On Dit Issue 79.7

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Adelaide University Student Magazine

Vol. 79 / Issue 7 Featuring:

Contents Vox POP

6

How To

8

Degrees of Knowledge

10

Out of the Ashes

12

Refused Classification

16

The Fictional Profession

18

Swearing Is Caring

22

Elle Dit

25

— Feminism: It’s for everyone

26

— “Who are you?”

28

— SlutWalk

30

— Procrastinetting: Best Gurrrrlz to procrastinet over

34

— What if your dad has a beard, but you still have two mums?

36

Student Politics: NUS vs SRC

38

A Guide To Writing An Article for your Student Magazine

40

Square Meals

43

Columns

44

Diversions

46

State Of The Union

48

Go to www.ondit.com.au if you’re not a square, or become our friend: www.facebook.com/onditmagazine Editors: Sam Deere, Elizabeth Flux & Rory Kennett-Lister Cover + Inside Front illustrations by Alex Stjepovic On Dit is an affiliate of the Adelaide University Union Published 30/5/2011

Volume 79, Issue 7

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EDITORIAL Sam / Flava Rory / Captain WTF Liz / Daria

Today, I had feminism

explained to me by two men.

FML

I’m not 100% sure what the original source of my confusion was. However, what I do know is that whenever someone mentions anything vaguely related to women’s rights, my mind immediately starts playing “Sister Suffragettes” from Mary Poppins.

Additionally, I spent fourteen years at an all-girls school, resulting in a somewhat warped view of gender roles.

All in all, I do think that I received a good, and for the most part, rounded, education. However, because you were surrounded only by other females, it seemed no doors were closed to you if there was something you really wanted to achieve in life. In contrast to this assumption, upon leaving the school bubble I discovered that there were a host of subjects we were never offered.

Things like woodwork and metalwork were left off the curriculum, whilst home economics was compulsory for at least a year (not a bad thing, as all of those lessons ended with food eating. Or dressing gowns.). Furthermore, any sighting of a boy anywhere on campus was treated like the second coming of Christ.

Whilst all of this was happening, media, other misguided opinions and light-bulb jokes were slowly and subtly making me think that feminism was all about comparing your ability to do something with that of a man, and my 2

fuzzy conclusion basically came down to the idea that it was all a competition to see who was better.

This was for the most part ok, until my name came up in the editorial writing carousel. At this point it became painfully apparent that on this topic I was about as useful as a nuclear intercontinental ballistic beanie, and so I skipped Google and went straight to the Rory and Sam search engine.

To put it as simplistically as possible, what I now understand is that the fact that I am entitled to live a life that would be no different than that of my hypothetical brother is a central idea to feminism.

However, for all those of you who want to take a step up from the me-written “I can read! Book of Analogies”, then turn to this issue’s Elle Dit section for an exploration of modern gender roles and explanations about what feminism means today.

Also included in this issue are a guide on how to write for your student magazine, a look at profanity, columns, student politics shenanigans, columns, puzzles and a guide to surviving post-Potter.

On Dit Magazine

Best, Elizabeth (and Rory and Sam)

Contributors Illustrator Alex Stjepovic (Cover; Inside cover; “How To”, page 8; Elle Dit cover, page 25) Health science is the bane of Alex’s life; the only thing that keeps her sane is the eclectic mess of black felt tip images that conceal the academic facade of her university folder.

Alex believes that skipping is an acceptable form of locomotion, that domestos is The most amazing cleaning product (ever!), has had an 80’s perm, and is in love with Donald O’Connor. Alex is also part of a long standing challenge to spontaneously use the words juxtaposition and onomatopoeia in the same sentence. That is all.

Writers Gemma Beale (“Feminism: It’s for everyone”, page 26; “Square Meals”, page 43) Gemma is in her fourth year of uni, and after a lot of trial and error thinks she’s finally worked out the difference between thinking things are interesting, and wanting to devote your study/life to them. Through a vigorous regime of naps, showers and TED talks, Gemma has managed to wean herself off both a science degree and a philosophy major. She currently digs Vietnamese rolls, crumpets, and all things lady related (specifically Feminist Frequency, Gail Dines and The Gentlewoman). She has a good feeling about this semester and aims to hand at least one assignment in by deadline.

Seb Tonkin (“Out of the Ashes”, page 12) Seb spends much of his time brainstorming justifications for his law degree that don’t involve practising law. For two and a half years, this dodging of responsibility has involved a double degree with arts, On Dit wankery, hosting shows on Radio Adelaide, and spending altogether too much time watching bands in nearly empty rooms. When confronted by the local urban culture, his stereotypical Adelaide ennui more often than not gives way to an almost zen feeling of oh-it’s-not-that-bad-really. Seb is frustrated with politics, probably too tolerant of guitar feedback, and pretty fond of eggplant.

Tom Sheldrick (“A guide to writing An Article For Your Student Magazine”, page 40) Hi, my name is Tom Sheldrick. I’m a 3rd year economics/finance student still doing 1st year subjects. My hobbies include wearing leggings as pants and reading articles about breast reduction surgery and why we should save the failing CD industry. Aren’t CDs great? Let’s all buy them out of sympathy; bring back records and cassettes too! I also like sport and listen to commercial radio sometimes. Come at me, bro.

Volume 79, Issue 7

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Letters

Got something to get off your chest?

Email us at ondit@adelaide.edu.au

This year’s On Dit has covered topics including drug abuse, academic forgery, the Falun Gong, and the merits of public mourning on Facebook (not to mention the fact that we have a go at at least one faculty every issue). However, it is Rhia Rainbow’s article ‘Leggings are not pants’ (On Dit 79.6) that has touched off the most heated debate. This is probably the most considered of the numerous letters we received:

On Dit,

Reading your latest issue, I was greatly unimpressed with Rhia Rainbow’s article, ‘Leggings Are Not Pants.’ As she pointed out, university is a time and place where appearance and clothing is not important.

I would like to further suggest that university is a place where people are encouraged to express themselves and explore their identity freely — in a place free from judgement, or at least given acceptance.

At this point I would like to remind you that the Adelaide University Policy “values and celebrates the diversity of its community and promotes the recognition, acceptance and right of all people to be treated with fairness, equity and justice”.

Clothing and how one presents oneself is a facet of expression.

As Rainbow unapologetically said, her decision to dress comfortably and how she pleases is a “lifestyle choice”. It is incredibly hypocritical of Rainbow to then attack women who come to university dressed to “impress” while simultaneously proclaiming her right to dress however she pleases. She goes on to claim that her lifestyle is that of a “normal

university student”. This suggests that female university students (as she does not mention male) who depart from this are not experiencing university properly. It is concerning that she suggests these girls “transform” themselves into a “normal human being”. What is normal exactly?

It doesn’t exist. These girls have the right to dress however they like; similarly, they are making a lifestyle choice.

What is most upsetting is Rainbow’s presumption that these girls do not value their education and do not “accessorize with an IQ”. Clearly, she does not know any of these girls personally, as seen by her request for one of them to “enlighten” her.

The main source of her insights into these girls is from women she has seen around the university to which she applies exaggerated and unfounded stereotypes to. Why can’t a girl care about how she looks at university and care about her education? Studies have shown attractive people are more successful, wealthier and easier to get along with. So maybe these girls are onto something, being pretty could help

them get a HD after all. Their decision to dress to impress may have some intellectual founding.

Rainbow’s attack on women adds to centuries of similar conflicts between women that serve to create division among women and prolong hegemonic masculine dominance.

Her assertion that “nobody gives a shit” about what women wear to university is undermined by writing this article; feeding into a cycle of constant judgement by women over appearance of other women.

I suggest that Rainbow go back to studying and learns how to write a coherent, cohesive argument with perspective. An argument that is not reliant on exaggerated, unfounded stereotypes, shock language (“douchebag”, “fuck”, “shit”) and shock punctuation (capitals, hanging questions).

Oh, and if you ever see me around university in my “brand new outfit” and “tiny little handbag”, just remember something: I’m on a HD average.

Ursula Stevens

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On Dit Magazine

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9 Letter word: Unethical

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Volume 79, Issue 7

Crypt-O-Clue Biro Godot Exhume Paces Silent Student

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Who Dat Ninja?

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Quiz Ryan Dunn “In God We Trust” (Official); “E Pluribus Unum” (Traditional – “Out of Many, One”) False. It was William

Florence Nightingale Ashley Olsen Edmund Barton Nikoai Tesla Mary-Kate Olsen Charles Dickens

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Areola Au China and Mongolia Vichy Clancy Tim Mathieson 14 weeks total, 6 suspended.

John Wilkes Booth Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon Joseph Stalin

Jane Austen Marie Curie Eleanor Roosevelt

No peeking until you’ve done the Diversions on page 46

Answers

Vox POP

6

Jeshua

ashleigh

DECLAN

Physics

Arts

Medicine

1. No. 2. Kyle.

3. No. It’s not really news, just sensationalist shit.

4. I got a tattoo on my ribs. It’s a small bird. It was just a test run.

5. See above.

1. The cornier the better. I think “Does this smell like chloroform?” is hilarious.

2. Kyle Sandilands. At least he’s good for a laugh.

3. Probably not. It’s probably an invasion of privacy.

4. I don’t feel pain 5. I have a tattoo of a swallow and I’m planning on getting my whole side done.

1. If some did the Ali G ‘Lick You Up And Down’ song and dance, I would melt.

2. Kyle Sandilands. I would wax his face.

3. Mmm-hmm. They’re not real people. They’re just a government conspiracy to give us something to aspire to.

4. My Prince Albert piercing 5. Yes. I’m getting ‘YOUR NEXT’ tattooed across my knuckles.

On Dit Magazine

We asked our panel of randomly selected students: 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Is there a pick-up line you would fall for?

Who would you rather be locked in a room with, Kyle Sandilands or Rebecca Black?

Do you think it’s ok to hack celebrity voicemails?

What’s the most painful situation you’ve been in?

Would you get a tattoo?

Lisa

Kieran

Olivia

Pharmacy

Finance

Arts/Teaching

1. “I know your future.” Then the person writes their number on your hand. “It seems pretty clear.”

2. I’d like to meet Rebecca Black, actually.

3. I guess it’s entertaining, but probably not.

4. Getting hassled to answer questions by On Dit editors.

5. It’s grown on me. Maybe.

1. Not really. If a girl looks at me I feel pretty lucky.

2. Rebecca Black.

3. No 4. Losing my wallet and phone in Thailand.

5. Last year I would have said no, but this year, I just don’t care anymore.

1. “Baby, I’m no Fred Flinstone, but I can make your bad rock.”

2. Kyle Sandilands 3. No. It’s an invasion of privacy 4. In year 9, a bunch of us were talking about riding horses.

A girl asked if I was in the Pony Club. I told her “No, I just ride for pleasure.” Everyone started laughing so the teacher made me get up and and tell the rest of the class why we were laughing. I was the butt of jokes for 2 years.

5. Probably not.

Volume 79, Issue 7

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How To:

Cope, Post-Potter Words: Ellen Morgan / Illustration: Alex Stjepovic

Well, it’s all ended. Time to face the facts people. Even at bus-stops, we cannot escape the apocalyptic reminders of the grim truth that this month, “it all ends”. For those of us who have grown up with Harry, this last movie is not only the end of the series, but the end of childhood. The eleven year-olds within us no longer have anything to live for. Dramatic? Yes. Untrue? No.

We’ve all seen the Facebook groups...this is a situation facing many young adults worldwide. PPD. Post-Potter Depression. We at On Dit don’t shy away from the tough stuff, so we’re here to guide you through this terror.

Everything from who is at risk, to how to cure it (if possible).

1. How to test if you’re at risk

2. How to identify the symptoms

To

If

test if you are

Potty

beyond repair, answer yes or

symptoms;

Have/do you...?

• •

•

• • • • • • • •

Made your parents get up insanely early (maybe even earlier than Christmas!) and drive you to the bookshop to line up for hours for the latest book.

