Debate issue 19 by Debate Magazine

Issue 19 | AUGUST 2013 www.ausm.org.nz

Issue 19 | August 2013 Directory p6 reception City Campus Level 2, WC Building 921 9805 Mon-Thurs: 9am-5pm Fri: 9am-4pm North Shore Campus Level 2, AS Building 921 9949 Mon-Fri: 11am-1pm

Cover

by Ramina Rai

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Nigel Moffiet p8

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designer/PHOTOGRAPHER Ramina Rai

contributors

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Illustration & Photography Nicole Koch | Ramina Rai

management Kathy Anderson General Manager 921 9999 ext 8570 kanderso@aut.ac.nz advocacy Siobhan Daly AuSM Advocate 921 9999 ext 8311 siobhan.daly@aut.ac.nz

Matthew Cattin matthew.cattin@aut.ac.nz

sub editor

Manukau Campus MB107 921 9999 ext 6672 Mon-Thurs: 9am-3.30pm governance & leadership Kizito Essuman AuSM Student President 921 9999 ext 8571 kizito.essuman@aut.ac.nz

EDITOR

advertising contact Kate Lin kate.lin@aut.ac.nz

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marketing Kate Lin Sales and Marketing Co-ordinator 921 9999 ext 8909 kate.lin@aut.ac.nz events Carl Ewen Student Life Manager 921 9999 ext 8931 carl.ewen@aut.ac.nz media Matthew Cattin Publications Co-ordinator 921 9999 ext 8774 matthew.cattin@aut.ac.nz vesbar Zane Chase Vesbar Manager 921 9999 ext 8378 zane.chase@aut.ac.nz

5 | Editorial 6 -7 | MUSIC: Grouplove

20 | In Defence of the Dictionary

8 – 9 | Artist of the Week

21 | Wherefore Art Thou Shakespeare?

11 | Living Below the Line

22 | Euthanasia

13 | High as a Kite

23 | Chaplaincy Column & Holidays Ahoy

14 | Nifty News

volunteers & clubs Lauren Howe Volunteers Coordinator 921 9999 ext 8911 lauren.howe@aut.ac.nz

15 | Social Media Highlights

24 – 26 | Top Five Female Serial Killers

16 | Love Notes and Hate Mail & AuSM Updates

27 | SPCA Cupcake Day Photos

17 | Memorandum & Auckland’s Got it Going On

28 – 30 | The Meaning of Trees

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18 – 19 | Puzzles

32 – 33 | Reviews

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by Matthew Cattin Hello readers. In this week’s editorial, I forfeit my manhood to bring you the truth; a confession buried deep within my heart, and perhaps the hearts of men everywhere – the hardships of being a male. Urinals are just one of the many hard facts of life that men have to deal with daily. Usually they are all good – you rock up, flop out, sigh heavily, shake it, zip up and boom, you’re out of there. However, more times than I care to admit, the unthinkable happens. Midstream, out of fricken nowhere, comes a bearded, gruff sonovabitch yeah? I’m talking the epitome of man, the drunken sailor type. Naturally, he chooses the urinal right next to yours, heaves out his weighty trident and just about cracks the damn porcelain. Like a snail retreating into its shell, your magic stream of relief gives out as he leans over and says “yer alright mate?” Intimidated, broken and with a half full (or empty) bladder, there’s nothing you can do but ditch. This of course would all be avoided if it was deemed appropriate for guys to make bathroom trips in groups. I always ask for company but, to my distress, I usually only get confused looking faces in response. I can see the want in their eyes though – they’re just too damned afraid to make the leap because of the (god forbid!) gay connotations.

Body image is a term most often associated with models, women’s magazines and high school puberty talks however it’s rarely discussed in a male context, not by the media or in general conversation. Why? Because there is a misguided assumption that stereotypical males are uninterested in fashion, style and looking good, and therefore they don’t give two hoots about their appearance and what people may say about it. If I had a penny for every time a girl told me my love rug (chest hair) was gross or that board shorts were so unfashionable I should go home and change, I’d be living in comfortable retirement by now. Having grown a beard over the last few months too, I now endure jests of “terrorist,” and “Osama”. I also recall the loud scrutinising my friend group used to receive from girls – comparing our bodies, cheek bones and general hotness (or lack thereof). It doesn’t bother me too much in all honesty – but that doesn’t mean it’s right. I would never feel comfortable criticising a woman’s chest hair, nor chastising her for her undersized pectorals or lack of abdominal definition. Yet to complain about the treatment is to show weakness – a characteristic not acceptable in any ‘real’ male. You see ‘real’ males are expected to be hard all over but soft in the head, insensitive, aggressive, competitive, obsessed with the

NRL and hairy in some places but hairless in others. They should have a good general knowledge about cars, sports, household appliances and how to fix them. They also apparently think about sex every five minutes, call breasts ‘tittayyys’ and would go to incredible and outrageous lengths to get some action. While this is definitely true of some guys, I feel the media and many women have painted all men with this same brush stroke and it’s becoming extremely prominent to see men conveyed as such in film, television and advertising. If you are game enough to mention these hardships and vulnerabilities to a woman however, you’d best be prepared to defend your words against a barrage of grievances regarding childbirth and periods. Which is totally fine – I completely understand that men didn’t draw the short straw when it comes to enduring pain for their gender. I also totally get that pay equality is bullshit and everyday sexism needs addressing ASAP. But it is never my intention to belittle those hardships, merely to bring to light a few male issues – there is no need to argue about who’s gender has it the worst. And at the end of the day, sometimes I just want to be the little spoon, have my hair brushed softly over my ears and be told I’m worth it. Is that too much to ask? Matthew www.ausm.org.nz

FEELING THE GROUPLOVE by Matthew Cattin Speaking from where I’d rather be, Grouplove guitarist Andrew Wessen’s cheerful voice filled me with envy. “I’m sitting at Topanga Beach, California,” he says. “It’s 80 degrees, sunny, light north-west wind, one to two foot waves. I’ve actually been going a little crazy cause it’s been flat for about 10 days – it’s real small.” Not as crazy as I’ve been going in my office Andrew let me tell you. Guitarist for Grouplove, surfer and all round good fella, Andrew is living every teenage boy’s wet dream. I caught up with him 10 days before the start of a tour that will see the band visiting our fine shores as part of the Big Day Out extravaganza. Hanging at Topanga, Andrew says he’s making the most of the sun and surf before the band hits the road. And fair enough too – ever since Grouplove’s 2011 debut Never Trust A Happy Song, the band has been non-stop busy on the road and in the studio. I ask if he’s struggled to adjust to life as a full time muso. “Maybe in the very beginning… But honestly now I don’t even know what to do with myself when we’re not on the road. That sounds cliché but it’s honestly true,” he says; his words fully endorsed by his contagious enthusiasm. “Playing shows means everything to us – having people come out is so fulfilling. It’s thrilling and exhilarating still - every time. It never gets old. You almost get addicted to that.”

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As a band, Grouplove must be one of the most charmingly mismatched bunch of misfits I have come across – and I assure you I mean that endearingly. From the outside, they appear a melting pot of country, grunge, surf-rock, pop and punk and with their powers combined, their sound is a heavy-hitting alt-rock punch to the heart strings. “We’re the Spice Girls dude. We’re the motherfucking Spice Girls. I’d be Baby Spice, Sean would be Scary Spice, Christian is Posh Spice, Ryan is Sporty Spice and Hannah, Ginger Spice – perfect. Honestly, there is something for everyone in the band,” says Andrew. “It’s a really eclectic group – I admit it. It’s not like we’re the kids that went to school together and grew up on the same street – we’re the complete opposite. Hannah’s from San Francisco, Christian’s from New York, me and Ryan are from LA (but he’s from Hollywood I’m from Topanga beach) and Sean is from London.” Despite their different backgrounds and influences, Grouplove are much cooler than The Spice Girls and deserve significant kudos for their sweet talents and likeability. They are so likeable in fact that Glee picked up their 2011 hit single Tongue Tied to use in their godawful excuse for a television show. I brought it up with Andrew and even though it has been two years, I could hear in his voice that the heartache was still raw. “Oh no, god… You’re going there, oh no… I was the only one in the band who didn’t want to do it. It was rough

Left to Right: Ryan Rabin (Sporty Spice), Christian Zucconi (Posh Spice), Hannah Hooper (Ginger Spice), Andrew Wessen (Baby Spice) and Sean Gadd (Scary Spice). dude. Honestly they came to us and we were like ‘fuck it’, you know? We’ll see what they do. It was a kind of a curiosity killed the cat thing,” he says. “The idea of being on Glee… I would have like… Offed myself first you know?”

“Other kids were way better dancers and stuff like that but this kid was hilarious. It was funny – onset he was the fucking man – he really came into his role. I was like ‘hey what’s up dude, I’m in the band’, and he was kinda like yeah, whatever…’”

Luckily Glee didn’t bring down the band’s spirits too much and Grouplove has gone on to bigger and better things – namely their upcoming record Spreading Rumours. I’ve given the record a few spins already and without a word of a lie, it is balls to the wall awesome. Produced by Grouplove drummer Ryan Rabin, this is a band with tenacity and vision hitting the top of its stride. “Hannah does all of our art and Ryan produces all of our songs so what you get with Grouplove is genuinely Grouplove,” says Andrew. “It’s weird to be in a band and let everyone else do all your shit for you; it’s not you in a way - when someone is making all your merch and someone is doing all your work. I’ve been in other bands where you don’t know who you are and you don’t know what you are trying to put out there visually. I’ve never been a part of a project that has such a strong sense of what it is - we know who we are, what we are, and we know what we want to put out, especially on this record.”

