Critic - 2023 Issue 19

LETTERS

Dear Critic Te Ārohi, Fuck landlords. They really think they can just fuck us over, break the law and get away with it. For the second time in two years my landlord has tried to pressure me and my flatties into deciding whether or not we're staying next year halfway through the year. That's two for two.

And if we say we're undecided they go ahead and say prospective tenants will be coming round next week. I don't know about you but I don't really want some freshers coming into my room at 9am on a Tuesday morning to plan out where their Minecraft letsplay setup is gonna be. Also, that's illegal.

Then there's the gaslighting, often signalled by copying and pasting the RTA. Mate, we both know the law so cut the shit. 28 days notice is all you'll be getting from me at this rate. Honestly, a fucking rat would be more competent than most of them.

Yours sincerely, Your law student flattie

Dear Critic,

We, as concerned historians, write to you today to express our great concern about the errors contained within Critic issue 18, 7th August 2023. On page 44, in your Something to Watch segment, you write about Oppenheimer, which reads “[then] there’s the Chernobyl series, which details the only other time a nuclear bomb has been detonated post WWII”. (We would like to note that the

LETTER OF THE WEEK WINS A $25 VOUCHER FROM UNIVERSITY BOOKSHOP

preferred Ukrainian word for “Chernobyl” is “Chornobyl” (Чорнобиль), which we shall use as Chornobyl is part of Ukraine.)

We firstly will address our primary issue with this comment, that implies that Chornobyl is the only other nuclear detonation since the Second World War. There have been at least 2,121 nuclear weapons tests since the first detonation of a nuclear device (Trinity), involving a total of 2,476 individual nuclear weapons. 2,118 and 2,473 since then end of the Second World War. Most recently, on the 3 rd of September 2017, North Korea detonated a hydrogen bomb which was over 5 times as powerful as the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki, which ended the war.

Secondly, your statement on Chornobyl is highly inaccurate. It is well documented that the Chornobyl incident was not a nuclear bomb detonation. It was, in effect, a steam explosion in the core of Reactor 4 in the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. This then created a build-up of Hydrogen gas, which also ignited. This horrific accident was not the result of a bomb, but of a poorly designed and inadequately managed reactor. This was an industrial accident, not a nuclear bomb detonation.

This is a significant issue. Firstly, this is a wilful misrepresentation of history, particularly considering the role of New Zealand and the wider Pacific in French nuclear testing during the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. The French government sank the MV Rainbow Warrior in 1985 in an effort to prevent people protesting these tests. The New Zealand Navy sent the HMNZS Otago and the HMNZS Canterbury to

STAFF WRITERS Lotto Ramsay, Jamiema Lorimer, Zak Rudin, Iris Hehir

VOLUNTEER REPORTER: Rauri Warren

COLUMNISTS FOOD: Charley Burnett @chargrillss

BOOZE REVIEWS: Dan Muir

DESIGNER Molly Willis

SUB-DESIGNER Evie Noad

the Pacific specifically to interfere with French nuclear testing. Thousands of people have lost their homes, lands and livelihoods as a direct result of nuclear weapons testing. To trivialise and wilfully misrepresent this in such a way is to ignore the painful lived experiences of generations impacted by nuclear testing.

We would like you to acknowledge your mistake and ahistorical portrayal of the nuclear era.

Sincerely, The Union of Concerned Historians

Editor’s Response: So true

Hello Critic, I heard you were having a rough time judging the literature comp, especially with poetry. So I’ve written some charming lines for you. I hope they help.

There once was a man named Fox Who was judging some literature flops. He gave up in mirth, Then fondled his girth, And cleaned himself up with a sock

There once was an old university Who was facing some financial adversity To cut costs by half, They sodomised staff, And were proud of their cunning perversity.

Editor’s Response: Thank you, I needed that.

PHOTOGRAPHER

Connor Simpson @simpson.photography

VIDEO TEAM LEAD

Connor Simpson

VIDEO EDITOR Sophie Douglas

VIDEOGRAPHY

Hugh Askerud, Isaac Chadwick

CENTREFOLD Trelise Wadsworth

FRONT COVER Trelise Wadsworth

ONLINE

Arlo Hill

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Vincent Withers Pedals Dunedin

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Critic Te Ārohi is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA).