Lined up at the cinema for midnight tickets, because you’re just that dedicated.

Own a cape, a Hogwarts jumper, scarf etc, and are still proud to wear it Still hope to get a letter from Hogwarts every time the mail comes Secretly tested out several spells with your ‘wand’ (aka stick from the backyard).

Own every book in hardcover because paperback just doesn’t cut it.

Succeeded in making Butterbeer, after several attempts from internet recipes.

Been scared of vintage stores because of all the horcruxes that might be in there *** Bonus Points (for extra-Potty devotees): camped in Trafalgar Square to watch the premier of the final movie! Kudos to you.

If you answered yes to any of the following, you Completely Potty and at HIGH RISK.

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you’re at risk, you may experience the following

no to the following.

are

•

• • •

•

Growing anxiety with the end of each book/movie.

Compulsively re-reading the books, and watching the movies.

Constantly searching the DVD special features and YouTube for extra scenes and interviews, because there simply HAS TO BE MORE. Disorientation and loss as to what to do upon the end of the final movie.

Delusions that J.K.Rowling IS making another book as we speak, because you simply can’t face reality.

You can’t believe that Luna and Neville don’t end up together, despite the family tree on J.K. Rowling’s website.

Checking online three times a day, just in case Pottermore comes early.

3. How to cure PPD You can’t. Potter has ended and therefore so has the world as you know it.

No, but seriously, we must face the facts, and learn how we can best cope with PPD; how you can keep on being Potty in other ways without more books and movies....

On Dit Magazine

COPING STRATEGIES: •

•

•

•

Write J.K.Rowling countless letters until she writes another book, simply because she is so sick of your letters (On Dit requests if you do this, please, don’t mention our name. Also, it is unlikely to work. Good luck.)

Visit Harry Potter World at Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida. This is possibly the closest you could get to being IN the world of Witchcraft and Wizardry and may temporarily alleviate depressive symptoms. (WARNING: Could cost many moneys, and is possibly shit and disappointing. We have not been.)

Apparate to Hogwarts, because everything is better there (Warning: apparition may not work, and Hogwarts may not exist..just sayin’) Get the movies in 3D...then Harry and Voldy will actually be in your lounge room. This could

•

•

•

comfort you temporarily.

Join as many Harry Potter related Facebook groups as possible. It may completely piss your friends off, but it will show your devotion is better than theirs, so it’s ok. Facebook involvement will allow you to prolong the HP phase or your life.

Go to England. Where there are British people.

Who sound like Harry Potter. (Yes, we realize we’re running low on ideas, but it’s worth a shot) Write some fanfiction...? (Yeah, we didn’t want to go here, but if you’re game...and if nothing else will help...just please, don’t make up your own potions and spells. Lame.)

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Degrees of Knowledge Honours

B. Arts Year 12

So you’re an Arts student. And you’ve graduated. Good onya! At the family Christmas show you can finally avoid those horrid questions.

You know, the ones punctuated with some snide remark about their tax and your welfare payments. And so, the Christmas cake is served and the conversation turns to your graduation: “And what are you going to do now you’ve graduated? What sort of job can you get with an Arts degree?”

Your stomach turns. You douse your cake in brandy custard, hope to God Aunt Miriam used the whole bottle, and mutter: “Honours.”

“So you’ve graduated, but you’re still at uni? I don’t understand.”

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B. Eng B. Law

Employment

B. Sc

$$$

Neither do I. “Let’s pretend I’m going to be a dentist.” *** Honours. The university likes to explain it as “a further year of study in a specialised area of study. It will develop your research and writing skills and significantly enhance your employment opportunities in the market place.” But who can remember this definition in question-time?

Especially with a bowl full of brandy custard. And also, it’s all a bit, well, wrong. Why would you really do honours?

Firstly, because you will finally be in a class of people who give a shit.

You know, the one person from every undergrad tute that talks, the

On Dit Magazine

one who does the readings — they end up in honours. And it’s wonderful — like tute heaven. And you get to be friends with these people.

Secondly, because you can be a wanker, you are encouraged to be a wanker and are rewarded for it.

It’s why you came to uni, right? You can spend entire two-hour seminars discussing things you secretly love but are afraid to bring up in public, such as ‘what is literature?’ or ‘why is literature important?’ or ‘why is reclusive author Thomas Pynchon reclusive?’

And, lastly because you don’t have to leave uni and look for ‘employment opportunities in the market place.’ You can read instead. And write about something you’re interested in. Bonza!

An insider’s look at something you don’t study Words: Kelli Rowe

Obscure conversation

More Study Academia

More Study Awesome The Exeter The basic structure of an honours year is the same throughout most faculties: coursework in the first semester and a thesis (or its faculty specific equivalent) in the second. In our honours program (English, obviously, with all that literature talk) the coursework consists of two courses – Critical Thinking and American Narratives – or methodology and an elective. They run similarly to an undergrad course, but with larger essays, more reading and an eye that keeps glancing toward the thesis.

The thesis/research project/recital is the second semester. You do this under the guidance of a supervisor — usually an academic who you have looked up to during undergrad and are petrified of sending an email to with spelling mistakes. After the third or fourth meeting, though, you forget your fears and enjoy basking in their genius. And that is all I have

¢¢¢

to say about the thesis. Except that it is due in 112 days. So, don’t ask me any more about it.

The standard honours day is structured on coffee. You may already know this. Something you may not know about honours, however, is that it comes with its own jokes.

Question: how many honours students does it take to locate one lecturer?

Answer: five. And an elaborate and totally useless plan.

Question: how many honours students does it take to turn on a computer?

Answer: three. And at least twenty minutes.

Now, the point of these anecdotes is not just to make jokes about Arts

Volume 79, Issue 7

students (it would not take three computer science honours students to turn on a computer, one would assume). It is to make a very clear point about the nature of an honours year. You can’t do honours and win at life at the same time. Impossible. You become a little obsessive.

How could you not when you spend all your time reading (or faculty specific equivalent)? Even if it is about totally cool stuff like poststucturalist philosophers (or faculty specific equivalents). And then you can’t stop thinking about them, even when you’re watching a B-grade slasher film — especially when you’re watching a B-grade slasher film. And then, maybe, you even get your hair cut like one of them. Well, why wouldn’t you? Your honours friends will like it. Next thing you know you’re cracking Derrida jokes to your two-year-old cousin… O 11

Out of the Ashes Getting all transformative up in your city Words: Seb Tonkin

Earlier this year, Lonely Planet decided that Newcastle was the ninth best city in the world.

It’s an outcome that surprised a lot of people, probably not least Marcus Westbury. Long concerned with the decay and disuse of his home town, in 2008 he founded Renew Newcastle — an initiative to use the empty buildings around town for artists, cultural projects, and community groups. The projects they set up are run on free rolling 30-day license-toaccess agreements. While the owners aren’t using them, they’re filled with things like cafés, galleries, and millineries. Life is brought back into

12

boarded up shopfronts and offices, and no-one seems to lose out: landlords’ buildings are kept presentable; artists and entrepreneurs get (sort of) free places to do stuff; the public gets exciting things to see; and the city as a whole benefits from social, cultural, and economic rejuvenation.

There was a change in Newcastle.

The vandalism stopped. People were coming into the city. Someone from Lonely Planet turned up and decided that Sydney’s neighbour was only a few notches below New York in the travel stakes.

Newcastle’s old problems sound all too familiar. Adelaide’s city centre is full of empty buildings and quiet

On Dit Magazine

streets. Depending on how you look at it, there seems to be either a surplus of places or a shortage of ‘things’. We live in a town where there’s often little reason to stay in the CBD past 8 o’clock unless you’re planning on getting shitfaced. Every second person with any sense or talent flees for greener pastures before turning thirty. And yet, the political discussion centres around expensive ideas that would change Adelaide from an often boring city into an often boring city with a giant stadium. I spoke to Ianto Ware, ‘Actual Doctor’ (of Media and Participatory Culture), writer, and co-founder of the Format Festival. He rejects a top-down approach to rejuvenation:

‘If you want an economically vibrant city, a socially vibrant city, that’s not something the Council does — it’s something the Council lets the people who live in the city do.’ Ianto is also co-founder of Renew Adelaide – a non-profit organisation that’s bringing Marcus Westbury’s Newcastle model to SA. The first Renew Adelaide spaces opened a little over a year ago in two adjacent shopfronts on Hindley Street.

The Reading Room is a cozy place full of books and sofas that aims to be a ‘loungeroom in the city’. Depending on the day, you might find an exhibition, a movie screening, or boardgames. Next door, Work Shop is a combined studio and retail space set up by four young fashion designers, where they produce and sell their own wares and those of other local artisans. Both these spaces illustrate the concept behind Renew Adelaide – they’re ideas that wouldn’t normally have the capital to exist in the CBD, yet bring vibrancy and diversity to it.

They’re something unusual on a street that (let’s be honest) isn’t widely renowned as a cultural hub. They are, unquestionably, an improvement on vacant space.

Earlier this year, Electra House on King William Street (formerly known mostly for late night clambering and illegal gigs) became the new home for venue Tuxedo Cat and a champion for the potential of Renew. One of the larger official venues in the 2011 Fringe, since the festival’s end it’s hosted a variety of events — from local band shows, to communal night markets, and a concert where a really loud band called ‘Jet Boys’ from Tokyo stripped nude and grated parsnip all over everybody. Unfortunately, as I write, its days are numbered, with the Aspen Group trying once more to redevelop the building. Looking to the future, Renew has concrete plans for two spaces in Prospect, and others in very early stages.

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Despite its successes, Renew Adelaide has yet to reach the scale of Newcastle’s 30+ operating projects. Ianto admits that RA has proved a more complex prospect than Newcastle: ‘Newcastle is unique in that its Council is completely inept.

Utterly. Council here actually does their job.

Which has the weird side-effect that you actually need to meet modern compliance standards. You actually have to obey the law. And those two things mean it’s harder to find any spaces.’ Beyond that, the sheer number of property developers in Adelaide makes negotiations inherently more complicated. And even where there are vacant spaces with amenable owners, there are obstacles that make it extremely difficult for small urban ventures to exist.

Many of the hurdles Renew Adelaide faces are what Ianto describes as ‘glitches’ — situations where laws and regulations that seem on their face to be reasonable, in application, result in frustrating outcomes: ‘Our building code was basically written in response to people building massive slums in the 1890s. It’s not designed for going into an existing building. So if you’re in an existing building and you want to change its use — say from a shop to a gallery — it won’t let you do that.’ One solution is to introduce something called a Rehabilitation Subcode, which was originally created in New Jersey. Ianto explains: ‘Basically it makes it a hell of a lot easier to go into an existing building. Places here, they can’t even give you cheap rent, because to do that, they’ve got to do two million dollars worth of plumbing upgrades. [Under this code] they could just do fifty thousand dollars of upgrade and make the money back. It’s an incentive for owners to activate old buildings, which are absolutely essential. Format, all these spaces, we can’t afford to rent new buildings. If you’re trying to start low-income art ventures, if you’re trying to start a music venue, you can’t afford to go into the ground floor of the Myer Centre or a Rundle Mall

14

On Dit Magazine

Feature: Renew Adelaide

shopfront. You need to get a shitty old building.’ There isn’t necessarily even a need for major reform – only minor tweaks. ‘Our liquor licensing system is fine - it’s the application of it that’s tricky. If you say you want to run a theatre bar with an ongoing liquor license, legally, you can kind of do it. But it only takes one person with authority saying that you’re trying to run Red Square to stop you.’ It’s apparently not uncommon for small artistic venues to be subjected to the same requirements as huge nightclubs.

While building codes and regulations aren’t the most exciting subject, they’re still incredibly important. Whether by accident or design, decisions have been made that actively prevent anyone occupying the city without huge capital outlay. Despite the challenges, Ianto is optimistic.