I mention to Andrew how appealing his job looks from my office and ask if there are any touring downers that most people wouldn’t think about. “We’ve been lucky enough to be on a tour bus for a year now and I gotta say, you look at a tour bus from the outside and you say, ‘oh they must be just killing it’. Honestly? There are eleven of us in that fucking thing, dude. It’s eleven people living in a hallway and it is gnarly,” he says. “You’re essentially sleeping in a coffin. You roll into your bunk and you pull a curtain closed – it’s literally the only space in the world that you have any privacy – in that little coffin.” Not that he cares, mind you – Andrew is living his dream. That, and it sounds a lot better than his previous job… “I used to work at Universal Music for a while – so I’ve worked on the other side. I was essentially the coffee bitch; the paid coffee bitch. I was kind of abused. I was like ‘hey, I’ve been here a year,’ and they were like ‘hey Andrew, can I get a triple venti coffee?’ and I was like ‘are you fucking serious bro? I’ve been here a year and I’m still the coffee bitch…’”

The first single to drop from Spreading Rumours is the electro-pop energy-fest Ways to Go. Catchy enough to be quarantined, the chorus is bound to get the Big Day Out crowds jumping. The video, directed by Cameron Duddy, is perhaps the snazziest I have seen all year. Described by Andrew as a dictator’s day off, the video came about because the band was sick of “those videos where you have no idea what the fuck is going on”. “The idea is the dictator wakes up and hears our song and instead of executing people and doing obscenities, he full on goes back to being a child,” says Andrew. And despite the lead actor’s uncanny resemblance to a young Kim Jong-un, Andrew says the reference wasn’t intended – he was just far funnier than the other kids that auditioned.

After half an hour on the phone with Andrew, the conversation turns to surf spots in New Zealand, his hatred for turkey sandwiches and his fear of sharks. He tells me how keen he is to surf Raglan when he touches down in Kiwiland and gives me his email so I can help him make it happen. “Fuck it, I’m in. Throw me in the back of whatever car and I’ll be down,” he says. Andrew my friend, you have a deal. Grouplove’s second LP Spreading Rumours is touching down on September 20. Pick up a copy, learn the words, and hit them up at Big Day Out – you do not want to miss this.

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Artist of the week Galima Akhmetzyanova My name is Galima Akhmetzyanova - I'm a Master of Design student at AUT. Even though I've done lots of different illustration, I don't have special preferences in one particular style and I always like to try new things because life is about exploration. I love classic art from different periods of time such as Flemish, French and Italian but I have a special attitude towards Russian Constructivism due to its tremendous sense of composition. As with most digital illustrators, I use Photoshop and Illustrator as my main tools but I believe in hand crafting stuff too, such as sketches. I love photography and taking pictures - especially random shots - and another big love of mine is animation and cartoons.

Artist of the week:

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CMY

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LIVING BELOW THE LINE

by Sophie Rice From this day forward I will train with flowers in hand… Mum and I were driving to my family’s house in rural New Zealand. We’d taken the motorway half an hour out of Auckland, driven down the same state highway for another half hour (as we always did) and had begun the last leg of the journey along the gravelled and windy road. The same Macrocarpa trees whizzed by in a blur of green on the same Hobbiton hills dissected by the familiar power-lines and at the neighbour’s driveway their dogs routinely ran out to yap and bite at our car tyres. After a lot of “Oi Tess!!”s and “Psst!” we headed up the final hill before home. Around that next corner a breath-taking sight came into view. We stopped the car. Seemingly overnight a field of sunflowers had sprung up to the right of the road, covering the entire hill and paddock below it. It was my very own ‘white-rabbit falls-down-the-hole’ moment, following this road that led to the sunflowers. Mum and I snuck under the electric fence that enclosed the flowers and walked among them as the sun set, plucking a few to take home as we went. The next day I caught the usual hour-anda-half-dreary-and-dull-and-pretty-lame train back to Auckland. I stepped on board expecting to receive the usual quick glances, up and down, from fellow passengers. To take my place in the systematic train routine, checking out the people around me and giving each one a history to match their stereotype. The office-worker on her way to buy and sell stocks. The hoodlum off to tag some walls. The granny heading out for a day at the Museum. I would then proceed to plug in my iPod and drift off into my own world as the city passed by my train window. But today was different. I stepped

inside and instead of the bored stares of acknowledgement; I received a happy, “Hello,” a smile, and even a snort of approval from my travelling companions! I chatted with a man about the New Zealand trip he was enjoying, away from his school in Fiji. With a woman about her time spent hiking through India. And another girl about the recent reuniting of her disconnected family. My usual 3-CDs long, boring train ride turned into a hub of conversation and community. And each little connection began with a comment about the “pretty” sunflowers in my hand. This sparked an idea in my head, “What would happen if I took flowers on the train with me every time? What conversations could be had? Which people could I reach out to?” I realised that the flowers were a catalyst for being intentional with people. Being intentional: living life deliberately, with careful thought, real convictions and a clear direction to pursue connecting with others. What surprised me about those sunflowers was the amount of joy gained and given on that train ride. The fulfilment found when I prioritised others over my ‘alone-time.’ Which led me to my great realisation; that I had to give up something, my ‘alone-time’ on the train, in order to gain time with people. The next time I went to my parents’ house the sunflowers were gone from the paddock. They were, “cut down to feed the cows,” the farmer said. It hit me that I could no longer take a bunch of those flowers on the train with me. No more catalyst for being intentional. Just me, with nothing except my new priorities and a new direction to pursue. Just me, stepping onto the train to brighten a person’s day; to put others before myself. Just me, stepping up to fight poverty that acts as a veil covering over a billion people in darkness? The truth is, over 1.4 billion people live on $2.25 a day. That’s less than the money I would spend on my daily coffee that I so

desperately need. 1.4 billion people who have limited access to education, health care, food, clean water and the ability to earn a living. The thought struck me like a floppy flower to the face. It’s up to me. I have a choice. I can make a difference. Every day choosing to fight poverty. “That seems impossible! Tiring! Idealistic!” I tell myself. But as Robert Frost once said (and which one day I hope to say), “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by. And that has made all the difference.” Live Below the Line is a campaign that offers kiwis a leg up in helping the people in our world who so desperately need it; to begin to walk that ‘road less travelled by’. Living on $2.25 for a week ourselves enables us to begin to understand what it’s like living in extreme poverty and at the same time fundraise for those very people. I took the challenge last September and though I literally cried with joy at the end of the week as I sunk my teeth into a celebratory cookie, I did not expect how much the week would affect my thinking towards people in poverty. As I sat in lectures trying to stay focused but slowly drifting off into a haze of hunger I got the smallest taste of what it actually means to be “hungry.” More than that, as I ate that same bowl of rice that a mother, son or grandma in extreme poverty would be eating, I began to realise that there doesn’t have to be a separation between us and them, those of us in the first world and those of them in the third world. Instead, I began to see how we are all simply human, we all have our struggles and we have the power to help each other in these struggles. Thinking back on my train ride, I know that I can’t take flowers everywhere I go, but I can aim for an intentional life, caring about the people around me and in my global community. I can choose to do Live Below the Line and make a difference for people living in extreme poverty. www.ausm.org.nz

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High as a Kite By Thomas Thexton

What is a runner’s high? I’m sure most of you would have heard this term before, but I don’t think that it is possible to describe or understand until you experience it. It is often said that you feel the most alive on the brink of death. Why is this? Why do runners and endurance athletes alike feel the need to tetter on the crumbling cliff of complete and total suffering to feel good? I think they are crazy, and I love it! Six weeks ago, I wouldn’t say I was in peak physical shape. I wasn’t fat, or even unfit, but at 90 kilos I was not as stud-like as I would have hoped. I decided to drop the weight and ‘ta-da’, six weeks later I’m 81 kilo’s and feeling great! But I’ve taken far more away from this accomplishment than Tom’s Body v2.0. Along the way I happened to pick up a copy of RUN! by Dean Karnazes, an ultra marathon runner. For those of you who don’t know, an ultra marathon is any distance more than 26.2 miles (42 kilometres). Anyway, I read this book cover to cover in mere hours and although I was already running to lose weight, I began to understand what runners mean by this euphoric moment of absolute peace and bliss associated with the gruelling and unrelenting pain of any endurance run - I was hooked. I began running religiously, captured by stories of solo runs through the hottest desert on earth at 2am, running from San Francisco to a town 60 kilometres away for Taco Bell! When I began running I was running to lose weight and to achieve a goal. Now my goal is running! I have caught the bug and I think it’s here to stay and to be honest, I don’t want the cure. Two weeks later and I have now begun reading his second book in which he runs fifty marathons in fifty days. This seems ludicrous, but I was captivated. I was never a runner, I hated it. Why should we like it? It’s uncomfortable, unnecessary, time consuming, painful and downright shit! Yet I can’t get enough! Why are runners willing put ourselves through this torture? It’s not for no reason I assure you.

confident and ready. You slowly start and resist the urge to sprint off as you know you’ll need your energy later. Having only done a maximum of 15km so far I can only speak from this experience. But any distance is nothing to be sneezed at. That is why running is great; it is as hard as you make it. 3km for a beginner is just as hard as 30 for a pro. Anyway (getting sidetracked), so you’re running along and, depending on the distance and intensity, you can go through any number of emotions from pure elation, to intense depression and total despair. Doesn’t this sound amazing! No really, it is! It’s amazing because as you’re running through the tangle of the Drury Hills guided only by the light of the cheese in the sky (I like to run at night) and you go from feeling on top of the world to feeling like absolute crap, you’re alive! You’re able to experience every emotion in 30 minutes that you normally would in a week. Right now I’m struggling to not break my exclamation mark key on my keyboard as you have no idea of the excitement I am trying to convey through type! This so called “runners high” that I am trying to explain is simply the absolute realisation of your being. You are away from all the hype and clutter of everyday life and it’s just you, some rubber on your feet and the world. It gives an amazingly simple perspective on life and you realise that we are all just dots on a giant page. But along with this epiphany is a feeling of absolute tranquillity and clarity. And sure, it could be a cause of all the endorphins being released in your brain, or the lack of oxygen intake, but it’s more than that! And after all this bliss, you get cramp and you’re hungry and you want to die. But we won’t go into this yet as I do not want to scare you away from what could be the beginning of the rest of your life! Do note, it may take a few weeks before your fitness improves to the level at which you can comfortably run and enjoy this enlightenment, but if you persist you will get there. I am going to stop trying to explain this phenomenon as I feel I am not doing it any sort of justice at all. All I can say though is it exists. Also it is the best anti-depressant on the market, and best of all, it’s free!