Disclaimer: the views presented within this publication do not necessarily represent the views of the Editor or OUSA.

NZ Media Council: People with a complaint against a magazine should first complain in writing to the Editor and then, if not satisfied with the response, complain to the NZ Media Council.

Complaints should be addressed to the Secretary: info@mediacouncil.org. nz.

Parata Vaughan

ILLUSTRATION Mikey Clayton @itsspikeymikey Daniel Van Lith @art_by_deeev

Justina King @coccinelleart

ART SUBMISSIONS: Gabriele Berta, E.M. Green, Joel Field, Nick Guilford

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ROCK BOTTOM EDITORIAL

BY FOX MEYER / ART BY GABRIELE BERTA

Hey, you, you’ve got thirty seconds. Sign this petition. It’s not pointless, we did this sort of thing when marine science was under the axe, and it worked. Do it, because it’s only open until Wednesday. Do it, because if Otago is willing to cannibalise its own founding discipline, it’s willing to eat yours, too.

Kia ora,

No doubt you will by now be aware that the University is proposing to cut staff in the Geology Department by around 30%. This is an absolute nightmare scenario, regardless of how many reassurances we are given about these changes not affecting our education or the quality of the Otago Geology degree.

In the Geology Department, we care deeply about our people, our whānau. The level of contact between staff and students is unlike no other. We camp with them in the field in all conditions, we hike glaciers with them, we helicopter into inaccessible terrain with them, we tent in Antarctica with them, we camp out in the Arizona desert with them. On Friday afternoons we chat over beers at Emerson’s or Eureka, an urban echo of the shared beer at the end of a long day in the field. Our staff know us well, and us them. We house-sit for them, we look after their dogs, we rally around each other in times of grief. They support us, they care about us, and they are genuinely excited about our research, whether they are our supervisor/lecturer or not. We are a family.

Our treasured staff have increasingly borne the additional strain of a number of staff vacancies in recent years, and it has been devastating to watch their workloads and stress levels rise. Despite this, they have continued to enthusiastically nurture our education

and research, and these proposed cuts effectively kick them when they are already down.

New Zealand’s unique geological situation means that maintaining our world-class geology department is vital, and staffing cuts to this department will unequivocally kneecap the Otago geology education in many ways - not to mention the risk of losing overseas interest. Geology already attracts so many of the Clocktower’s prized international students.

I am begging everyone to support us in our mission to have these proposed cuts overturned. One way you can help right now is to sign our petition ASAP, BY WEDNESDAY 16 AUGUST. There is also a template for an email of support that you can send to Richard Barker, the Pro-Vice-Chancellor of Sciences, which would aid us immensely.

Please help us keep the magic alive.

Chelle Fitzgerald PhD Student (Volcanology) Geology Department

Below is a plea from Chelle - she was features editor here at Critic a while ago. Now she studies volcanoes. This is the department of dinosaurs, meteors, climate change, earthquakes, Antarctica, mining, geothermal energy: all the cool stuff, all of which is vital for our changing world. They say enrollments are down, but that’s not entirely true. Globally, enrollments of petroleum industry geologists are down. But plenty of people want to study the consequences of that industry’s behaviour, and somebody needs to clean up the mess. Don’t let our Geology Department be undermined. Heck, I’ll shout you some pints if you help out. Scan

HUMANS OF THE CUTS: CRITIC x POAG

If you don’t care about the cuts you already aren’t reading this page. That’s not who this is for. This page is for people who care about the cuts who are friends with people who don’t care about the cuts - for whatever reason. Maybe their privilege shields them from concern. Maybe they don’t actually want to be at uni. Maybe they just don’t get it yet. Maybe they’re just an asshole. No matter the reason, here are some stories to arm yourself with when this comes up in debate. It shouldn’t be something you let them gloss over. Very rarely do we have the opportunity to really be pissed off about something and know that we’re completely correct in our indignation; this is one of those times.

Flynn Acworth - Te Ao o Rongomaraeroa - The Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies

My name is Flynn, and I’m a postgraduate student at Te Ao o Rongomaraeroa. My research focus is on the intersection between cybersecurity studies and peace and conflict research. I was hoping to pursue my PhD in this topic at Otago starting in 2024, but the proposed changes to the centre (tabled because of the financial crisis) have thrown those plans to the wind.