Lord Mayor Stephen Yarwood campaigned heavily on a platform of urban renewal. ‘The whole culture of the Council has noticeably changed,’ says Ianto. ‘The new Council is very, very keen to get something done. There are people in there who are highly likely to go beyond the strategy stage. It’s a really weirdly responsive policy environment.’ Beyond that, the Council is providing funding ($15,000 in 2010/2011, increasing to $50,000 this year) and helping in the search for vacant spaces.

There’s a genuine excitement about the project — a hope that it can counter youth exodus and help transform Adelaide into (as Ianto puts it) an ‘experimental incubation city’ which empowers people with different skills to collaborate on and realise projects from the ground up. The other thing Ianto and Lara are working on these days (in conjunction with The Australian Centre for Social Innovation, Renew Newcastle, and a burgeoning Renew Townsville) is Renew Australia — an umbrella organisation that can handle ‘worrying about the building codes’ in each state, while Renew Adelaide gets to focus on the hands-on work of actually getting more spaces up and running.

But Ianto’s musings on urban vivification and expansion seem to go far beyond sticking a couple of galleries up on Hindley Street. I asked him whether he sees Renew

as the start of a fundamental rethink of the way we use urban space generally. ‘I do, but I’m overambitious in that regard,’ he says. It might be ambitious, but Renew Adelaide essentially questions our use of public space.

Since the 20th century push towards suburban living, there’s been a loss of the high street and the town square. We live in private places – ‘home to car to work to home’. Ianto grew up in Underdale, a suburb in which his mother can go an entire day without seeing another person. What he sees in grass-roots projects like Format and Renew Adelaide is the return of a long-absent sense of social contract and community spirit. And the demand for that is growing – Format is swamped with requests to use their space that simply can’t be granted.

Just recently, This Is Not Art festival in Newcastle appealed to the public on crowdfunding website Pozible, after their funding was cut. They reached a $4000 target in less than 48 hours. Using the same service a few months back, Format raised more than six grand, and at time of writing, the Reading Room’s appeal for donations is also looking strong. That poor students and artists are willing to commit not just time but actual money to these projects does a lot to discredit the oft-trottedout garbage about the apathy of youth. We don’t need huge grants, or incentives to engage in the culture of our parents’ generation. We need central places where we can get together and just do our thing.

Renew Adelaide seeks to make Adelaide ‘the best place for you to try out your crazy idea.’ It’s an attempt to create an environment where space is affordable, and where regulatory hurdles aren’t quite so high. It’s DIY in its purest sense: ‘You don’t sit around bitching about what the government’s doing – you go and produce the alternative, and let the people in government come with you.’ It’s exciting stuff. Keep an ear to the streets. O

Renew Newcastle can be found at renewnewcastle.org Ianto Ware blogs prolifically and interestingly about Renew Adelaide at renewadelaide.wordpress.com

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Refused Classification

?

18±

Why are we still waiting for an ‘R’ rating for video games?

Words: Joshua Pawlowski In late February a “refused classification” label was placed on the video game, Mortal Kombat 9, banning it from sale and import in Australia. This censorship and banning of video games — games intended for mature audiences — is a controversial issue that has sparked much opposition and debate. The guidelines for classification are set down by a piece of Commonwealth legislation. The Classification (Publications, Films and Computer Games Act 1995 (Cth) states that film and literature, when they are suitable for adults only, can receive a rating of up to R18+ or X18+. However, when it comes to the medium of video games, the highest-possible rating that can be given is MA15+.

If a video game fails to meet the criteria to receive an MA15+ rating, it subsequently cannot see release in 16

Australia.

This isn’t the first time the infamously gore-shy Australian legislation has halted the release of a video game.

Alien vs. Predator was rejected back in 2009, while Valve was forced to censor parts of their game Left 4 Dead 2 before it could see a release.

The success of previous Mortal Kombat titles in the Australian market has undoubtedly sparked much of the backlash against the recent banning of its latest title. Since the release of the original Mortal Kombat instalment in 1992, the franchise has been extremely successful worldwide. The video game series includes eighteen differently named games, and offshoots from the video games include several feature films, comics, and instalments across many other mediums.

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Is a negative reaction against this government legislation justified? Despite my vehement opposition to censorship, generally speaking, I’m not one to simply slander the government; I’ll admit that cogent arguments can be made for some degree of censorship.

However, the outdated legislation is the key problem at issue here.

Why isn’t an 18+ rating permitted in Australia? I, and undoubtedly many others, take personal offence to the notion that I cannot have something, simply because it is unsuitable for someone else. If the logic at work in the censorship legislation were applied to other areas, it would be possible to argue for the banning of

all the peanuts in Australia in an effort to keep the percentage of those who are allergic to them perfectly safe. Further, it seems that the Classification Board fails to make consistent decisions as to what is banned, and what is passed. The recently-released Duke Nukem Forever — laden with sexual innuendos and comical graphic violence — seems like it isn’t appropriate for children, and yet it saw passing and release.

Banning a game isn’t a solution; such a move draws even more attention to the game. A recent survey undertaken by the Entertainment Software Association concluded that the average age of people who play video games in Australia is thirty-seven . Such a statistic should surely provide an indication of how many Australians are missing out on their hobby because of banning and censorship. So why isn’t anything being done? It’s got nothing to do with right-wing politicians now; it’s a matter involving the legislature.

The Federal Government is currently pushing for an R18+ rating on games but there are hurdles to get over. The states have to unanimously agree on the issue before we can hope to get anywhere.

The Commonwealth Classification Act outlines “matters to be considered” in the classification process when deciding a rating on a title. These include “the standards of morality, decency and propriety generally accepted by reasonable adults”. This fine print, in my eyes, is where things get problematic and

arguable. What objectively defines moral standards? Another point of consideration mentioned is the “literary, artistic or educational merit (if any) of the publication, film or computer game”. Once again, how can one objectively define the artistic merit of a game? Opinions are completely divided. Another obvious consideration to be taken into account is “the persons or class of persons to or amongst whom it is published or is intended or likely to be published”. In regards to Mortal Kombat 9, what would the class of persons be? Adults!

I can illegally download a game that has been refused classification in Australia due to the legislation, but why should I be forced to resort to an illegal act in order to acquire and enjoy something that I, and innumerable others, believe to fully be within my rights to play as an adult over the age of eighteen? I’m not sure if the issues surrounding it is simply paranoia about children getting their hands on a game intended for adults, but I see no reason why Australia shouldn’t create an R18+ rating. They could make it mandatory to keep such games locked behind the store counter, only to be available and purchasable upon presentation of identification, akin to how one would purchase cigarettes.

We don’t even go this far in restraining the purchase of DVDs that are rated R! The gaming industry here is estimated to be worth over one hundred million dollars per year .

Considering the average age of gamers as previously mentioned, it’s safe to conclude that this kind of money comes from adults. The development of an R18+ classification would quite-likely have a positive impact on the industry. We need to move forward from the times we are in.

The clichéd stereotype of “gamers” as anti-social teenage boys, needs to be eliminated. Gaming should be recognised as a legitimate past-time and and medium, alongside such things as film and literature.

concrete as the banning of games outright. I know of people who have imported Mortal Kombat 9 and gotten it past customs. It’s a sad fact that the chances of you receiving your purchase or it being confiscated come

down to whether or not the customs officer is in a terribly grumpy mood that day. All the lack of an R18+ rating does, is remove the taxation and local profit and revenue on these games, and leave a lot of individuals frustrated that they cannot enjoy their hobby and pastime.

For a first-world country, our archaic censorship laws leave us as a laughing stock in the light of our overseas peers. O

The customs laws linked to the legislation don’t seem to be as Volume 79, Issue 7

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The Fictional Profession

Let’s play a quick game of word association: when I say ‘lawyer’, what do you think of? A smooth-talking, soulless bloodsucker in a wig who spends all his time in court? Or maybe you think of an honest and upstanding citizen who upholds truth and justice in a cruel and uncaring world. I’m guessing it’s probably something closer to the former. But how close is either image to the reality of the job? And why does either image come to mind?

Chances are you consume a lot of fiction: books, movies, television, jokes. And whether you like it or not, it has a big impact on your opinions.

Particularly, it shapes your views as to what various jobs entail: what a doctor is and does; how a detective works and spends their time. I’ve watched a lot of House, and it’s hard for me not to imagine/ fantasize that all great doctors have long-term leg wounds and Vicodin addictions. And that it’s

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Fiction, Fact, Leeches, and Lawyers

Words: Galen Cuthbertson

always Lupus.

But perhaps the most represented and re-presented profession of them all is law. They’re everywhere.

Characters like Denny Crane in Boston Legal; Tom Cruise’s Lt Daniel Kaffee in A Few Good Men; Mitch McDeere in The Firm. Even the characters that populated the TV show The West Wing were lawyers, albeit former ones turned to politicians.

Lawyers, and people with a legal education, are everywhere in modern fiction. And whether you like it or not, law students are also everywhere on campus — there’s about 1400 of them. I’m one.

Don’t hold it against me.

How we see the profession in fiction helps define how we view the profession in real life. So let’s take a closer look by answering two questions: what key images does fiction conjure of the profes-

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sion, and how close are these images to the truth?

As I see it, practicing lawyers in fiction fall into two broad archetypes: the Catfish and Atticus Finch. Confused? Well, read on, Macduff. Read on.

The Catfish “What’s the difference between a catfish and a lawyer? One’s a slimy, scum-sucking, bottomdweller; the other is a fish.”

So goes the classic lawyer joke, and the image most often presented of lawyers in fiction. Even fiction where lawyers play a starring role — successful tv shows like the US Boston Legal, Australia’s Rake, and John Mortimer’s UK series Rumpole spring to mind — they are generally sketched as

jaded or amoral characters, cruel and calculating in the courtroom. Emotionally detached from the cases they work on, they spend their days in court performing acts of persuasive and questioning brilliance, sowing reasonable doubt like salt into a field, and ensuring criminals walk free. Then they finish work and stand on balconies drinking scotch and smoking cigars.

They wear expensive suits and defend the indefensible. This image of the legal profession is embodied in Ambrose Beirce’s satirical work, The Devil’s Dictionary (1911), which defined ‘lawyer’ as “one skilled in circumvention of the law.”

‘How do you sleep at night?’ we’re wont to ask the classic Catfish lawyer. We imagine his Don-Draperish answer, as he lifts a glass of expensive single malt to his thin and venomous lips. He looks at

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you with cold, uncaring, snakelike eyes. ‘On a bed made of money,’ is his reply.

The Atticus Finch The alternative archetype of fictional lawyers is the opposite of The Catfish described above. Embodied (and perhaps created) by the character of Atticus Finch in Harper Lee’s beautiful novel To Kill a Mockingbird, this is the image of the gentleman lawyer. He’s a perfect father and a kind and brilliant lawyer. He defends a black man in a climate of racism, stands down a lynch mob, and is a walking, talking moral compass. He says wise, inspiring things like:

Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It’s knowing you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.

In short, this is the image of lawyers as kinder-than-Jesus-and-morepeaceful-than-Gandhi. (The latter, by the way, also held a law degree.)

As a paragon of ideal lawyer-hood, the character of Atticus Finch has inspired many lawyers to become lawyers and judges to become

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judges. In America, particularly, the character is sometimes treated with almost ridiculous awe and respect.

One legal professor called To Kill a Mockingbird the most influential textbook he taught from. In 1997, the Alabama State Bar erected a monument dedicated to him, calling his existence the “first commemorative milestone in the state’s judicial history.”

Legal academics have also analysed the character, publishing articles with titles like “The Moral Theology of Atticus Finch” (Professor Thomas J Shaffer) and “In the Shadow of Atticus Finch: Constructing A Heroic Lawyer” (Professor Cynthia L Fountaine). In these articles, they provide lengthy biographies of brave and virtuous Atticus — almost as if he were a real person — and treat him with folk-hero reverence, describing him as a “heroic role model for lawyers” and “a moral leader in the community.”