For those of you who run, I need not explain. But for those who don’t, I’ll do my very best. As you lace up your sneakers for a run, you feel www.ausm.org.nz

Homelessness A Filthy Issue In Auckland “It’s about the unknown. If you don’t know something or you don’t know someone, that apprehension is there.” This is certainly the case for 20-year-old student Briana Juretich who says she is often wary of the homeless she passes in the street. “You kind of have this image in your head that ‘oh this homeless person just wants you for all your spare change’.” Although many who live on the street rely on begging to get by, Michael Daley insists he asks neither the public nor the government for money because he chose to be homeless. In his previous life Mr Daley owned a drainage company, which he says “ran” him and turned him into a “workaloholic”. He says eventually his work became pointless and he began to want out of his business.

by Struan Purdie Filth is not a word generally used to describe a human being but Michael Daley says it is just one of the insults commonly directed at him. The 56-year-old has lived on Auckland’s busy streets for the last two-and-a-half-years and says the abuse he receives from passersby rarely bothers him. “I’m not really an emotional person. If you cut both my arms off, I’d just work around it.” The extent of homelessness in New Zealand’s largest city is hard to gauge but, according to the Auckland City Mission, there are about 120 people sleeping rough within a 3km radius of SkyCity. Although people react differently to this increasing population, those that work with Auckland’s homeless say there is a general lack of understanding towards those on the street. Corrie Haddock runs a community-based charity, Lifewise, which supports those who are homeless. He says that homelessness in Auckland is generally viewed with skepticism.

“Money came to not mean anything to me, it was only when I got a whole lot of it that I realised that.” Although some, like Mr Daley, choose to live on the street and rely on the City Mission for food, Mr Haddock is quick to point out the majority are not there by choice. He says there are a variety of reasons why people end up on the street including substance addictions, mental illness and dysfunctional foster care. He also says there is a large percentage of “situational homelessness” where people are simply unable to find accommodation and therefore are forced onto the streets. In recent years, the government has begun to recognise the growing issue with a specific homeless court, which focuses on rehabilitation. It has also put in place a regional plan to end rough sleeping by 2020. However Haddock says more needs to be done to prevent people from becoming homeless in the first place. As for Michael Daley, a simple smile from one human to another may be a good start.

Dead Stump In The Running for Labour Leadership by Kieran Bennett The release of the list of candidates running for leadership of the Labour Party has generated some controversy when it revealed that a dead stump, a Totara to be exact, is also in the running. The piece of dead wood was a last minute registration and now that its identity, and purpose, has been made public many political commentators are saying that the race has become that much tougher. Former Labour leader David Shearer announced his retirement on August 22 to a full press gallery saying that he felt “the streets and my home-boys is where my heart truly lies. Plus you’re all a bunch of wankers”. Mr Shearer then asked the assembled members of the press to address him as D-Snizzle, said that his “swag was too dope” and left. Mr Shearer then spent the next three days on Queen Street holding what appeared to be the bottom of a large cardboard box with ‘Will Rap 4 record delz’ scrawled on it. After a brief stint with freestyle rapping Mr Shearer admitted defeat and returned to the Labour Party saying “the other rappers were mean”. He was however met with disappointment with Deputy Leader Grant Robertson saying to Mr Shearer, “oh is that where you went, I just assumed you’d stepped out for a cuppa” Mr Shearer has now officially left the Labour Party entirely to take residence in the Chelsea sugar refinery. All efforts to remove him have been thus far unsuccessful.

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After such a public and embarrassing loss of what might have been some kind of leadership, many commentators thought the Labour Party would perhaps never recover. Columnist and scholar Grant Beard told our reporter that the Labour Party was expected to go the way of the ‘Keep Things Pretty Much the Same as They Are Right Now Cause Everything’s Pretty Sweet Eh?’ Party; fading into obscurity after a well-intentioned career. The landscape has changed dramatically however with political scientists, analysts and assorted people who pretend to know what they’re talking about all praising the dead stump for coming forward. The dry and rather unremarkable block of wood was initially thrown from parliament and left the Labour Party red-faced after they mistook it for David Shearer. A spokeswoman for the stump has stated that this has only resolved its efforts as “the party clearly needs leadership. Can a stump do the job? Beats me. It can’t be worse”. When asked what the stumps policies would be with regards to the party’s direction she replied that only the stump knew, though it would most likely involve “something to do with the fact that he’s a stump. That can’t be ignored”. Prime Minister John Key said that if the stump were to be elected he relished the competition almost as much as “this tasty bag of kittens”.

#social #media #highlights

movie’s production. Former Star Trek actor Wil Wheaton announced that he’s "Really looking forward to seeing Affleck bring the depth and gravitas to Batman that he brought to Daredevil and Gigli". And within days there was a 75,000 strong petition demanding Affleck get the boot.

by Nigel Moffiet It’s no surprise to see controversy coming from the MTV Video Music Awards. What more could the event wish for? Controversy equals relevance, right? Although nothing’s quite matched the 2009 incident where Kanye crashed Taylor Swift’s acceptance speech, Miley Cyrus did her best to heat up the event gyrating and twerking in her flesh coloured outfit. And while she was criticised for her porno display Soraya Chemaly, writing for Salon, reminds us of two other things: she was on stage with 36-year-old Robin Thicke and they were surrounded by other women who were used as props and accessories. The criticism directed at Cyrus is the kind that’s “deeply linked to her gender”, says Chemaly.

Carmen 2.0 @MaryTeamLana Lana's reaction to Miley #lol #vmas2013

Come on people let’s get a little perspective on this.

Jamie Smart @jamiesmart If you are one of the 70,000 who signed this petition then maybe you REALLY need to rethink your priorities: http://www.mirror.co.uk/tv/tv-news/ ben-affleck-batman-petition-drop-2224339 …

Michael Fishman @1CandidFish Ben Affleck as Batman is top news for most people while civilians are being killed with chemical weapons

But then again, I suppose these people do have a point…

JC Charles@JCCharles8 Can someone explain to me why Ben Affleck is allowed to play Batman? Did Daredevil teach us nothing?

When music critic Simon Sweetman posted a viral meme comparing Cyrus to raw chicken there was strong reaction.

Ok, so if we need to recast an actor to play Batman, who the hell should it be? Zach Galifianakis perhaps?

However, Will Smith and his family seemed to capture the sentiment of average viewers who watched the VMAs. cooldude@Emmaa_Garner “@usamaadil: Will Smith and his family loved the performance by Miley Cyrus

Meanwhile, I’m not sure any of these guys would be worthy of a black cape and bat mask, but they’re certainly after a red one. bryceedwards@bryce_edwards Could it be that the Labour leadership contenders are actually enjoying the contest? It's not looking divisive: pic.twitter.com/3GupgmLY2j

And what could be more controversial than Cyrus’ twerking booty? Announcing Ben Affleck as the new Batman! Warner Bros is planning a 2015 release of the dark crusader and fans instantly revolted when Affleck’s name was announced. Some commentators called the backlash “a hissy fit” that is already threatening the www.ausm.org.nz

lovenotes & hatemail Dear Mr Cattin,

Dear hater,

Confession; I am not a regular reader of debate magazine, but last week I had the displeasure of picking up and perusing your rag of a publication. The double page spread on fangirls and the cult of celebrity in particular caught my eye. How disparaging you and Ms Johnson are of young girls! When read in conjunction with your fawning attitude towards pop culture of the 60s and 70s it is especially abhorrent to me. To answer your rhetorical question, yes, the furore of Beatlemania is exactly what "tweeny fans" are displaying towards Justin Beiber and 1D. It is far too easy for teen girls to be ridiculed, and your name drop of the Twilight phenomenon is so late as to be laughable. Why no mention of Bronies, an especially creepy subset of online culture??

I apologise if my article on “tweeny-boppers” has offended you or your taste in music.

Now the AUT computer is telling me my session will end in 5 minutes so I'll wrap up here. I think your magazine needs more Sudoku, and less indie bands nobody cares about. regards

If you find “perusing” the rag to be such a displeasure, may I suggest buying a bumper book of Sudokus and washing it down with a copy of Justin Bieber’s Christmas album – I hear his rendition of Santa Clause is Coming to Town is quite something. I’m glad you are so studied up on Beatlemania and have the confidence and knowledge to proclaim it to be “exactly” the same as Bieber fever etc. Thank you for clearing that one up for me. I also apologise for “name dropping” Twilight a mere nine months after the final film came out – I didn’t realise anybody would take exception to my absurd belatedness. Yours forever, Matthew.

Updates Nominate Yourself! Nominations for the 2014 Student Executive Council close on 6th September! There are 15 positions available including a paid position for the elected Student President, a great first step into the real world! Being on the Student Executive is a great experience and ensures all AUT students have a collective voice. It also looks great on your C.V! Check your AUT inbox for the nomination details or go to http://tiny. cc/ausmexe2014 for position descriptions. AuSM Survey AuSM@AUT is run by students, for the benefit of student, and we need your input to help us improve the services we provide! Please give just five minutes of your time to complete this short survey and be in to win great prizes such as Logitech Z506 surround sound speakers, Apple TV, Sony portable power bank supply and more! Survey link: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/2013ausmsurvey Entry closes on 11th Oct 2013. Make sure you keep an eye on our facebook.com/ausm1 for latest update! AuSM Connect Have you checked out the AuSM smartphone app “AuSM Connect”? You can store all your classes, find local discounts and keep up with what’s going down on campus every day. Download AuSM Connect from the iPhone App store or Android Google Play. Latest from Mates Rates… Check out our Mates Rates for special deals just for you! 10% off dental care and heaps of local restaurants, or event special rates on Video Ezy, boxing classes and much more! Be part of AuSM and enjoy over 130 discounts available at http://www.ausm.org.nz. Perfect gift for your loved ones AuSM sells Entertainment books at $65 now. It has more than 100 wonderful offers at local restaurants, hotels and activities. Entertainment books are available at all AuSM offices!

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COMPETITIONS Find all the words in page 19's Harry Potter Wordfind, send it our way & you'll go in the draw to win two "Squawk Burger" vouchers from Velvet Burger. Delicious! So fetch your magnifying glass and get wordfinding! Drop your entry into your nearest AuSM office, or the box on the side of the red debate stands, or email debate before 12pm Thursday. What’s up for grabs? Two “squawk burgers” vouchers for Velvet Burger on Fort St, Auckland CBD.

Issue 18

Congratulations to...

Janelle Collins! City Campus who scored two Squawk Burger vouchers!

By Scott Yeoman

@scott_yeoman

A memorandum

Memorandum [mem-uh-ran-duh m] -noun, pl. –dums, -da 1. A short note designating something to be remembered, especially something to be done or acted upon in the future; reminder.

