual allure of the band; as, with even Brittany Spears flashing her vag, it is clear the sex part of “Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll” has been co-opted by the mainstream. So where else do a hard-core cow punk band from Queensland have to go, but to have the two singers/brothers making out (yes, I have seen them do this). With their set including several older tracks, including ‘Daddy’s Home’ and ‘All in Flames’ off their first album “Chicken”. There was much to please both their newer as well as the older SixFtHick fans like myself. By the end of the gig ‘The Hick’ left a room full of battered and bruised, but very happy people, many of whom, like me will be lamenting the loss of yet another Melbourne band venue, when the Greyhound closes its doors to rock n’ roll sometime over the next couple of months. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spwnyv-21Kk