We see other images of upstanding, moral lawyers in fiction — though less complete and extreme as that of Atticus Finch. In A Few Good Men (1992), a young lawyer (Tom Cruise) risks his career standing up for justice and questioning a decorated Colonel (Jack Nicholson).

In an embarrassingly similar role

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the next year, Tom Cruise again played a young lawyer in The Firm (1993) who (again) risked his life and career: this time going against the mob when he discovers the firm he’s working for is connected to them.

And then, of course, there’s The West Wing: a tv series whose idealised depiction of American politics and government includes ethical characters (almost all of whom have law degrees) fighting for justice, liberty, and democracy every episode.

And walking around the office while talking at an unreasonable pace.

They did that a lot too.

The Real Lawyer’s Job So according to fiction, a lawyer is either a well-paid, smooth-talking spawn of Satan, or a paragon of moral virtue. They spend almost all their time in court, or smoking cigars on balconies. If they’re soulless and amoral, they’re also rich.

They’re cold, detached, unaffected, and analytical. But what’s the truth?

How do lawyers really spend their time?

While it’s true that many practicing lawyers do spend their time representing clients in court, there are also many legal graduates who spend their time as corporate in-house counsel. In fact, a lot of

The Fictional Profession

‘cases’ never go to trial: according to the US Justice Department study, 97 percent of civil cases in America are settled out of court or dismissed without a trial. So much for the image of a lawyer practicing their art by way of crafty in-court oral argument.

Outside of court, lawyers may spend the vast majority of their time drafting papers and documents, negotiating, researching, giving advice, conveyancing, and protecting intellectual property by way of headache-inducing patents, trademarks and other legal fictions. Really, from what I gather, there’s just a lot of paper work involved.

Real-world lawyers also aren’t as high-payed as you’d imagine. Sure, 15 percent get over $150,000 a year, but 50 percent earn under $75,000, and 25 percent earn under $50,000.

Which, isn’t great money, considering how often fiction portrays you as a blood-sucking leech.

A lot of law graduates avoid legal practice, instead choosing to work in government, for an NGO, or elsewhere entirely. The Adelaide Law School website describes law as “...a satisfying basis upon which to build your life.” Wikipedia tells me that legal training is good preparation for

work as a “corporate executive, government administrator, investment banker, entrepreneur, or journalist.”

I’m a law student myself, and it feels almost as if they’re trying to comfort and console me. “It’s okay,” says Wikipedia, “you don’t have to be a lawyer. You could be an investment banker instead. Because they’re sooooo much better and faaaaar less hated by the world.”

As for the accusation that lawyers are detached, cool, or otherwise amoral? Well, that’s a hard thing to measure. What I can tell you is that real-life lawyers suffer from real-world problems, and it’s hard to imagine them suffering if they were an amoral and detached bunch of leeches. According to multiple studies, lawyers are the most likely profession to experience depression: it impacts one in five barristers and almost a third of solicitors. Further, as reported by Nicola Berkov of The Australian, more than 40 percent of law students experience “distress severe enough to warrant medical assessment.” More than five percent of legal professionals also admitted, in a 2007 survey by beyondblue, to using non-prescription drugs and alcohol to manage these symptoms.

Why are real-world lawyers depressed and using drugs and alco-

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hol? Well, you could be facetious and say they’re just suffering from the symptoms of being soulless, immoral blood-suckers. But the truth is far less entertaining. The job of a lawyer is a stressful and competitive one, and the matters they deal with tend to be crises with emotional clients and difficult circumstances.

More than that, people attracted to the profession (and successful in it) also tend to exhibit personal traits which predispose them to depression and anxiety: perfectionism, cautiousness, obsessiveness, competitiveness.

The Fact and The Fiction Fiction gives us a picture of lawyers that’s entertaining and occasionally inspiring, which is perhaps a good antidote to the rather depressing reality. Real world lawyers don’t all spend their time in court, they don’t get paid as much as you’d imagine, and given their rates of depression, it’s hard to argue they’re all detached and unaffected by their work.

So, let us look to the fiction, and retain some hope. I leave you with this question: what does a lawyer get when you give him Viagra?

Taller. O

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Swearing Is Caring Words: Adele Teh / Illustrations: Lillian Katsapis

We’ve gone past the times when ‘Codswallop!’ was a suitable exclamation; progressed to times when ‘scoundrel’ no longer cuts it and ‘harlot’ hardly raises an eyebrow. We’re at the point where our modern culture has developed words extending from the mild “crap” and “damn”, to the fun four-letter words such as the F-word. E.g. “**** I just jammed my finger in the car door” or “You are going to ****ing pay for this, I’m going to ****ing exact excruciating pain upon you,” or even “**** yeah ****ing hello ****ing ****er.” In the wrong context, such eloquence may see you chased down the street by an angry mob — pitchforks and holy water optional.

At the very least, you’ll get a disapproving ‘tut-tut’ from the blue-rinse nanna at the bus stop. Swearing is the ‘cool’ kid’s rebellious tagline.

When at (god forbid) an all-ages gig, all the fifteen-year-olds in the 22

mosh-pit certainly aren’t screaming “gosh” as they flap their hands in front of their flushed cherubic cheeks to avoid fainting at the sight of the roadie.

If you saunter throughout town with your hands clamped firmly over your ears, don’t think you are safe when you turn on the TV or go to the cinema. Movies are almost a free-for-all when it comes to profanity, unless animated Disney is your failsafe cuss-free adventure. Debates may rage about which movies possess the most swear words, but I think F***: A Documentary On The Word is certainly more than a contender, clocking in at 824 F-words. The next ranked F-wordarama movie (according to Wikipedia – most gravy research source ever) is Summer of Sam. It has 435 F-words throughout a plot involving plenty of murders, affairs, Anthony LaPaglia and halOn Dit Magazine

lucinations of black dogs, all set in a Bronx neighbourhood of New York City in the Summer of 1977. Movies involving violence and gangsters seem to set off the swear-o-meter more often than those involving slow motion bridal bouquet-throwing scenes. So are gangsters just more potty-mouthed, less educated and lacking a well-rounded vocabulary? Probably not if the top-notch TV show Bridezilla is anything to go by.

More polite times?

What ever happened to the good old days where reserve and respect were the words of the day, and leather elbow-patches on tweed jackets were staples, when English stiff upper lip1 existed and the extent 1

No one knows why the English have

of swearing was saying something was “rather frustrating” or someone was “predominantly possessing a backside for a brain”? However, when considering the origin of the F-word, the good old days may not have been as sterile and staid as I’ve suggested they were.

Profanities have been around for a very long time. F***: A Documentary On The Word makes a futile attempt to trace the history of the F-word but comes to the conclusion that no one has any idea whatsoever where it came from. Even ye olde respected Scottish poet Robbie Burns, pin-up star of the shortbread tins that resurface in shops every Christmas, dabbled with an expletive in his verses. The earliest published use of the word has been touted stiff upper lips - perhaps it is to hold up their moustaches.

by historians to be sometime in the 1400s. Someone needs to write a book about that trendsetter and then make a movie adaptation starring Anthony Hopkins.2 Get on it. There will no longer be the option of reading an overpriced copy of it for free in the atrocious in-store coffee shop of a major book franchise while you sip your coffee-flavoured hot water.

Instead, you will be forced to contribute to the demise of other major book franchises by buying it online.

But I digress.

2

Every movie adaptation somehow involves Anthony Hopkins in it. Every movie I watched in high school English starred Anthony Hopkins. With the exception of the BBC version of Shakespeare’s Othello, where Geoffrey Rush (or someone who looked like him) with black shoe polish on his face played Othello. Quality viewing. Oh and The Matrix did not have Anthony Hopkins present either, though he would have made a good Morpheus.

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Urban legend has it that ‘fuck’ comes from an acronym of ‘Fornicating under the consent of the king’. Town population high? Gotta get the king to okay your childrenmaking activities. Makes sense, but the legend is apparently utter rubbish. F***: A Documentary On The Word manages to establish one thing through media snippets (political/sporting/other scandals) and interviews with a selection of comedians, English language experts and porn stars. What it establishes is the versatility of the word. It can be a noun, a verb, adjective, onomatopoeia – it does it all.

C is for...

In the modern world’s shopping trolley, full to the brim with swearwords to choose from, there is one word that stands out amongst the home23

Swearing brand canned beans. This is one word that can turn a civil conversation into a hostile warzone quicker than a scrum formation at the bar after the call for ‘last drinks’.3 Which word is that? A four-letter word: rhyming with the baseball term that describes the action of tapping of a ball lightly. No, this is not a crossword, nor an attempt at a brainteaser (turn to the On Dit brain testing facility i.e. Diversions for that purpose).

In a recent article by Jenny Diski published in the New York Times, the word that could be mistaken for ‘bunt’ or ‘hunt’ was dubbed the ‘unspeakable word’. In 1,711 eloquent words she does not use ‘the word she can’t say’ even once. Now there is a lesson to be learnt by Gordon Ramsay. Of course, many publications are not as clinical as The New York Times (it has a style guide “promoting civility in discourse”), but Dinski’s battle is not censorship in the press. Dinski declares in her article that the unspeakable word needs to be spoken and reclaimed from its sordid history, in a similar way to how African-Americans and homosexuals reclaimed words formerly used to insult them. She demands the word back for her own use; to describe her own body.

On a diagram of the human anatomy (even if the correct gender is chosen) I would fail at pinpointing precisely which part is the unspeakable word.

Hey, I did year 12 Biology and I know that lipids look like mushrooms and cells are like Pacmen 3 Complete with scrum participants rolling the mutual cash kitty and back-passing beer jugs. Further than these parameters of my rugby knowledge, my analogy falls flat.

Perhaps some goal scoring occurs later in the night.

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when they ingest food. Do I get any credit for that? Most people would fail at correctly identifying exactly where or what the word you cannot say is, even though it’s a word loaded with such offensive baggage.

Even if the negative associations were magically scrubbed from the word, the C-word is nowhere near everyday use. I would certainly never shout it from the rooftops, in the same way that I would never yell out “cervix” in public.

tive strain syndrome from wielding the black marker pen of censorship?

There are too many swear words from the mild to the heavy with so much history that they need their own dictionary and usage

Forget you No one really knows where swear words came from and no one agrees on their usage. However, everyone knows how to censor. Asterisks are the bread and butter of respectable publishing houses. If those are not creative enough for you, then @*!#% is another option to fall back upon.

Another alternative is to simply black out the word. If the word cannot be seen and the number of letters in it cannot be counted, then it cannot be suggestive to young blossoming minds. The third is what I like to call the ‘Cee Lo Green’. Cee Lo Green’s song ‘Fuck You’ had its whole premise undone when it became “Forget You”. Every mention of the token word in the song was recorded over with “forget” for the PG-rated commercial radio stations. Swearing like sailors? Or redacting until you can redact no more and you get repeti-

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guide to know when they should and should not be used. The F-word alone needs its own dictionary. The publishers of the Oxford English dictionary should look into it. O

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FEminism Gender confusion Slut Walk Websites by ladies Mums, Plural Illustration: Alex Stjepovic

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FEMINISM: It’s for everyone Elle Dit is all about female writers discussing issues they’re interested in. For me that issue is feminism, specifically the mis-understanding of it, more specifically, young people’s aversion to it, and most specifically, young women’s rejection of it.

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have a pretty specific idea of what type of person is a feminist. They’re almost always a woman. She’s old, she’s hairy, or she’s fat, she doesn’t like men and she only likes sex with women. She’s a bitch and she’s definitely not funny. While to me this it totally unrepresentative of feminism or feminists, it’s a pretty pervasive image.

In the feminist community this phenomenon is seen as a Gen Y thing — the idea that “feminism is a dirty word”, that young women don’t want to associate with the “other F word”. Now, personally I’m a lady who likes to use all my words.

When I swear I use letters not asterisks. As such, I find this “F word” business a bit tiresome. However, their point remains: young women — not all, but a lot of them — don’t want to be feminists. While, like all things, this is a broad, multi-faceted issue, I think I’ve highlighted a few core reasons for this aversion.