Don’t get fooled again The hour was late, the essay was long and the word count was low. Already down a coffee and two Red Bulls I was running on nothing but caffeine induced adrenaline. My burning eyes attempted to scan over the most basic of readings, but nothing would go in. The rest of my household had been asleep for what already seemed like hours and this worried me - I was getting nowhere. As I watched the clock slowly creep past 1am, I counted down the hours until my alarm. It’s a sinking, helpless feeling most of us experience at least a couple of times a semester, if not more. At the time it is hell, there’s nothing worse. The sleep deprived day after isn’t much better.

volume I made sure it was all I could hear – pure sweet bliss. A few times on repeat and all of a sudden I had another 200 words. Wanting more Who gold I turned to YouTube – Baba O’Riley, Who Are You, My Generation – it didn’t stop until 5am. With the four iconic Englishman keeping me company I pumped out my essay and fell asleep a satisfied man, dreaming of Woodstock. An hour later I was woken by my alarm, with only one song firmly planted in my brain. That day Roger Daltrey and his band screamed at me over and over not to get fooled again and I promised myself I wouldn’t.

During this hellish experience my radio was humming along quietly next to me, tuned into 93.8 FM, The Sound. I guess to keep me company more than anything else.

But here I am again.

In these early hours almost nothing makes sense. The longer you read over something, the more confusing it gets. But it only takes a moment of inspiration, a passing thought or idea, and you’re away. With nothing to distract you at this ridiculous time of day, something like this gets you on a delirious roll.

I will get fooled again.

The hour is late, The Memo is due and The Who are rocking.

My motivation and my turn-around on this hallowed night/morning came in the form of a song, a nostalgic tune by rockers The Who. Ironically named Won’t Get Fooled Again, it rescued me from a situation I have been in countless times. Starting slow and quiet it drifted through to me, reaching for the

AUCKLAND'S GOT IT GOING ON By Mike Ross Hear ye, hear ye. Another week of uni and another selection of gigs worth going to. I'll keep it short and sweet this week - there's plenty going on right now in this fair city, and anyone who says otherwise is bloody lying. Now put down those pens, stretch those legs, and get out there and enjoy your youth while your liver can still handle alcohol like a champion.

Monday

AULSA Law Stein ft. State of Mind @ The Cloud Yes, I'm advocating a rival university's event here. But I'd be remiss in my role as a student gig guide-er (?) if I didn't mention Auckland University's famous law Steins each time they roll around. The biggest and best of any stein in this fair city, these guys know how to throw a party. Returning to that fluorescent tube of beauty on the water, The Cloud, for the second time, State of Mind are headlining a solid music lineup. With a venue capacity of 2000 people, and drink specials that won't burn a hole in those pockets, this is going to be sick.

Saturday

EGO (Aus) @ Goldfinch If you go out anywhere this weekend, please don't miss this. You may not recognise his name, but EGO's one hell of an act. An Australian audio-visual DJ that mashes up video as well as tunes, he's just played Splendour in the Grass and is tipped by some to be the next Sampology. Expect huge projection screens, massive bangers, and a psychedelic night of tomfoolery. I know I stress that all of the gig's I list in here are worth checking out, but seriously, if you go out one night this year, make this it. $10 on the door.

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WORD J UMBLER

RA E CT How many words of three letters or more can you find without cheating? Probably not that manyâ&#x20AC;Ś 6-12 Go back to school 13-25 Average Joe 25+ You did good kid.

2.I am the beginning of sorrow, and the end of sickness. You cannot express happiness without me, yet I am in the midst of crosses. I am always in risk, yet never in danger. You may find me in the sun, but I am never seen out of darkness. What am I?

dvdvdvdvdvdvdvdv

flingees dinner dinner table

bull zzz

ALLworld

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BRAIN TEASERS ANSWERS: 1. A sandal. 2. The letter S.

1. I fasten it and it walks. I unfasten it and it stops. What is it?

DINGBATS ANSWERS: 1. Deviate. 2. Mixed Feelings. 3. Dinners on the table. 4. Bulldozer. 5. It's a small world after all.

BRAIN TEASERS

HARRY POTTER WORDFIND

Alohomora Animagus Butterbeer Crookshanks

Expelliarmus Gryffindor Hermione Lestrange

Nymphadora Ollivanders Polyjuice Potter

Slytherin Umbridge Voldemort

Circle all the words in the Harry Minerva Potter Wordfind, tear this page Severus out & pop it into the box on the side of the red debate stands, and you could win two "Squawk Burgers' vouchersSirius for Velvet Burger, Auckland CBD! Tooooo easy! Dumbledore Mudblood

Name:

Email: www.ausm.org.nz

In Defence of the Dictionary by Augustus Bloodsworth The dictionary has been recording British English since Richard Mulcaster (regarded as the founder of English language lexicography) wrote a non-alphabetised list of 8,000 English words in 1592. He titled the volume Elementarie and was the first to make such a list (the first purely English alphabetical dictionary came in 1604). In 2013, centuries later, when Shakespeare still dances on the tongues of performers and readers, we view his language as almost alien, The Oxford English Dictionary has once again made the headlines for a ‘travesty’. The word ‘literally’ now officially has two meanings. Literally is often used as an intensifier (to say the 1,000 page epic was literally 1,000 pages) and also to say something is the way it is, the telephone was literally ringing. The word has also been used figuratively, to say one is ‘literally dying of laughter’ when one is in fact doing nothing of the sort. With its addition to the Oxford English Dictionary the figurative usage of the word is no longer wrong. Unfortunately, this means that next time you hear a teenager “like literally dying” of whatever it may be, you can no longer reprimand their insolence, though the purists may still. And if you’re a purist nodding in agreement or fuming at the travesty’s waltz into officialdom, it’ll pay to remember two facts: the first incorrect usage of the word literally occurred in 1769; and the dictionary is a recorder of words, not a creator. Essentially, no matter where you stand on this issue, The Oxford English Dictionary causes us to stare the changes of the language in the face. It was over a century after the first English dictionary was written that we

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have a recorded misuse of the word, over three hundred years later, the misuse has become official. It isn’t the first time the editors of the dictionary have put us in this position (and the way we’re heading, it won’t be the last). Other words include: Lol, Grrrl, and Meatspace (which sounds as though it could have been a blue movie), among many other horrifying terms (yes, I’m treating them as nouns for emphasis). The simple truth is that these words were added due to the proliferation of their usage. Phrases that have swept across the language and have themselves evolved (lol no longer means ‘laugh out loud’ exclusively, and is used to soften a sentence or indicate sarcasm) along the way. It’s the adaptability of the language and those that come up with such ridiculous terms that are to blame. Words such as twitter didn’t exist before the website, and if someone ‘tweets’ it’s generally accepted that they shared information rather than make a bird call. The role of the dictionary is to record the changes in the language and neologisms as they come into popular usage. It’s important to remember that this has always been the prime purpose of a dictionary. To stare accusingly at the editors as they walk down the street or declare you’ll never use a dictionary again is, frankly, a cop-out. It pays for us all to check our vocabularies for the words we love to despise. Because your bank teller and your mother are as equally responsible as that teenager you know. The English language will continue to grow and change and for those that think 19th century English was the pick, it’ll be a hard journey. It wasn’t until the post Chaucerian era (possibly as late as the 1600s) that the letter k became silent in words such as knee, knick-

knack, and knife. An evolutionary phrase in the language that is often over looked, there is, phonetically speaking, no reason for k to be in the above words, but it’s recorded in the dictionary as so and no spelling alteration has taken place. Without the dictionary, we would be lost. While it’s more common to consult the internet for the correct spelling of a word your word processor doesn’t recognise (mine still gets tripped up with s not z) these words had to come from somewhere. When Shakespeare and his contemporaries were writing, there was no such dictionary (which, I should add, formalised the correct spelling of the words it recorded) and we know Shakespeare often spelt his name at least seven different ways. To compound the issue, the words he used were often unfamiliar to his audience or had never been used before. Which one can imagine led to a rather confusing state of affairs. For as much as we have the dictionary to thank for recording words, we have to thank it for finalising the spelling of those words. English, instead of being based on phonetics, is now a system of unalterable letters, which, when placed in the correct order, are instantly recognisable. Instead of lamenting the addition of colloquialisms and the latest trends, thank your dictionary. Thank it for giving us a workable system of written communication that in its current form cannot be changed or altered (in regards to spelling) and be thankful, purists, that you can still literally aim at the employers of ‘yous’ and ‘u’ and ‘whateva’. Hug your dictionary and remember, it is simply the impartial recorder of the writhing chaos that is the English language.

So after 500 years, the baby was finally thrown out with the bathwater. Now teachers can choose if they want to teach Shakespeare or not, and I fear that as time passes, his work will eventually become used to prop up wonky tables or as decoration, and never actually opened in this fine country. But that would just be dead wrong. They don’t explain why you need to learn Shakespeare in high school English, which personally I think even just letting students know that would make the world of difference. For a start, we owe so much to Shakespeare. Did you know the guy invented over 1700 words that we still use today? Just fathom that for a moment…1700 words. Can you even conceptualise inventing one? For the purpose of this article I suppose I could give it a go; djkfsjk ewir wopasc ejwv tawir. There we go, a sentence created purely by yours truly. Perhaps I should copyright it. But anyway. He was some sort of genius, and his work created the basis for every single piece of literature that came after him. Slightly ironic that proposals are to replace Shakespeare in curriculums with the Twilight Saga, that actually quotes Shakespeare, yet his work isn’t worthy enough to be studied anymore…. It’s not only literature either. He or his themes, or references to his work appear in almost every form of art up until the present. It’s a bit like trying to produce cows’ milk if you’re not a cow….if you don’t have the tools, you just can’t do it. Or understand it. Or milk it… ahahaha…geddit?

Wherefore art thou Shakespeare? By Hazel Buckingham Thyself may ponder, why for art thou must study thy magnificent Baird, and hence, what knowledge it doth bequeath on one’s own trueth composure. Or in other words, why the hell should we dredge through Shakespeare as a mandatory part of our lives. 2013 marks the first year in the New Zealand curriculum that studying Shakespeare is no longer mandatory. And for most of you that fact probably makes you utter a sigh of relief for future high school students that they won’t have to endure the painfully long hours translating the Baird into some form of readable literature that one could write an essay on. For some, it may even anger you to think that future generations get off scotfree, while you were forced to tolerate the pain. I mean most people’s Shakespearean experience probably boils down to something similar as mine; high school English class. We were all dished out copies of the text of Romeo and Juliet and designated characters to read out. The prettiest girl got Juliet, the prettiest boy got Romeo, while I was stuck in the back reading Tybalt. No one had any sense of what they were actually reading, what was going on, or that “where for art thou Romeo” was not actually an inquiry into Romeo’s location (Google maps could have at least helped with that). The text was never lifted off the page as long as you could grasp that “Romeo banished and Tybalt is slain” and that the two lovers died in the end, you were granted a pass and moved on with your life.