The proposal to ‘align the centre’s costs with its income’ suggests cutting it down to one staff member, who will teach the Master’s course, run the centre, as well as supervise all postgraduate research. This will rob the centre of its doctoral supervisory capacity, essentially killing the PhD program. This is a big deal. The centre is currently the only place in Aotearoa where a PhD in Peace and Conflict studies can be pursued. The proposed change doesn’t only affect current students and staff - it impacts the entire country.

I’m writing this on the 4th of August, and somewhat prophetically, our government has just published its inaugural national security strategy. It paints a rather bleak picture of our potential future. While reading through it I kept asking myself: in a time where our government assesses that strategic competition and contestation is increasing, and that “pressure is likely to grow for countries like New Zealand, whose security and prosperity depend on a cooperative landscape” why the hell are we throttling our national capacity to train the very researchers that might help us address these concerns?

The value of Te Ao o Rongomaraeroa can’t be calculated by a cost/income analysis. It is a national resource that only increases in value as our peaceful future is becoming increasingly uncertain. I believe that in our current global landscape, the proposals to change the centre are not just harmful, they are dangerous, and we need to do something about it.

The Geology Department is home to many fantastic researchers, lecturers, students, and technicians. It is home to the most extensive fossil collection in Aotearoa, world class research facilities, and me – one of many final-year undergrads. I am proud to call myself a geologist from the University of Otago, but that clearly doesn't mean anything to the University. I wouldn’t be the person or the scientist that I am today without the support of the Geology staff and students – we are a small yet tight-knit community, and I have not found a more welcoming and supportive place than Geology.

The announcement of the cuts formed a dark cloud over us that quickly settled into worry for the future. As Fox (ex-Geology student) said in Critic, we stand to lose 30% of our department, and it is depressing to watch what the staff are calling the “hunger games” for their jobs. Ironically, the University has criticized our lack of support staff and lecturers (especially for paleontology) in their proposal yet continues to cull our already understaffed department until we are ground down into the very sediment we study.

Our world-class paleontology research program is almost completely gone, and it is a beloved aspect of the Geology Department sorely missed by both students and staff alike. The University froze the hire themselves despite an outpouring of support for the role from hundreds of students, researchers, and enthusiasts – that’s a real twist of the knife in the cuts, and it shows how little the University cares about the quality of our education. The loss of our support staff has also been devastating for the whole department, and the loss of lab managers for our geochemistry labs is felt at every turn. The fountain of knowledge that kept our labs operational has run dry, and research stalls for weeks at a time.

It’s funny to think that in a world where understanding the ground beneath our feet is becoming more significant, the University has decided that geoscientists are the first to go extinct instead of preserving the mahi and integrity of their oldest department. Go figure.

Jamie Baldwin – Geology

Brandon Johnstone, TEU Otago Co-Branch President

In April of this year, the leadership of the University of Otago announced that they would be opening a “voluntary redundancy” process. In short, VR is the university senior management saying “we’ll pay you to end your employment”. University of Otago HR has been pretty clear that this VR process is born of financial desperation, and is not “scientific” in any manner.

There’s a bit of a reactionary impulse to point the finger at staff taking up voluntary redundancy, as if those people leaving are the reason for downsizing (or disestablishing) departments. This is not fair, nor is it rational or even correct. When management says “our ship is sinking”, people will inevitably be running for the lifeboats, because the alternative may be forcibly walking the plank. But, critically, the University controls those lifeboats.

Senior leadership at the University approves or denies every application for voluntary redundancy. Every one of those 100+ accepted voluntary redundancies exists because the university leadership asked for them, and approved them.

University senior leadership would love it if you incorrectly pointed the blame at staff trying to ensure that their career has a future. They don’t deserve this get-out-of-jail-free card. Those senior managers are overseeing cuts to staff, papers, and department, and the accountability should be placed squarely upon them.

Another critical point for workers at the University of Otago is the difference between voluntary and non-voluntary redundancy. If a worker is made redundant against their will, the employer must demonstrate that their workload no longer exists. There is no such requirement in the voluntary redundancy process. This creates a risk of growing workloads and the unhealthy workplaces that come with them.