The ‘This Is What A Feminist Looks Like Campaign’ was probably the most direct attempt to combat the stereotype. They got Allison Janney (CJ, from The West Wing ), Larry David, Kate Walsh (Dr Addison from Greys Anatomy), and a whole heap of other (traditionally) attractive babes, hilarious guys, (and Michael Moore…), to wear a shirt and explain that you can wear miniskirts, shave your legs, or have a dick, and still be a feminist.

First, feminism is not seen as attractive or cool. Most people tend to

While I applaud these efforts, I’m wary of being too liberal with my On Dit Magazine

Words: Gemma Beale

definitions. Otherwise you begin to edge a little too closely to what author and activist Bell Hooks calls ‘lifestyle feminism’: the idea that being born a woman automatically makes you a feminist. This is problematic, because it encourages the idea that any ‘choice’ a woman makes is empowering, simply because she made it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying ladies can’t wear short skirts or suggesting women shouldn’t be allowed to make the decisions that affect their lives. I’m just saying that flashing your breasts on Girls Gone Wild is not inherently empowering, and actually tends to contribute to a culture that preferences young women’s bodies over their minds.

Then there’s the idea that feminism is outdated. Sure, getting the vote was great and everyone agrees women should be able to work the same jobs as men (maybe not on the front line though, that’s pretty

Picture: Married To The Sea / www.marriedtothesea.com

tough, amirite?) but we’re all done with feminism now, right? We’ve reached gender parity, sexism’s funny (and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t get the joke), and in the confines of your humanities subjects, or your upper-middle class, dualincome household, it might even seem like it is. Realistically, however, there’s a difference between being more equal to men and actually, you know, being equal.

The persistence of gender discrimination is perhaps most apparent when you look to the work force.

Currently, in Australia, there’s a 17% wage gap between male and female employees. ‘Why?’ you ask.

Is it because women don’t work as hard? Too busy having babies to earn that extra 17%? (No, actually, though a maternity leave scheme that contributes to a woman’s superannuation fund would be nice). Mostly, the wage gap can be attributed to two phenomenon; first,

an ingrained under-appreciation of ‘women’s work’ — jobs like nursing, teaching and caring (you know, the type of work women are ‘naturally good at’); second, the straight up preference for male employees. Of course, gender discrimination is illegal, but in a society that emphasises the importance of the individual, it’s easy to justify male promotions incident by incident.

Lastly, there’s the idea that feminism is for women; something along the lines of, ‘but why fem-inism if it’s not just about ladies?’ To that I say: I don’t go around getting all huffy when someone uses ‘mankind’ to refer to all people, so maybe you can suck it up. But I would also say that it’s called feminism because it recognises that females tend to draw the shorter straw, and that, generally, men are in a more advantageous social situation. Feminism is about gender equality, therefore it’s about combating sexism in all its forms Volume 79, Issue 7

— sexism directed at women and sexism directed at men (not ‘reversesexism’). ‘Cause the patriarchy isn’t all sunshine and rainbows for guys — hetero-normative gender roles influence men’s lives too. More men commit suicide than women, and I would suggest that’s partly because men are discouraged from seeking out psychiatric help and discussing their emotions, because it’s seen as feminine.

Basically, here’s how I think it breaks down. If you don’t think the gender of a person should influence how much they earn, if you think individuals should be able to pursue whatever interest takes their fancy regardless of their genitals, and if you’re sick and tired of all the kitchen/sandwich jokes, you’re probably a feminist too. O

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“Who are you?”

On justifying your existence to others Words: Samantha Prendergast

When I was eight, I spent three nights sleeping in a tent with a dead body. On the second day a weird smell developed — it was kind of sweet, like rotting fish. It turned out a sponge was stuck in the back of a portable fan.

There was some serious relief when we realised the smell wasn’t coming from the corpse of my Koro.1

funeral service and the body is buried. In the meantime, sponges get stuck down the back of fans and such.

Maybe that sounds a bit morbid, but amongst some families it’s a fairly normal scenario. Maori funerals involve three days of mourning, during which the immediate family stays with the body and the extended family stays in a tent on the Marae.2 On the last day, there’s a

Because eight year-olds have a special talent for being completely self-absorbed, my strongest memories of Koro’s tangi tend to center on myself. Particularly strong is the memory of being repeatedly asked, “Who are you?” That’s not a super-fun question to be asked at the funeral of your grandfather, particularly when you have a lisp and can only pronounce “Samantha” as “Somafa”.

The reason I was repeatedly asked to justify my presence is, frankly, a little bit racist: I am really white.

Typically, Maori people are not. Also, Maori families

1 Koro means “old man” in Maori and is the term used in place of “grandfather”.

2 The Marae is a communal place where important events in Maori culture are celebrated.

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are frigging ginormous. I suspect I have more “cousins” than I have skin cells. The combination of these facts led to a phenomenon whereby every second person under the age of twelve wanted to know why I was at their “uncle’s” funeral. My sister, who had the good fortune to be born with tan skin and a flat nose, was merely asked to play hopscotch.

The moral of the story: even if you spend three days with your dead granddad’s body, no one will believe you’re Maori if your skin’s potato-white.

The experience of trying to convince my relatives that I am, in fact, related to them was as illuminating as it was frustrating. Prior to the funeral, I’d been vaguely aware that assumptions are made about other people on the basis of their appearance. But I had never thought that people would make such assumptions about me.

Thus, eight year-old Sam developed a perversely acute awareness of her external appearance. This awareness stretched further than my skin – perhaps it’s because changing my skin color seemed an unattainable goal.

But it’s also because I’m not just Maori. Being Maori isn’t even a defining characteristic. So far as identity goes, there’s one trait that completely outweighs the others, and it has to do with my genitals. I’m a girl.

If I were to attend a girl symposium, no one would walk up to me and ask, “Who are you?”, as if I didn’t belong there. I look like a girl. But the frustration I felt when I was eight — at having to justify that I “belong” — is something I often experience as a woman.

Do not fear. This is not about to become an article regarding the hardships of climbing the corporate ladder in a skirt. I’m just saying that there are certain ways you’re supposed to be if you’re a lady. If you’re Maori, you’re supposed to be brown. I will never be brown and so it’s easier to accept myself as an irregularity. But if you’re a woman, the way that you’re meant to be is far more dependent on the choices you make. Obviously, there are some naturally occurring indicators: women tend to have vaginas and breasts and hips that whisper, “Let me nurture your children.” But as every ad for cleaning products and sugar will assure you, women also have a special knack for ironing shirts and baking cookies.

Personally, I like cooking. So does my boyfriend, and plenty of my male friends. I also have friends of both sexes who could burn a pot of water. But if I’d come to earth from some alien planet, watched half an hour of commercial TV, and sat down to dinner with Mary and Paul, it would be Mary I’d thank for the roast pumpkin.

Paul couldn’t turn the oven on if his life depended on it!

Right!

I’m no man-hater, I promise. But take a look at the cover of almost any woman’s magazine. Or watch 10 minutes of TV. Thin and beautiful: that’s the way we’re meant

to be. Whether or not we’re willing to acknowledge it, society’s ideal woman is designed to serve and sustain male pleasure: we cook, we clean, we sex. About a year ago, I watched an instructional segment on breakfast TV: how to better understand your man. According to a self-help author whose name I forget, when men get home from work it is of vital importance that they allow their minds to relax. To best achieve this effect, the man should throw himself at the nearest couch and not move for three hours. Woman may find this difficult to understand, but that’s because women unwind by doing something active, like cleaning the sink or chopping carrots. I switched off the television in a quiet rage. A few days later, the same author was explaining why it’s harder for men to remain monogamous (or what some of us would call “loyal”).

If I were being optimistic and naive, I might presume that the justification of laziness and cheating as “natural male behavior” is limited to the realm of the media, and that real people know better than to believe such nonsense. I might also presume that intelligent men and women are able to divorce the idealized woman from reality — to see her for what she is: a marketing device. But find me more than a handful of girls who don’t worry about their weight. And explain to me why we coat our faces in a layer of “skin-colored” chemicals every morning. If you bombard people with idealized images of how things ought to be, they’ll eventually start incorporating them into their conception of “normal”.

When our sense of what is normal is based on an intensely idealized model, we end up with a heap of abnormalities. I am a woman who is neither thin nor tanned nor very socially capable. I have a really bad dress sense and am super confused as to what people see in shoes. Whenever my parents had dinner parties, I felt awkward and uncomfortable with mum’s friends and would take the first opportunity to either rudely abscond or to join the male end of the table, where talk was more frank and sparse. At times I’ve felt extremely frustrated, because when you don’t tick many of the lady boxes but you’re still sufficiently distinct from a man, it’s a bit like having the whole world ask, “Who are you?”.

Slowly I’m becoming more comfortable in my pale, pale skin. Mainly this is because I’ve realised some things.

First, it’s ok if someone asks you who you are and you reply, “Somafa”. I.e., it doesn’t matter if your response is unintelligible or not what people expect; at least it’s honest. And, frankly, they’ll cope. Secondly, when you think people are giving you weird looks because of your hair/shoes/speech/nose, they’re probably just squinting to better see their reflection in your glasses. Of all the abnormalities in the world, people care about their own the most. Finally, I do fit in; I just don’t fit in everywhere. And, even though that means I’m sometimes a bumbling ball of awkward, I’m really beginning to like it that way. O

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The Greatest Inslut On Dit attends Slutwalk Words/Photography: Georgia Lawrence-Doyle

“DEATH TO THE SLUTS!” This was the preface of a comment made by an average suburban mother on SlutWalk Adelaide’s Facebook page, days before the event. She proceeded to write this after observing the way women dress on Hindley Street on a Saturday night. She argued that the rape and shooting of these “prick-teasing sluts” should be legalised. Not only was I sickened by the terrifying reality that some people really think like this, but I was also reminded that women themselves are often the biggest culprits of ‘slut-shaming.’ Statements such as this also remind us that we continue to use the same word that was not only used in Ancient Greece, but also by Shakespeare (“Hold up, you sluts!”) Charles Dickens (“A slut, am impudent artful hussy”) even Char30

lotte Bronte—thanks for taking one for the team, Charlotte. The word ‘slut’ is as old as the hills, or at least that trollop Mary-Magdalene.

I embarked on my SlutWalk experience with a mixture of neo-feminist self-righteousness and self-consciousness. I was unsure whether I actually agreed with the concept of SlutWalk, but I was nonetheless excited to see women swarming the streets of Adelaide for an event other than the Boxing Day sales.

June 11 started off on a shaky note: asking a couple of girls on the bus whether they were attending SlutWalk (based on their lack of clothing on such a cold morning) and being subsequently rebuffed and glared at by every female on the bus. Also, the scene of my arrival at Victoria Square was far from my Reclaim the On Dit Magazine

Night fantasies of feminist activism. For this disappointment I partly blame my mother for her tales of defiantly unshaven legs and blazing bras and (insert feminist stereotype here) also, my rookie error of turning up to a protest ridiculously early.

I was concerned with the depressing turnout. The smattering of women holding colourful placards boasting “SLUT PRIDE” didn’t exactly evoke the Germaine Greer within.

In the week leading up to SlutWalk, I had engaged in some so-called ‘slut-research.’ I discovered that along with ‘slut,’ an entire thesaurus could be dedicated to a wealth of derogatory terms for women which have evolved over the centuries.

Aren’t we special?! A mere handful include: hussy, harlot, loose woman, slapper, fornicatress, strumpet and

“I raised my hands to kill the slut of a murderess [...] for there is nothing in this world so cruel and so shameless as a woman when she has fallen into such guilt as hers was.”

Homer, The Odyssey

my personal favourite: jade adulterer (?!) While I have my qualms regarding the word ‘slut’s prominence on the banner of feminist change, I’ll admit that ‘StrumpetWalk’ fails to have the same ring.