The most common argument against my precious author is that his work is just no longer relevant to people today. True, the language is dated but his themes are timeless. Though the outside trappings of people may evolve over the centuries, human nature remains the same. One only needs to look at blockbuster hits that are based on Shakespeare plays to see that the plots still resonate soundly in today’s world. A childhood favourite, The Lion King, is based on his Hamlet, while Heath Ledger’s Ten Things I Hate About You is really The Taming of the Shrew in disguise. The motifs he deals with, like betrayal, life after death, romance, power, greed and jealously, are still very real today. In fact he is perhaps even more relevant than any modern literature, unless someone wishes to explain to me how the Twilight Saga (a girl’s choice between necrophilia and bestiality) is more relevant… But most importantly, I think removing Shakespeare from the curriculum is simply insulting. It’s basically saying to students “we think you’re too dumb to learn this” and it’s giving teachers an easy out. It promotes a culture of laziness, and it’s not like we don’t have enough of that in New Zealand. If we lower the bar and make mediocrity acceptable, we really will turn into a world of lifeless drones. Shakespeare needs to be taught as it tests your comprehension and it challenges you. Education is about opening doors. It is about explaining to people that they should not be confined by a single point of view; imprisoned solely to local knowledge and beliefs. So I say let’s fight for Shakespeare. Let’s torment future students like we were. Except let’s find a way for Shakespeare to be lifted from the page and enjoyed the way it truly deserves to be. Perhaps a good start would be to come and see Titirangi Theatre on Portage’s rendition of Measure for Measure from September 4th-21st? (Yes, shameless plug, deal with it). For, knowledge is power. In fact nobody says it better than the Baird himself: “Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.” -William Shakespeare. www.ausm.org.nz

The Moral Conundrums of Mercy Killing by Matthew Cattin

Cancer is an ugly disease. At times, it is mercifully quick – a surprise diagnosis followed two weeks later by a quiet death; a bit like tearing a bandage off a hairy thigh. At other times however, it is a slow, agonising, hair-by-hair removal of life. Victims can lose their independence, privacy, mobility, appetite, positivity and will to live, all the while suffering teeth-clenching pain. Friends and family who don’t know how to support or communicate with the sufferer can disappear from view, deciding to surround themselves with ignorance and life. It’s not nice. When a beloved family pet gets terminal, inoperable cancer, the vet will usually suggest that putting it out of its misery is the kindest choice. The pet of course has no say in the matter. Perhaps Betsy the cat would like to spend her last days nestled up under the lavender bush? No matter – the call is made, and Betsy is put to sleep humanely. Interestingly, people of all cultures and religions tend not to have objections to the mercy killing of terminal pets. The shooting of cattle and horses with mere broken legs barely raises an eyebrow either. I find it interesting therefore that when deciding to euthanise a beloved, terminal pet, the topics of animal rights, psychiatric state of mind and assisted suicide are never mentioned. Instead, it’s all “you did the kind thing” and “we’re just glad it’s not suffering anymore”. But when it comes to extending this same mercy and compassion to humans who can competently decide for themselves and verbalise their wishes on the matter, the law says no way. The euthanasia debate again came under fire recently when Belgian twins were euthanised despite the fact they were not terminally ill. Marc and Eddy Verbessem (45) were plagued with health problems their whole lives. Born deaf, they communicated by a unique sign language known only to them and their close family. Several years ago, the twins learnt that they were losing their sight due to a genetically inherited form of glaucoma. Knowing that they would lose all forms of communication bar touch, they decided to apply to be euthanised and on December 14 2012, they were. David Dufour, the doctor who supervised the procedure said the twins’ decision was made in “full conscience” and that they were very happy in their final hours. "They had a cup of coffee in the hall. Then the separation from their parents

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and brother was very serene and beautiful,” he said. “At the last there was a little wave of their hands and then they were gone. It all went well.” It’s definitely an interesting case study – is it alright to euthanise patients who aren’t dying (faster than the average dyer I mean)? It’s just the icing on the cake of a very controversial can of worms. Theists largely agree that death is a departure to a happy, pain-free place where everybody has a mansion, golden trinkets or a bunch of eager virgins. Therefore I find it interesting that they are usually the loudest protesters of the practice. How dare we mere mortals play God? How dare we remove from God the right to dish out suffering? It was all part of God’s plan to give Betsy the cat cancer, how dare we exercise our own morals in the matter. To avoid sounding like sadists, the classic line “God has other plans for young Betsy,” is whipped out. It has a nice ring to it and I think it’s meant to imply that Betsy has an incredibly awesome role to play in cat heaven (perhaps it’s a bunch of Tomcat virgins? Who knows). To me however, the notion serves as only as a nicer way of saying that the suffering was God’s plan too. To finally arrive at this paragraph’s point however: isn’t it time we discussed the euthanasia debate without referencing ancient texts? The fact of the matter is, when it comes to mercy killings, everybody seems to have a black or white opinion for an incredibly grey matter. And, as demonstrated by the Verbessem twins, it’s not always easy to draw a line in the sand. I’m all for the fundamental idea of euthanasia but the logistics involved with legalising it seriously do my head in – almost to the point where I’m anti it. So many tough questions to face up to. Is euthanasia for the mentally suffering as acceptable as those who are terminally ill? Will people take advantage of the system? Will the sick or elderly be pressured or threatened into it? And what of those in charge of pushing the syringe? It certainly wouldn’t be an easy job. It is an incredibly complex issue that needs to be discussed in terms of ethics, the law and loop holes – not gods, devils and demons. Everybody will face death but not everybody faces a god in life, so why bring it in to a conversation that concerns everybody? I don’t quite know how I feel about euthanasia but there is one aspect I am sure of: there is too much at stake to give room to decisions influenced by fantasy.

Dealing with Grief Part 2 By Sensei Amala Wrightson – AUT Buddhist (Zen) Chaplain It is natural to grieve if someone very close to you dies, if you break up with someone you love, or even if you are far from your home country and can’t return. We grieve because we are deeply interconnected. Death, loss and separation are an inherent part of life, but very often, even though we see them all around us, we think that they are things that happen to other people. So when it hits us loss can come as a massive shock. But it can also be a great opportunity – a time when we can become more fully alive, and when a wholly new awareness of reality and ourselves can emerge. There are no shortcuts, though. Sometimes people tell the person grieving to move on, be positive, remember the good times. While letting go is necessary, it can be very unhelpful to expect this too early in the process. First we must allow ourselves to be broken open by the pain, which can be searing, and completely disorienting. We may feel like we are falling apart, afloat in a surging sea of sorrow and despair, or paralyzed by numbness and emptiness in which even the simplest task can seem impossible. We may also rebel against the fact that all around us the world goes on as if nothing has happened. A Mexican friend of mine, after his mother died in hospital, needed to use a public phone in order to tell the rest of the family. His universe had just changed forever, but the phone was being used by a young man chatting on and on to his girlfriend! A story is told in the sutras of a young mother whose toddler died. Mad with grief, carrying her dead child in her arms, she begged everyone she met to give her medicine for her sick baby. A kind old man suggested she go and ask the Buddha. The Buddha listened quietly to her story, and told her that all she needed to do was collect a single white mustard seed from a house where no one had died, and bring it back to him. She rushed off, filled with the innocent hope that this great holy man would be able to somehow use the grain of spice to revive her child. She went from door to door, begging for the seed. Every person she met said that he or she would gladly give her a mustard seed, except that last month their mother had passed away, or last year their husband, or their child… household after household it was the same story. Her madness subsided and she took her child into the forest and gently laid him to rest there.

Two Weeks in a Bedroom Does Not a Holiday Make By J. Winquist Holidays are, without a doubt, one of the best creations known to man. You can never have too much of a good thing, and holidays are a good thing, believe me. It’s a time to slow down, chillax, take up a new hobby, or putter around the garden. A time to try that Zumba class at the local gym or people-watch at the mall. Holidays also mean you can let yourself go a bit. Why yes, I would like another chocolate, thank you. Another glass of wine? Don’t mind if I do. Spend the day in pyjamas? Sounds like heaven, excuse me while I sleep in ’till 1pm. While this calm and relaxed existence is delicious for the first week, after a while one begins to crave adventure and excitement. How many times can one watch Dr. Phil, or slay ‘hordes of infected’ before you’re ready to chuck the Xbox out the nearest window? (Award yourself 10 points if you bonk someone on the head). A true holiday is one where you escape the confines of your home and sail away (literally or figuratively) to an exotic destination. Not only does a holiday abroad instil a sense of wonderment in the wide-eyed traveller, it also builds character by exposing you to new experiences. If someone raises an eyebrow you can always assure them it’s in the name of education: a perfectly acceptable, nay, obligatory excuse. I can think of nothing more exciting than drinking in the sights and sounds of an alien culture. Places like Italy, Greece, Spain, and Egypt are all magnificent destinations with such history behind them you should shed a tear, out of respect, as soon as you step onto the tarmac. You get so used to everyday life in your home country that you forget it’s not like this in other places. For example, in Spain it is customary to have an enormous lunch that can take up to two hours, and then enjoy a siesta for around two to three hours. In Italy, extra Parmesan cheese is a privilege, not a right, and should never be requested with anything fish-based. In Greece, arriving 30 minutes late is considered punctual! Such customs and traditions can be quite strange to those unused to them. However, the fear of crossing an unspoken boundary should not be one of the things holding you back. Instead, take comfort from the fact that you’ll be seen as a foreigner, so anything you do will be taken with a grain of salt, anyway. While whiling away the hours of your holiday in a pleasant haze, here in home-y New Zealand can be just the ticket, the next time you have a good chunk of time to yourself why not consider furthering your education and experience of the world, by organising a jaunt to a country you’ve never been to before?