If you see such unsustainable practices unfolding, do reach out to us at dunedin@teu.ac.nz or suggest that the staff around you do so. And never let senior management and the government off the hook. Remember, staff and students are in this together. Tū kotahi, tū kaha.

Anon (SciCom)

Ten months ago I celebrated receiving an offer of place for my dream Master’s program with a glass of wine next to my mum and dad in our family home in Massachusetts. We clinked glasses and smiled at each other, proud of the hard work that went into that moment.

Even though this program required moving 9,467 miles away from home, I’d have the opportunity to learn from world-renowned science communicators, collaborate with a network of talented peers, and gain hands-on experience in the field. And even though my mother was still receiving her breast cancer treatments, it felt too important of an opportunity to pass up. I accepted my offer and never looked back.

That is until I found out that I would be a member of my program’s final cohort of Master’s students. I never thought that my Science Communication degree would cover management of change processes, voluntary redundancies, and education unions; yet I’ve spent more time in Semester 2 on these topics than science communication theory or application.

These cuts have consumed every spare moment and all of my mental capacity. I’ve mobilized my classmates, written demands letters, and negotiated assignment deadlines. I’ve cried in the Pro-Vice Chancellor’s office, in an attempt to make him understand the psychological impact this has had on me and my classmates. I’ve navigated this all, in addition to my coursework, as I’ve grappled with my grandmother’s death and my father’s dementia diagnosis.

It’s been an utterly unsupported and overwhelming shit show that I wouldn’t wish upon any other student, let alone my 25 friends and classmates who are experiencing the same exact thing. We’ve already had one member of our cohort drop out and move back home to the US.

How many more will decide they’ve had enough and pack up?

Sometimes it feels like this is what the Uni would like to see happen, anyway.

Cutler’s was advertising flats for 2024 before the tenants had said they’d be leaving.

Good news: the student who was scammed out of her life savings got most of her money back!

Syphilis cases are rising fast around the world, including here, and particularly in men. Health authorities are saying to stay vigilant when you're boning, wear protection, and get tested often.

National has proposed a ban on phones in schools to reduce distractions in the classroom.

Following the Wallabies’ 20-23 defeat to the All Blacks, Wallabies coach told the press that the lesson his team learns from the game will be “more than a PhD from the University of Otago.”

Passion Pitch Enrich is on August 16th. If you’re young and like business, check it out.

It’s Spanish Language Week! Que genial!

The Environment Committee has recommended new legislation be developed for a nationwide cat management framework protecting both felines and wildlife. All felines under it would be “cats on laps” - not feral or strays.

The Government announced a $2 billion investment in renewable energy last week. They’ll be collaborating with BlackRock (cringe) to create climate infrastructure in the hopes of becoming the first country to reach 100% renewable energy.

Beerfest tickets are out! It’ll be at Forsyth Barr November 3-4.

National MP Sam Uffindel said he goes grocery shopping once a month to “give his wife a break”, even if going into the supey is “a bit of a shock”.

Barbie hit US$1 billion last week, making it the biggest movie in modern box office history to be directed by a woman. Slay.

Four men were hospitalised in Hawke’s Bay after taking synthetic crystals they thought were MDMA. The drugs may have been laced with dimethylpentylone, a synthetic cathinone (bath salts).

Anti-Chinese State Propaganda Given Out on Campus

Conspiracy theorists need a lecture on marketing

Nico was coming out of a lecture on Wednesday, August 2, afternoon when he was intercepted by an unknown woman who handed him an envelope without so much as a word. The woman was wearing a white puffer jacket and baseball cap that obscured her face. On the face of the envelope was a barely-legible note:

“Please protect your country and people (important). Tax payers and University students should know the truth and can protect your family, your safety, please don’t pass to Chinese.”

Despite being taught about stranger danger, Nico opened the envelope to find a flashdrive. Critic Te Ārohi would like to point out that if you receive a nondescript flashdrive from a suspicious person, it’s probably not the best idea to put it into your computer. But Nico wasn’t stupid, so he plugged it into one of the library computers. We later gave the drive a comprehensive screening and found no evidence of malware - but this was after Nico gave it a go at the library, so.