I also found myself becoming hyper-aware of the word ‘slut’ in my daily life: re-reading Bridget Jones’s Diary and noticing author, Helen Fielding’s, use of the word ‘slut’ in the context of dirty, or slovenly habits: “Check plates and cutlery for tell-tale signs of sluttish washing up...” ; I frowned disapprovingly at just about all public toilet graffiti; I started berating my fourteen-yearold sister every time I heard her bark “slut-faced-ho-bag!” or other Catholic girls’ school abuse at some poor child on her Facebook.

“It’s not even like it means anything,” she would say defensively.

“I call my friends that too,” she added, as if this somehow repaired all injustices.

The constant attuning of my ears to the word ‘slut,’ had the reverse effect of my expectation: instead of making me conscious of the word’s inherent ugliness, I realised how hollow it has become. Not only is it now used as a term of endearment or the theme of most med-school social events — people genuinely don’t seem to realise how loaded with history or oppression the word actually is. My innate female aversion to the word also emphasised my ambivalence regarding the entire SlutWalk philosophy. I also recognised that I wasn’t entirely sure what that philosophy was exactly.

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I wondered: surely any movement advocating feminism (or some branch of women’s rights) should not wield such a vulgar expression as its very identity? This has proven to be the major point of contention regarding SlutWalk—not just amongst the public—but also within traditional feminist circles. The initial SlutWalk movement, which began in Toronto in April of this year and which has since been ‘around the block’ globally, claims that the ‘reclaiming’ of the word ‘slut’ is essential in order to disempower its negative connotations. This principle was voiced on our own shores recently, as the SlutWalk controversy continued in Melbourne two weeks before it hit our Balls. Organiser, Karen Pickering, stated: “If you call one of us a slut, you call all of us a slut, and we’re not afraid of that 31

word—the more we use it, the less power it has.” This approach has been successful with the subverting of the word ‘queer’ by the gay community. A potential reality television programme instantly sprung to mind: various ‘slutty’ women giving ‘make-overs’ to ‘frigid’ or ‘prudish’ women and subsequently unleashing them on Hindley Street. Somehow, I didn’t think this idea would work any better at destabilising or challenging gender-stereotypes than its Queer Eye inspiration.

The use of the term ‘slut’ in the movement is, however, fundamental to the movement’s existence. This is because it was originally triggered by the comment of a Toronto Police Officer at a York University Safety Forum, earlier this year.

While addressing the issue of crime prevention, Constable Michael Sanguinetti remarked that: “Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimised.” Good one, Constable.

Co-founders of SlutWalk, Sonya Barrett and Heather Jarvis, thus decided that the use of the word ‘slut’ was essential for both their ‘brand’ and demonstration. The organisation’s website claims that whilst historically, the term ‘slut’ has carried largely derogatory undertones (no thanks to you, Homer) the aim of SlutWalk is to redeem the name from these nuances and allow women to define the word in their own terms. By throwing ‘slut’ back in the face of society, women are able to declare: “We are saying this word and it doesn’t hurt us anymore.” Ultimately, the SlutWalk movement is about advocating the freedom to express one’s sexuality without experiencing fear, judgment or oppression. Barrett and Jarvis add that: “Being in charge of our sexual lives should not mean that we are opening ourselves to an expectation of violence, regardless if we participate in sex for pleasure or work.” The antivictim blaming message rings through loud and clear—rape or any kind of sexual assault/abuse cannot be justified by referring to any aspect of a woman’s appearance or behaviour. This concept has prompted women, dressed in both ordinary and provocative clothing, to take to the streets of major cities in the US, Canada, UK, New Zealand, Africa, Asia, Europe and of course, Australia.

The debate in the media concerning the movement’s somewhat nebulous purpose has spread like wildfire. Some objectors, such as Professor Gail Dines, maintain that this particular ‘attempt’ at a modern-feminist dialogue promotes women to define their sexuality in male terms. Dines insists that the word ‘slut’ is inseparable from the

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Madonna/whore binary opposition and thus is “beyond redemption.” There has also been conflict relating to the ‘pornification’ of everything and the validating of certain words and behaviours which thus encourage young girls to not only degrade themselves, but also to allow others to degrade them.

A large portion of the opposition to Slutwalk has also come from more traditional feminists.

Comparisons between SlutWalk and the Reclaim the Night philosophy of the mid to late 1970s demonstrate that while there are similar goals, the attempt to reclaim the word ‘slut’ and its prominence in the title of the movement, results in difficulties with distinguishing between SlutWalk ideology and its media representations. This clashing of feminist ideals was apparent at the Melbourne SlutWalk when feminist author, Leslie Cannold, repeatedly addressed the audience as ‘sluts’ (“Hey, you sluts!”) afterwards adding that those using this word were placing women back in the Middle Ages. A self-proclaimed ‘old’ feminist, Onnie Wilson, 65, responded to this comment by calling back, “You are!” Wilson later claimed that she would be “much happier if men had held a rally saying we need to change, rather than having to arouse and titillate people into being active.”

By the time SlutWalk reached Adelaide, the public response was so disparaging of the reclaiming of the word ‘slut’ that this opinion is completely absent from the march’s mission statement: “We are not reclaiming the word ‘slut.’ We are reclaiming the right to express our sexuality without fear.” I, for one, breathed a sigh of relief when I read this. I couldn’t help thinking however, that more people would have shown up on June 11 if the movement had not so much as “aroused and titillated” people so much as having genuinely confused them. The Adelaide SlutWalk Mission Statement outlines beliefs that go beyond women donning fish-net tights, addressing issues that affect not only those who have experienced sexual assault, but further, demand that as a community, we need to “teach our children not to rape, instead of teaching them not to get raped.”

My earlier hesitations towards the Adelaide SlutWalk began to subside. I became less concerned over the semantics of why we were marching, and more inspired by the sheer diversity of people who slowly but surely, began to turn up and show their support for women’s rights. I spoke to incredibly earnest Adelaide High students, couples young and old, a truck-driver clad in a ‘slutty’

On Dit Magazine

nurse’s uniform, announcing that: “If I’m a slut and don’t get shit, then why should you guys?”

Precisely! Even the often stilted and polite chanting on the actual march grew in confidence and volume as we made our way to Parliament House: “Whatever we wear, wherever we go! Yes means yes and no means no!” Once we reached our destination (accompanied in an almost paternal manner by some friendly police-men) it was the speakers that really swayed me to the cause.

Chelsea Lewis (YWCA), Tammy Franks (The Greens) and Kylie Molinas (The Australian Sex Party) made extremely moving and informative speeches. They reminded the crowd that the word ‘slut’—like rape—is used as a tool for silence and power, and that as a result, only 1 in 5 women who experience rape and sexual assault actually report it. I was also pleasantly surprised at the number of males present. Speakers Jim Roden, (Coalition for Men supporting Non-Violence) and Idris Martin, (Queer Officer of the Adelaide University SRC) discussed how these notions of ‘manhood’ and patriarchal dominance are so intertwined with rape that they are damaging to the representation of men—often being depicted as wild beasts, unable to control their testosteronefuelled rapist tendencies. Roden summed up their argument nicely when he roared: “rapists are maggots, not men!”

I don’t think that reclaiming a word which is so deeply entrenched in our society eliminates the issue of why it is being said in the first place.

Eradicating its existence entirely, however, seems a naive and impracticable goal. Even in this article, I have struggled to keep the word ‘slut’ down to a minimum of 55 times. Until female existence ceases to be determined by the ‘Damned Whores’ and ‘God’s Police’ dichotomy, there is no hope that ‘slut’ or the wealth of synonyms used to describe women’s loose morals will disappear or become ‘okay’ or ‘cool’ to use—by anyone.

While we can’t pretend that sporting an ‘I LOVE SLUTS’ badge reverses the treatment or perceptions of rape victims and women in society, we can thank Constable Michael Sanguinetti for eliciting one of the most notorious women’s movement in over 35 years. As Ann Summers, the prominent Australian feminist, once proclaimed: “We can’t let such a bit of history slip through our fingers.”

Amen, sister. O

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Words: Sujini Ramamurthy / Illustration: Madeleine Karutz

Best Gurrrrlz to procrastinet over 34

On Dit Magazine

Hyperbole and a Half - http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com Hyperbole and a Half is a ‘thing’ that’s not really a web comic or a blog, by the totally babein’ Allie Brosh. According to Urban Dictionary, Brosh is “quite sexy and deserves to be a famous billionaire.”

The Websaurus is right!

Check the site out because it’s funnier than a cat making out with a jar of wee.

Once you get a tiny sipple of Brosh’s magical elixir, which combines adorable

MS Paint graphics, and the hilarious socially anxious ramblings of the keenest observer of folly, you will want to invite this doll to every mandatory sex party that you have. The lady combines the perfect balance of wit, self-deprecation and social critique in her tales to make this site one of the best things I’ve ever seen online that isn’t a shitty low-fi gif of a fancy hat in space.

This is not okay, cupid - http://thisisnotokcupid.tumblr.com One girl posts, and critiques, all the creepy messages she receives on Okay Cupid from vile lurkers (who aren’t even Julian Assange). The results are predictably disturbing and shameless, and shed no light on how any normal person meets any other normal person on an online dating site. Unless of course you consider some dewd who looks

like a male version of a child pageant queen and proposes that you, “Find a guy, get him drunk, take him home and we both have our way with him. 10 bonus points if he’s gay,” normal. You might. But, you might also enjoy being sexually misconducted against with a plunger on an alpaca farm that is actually a low security prison.

Bangable Dudes in History - http://bangabledudesinhistory.blogspot.com Bangable dudes in history is “dead man porn for your still-beating heart.”

Someone called Megan has put together this beautifully designed blog to give necrophiliacs a wide-on. She presents the case for why a dead dude or dame deserves to be dug up and boned. Notable corpse boners include: Buster Keaton (whose sexual prowess is highlighted by the fact that he was able to escape a straightjacket whilst institutionalised — Flex-i-balls),

Emmy Herrings (who was a puppeteer and can pull at my strings any day), and Jean-Paul Marat (who secured a medical degree by writing an essay on curing a chum’s gonorrhoea. Finally, a fox who can cure my cat AIDS!).

Megan has yet to respond to my suggestion of the Gracchi as potential candidates for bangable dudes.

I guess a pair of inbred Roman commies who look like walnuts aren’t really up everyone’s alley, but whatevs.

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What if your dad has a beard, but you still have two mums?

Words: Christopher Arblaster

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On Dit Magazine

In their seminal 2009 release If Your Dad Doesn’t Have a Beard, You’ve Got Two Mums, local band The Beards offer us a scenario where a lack of fatherly hair follicles means that, in fact, you don’t have a father at all, but rather “two mums.” This observation — accusation even — seems to be framed as a bad thing.

“Man, your dad doesn’t have a beard? Whoa, you’ve got two mums, man.” But what if my dad has a beard, but I’ve still got two mums?

What is that like, exactly?

A close friend of mine joked that being raised by lesbians must be like being raised by lesbians, right? And as much as I wish I could say that was true, the truth is I don’t know how to answer that question seriously. When the On Dit Eds asked me to write an article about having two mothers, I thought to myself: “why not! I have had an unusual upbringing, and maybe it would be interesting to write about the experience of being raised by lesbians.” But when I thought about it later, I realised something: I can’t really say what it

was like. I can’t differentiate it from any other, normal childhood. I can’t tell you how having two mothers, one father, and one step-father/close family friend is any different from having one mother and one father.

But at the very least, perhaps there’s value in explaining what exactly my family situation is. As you already know, I have two mothers. Technically, and obviously, one is my biological mother, and one isn’t.

A bit over thirty-three years ago, my non-biological mother decided she wanted a child. And so did my father. He donated sperm to my nonbiological mother, and that’s how my brother was conceived. Then, a bit over twenty-three years ago, my biological mother decided she wanted in on the action, too (and thank god she did). The gist of all of this is that I have: two mothers, one father, and a half-brother to whom I am biologically related through my father. I always lived with my mothers, who, honestly, I don’t think of as biological and non-biological, but my father was and is a constant,

and critically important presence in my life.