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by Jorgia Sparks

Definition: A person who murders more than three (has to be three!) victims one at a time in a relatively short interval. Everybody has their own little interest, may it be fishing, rugby, or horses... Well mine is serial killers! Now I don’t actually know what caught my interest but I do know when my friends were reading Cosmopolitan, I was reading 'History of Killers'. So I put a list together of my favorite female slayers for the enjoyment of other killer fans.

prisonphotography.org

Finally, Police Reservist Walter Antonio, was found in November 1990 left basically nude with four gunshot wounds. It wasn't until January 1991 that Wournos was caught and as her life came spiraling to an end, she continued to plea that it was self-defense. It could well have been at first, but somehow after the fifth or sixth time, I begin to doubt her. If you watch her interviews on YouTube you will see her slowly becoming more and more insane as she tries to justify what she did. Aileen was known to say things like, "but, whatever's beyond, I know it's gonna be good because I didn't do anything as wrong as they said. I did the right thing. And I saved a lot of peoples' butts from getting hurt and raped and killed too". But it was on October 9, 2002 she said her last words before being executed, "yes, I would just like to say I'm sailing with the rock, and I'll be back, like Independence Day with Jesus. June 6, like the movie. Big mother ship and all, I'll be back, I'll be back." Wacko.

5. The Hell Borne Hitchhiker - Aileen Wuornos Born: February 29, 1956 Died: October 9, 2002 (aged 46) Cause of death: Lethal Injection. Victims: 7 Quote: "I’m a serial killer! And I would kill again"

Aileen Wournos is one horrific chick but I feel sorry for the woman more than I am scared of her. When Aileen was young her father was put in jail for sex crimes against children and a few years later Diane Wournos ditched four-year-old Aileen at her grandparents’ house. At nine she performed sexual favors for cigarettes, drugs, and food, leading to her claims of sexual abuse from her grandfather and a sexual relationship with her brother. Life did not get any better when at 13 she fell pregnant after being raped by her grandfather’s friend. Wournos then gave the baby up for adoption and dropped out of school. At 15 her grandfather kicked her out and she started living in the woods nearby, supporting herself through prostitution and living violently - starting out with a couple of DUI's, assaults, and firing a pistol in public. For her next lot of crimes, Wournos stepped it up a notch with armed robbery, car theft, resisting arrest, and obstruction of justice. At this time Wournos met her infamous lesbian lover, Tyria Moore, a hotel maid. The murder spree began in December 1989, with Richard Mallory, a 51-year- old electronics store owner and convicted rapist, who was found with several bullet holes to the head. Then came David Spears who was shot six times and shortly after Charles Carskaddon who was shot nine times. Peter Siems’ abandoned car was found on July 4, 1990 but his body was never recovered - what was surprising about this was that Moore was seen leaving the vehicle with Wournos. Then comes Sausage salesman Troy Burress - shot twice – and on September 1990, it was poor old Charles Humphreys who went. A retired Airforce Major, former Chief of Police and all round good guy, Humphreys was shot six times in the head and torso.

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4. Jolly Jane - Jane Toppan

Born: 1857 (Date unknown) Died: August 17, 1938 (aged 81) Cause of death: Natural causes Victims: 31 Quote: "That is my ambition, to have killed more people-more helpless people-than any man or woman who has ever lived." Jane Toppan was a nurse at Cambridge hospital - not exactly the kind of place you want a serial killer working now is it. A sadist; Toppan liked to poison her elderly patients because she knew they couldn't do anything about it. What's worse is when she became more confident with herself, a new, darker personality began to grow. She not only enjoyed poisoning the defenseless, but began to enjoy the sexual pleasure it gave her too. Whilst Toppan was doing her residency, she found herself alone with the patients a lot and would often give them morphine or atropine to see what it did to their nervous system. She would also give them medication to make them drift in and out of

criminalminds.wikia.com

consciousness while she lay in bed with them. It was only discovered after her arrest that she received her sexual pleasure by controlling her patients - bringing them to near death, restoring them and then murdering them. You are probably thinking how this woman was still working as a nurse? Well don’t you worry! She was fired a year later, only to become a private nurse – a job she apparently did very well in, apart from the odd rumour of theft and forgetfulness. She began her poisoning spree by killing her Landlords in 1899 before moving onto her foster sister who she fixed with a dose of strychnine. In 1901, Toppan moved in with Alden Davis and his family, to look after him after his wife died. Within just weeks Davis and two of his daughters were dead. Subtle Toppan, subtle... She then moved back to her home town of Boston and started courting her late foster sister’s husband (way to rub it in Toppan). Whilst back at home she poisoned another sister, and her boyfriend! She did have a good reason to poison him though - she wanted to prove she was a good nurse by nursing him back to health, she even poisoned herself a little just to make it less obvious. When he was fully recovered however, he was fairly pissed at Toppan for nearly killing him, and he tossed her out. Roughly about the same time, a surviving member of the Davis family decided the deaths were not all they seemed and asked for a toxicology exam on the youngest daughter. When the results were in and poison was discovered, the police instantly put out a warrant for Toppan, arresting her finally on October 26, 1901 for three murders. It wasn’t until 1902 however that she admitted to all 31 murders. She was found not guilty on account of her being mentally incompetent and was sent to Taunton Insane Asylum for life, where she lived to the ripe old age of 81 after 36 years of confinement.

and strangled his ex-wife, with the help of Rose. In 1972, Rose had another daughter by Fred - Mae West. They decided to move house to make room for a growing family and Rose’s "business". The new house had an excellent sized cellar and the first to enter this torture chamber was their now eight-year-old daughter, Anna Marie. Rose undressed her daughter and told her that 'she was a very lucky girl that she had such caring parents who were making sure that when she got married she would be able to satisfy her husband'. Anna Marie was tied, gagged and raped by Fred while Rose held her down. She was blackmailed into silence. In 1972, the West’s hired a live in nanny, whom they both tried to seduce. When she denied them both and threatened to leave, they entrapped her in their sick little dungeon and raped her. The same threats were applied but it wasn't long until the nanny’s mother saw the bruises and notified police. The West’s were summoned to court, but no charges were laid as Fred convinced the magistrate Owen was a willing partner. At this point Fred was 31 and Rosemary only 19 - and pregnant again. The duo then moved onto friend and seamstress Lynda Gough, a nanny who moved in and was murdered shortly after. A few months later, the West’s third child Stephen was born. In November the couple abducted teenager Carol Ann Cooper and used her as a sex toy until her warranty expired and she was killed by strangulation, dismembered and buried. Between December 1974 and April 1975, the Wests abducted, raped, tortured and buried three more young women under the cellar floor and over the next couple of years four more West children were born - three from Rosemary's clients and one son to Fred. But with new life, there was also death – Fred’s mistress, a few more abductions and their own daughter Heather West. She had told her friend about her awful home life and paid the ultimate price - her baby brother Stephen was forced to dig her grave. Their luck soon ran out however when a victim spoke out to a friend who told police. Finally on August 6, 1992, justice came knocking with a warrant to look for pornography and evidence of child abuse. The pair was quickly arrested under rape charges and the cops began questioning the kids. The poor West children started sharing their ordeal and that was that - the children were taken from Rose and Fred was put in jail. As bodies and the evidence piled up and the pair was charged with multiple felonies, Rosemary was quick to ditch her husband to try and save herself. Fred was devastated at her rejection and took his life at noon on New Year's Day, after being charged with 12 counts of murder, rape, and sodomy. A few months later Rosemary was sentenced to life on 10 counts of murder. I’m not sure what happened to the children, but I hope they recovered as well as they ever could and managed to live somewhat normal lives. murderpedia.org

Killer couple - Rosemary West Born: 29 November 1953 (age 59) Died: Still alive Victims: 10

Rosemary West had an uneasy childhood at best. Her mother suffered severe post-natal depression, she didn't excel in school and her parents divorced when she was a teenager. Uneasiness turned quickly to horror however when at 16, Rosemary moved in with her sexually abusive father. Poor Rosey - you would think when she met handsome Fred West that her life would improve? Maybe she'd found love, someone to look after her? No, she only found someone even more twisted and evil than her father. West already had a daughter from a previous marriage (Anne-Marie), and a step daughter from the same marriage (Charmaine) and in 1970, Rosemary fell pregnant and the pair married. Heather West was born in late 1970 and by this time Fred was in jail for petty theft (he's such a charmer). Looking after three children on her own was difficult for Rosemary and when it all got too much, she killed Charmaine and hid the body. When Fred got out of prison he helped bury his daughter, but used this secret against Rosemary for the rest of her life. She was forced into prostitution by Fred who would watch through a peep hole. So Charmaine's mother came back into town and was a little curious as to where her daughter was. Fred did the rational thing

2. The Giggling Nanny, the Jolly Black Widow, Lonely Hearts Club Killer - Nannie Doss Born: November 4, 1905 Died: June 2, 1965 (aged 59) Cause of death: Leukemia Victims: 11

What’s not to love about good ol' Nannie Doss? She just looks like a lovely grandma that just wants to feed you loads, buy you presents, and give you big cuddles! But alas no - that’s not Nannie Doss… www.ausm.org.nz

Nannie Doss was a money hungry, male hating, independent woman who would drop anyone for money. She was one bad bitch. Married five times, Doss never quite got it right. Her first was an unhappy affair of alcohol, smoking, and infidelity, but she married the poor guy because that’s what her father wanted. The pair had four daughters - two of whom suspiciously died of 'food poisoning" - but sadly it wasn’t to be and the two separated. Along came husband number two, a poor drunk who often got into bar fights. The final straw for Nannie was when the fella returned home heavily drunk one night and raped her. She put rat poison in his whisky the next day - the marriage lasted 16 years. In this time Doss’ eldest daughter Melvina gave birth to two children, one named Robert and another whom died shortly after birth. Melvina says she saw her mother put a hat pin in her baby’s head whilst struggling to stay awake after labour - no one believed her. Later, when Doss was babysitting Robert, Melvina returned to find him dead - the doctors explained it as unknown asphyxia. Doss was the one to pick up his $500 insurance policy that she had taken out on him. Along came husband number three, a man whom Dos was never really interested in but at this time it seemed she had fallen into a routine. After two years of marriage hubby number three "fell ill" and died. With apparently all the signs of a heart attack brought on by the flu, no autopsy was performed. But of course we all know it was the black widow that got to him, afterwards burning the house down to claim insurance. After this, Doss moved in with her mother in-law for a while, and by a while I mean Doss killed her ASAP and then left to be with her sister Dovie. To no surprise, Dovie soon died while in Doss' care. Husband number four was a bit adulterous and as soon as Doss got wind of him dating his ex on the side, she planned to kill him. Before she could however, her freshly widowed mother came to visit but of course it wasn't long before her she too died of 'severe stomach cramps'. Hubby number four died three months later. The final husband was a church-going, communityloving, goody two-shoes. But that was exactly it, he was too good for her, he was boring and he banned her favorite books. Alas she tried to see it through, playing the doting wife, even getting him to sign off two life insurances on himself. As soon as that deed was done he was in hospital. It was thought that he had a severe digestive tract infection so he was quickly fixed up and sent home. In hindsight, he should’ve just stayed there because it was only a couple of hours before Nannie finished what she had started. However, the fact that he was sent home a healthy man and died so quickly cut off Nannie’s good luck streak and she was quickly arrested. She was then sentenced to life for the death of number five and later confessed to the other murders. Apparently Nannie Doss showed no remorse and loved her time in the lime light. She definitely lived up to her title of The Jolly Black Widow.