Having three parents has undoubtedly made a difference in my life.

For starters, I have always lived in an especially loving environment, which might, if we’re in the mood to be a little disgusting, be described as a giant womb. That’s not to say that most other people haven’t had that — probably they have — but just that there has always been three people in my life who each want to give me the love and support that a parent is want to give its child. It also means I’ve got more parents in reserve: if two of my parents died in freak accidents, there’d still be one left to care for me.

I think it has also helped me appreciate the value of an openminded approach to life and to other peoples’ living arrangements. If anything, the fact that my upbringing always seemed boringly normal made me aware from a very young age that having an unusual family situation didn’t necessarily make

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me, my family, or my life ‘different’ in any substantive way. So what if I was raised by lesbians? So what if they have very, very lesbian haircuts?

So what if they were in a lesbian choir called “read our lips”? Despite all of that, or perhaps because of it, they still managed to raise me.

I mentioned writing this article to one of my mothers the other week, and she recounted an anecdote that I think makes my point rather well.

Around the time that my biological mother was pregnant with me, my parents had two cars and were in the process of getting a mortgage on the house I would grow up in.

A lecturer colleague of one of them thought about this, and observed: “two kids, two cars, and a mortgage? For people with a so-called alternative lifestyle, your life seems overwhelmingly normal.” And that applies to me, too. My life, raised by lesbians as I might have been, has been and no doubt will be overwhelmingly normal. Except that I’ll have to nurse my mother through menopause twice. O

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Student Politics If you can’t handle the heat, don’t hold a barbecue...

Words: Myriam Robin

A rift has opened between the Adelaide Uni Student Representative Council (SRC) and the National Union of Students (NUS), the peak lobby and union for Australian students. The stoush has come about as a result of the latter holding a barbecue and petition drive on campus to protest changes to undergraduate courses, changes long approved of by the SRC. To add insult to injury, the SRC was then invoiced for the event. In response the SRC has passed the bill back to National Union of Students(NUS).

A seed of animosity has been slowly germinating between the SRC and the NUS as a result of the SRC’s involvement in the development of undergraduate courses.

For several years, the University of Adelaide has been undertaking a review of its undergraduate course offerings, in a bid to streamline and improve its educational outcomes. The Adelaide Uni SRC has been a part of this process, and according to the AUU president, Raff

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Piccolo, most of their suggestions and recommendations have been heeded by the university administration.

NUS President Jesse Marshall, however, on his most recent visit to Adelaide, thought the proposed changes amounted to nothing less than an implementation of the Melbourne Model by stealth. When contacted after the event, he said that NUS has a “standing policy against the Melbourne Model,” a system of university education where students have to complete generalist degrees (such as Arts) before being able to specialise in a discipline through an extra masters degree. Marshall contacted Adelaide Uni SRC Councillors Dixie Sachse and Tali Slater, who got to work planning a barbeque/ signature drive to draw attention to the issue for the 25th of May. They informed others in the SRC of the event the day before at an emergency executive meeting. This executive meeting refused to pass funding for the event, arguing it to be counter to the SRC’s under-

On Dit Magazine

standing of the changes being proposed. As one SRC member present who does not wish to be named put it, “we refused to pass money for something for which the SRC, in its entirety, had not been consulted.” Marshall was present at this meeting, as was Rachael Durrant, the NUS Education Officer, who repeatedly said she was happy do another event that better aligned with the SRC’s goals.

own rules when some members were told they were not allowed to vote on the motion. Secondly, he says several members failed to disclose and abstain themselves due to conflicts of interest. And thirdly, he believed they had failed to act in the best interests of their organisations.

The letter was tabled, and the lower amount of $15,000 was agreed upon for affiliation. This proposal is now before the union’s finance committee.

The event went on regardless, however, with a Facebook invite going up that night. The President and General Secretary of the SRC took to the event wall proclaiming their scepticism of the claims made by the event description, and stating that this was not an SRC event.

For the past two years, the Left at Adelaide Uni, a coalition of Independent Left and Labor Left factions, has had a majority in its own right, at both the Union and SRC level. This year marks the first serious conflict between factional allies on the SRC, and it seems to come down primarily to vastly differing beliefs on how much student organisations should value and obey NUS. The National Union lobbies government and universities on the behalf of student nationally, identifying common themes across universities, and relies on local SRC’s for both information on local issues affecting students and for supporters to run its campaigns, typically centered around ‘Days Of Action’ with free food and signature drives. An unfailingly left-wing body, it is usually ignored by coalition governments, but can have some influence on Labor and Greens policies that affect students.

Despite their attempts to distance themselves, it was revealed at a heated meeting on the 31st of May that the SRC had in fact been invoiced for the barbecue. It was decided to pass this bill onto the National Union of Students. NUS President Jesse Marshall says he has offered for NUS to cover the costs in what he describes as a “goodwill gesture.” The SRC President, Ali Thompson, was also unanimously — but for one abstention — granted the power to write a letter of reprimand to the SRC members involved in the event. Sachse and Slater argued that they were unsure of the intentions of the SRC at that executive meeting. However, it is worth noting that SRC office bearers expressed their unhappiness with the barbecue on the event wall prior to it going ahead. Marshall was unapologetic, saying “NUS has a position of campaigning against the Melbourne Model.

It is a national issue.”

This latest disagreement comes hot on the heels of another regarding the amount of affiliation paid by the SRC to the NUS. As a student representative body, the SRC affiliates to the NUS. The NUS in turn helps to coordinate national campaigns. Last year, the union paid $11,000 ($10,000 plus GST). This year, there were suggestions by Sachse and Slater that $17,000 was a more appropriate amount in order to ‘pull our weight’ in supporting the national body, despite that being half the SRC’s budget. They’ve spent more than half of their budget this year, meaning the increased cost of NUS would put them in the red. They went in-camera to discuss the motion, and it was passed.

However, Union President Raff Piccolo refused to recommend an increase in the SRC’s budget to cover the increased cost of NUS, citing a number of issues he had with the vote. First, he claims they failed to follow their

Given its role as the only national student representative body, Piccolo thought the whole saga reflected very poorly on NUS. “NUS needs to clarify its mission,” he said. “It should be supporting us rather than trying to lead us.” He was of the opinion that individual student organisations will inevitably know more about the dynamics and struggles of their particular uni, and shouldn’t be lead by top-down approaches when it came to these issues.

Staff within the Union have expressed frustration with these latest NUS tactics, saying that at a time when they are doing it tough and trying their best to run an efficient operation in order to best support students with limited resources, there exists a belief that NUS is justified in asking for 70% affiliation fee increases while offering little extra value to student organisations.

Perhaps in facing increasing scrutiny from Eastern coast student organisations, NUS is looking elsewhere to shore up its funding base, which come predominantly from affiliation fees. However, I think it’s fair to say its most recent visit to the University of Adelaide earned it few supporters. O

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HELPFUL HINTS!

A guide to writing An Article For Your Student Magazine Guidance: Tom Sheldrick

a topic that is either absurd 1. Choose or contrived

how strange your friend(s) 9. Mention is (are) but make it seem like you don’t realise that they’re strange

either an Arts student or a 2. Bestudent that has been at uni for much longer than their course outline suggests they should have been

everyone that you drink non10. Tell mainstream alcohol. Men: high-end spirits; Women: obscure beers “fuck” at least once but NEVER, 11. Say under any circumstance, say “shit”

an irrelevant reference to 3. Make high-brow literature or film

4.

Make a reference to something that was once extremely cool in primary school e.g. Sega Dreamcast, Andy Griffiths’ Just Crazy, Tazos etc.

and label a large group of 5. Insult rational people irrational

6. Make a ludicrous generalisation a stance against widely 7. Take accepted social practices

in a statistic, no matter how 12. Throw false or irrelevant only one person or one group 13. Quote of persons throughout the article i.e. be biased a glimpse of logical thought 14. Show but quickly revert back to being a sociopath up your entire article in a 15. Sum sentence and then insult and make irrational generalisations about everyone that disagrees with you or doesn’t find the topic interesting

everyone that sharing your 8. Tell opinion makes you normal

!

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Remember!

Always

come off pretentious, elitist and irrational and be

sure to alienate all of the readers throughout the article .

On Dit Magazine

Monkeys Have a Role to Play in Australia’s House Of 1 Representatives Words: Tom Sheldrick

Kurt Vonnegut said it best in his novel Hocus Pocus “Just because some of us can read and write and do a little math, that doesn’t mean we deserve to conquer the universe.” This is clearly a commentary of the underrepresentation of apes (not to be confused with Primeape, the evolved form of Mankey)4, specifically monkeys, in the Australian political system.3

a fucking11 mp3 player.6,7 Don’t get me started on mp3 players. Let me just say that if we let bygones be bygones then, by God, I’d be gone before I downloaded an mp3.7 I, however, like all sane people, am currently campaigning for a monkey by the name of Kevin Spencer to be elected to the federal seat of Dunkley in Victoria.6,8

Kevin Spencer. Spencer was dancing on top of the 4ft-high Monopoly board (pool tables are for nerds and fat kids)5,6,7 hurling faecal matter11 at the surrounding patrons. Venita was then ravished by Spencer in what at first appeared to be a display of 2-girls-1-cup-inspired lust but what was later discovered to be a genetic instinct to seek out and consume anything banana flavoured.

Of course, the moronic, racist and narrow minded people who vote Liberal and the outspoken, showboating idiots who vote Labor have never considered it. Why would have they?5,6 Instead, they’re doing one of 3 things: sitting at home wearing brand-name clothing; driving a car to a restaurant; or listening to

Recently my 67 year-old horse-whispering, screenplay-writing girlfriend, Venita9, and I were having drinks at a bar to welcome her back from a 2564 day kayak trip across The Dead Sea.9 I was sipping Frapin Cuvee 1888 cognac and she was nursing a pint of Wells Banana Bread Beer10, of course,8 when we first met

Since our initial encounter, Spencer, Venita and I have got along swimmingly and have had many 3-ways. Not 3-way in the sense of sexual intercourse but 3-way in the sense of holographic Tazo trading sessions4 and chats on the phone (although, some of the 3-way chats on the phone were phone sex sessions).9

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Monkeys In politics

On a 3-party preferred basis Spencer is only a short way behind the ALP’s Helen Constas and when men with almost 90% of their body covered in herpes rashes were asked whether they would prefer Spencer to the current sitting member Bruce Billson, almost a third said “Sure elect the monkey, I don’t give a fuck!”.11,12,13 The men also muttered something inaudible about killing themselves or everyone or something.

Spencer doesn’t speak a word of English, however politicians only speak Politician. How refreshing will it be to have a politician that doesn’t speak Politician?6 So refreshing I tells you.

Sure, Spencer doesn’t appear to have any real support, policy mechanisms or any motivation to do anything besides eat bananas and hurl faeces11 but by golly does he look good in a suit.14 Not the suits that the Australian politicians are wearing, though, but rather a monkey suit. Just picture a person sitting in parliament in a monkey suit and then being ordered by The Speaker of The House to remove the monkey suit. The monkey suit would be removed and the person in the monkey suit would be revealed to be a monkey. Spencer will have made a monkey out of this country and we should be grateful for being taken along for the ride.

Kevin Spencer is a monkey who should be elected into the seat of Dunkley – there’s no ifs or buts about it.8 And if you disagree then you’re just the ignorant, stupid, idiotic, ugly, self-conscious, conformist-ish, slutty, Neanderthalish, bad-smelling, overweight and brain-dead average Joe/Josephine that I already believed and will always believe that everybody else, apart from myself, is.5,15 O

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Square Meals Affordable meals, reviewed by your two favourite geeks!