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1. The Blood Countess - Elizabeth Bathory. Born: 7 August 1560 Died: 21 August 1614 (aged 54) Cause of Death: Confinement until death Victims: 600 (Convicted for 80) And finally at number one is Elizabeth Bathory; basically the first recorded female serial killer and also an inspiration for female vampire fiction. Rich and famous in her time, it wasn't known for upper-class women to act like she did. Bathory married Ferenc Nádasdy, a soldier, aged 14. As a wedding gift, Ferenc gave her a castle in Little Carpathians near Trencsén, a residence that would become a house of horrors for her victims and a playground of blood for Bathory. It is not quite known when her killing spree began, but it is known that she began with peasant girls - possibly learning her torture tricks from her husband (although he was not thought to be involved). Much of Bathory’s crimes have fallen to rumour and it is hard to tell true facts from fiction. However, I will tell you what is known of her. Bathory started with peasant girls passing through the town, sending her servants out to grab as many as they could by night. Unsatisfied with this method however, she later created a false academy where she would 'teach' young aristocrats how to be ladies. At first it was believed to be just for fun, but later she claimed she was using their blood to keep her skin young. She would hang several girls upside down and slowly cut away at them until their blood filled a bath for her, bathing and drinking it for sexual pleasure. She also enjoyed driving needles through her servants' lips and fingernails, leaving her victims naked in the snow, dousing them with water and letting them freeze to death. This went on for years, well after her husband died of a mystery illness and her seven children were born. It wasn't until 1610 - after rumours spread of mass disappearances – that Bathory’s cousin decided to raid the place. What he found was a gruesome sight indeed. Decaying bodies were everywhere, under beds and across her land. Rumour has it there were three sitting right in the entrance of her home when he arrived. So what next? Well there were witnesses and testimonies, but Bathory herself never went on trial because she was an aristocrat. Instead she was walled up in her room and imprisoned by her family while several of her accomplices were executed. Her room had food and respiration slots but in 1614 – after four years of imprisonment - she stopped eating and died. But did she really die? Or was she actually a vampire? Who knows? An inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula, there’s no doubt her bloody legacy will live on.

Photos from the SPCA cupcake day! Thank you for your support!

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The Meaning of Trees by Robert Vennell Around 80 million years ago, New Zealand was wrenched away from the Gondwanan supercontinent and set adrift in the Pacific Ocean. Today, this ancient life raft contains a curious assortment of trees and plants from the lost world of Gondwana - not to mention a whole host of plants that braved the long ocean journey to climb aboard.

When humans finally reached New Zealand, they struck up remarkable relationships with this bizarre and fascinating plant life: using them for medicine, food, construction, recreation, spirituality, and scientific endeavours. In this article I’m going to look at a selection of our native plants: how they have featured in our history, the various uses people have found for them, and perhaps most importantly – whether or not you can eat them.

Kowhai The flashy yellow blooms of the kowhai have become ingrained in the national consciousness. Kowhai is our unofficial national flower and is a common icon of New Zealand artwork, coins and stamps. The eruption of yellow flowers often coincides with the last frost of the season, and Maori used this to signal the right time to plant kumara. Kowhai was an important medicinal tree for many Maori tribes and used to treat a wide range of complaints from scabies to gonorrhoea and even used as a remedy for seal bites. When legendary All Black George Nepia burst a blood vessel playing rugby, he opted for a Kowhai cure instead of surgery. No part of kowhai should be consumed however as it contains the toxin cysticine. There are reports of people becoming very ill simply from eating with cutlery made from Kowhai wood.

Where can I find one?

There's a small stunted Kowhai in Albert Park opposite the clock tower and several by the UOA biology buildings on Symonds St.

Puriri Puriri are true survivors. They can be uprooted, rotten, grazed by stock, cut in half, and still produce new shoots. There are some Puriri alive today that were already about a thousand years old when the first Maori settlers arrived. For many Maori tribes the tree was considered deeply sacred and associated with mourning and burial of the dead; a connection that still lives on in some places today. After the death of a chief or person of high mana, the body would be adorned with a coronet of puriri leaves, and washed with an infusion of the leaves and water. After being left to decompose, a ritual scraping ceremony was performed and the bones entombed in the hollow of a Puriri. The wood is incredibly heavy and dense and was used by early colonists for buildings, bridges, ship, fence-posts, gears and engine bearings. The Maori used the hardy Puriri timber for weapons, defensive forts and palisades. It has been said that when Puriri palisades were fired on, the wood was so dense that bullets would ricochet off.

Where can I find one?

Auckland Uni – Round the back of Clock tower or by the lawn outside Old Government House.

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Rimu Rimu can live over 1000 years old and grows into one of New Zealand’s tallest trees. The fruit is edible, but only forms at the very end of branches – which meant early Maori had to risk life and limb climbing out to harvest it. It serves an important role in the breeding cycle of Kakapo, who synchronise their mating with the good fruiting years. The unripe fruit acts as a type of ‘Kakapo viagra’ stimulating the birds to mate, and the ripe fruit contains the perfect combination of nutrients and energy for their offspring. It is one of our finest timbers, and a hugely important building material for European settlers. South of the Waikato where it was too cold for Kauri, it was the main timber used in building houses and furniture. Captain Cook brewed Rimu beer to help prevent scurvy amongst his crew. The beverage was a roaring success, and he wrote the recipe down in his journals which can be found online.

Where can I find one?

By the lawn outside Old Government House.

Karaka Karaka is a Maori word for orange, and refers to the tree’s large orange berries. While the flesh of the berry is edible, the kernel inside contains the toxin karakin – which is extremely poisonous. Karaka poisoning causes the victim to convulse in violent spasms that leave them physically distorted and paralyzed. Maori treatment for poisoning was to gag the victim, roll them up in mats and bury them up to their neck. Despite this, it served as one of the most important pre-european food items and for some tribes was second only kumara. It required extensive preparation, boiling and washing before it was safe, but when ready it could be eaten plain, stored for use over winter, or ground up into a type of flour for bread. Karaka was the most significant tree of the Moriori, who planted karaka seeds taken from mainland New Zealand when they arrived in the Chatham Islands. The tree had powerful spiritual significance, and carvings in the trunks – dendroglyphs – of people, plants and animals can still be seen on the island today. As part of a re-forestation programme in the 1920s Karaka seeds were dropped from airplanes over several islands in Hawaii. It is now considered a pest species and threatens the existence of some of Hawaii’s most endangered species.

Where can I find one?

In the park between Clock Tower and Old Government House

Manuka When you hear “Manuka”, chances are you probably think of honey. But before it became a staple of health and souvenir shops, Manuka was perhaps the most hated tree in the country. Farmers viewed it as a noxious weed, and fought a never-ending battle to remove it from their properties. Some even tried spreading an infectious fungal disease in the hope of wiping it out for good. Nowadays Manuka is embraced by the conservation movement for its role in the natural regeneration of forest. As a result, it is one of the most widely planted trees in Auckland and found all over regional parks and motorways. Oils from the leaves are use in a range of medicinal and cosmetic products and the honey is claimed to be a cure for just about anything – with a range of studies now looking into its potential antibacterial properties. The sawdust is used when smoking fish and meat and adds a distinctive flavour to meals. The leaves also make a refreshing tea when boiled, which I highly recommend. Put about a teaspoon of leaves in a cup, leave it to brew for a couple of minutes and flavour with honey as required.

Where can I find one?

The back of clock tower at the UOA campus.

Kawakawa This is a small coastal tree with heart-shaped leaves that was an important medicinal tree for Maori. The leaves and barks were applied to wounds to speed healing and infusions with the leaves were used as an aphrodisiac, a diuretic and a cure for gonorrhoea and stomach pains. The other name for Kawakawa is ‘Pepper Tree’, due to its strong taste and aroma. Some Maori mothers rubbed crushed leaves on their breasts to help wean their children off breast milk faster. The leaves were also chewed to help toothache, and this can be quite a fun experiment to try. Take a clean leaf and chew for about a minute. Persevere through the unpleasant taste and you will reach a point where your mouth goes completely numb. Kawakawa was used in a variety of Maori ceremonies and at times of mourning was worn as a head wreath. It also works as a bug repellent - the burning leaves and twigs helping to ward off insects. The flesh of the orange/ yellow berries are edible but the taste of the seeds sometimes spoils the flavour. The leaves also make a delicious tea.

Where can I find one?

In Albert Park by the overpass on Wellesley St.

Nikau Around 20 Million years ago, New Zealand was covered in tropical plants such as cinnamon, coconuts and palms. In the last few million years however, a series of brutal ice ages punished the plant life, and many of these tropical plants went extinct. Nikau is the only remaining palm in New Zealand and no other palm in the world grows this far south. The plant had a wide range of uses and could be woven into hats, mats, and baskets. They were commonly used by both Maori and Europeans as thatching for roofs and provide an excellent source of waterproofing. The root, the young shoots, the immature flowers and the immature green berries have all been used for food. The bright red mature berries, despite looking appetizing are actually incredibly dense and were used by settlers to shoot birds when ammunition was unavailable. Maori made them into necklaces. The Nikau heart is also edible and provided an important survival food for those lost in the bush. However it was avoided wherever possible by both Maori and Europeans as harvesting the heart kills the palm, leading to the nickname ‘Millionaire’s Salad.’