Words: Gemma Beale / Degustatory Expertise: George Stamatescu

Gobble and Go “We’re in the happy customer business” - Colin, proprietor

It’s Tuesday, you’ve got an hour break from 12 to 1 but you don’t get paid till Wednesday so you’ve only got $5. What to do? Gobble and Go, that’s what. Located on Currie St just behind Adelaide Metro it’s new and easy to miss. Run by Colin, a ‘guy who got screwed by his last landlord,’ it’s extremely bare bones. Prices range from $3.50 for a cheese toasty to $9.95 for your more elaborate meals like Garlic Prawns and Roast Pork.

There’s also an opening deal that includes a free coffee with every meal, though I’m uncertain on the quality of the coffee. As it was our first visit George and I played it safe with the breakfast menu. I went for the mushroom and cheese omelette and he tried the double egg, bacon and cheese roll. Simple but tasty food that’s about as good as you’d cook for yourself if you could be bothered buying eggs and milk. It’s exactly what you expect for five bucks.

The real attraction of the place, however, is Colin.

Colin’s got a lot of things to say, and is of the general

belief that “if it’s not fun, it’s no good”. Consequently if you choose to dine-in, you’ll be privy to a constant stream of questions as he gives you running updates on the progress of your meal, offers you more, and proudly exclaims things like “if you’re hungry and you still want something more to eat, we’ll fill you up!” George took accepted his offer, having a go at a surprisingly delicious Chilli Con Carne. Served in a hot pan on your table it is more than enough for one and left him looking sleepy and satisfied.

Gobble and Go also offer a mix and match salad/sandwich bar and Colin’s got plans for a more extensive menu (and maybe a late night eatery for ‘likeminded people to hang out’) once things get up and running. So, in the spirit of philanthropic and gastronomic fulfilment, give it a shot. The food’s not going to change the world, but neither are the gold coins in your pocket, and it’s more delicious and cheaper than most things in slopped on your plates at Uni. O

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C O L U M N S

C O L U M N S

Columns

C O L U M N S

C O L U M N S

Beauty is as beauty does Words: Emma Jones

Now, I’ll be the first to admit

that I know pretty much nothing about politics.

I know Julia Gillard has the whole ‘sisters doing it for themselves’ vibe going on, but all I see is a collection of hideous blazers. I’m not stupid—well, not really—but I’m just not interested. Is it bad that I’m admitting that in print? Probably.

But whatever. I have a ditz complex and I am not ashamed to admit it.

Let’s begin with some statistics.

There are 32 pairs of shoes in my wardrobe, and two slices of bread in my kitchen. There are 24 shades of lipstick and 6 designer perfumes in my bathroom, but only one roll of toilet paper. I take calcium supplements for stronger fingernails, but I haven’t got any milk for my tea. I could go on, but I won’t. Statistics are boring.

You might think that I have a beautiful face. If you do, you are probably visually impaired and my new best friend. If you don’t, you’re right. This isn’t a self-pity party; I’m just being up-front. If you think I’m beautiful,

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you certainly haven’t seen me first thing in the morning. An hour-long routine stands between that monstrous creature and the dishevelled Emma trying to sneak into the lecture theatre twenty minutes late.

Whether that routine works or not is nobody’s business okay. The point is, that routine involves methods nothing short of torturous. If I had to try and extract information from somebody, I’d probably strap them to the edge of the bathtub and apply hair removal cream to their upper lip.

That shit stinks, but not as much as it stings. If they refuse to talk, other options available include, a pore strip for blackheads, a pumice stone to the heel, or a pointy wooden stick to flatten the cuticles. Still not feeling chatty? How about an eyebrow wax? No, that’s not sadist enough.

Ok. An eyebrow pluck.

A common misconception is that women put themselves through this crap on a regular basis so that the opposite sex will regard us as hairless and blemish-free. This would be pointless, as I’ve never yet been rejected on the basis of a ‘stache. As a matter of fact, we put ourselves through this crap so that members

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of the same sex will regard us as hairless and blemish-free. Women judge. Pedantically. Not all women, of course—I’m not one for overgeneralising. (THAT’S A LIE, I SO AM.) But, and I speak exclusively to the ladies here, think about it: I’m sure you’re guilty of, on at least one occasion, thinking snide thoughts about somebody for reasons as ridiculous as ‘her bra strap is showing’ or ‘her regrowth is 18 metres long’. I know I am. As I am certain, however, that your opinion will have no impact on how fucking ruthlessly she is going to kick your ass in exams because she was studying instead of getting her regrowth fixed, your judgment is pointless. Sadly, it is also hurtful.

As we are told by the same group of people in the Mall holding placards condemning homosexuals to hell: ‘judge not lest ye be judged’. I don’t know how literally we can apply such a directive to today’s fickle youth. I can advise, however, that you take a look at your own frothy ‘stache before you rebuke others for their less-than-perfect exterior. Because that person might be me, and I’m not averse to a little bathroom torture. O

Don’t mention the weather Words: Michelle Bagster

I’m not a good conversationalist.

My talk is about as small as a blue whale with systemic oedema. I think a good conversation is one where I can come away and think; “Ok, I didn’t screw that up too badly… did I?” And, of course, a bad conversation sounds like a poor stereotype of a meditation session (“ummm…”)

“How to Win Friends and Influence People” is a massive self-help book I read on the bus, with the paper jacket of the fourth Harry Potter book stuck to the cover so that nobody can see what I’m really reading (I shout “Expelliarmus!” at random intervals in case somebody grows suspicious). It says that the best way to talk to people is to shut up and get the other person to talk about them. I’m sure it works, but if I try and use it, I can never manage the crucial second part. “Talk about you, dammit” just doesn’t seem to work.

For this reason, I am going to spend my twilight years (not Twilight twilight) with nothing but seven ferrets named after the Snow White Dwarves for company. Even then, only Sneezy will understand me. It’s a ferret thing. I’m resigned to this fact, but you needn’t be. I’ve created a list of conversational pitfalls that I know (from experience) need to be avoided.

1. You talk too much.

Seriously, nobody wants to hear you go on and on about your ingrained toenail, no matter how swollen it got

last night. Hear those peeps coming from the mouth of the person you’re talking to? Those are half-formed words. They’re trying to say something. Maybe tell you about how their dog just died, or ask your advice about wearing jeggings to uni.

Buy some nail clippers and shut up, or else that person will never talk to you again. Especially if it’s your fault they became known as the Sad Jeggings Girl.

out automatically for a dramatic getaway!”

It’s possible to go the other way.

Whilst nobody likes a word hog, being the person who just sits there can be… excruciating. It’s fine or even welcome when attempting to win an arm wrestle or mind invasion battle, but when everyone involved is just watching their nose freckles, it might be a good idea to say something. Just saying.

I don’t have the courage to take a guess at a name that I’ve forgotten, but if I did it would be Ashley. For everyone. As it is, it’s very hard to have a decent talk with someone when you have to refer to them as “you” all the time. I’m working on a way to remember names, I call it a “Names and Faces book” where I sketch a picture of the person’s face while their back is turned and write their name under it. Fool-proof, if just a little creepy. I told my sister about this plan, and she looked at me like I was crazy. Don’t be fooled, though.

That’s just her normal face. I know, because I never see any other expression on her face when she looks at me.

Person 1: “It’s kind of cloudy right now.”

Person 2: “……yes” Person 1: “…”

4. You forget 2. You don’t talk enough. peoples’ names.

3. You mention the weather.

Immediate conversation killer.

Don’t believe me? Try it. You could be in the most amazing conversation about jetpacks, but as soon as somebody brings up the weather, the dialogue goes like this: Person 1: “Oh my god, yes, and flames painted on the back so that my enemies are blinded by my amazingness even before I switch it on!”

Person 2: “Totally awesome, and of course wings on the sides that pop

Volume 79, Issue 7

If you avoid these crucial mistakes, you may just find that entertaining banter is easy! Failing this, of course, there is still hope for future companionship. Buy exactly seven ferrets and spend the rest of your days with them in a pet-friendly apartment. Bond only with the one called Sneezy. O

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Diversions Answers on page 5

Who Dat Ninja?

Match the names with the faces Ashley Olsen • Charles Dickens • Edmund Barton • Eleanor Roosevelt Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (the Queen Mother) • Florence Nightingale • Jane Austen John Wilkes Booth • Marie Curie • Mary-Kate Olsen • Nikola Tesla • Joseph Stalin

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Diversions AWKWORD

Crypt-o-Clues

“Clot” What it means: A thick mass of coagulated liquid.

What it sounds like it means: ‘Clot’ is blessed with a definition that reflects its aural/cognitive connotations perfectly. However, there is an additional, inextricable link with blood and pain.

Reason: There is a visceral, bodily realisation of disgust as one speaks the word. One can almost hear the liquid pulsating behind the congealed, throbbing mass as one thrusts one’s tongue forward, feeling it flick from the palette to form the messy ‘cl’ sound.

Then it finishes with a sharp, final ‘t’, forming like a hard scab after a rush of blood.

Triviarama 1. Which member of The Jackass Crew died on June 20 this year?

2. What is the motto of the United States of America?

3. True or false: Adelaide’s founder, Colonel Light’s first name was James.

4. What is the technical name for the circular area of coloured skin that surrounds the nipple?

5. What is the chemical symbol for gold?

6. The Gobi Desert crosses which two countries?

7. What was name of the French Nazi collaborationist government?

8. What is the first name of the Simpsons character Chief Wiggum?

9. Who is Julia Gillard’s partner?

10. For how many weeks was Collingwood player Heath Shaw suspended, after placing a bet on a teammate to kick the first goal?

1. Write with me! Sounds like you purchase fish eggs (4) 2. He’s never coming. It’s going to dog you in the mirror (5) 3. It used to be called the Hume Highway.

Do some digging to discover why (6) 4. She moves restlessly in an altered space (5) 5. Listen! But there’s nothing to hear in it (6) 6. Find the confused, stunted scholar (7)

Targedoku

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

U I

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C N

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State Of The Union Words of wisdom from your benevolent union president Words: Raff Piccolo

Welcome (back) to University!

Hopefully you are all well rested and ready to make an impact in Semester Two. Don’t sweat your Semester 1 results. Understandably some will be disappointed and others surprised. Whatever you received, don’t dwell on it. It’s time to move on and plan for the semester ahead.

To kick of the second semester the Adelaide University Union is proud to present Re-O on 26 and 27 July. Our events team have been working hard over the break to put together something to liven your spirits. There will be music, food, demonstrations, clubs, SRC, sports, Fitness Hub and much more! It’s a chance for you to become reacquainted with all the AUU has to offer you.

And don’t worry, the AUU hasn’t forgotten Waite Campus. We will be bringing the road show down on 3 August for our Welcome to Waite Day. Staying off North Campus for the moment, the AUU is proud to also announce that, prompted by student and staff demands, we have re-established ourselves at Roseworthy Campus. After being absent for a few years, we are happy to be able to once again offer students at Roseworthy a range of services. Further to that, our EWOs and Employment Services will be making regular visits. For more information on these services, or to just check out our new premises, please drop on by the Student Union Building. We will be open 10am to 3pm Wednesday and Friday and 9am to 5pm Thursday.

Now that we are into the second half of the year, for many of us the dreaded tax time has raised its head once again. But there is no need to panic — the AUU

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has organised for free tax help. If you want to take advantage of this AUU service, run on up to level 4, Union House and make a booking, as spaces are limited.

Speaking of making an impact, that time has come once again where the AUU will be calling for nominations for elections. Up for grabs are the AUU Board (16 positions), SRC (15 Officers and 8 General Councillors), On Dit (team of up 3), Student Radio (team of up 3) and NUS Delegates (6 positions). I know many of you may scoff, and perhaps ask, ‘Who would want to do that?’ Think of it as your opportunity to give back to the university community or help to determine what services are offered to students. That’s what has guided me throughout my involvements, and I hope it’s something that you subscribe to too. O

Need to get in touch with Raff? w: auu.org.au e: auupresident@auu.org.au f: facebook.com/raff.piccolo

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