Where can I Find One?

Chilling in the Hikuwai Plaza at AUT.

Robert Vennell writes The Meaning of Trees, a blog about the history, use and significance of New Zealand's native plants. Check it out at www.meaningoftrees.com, follow on twitter @meaningoftrees or like on Facebook @The Meaning of Trees. 30

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Kick-Ass 2

Directed by Jeff Wadlow Starring Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Chloë Grace Moretz, Christopher Mintz-Plasse & Jim Carrey Rating: Reviewed by Matthew Cattin

It’s been three long years since Hit Girl first dropped the C-bomb in Matthew Vaughn’s superhero epic Kick-Ass. Three long years and I still can’t quite believe my ears. Wedged between The Dark Knight and Ironman 2, Kick-Ass hit screens back in 2010, right at the pinnacle of superhero fever. An intensely graphic film with classy scripting and a cast of misfits, it was unlike any other comic book film of its time - it just didn’t give a shit. It had the balls to make a 13-year-old girl swear like a trooper, the tenacity to not look away in scenes of graphic violence and most incredibly, the nerve to cast Nicholas Cage as a badass hero after the abortion known as Ghost Rider. It was vulgar, shocking, violent and I loved it. Critics have so far been fairly universal in their distaste for the sequel but let’s be honest with ourselves, the film is called KickAss 2 – let’s not expect any miracles. Kicking things off with a nod to the original, the film opens with Mindy AKA Hit Girl (Moretz) pointing a handgun at Dave AKA Kick-Ass (Taylor-Johnson). She teases him for a minute before pulling the trigger, sending him sprawling. Yes we’ve seen it before, and yes, it’s still hilarious. Geeky vigilante Dave has never quite been able to let go of his Kick-Ass alias, still choosing to spend his nights roaming the streets to fight petty crime. Unfortunately, his fighting skills are just as shit as ever and he seeks out Mindy’s help for some secret training. All goes well until Mindy’s overly protective foster father finds out and forbids her from donning her purple suit and slashing people’s limbs off – harsh eh? Dave, gutted at Mindy’s early retirement from crime fighting, joins a league of amateur vigilantes known as Justice Forever – run by brutal born again Colonel Stars and Stripes (Carrey). Meanwhile on the dark side, Chris reinvents himself as “The Motherfucker” and starts assembling his own team of vicious mercenaries known collectively as “The Toxic Mega-Cunts” (sorry everyone). With Hit Girl out of the game, and some deadly racial stereotypes to compete with, Justice Forever is outnumbered and outgunned – let the fun begin. With all of this good vs evil hoohaa going on, poor Mindy is having struggles of her own – high school. After pissing off the queen bee, Mindy is trying desperately to fit in and cope with her problems without whipping out her nunchuks. Adorable. Kick-Ass 2 is no way as good as the original but honestly you would be a fool to expect as much. The delightfully awkward Nicholas Cage is sorely missed and the plot is pretty much copy pasted from the first script but yo, I’m not even mad. I went to see a film called Kick-Ass 2 – I got exactly what I paid for.

We're The Millers

Directed by Rawson Marshall Thurber Starring Jason Sudeikis, Jennifer Aniston, Emma Roberts & Will Poulter Rating: Reviewed by Nigel Moffiet

Oh jeeze. I suppose I enjoyed We’re the Millers. But there were a few oh jeeze moments. For example, when the faux family of four (a drug dealer, a stripper, a virgin and a runaway) find themselves in a dangerous hostage situation the comedy is suddenly smothered with erotic earnestness – you could hear a pin drop in the theatre as Jennifer Aniston makes use of her stripping credentials with each sway of her midriff. What a deliciously awkward scene. What an embarrassing distraction. Wait. Where’s the laughter? Okay, now some comedy please. David (Jason Sudeikis) is a hopeless, good natured drug dealer who gets around with a greasy mop of hair and a dirty hoody. He’s never grown up. He sells pot to people from all walks of life but refuses to sell to virginal 18-year old-Kenny from next door (Will Poulter) because he is too young, too naive. Typical to the plot line of a hundred other average movies you can guess what happens: David lands himself in the shit – he’s in debt and at the mercy of a drug lord with so much vanity seeping through his slicked back hair you’d love to witness a fist in the face. In order to escape this mess David is forced into smuggling a very criminal amount of weed from Mexico into the US. How might he do this? He decides he will cross the border in a geeky recreational bus with the company of a nice little family. What better disguise, right? He tidies himself up and gets a haircut he thinks is suitably stylish for clueless middle-aged family guys worldwide. It doesn’t take much bribery or preparation to convince Kenny to travel as his son. A bit of cash is promised for neighbourhood runaway Casey (Emma Roberts) to be his daughter and a hell of a lot more for his other neighbour Rose to be his wife (Jennifer Aniston) – after all, she’s a stripper from the school of hard knocks. “We’re just pretending to be a family to smuggle drugs across the border,” declares David. And off they go as the movie finally cranks into gear – a lighthearted comedy with a few rough gear changes along the way. Yes there were a couple of great belly laughs, albeit, a little unoriginal. Some of the funniest scenes involved the fumbling and anxious Kenny who was played well by Poulter. Another highlight was when the characters finally started bonding on their drug trafficking road trip. The movie had one of those Cameron Crowe sing along moments (Tiny Dancer in Almost Famous / Free Falling in Jerry Maguire) yet decidedly more self-conscious. Kenny, to everyone’s surprise, busts out the rap verse in TLC’s hit Waterfalls. What a hoot! We’re the Millers is a harmless movie that was spoilt every now and then with hints of a tender message, a stale gag or Aniston trying to make a statement. Don’t despair if you miss this one at the movies. But sure, get it out on DVD when you’re ready.

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You're Next

Directed by Adam Wingard Starring Sharni Vinson Nicholas Tucci and AJ Bowen Rating: Reviewed by Matthew Cattin

Oh the dreaded family reunion. An occasion of tense dinner conversation, sibling rivalries, awkward other halves and, ahhh, bloody massacres, decapitations and blenders to the face. You’re Next, Adam Wingard’s latest stab at horror, is everything you could want from a gory slasher film – and surprisingly, a fair bit more. Like 2012’s Cabin in the Woods, You’re Next provides a glass full of classic horror, a dash of grisly humour and a twist of self-awareness. Like the now legendary opening sequence of Wes Craven’s Scream, You’re Next begins with a pre-titles scene of horror – just a little something to snap you out of your day and immerse you straight into the darkness. After the brief shock-opening, it’s straight into the story, wasting no time in introducing young couple Erin and Crispian as they drive to Crispian’s folk’s anniversary. Through their conversation we learn that Erin is fairly new on the scene and yet to meet the family. They stop at a liquor store to stock up for what is bound to be an awkward and tense weekend – it’s the first time the whole family has gathered in a while. So once everybody is gathered under one roof, we begin to notice the cracks in the family’s exterior. The day of nasty jibes and rivalry comes to a head over the family dinner – that is until a crossbow bolt shatters the window and buries itself deep in a brother in law’s skull. Chaos ensues as more bolts search for their targets within and the family quickly withdraws to a safer room to discuss their options. From here on in, You’re Next becomes a fairly straight forward home invasion film but for one thing – Erin is uncannily good at fighting back. Erin’s ballsy reaction to the danger takes centre stage as the film progresses. With a laugh a minute, and a scare every two, the audience was in a permanent state of fear, laughter or both until the credits. With some fantastic scripting and a surprising plot, there isn’t really a lot I can fault. I suppose when it comes to horror films, I usually sit down with the lowest of expectations and therefore anything slightly above average rates highly with me. Ahhh the curse of having a soft spot for a genre. Perhaps its biggest strength however was its genre-convention awareness. Nine times out of 10, you can bet your bottom dollar that a horror film will follow strictly a set of conventions or, clichés if you will. While You’re Next does employ many of these clichés in its storyline, it does so with humour, class and a level of self-awareness I reckon you will find refreshing. I guess that’s just my smartass way of saying it doesn’t take itself too seriously, choosing instead to make cheeky nods to the genre instead. If you dig horror, comedy, Sam Raimi or early Peter Jackson, this film is for you.

All Time Low

Live at The Powerstation Rating: Reviewed by Catherine Barker

For New Zealand fans of All Time Low, it has been an unbelievably long wait to see them play on our shores and the sold out show at Auckland’s Powerstation was buzzing with excitement to prove it. With five studio albums under their belt, I was looking forward to hearing what songs the pop punk band from Baltimore, Maryland, would decide to play as I managed to avoid seeing a copy of their set list on social media sites. They had a great balance of songs from all albums that continuously pleased the crowd and also managed to have a laugh with the humour that is expected at an All Time Low show (mainly boob and penis related gags.) Singer, Alex Gaskarth, also read aloud from a copy of Lord of the Rings he found backstage a couple of times between songs. It was only natural that their stage presence was as exceptional as their crowd interaction, as each song managed to deliver the amount of energy that was returned by every single person in the venue that night. There’s always something amazing about seeing a favourite band in your own country, but another highlight is the fact that it was their own solo show. I’ve seen All Time Low on three other occasions but all were at daytime festivals which just have a completely different atmosphere to the one experienced on Tuesday night. Obviously it’s a lot more intimate, but having an extended set was another awesome thing about the whole night. I was glad that they incorporated some of my favourite songs such as Backseat Serenade and If These Sheets Were the States from their latest album Don’t Panic. Another highlight was Remembering Sunday from 2007’s So Wrong, It’s Right which was one of the slower songs played over the night. The only thing that could have made that better, was if Juliet Simms was there herself to sing the female vocals. Making it seem as though their night was ending with sing along Therapy, an encore was inevitable as their departure left at least three notable songs unsung. Naturally, they came back to the stage and finished up the night with the title track from the latest album The Reckless and the Brave, the catchy hit Weightless and (a song that I admittedly skip on my iPod, but totally loved on stage) Dear Maria, Count Me In. With that, their seventeen song show drew to a close and it seemed as though they did not expect such a positive and enthusiastic reaction from little old New Zealand. They left the stage with a genuine feel of gratitude and a promise to make a visit every time they are on this side of the world. Although this is something promised by most bands, with a fan base so loyal and the energy to match, I can only assume it’s a matter of time before we see them back here, and I’ll be there, fangirling with the best of them.

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