On the flashdrive were around 25 PowerPoint presentations on a plethora of topics including “New World Order”, “drugs”, “child pornography” and “torture”, meaning it probably came from a Commerce student. There was also a stock image of a cute puppy, meaning it definitely came from a Commerce student.

By Zak Rudin Chief Reporter // zak@critic.co.nz

Despite the remedying qualities of puppy pics, the PowerPoints mostly contained rambling conspiracy theories, complete with paragraph long rants in size 8 font and disorganised images of the White House, bombings, US Government officials and the communist flag. Talk about sensory overload.

Nico said he was “mostly confused” by the whole situation. “[It was] surreal to be handed a mysterious envelope full of deranged propaganda [after] being told it was a matter of national importance,” said Nico. Nico was also confused over the woman’s methods of delivery: “There are so many online spaces to share and distribute your weird shit. Even if you wanted to do things manually, you can just drop stuff in mailboxes, which is surely much easier.”

Upon closer inspection, Critic Te Ārohi found that the oldest PowerPoint was from 2019, meaning that whoever was behind the operation had been doing it for a hot minute. The Otago Daily Times published an article on the “Mystery Woman”, after she had reportedly been trespassed from Invercargill Airport earlier in the year. She also stepped into various OUSA buildings and was seen giving the drives out to a number of people on campus.

And just in case anyone’s wondering: we did not “pass” the drive to the Chinese Government.

Chocmaggedon!

Cacao prices soar, testing supermarket worker loyalty

A block of Cadbury’s chocolate has risen to $4.99 retail price in Countdown and New World supermarkets, leaving students stunned as they announce the onslaught of Chocmaggedon.

Though the Commerce Commission’s investigation ostensibly had some impact on freezing prices at the three major supermarkets, food prices have increased by 12.1% across the board in the last year according to a NZ Herald report. Unfortunately for families across the nation, the cost of living has continued to bite, increasing the struggle that has become synonymous with living in New Zealand. And for many students working at supeys, the chocolate crisis is making them question their loyalty.

Critic Te Ārohi spoke with a number of students grappling with this mental conundrum. Though most chose to troop on in spite of their moral hang-ups, some have gone even

By Hugh Askerud Staff Writer // hugh@critic.co.nz

as far as to stop work in protest of what has been regarded as a “tragic” rise in chocolate prices nation-wide.

Tom*, a full-time employee of New World Gardens who has been forced to carry on work despite his outrage, told Critic Te Ārohi, “Everyone should be able to buy a block of chocolate. It’s a fundamental right.” His particular concern was that customers were coming in to “support Whittaker's” but couldn’t due to the excessive price. While a block of Whittaker's Creamy Milk chocolate retails for $6.55 at both Countdown and New World supermarkets in Dunedin, this price is even higher in the New World branch located in Wellington central, where the price of a block currently sits at $7.09. Tapping into the outrage of the customers he speaks to daily, Tom said “Customers want to boycott the supermarkets but just don’t have any other option.” He said the prices were both “ripping off the workers and ripping off the customers.”

That’s exactly what Blair* thought, another employee at the New World Gardens. He has had enough with the prices and has begun calling in sick for every shift. Speaking frankly, Blair said, “Do you want to know the exact reason I haven’t been at work? It starts and ends with the chocolate prices.” Blair’s* rage has also seen him take to drinking on Saturday nights as a coping mechanism for the sea of emotions which stew within. He did admit to Critic Te Ārohi that his main shift, the one he’s been calling out sick for, was on a Sunday morning – but we’re sure that’s unrelated to the issue at hand.

Another frequently sick member of the New World Garden’s staff, Cormac* said that the issue was getting to be “a bit of a robbery to be fair.” Unlike Blair, Cormac claimed his sickness was honest, citing extreme sugar deprivation as the root cause. Fortunately, he did seem to have a solution for people suffering from similar symptoms. Cormac posited, “People are going to start eating nuts, just wait.”

Nuts or not, it seems clear as day that the students of the university are tired of the drastic increases in chocolate prices. Alongside them stands a nation likely less worried about chocolate in regard to the grand scheme of things, but still revolted nonetheless. Students are worried we are racing towards a breaking point, and not the good kind where it's an even split, the bad kind where you break off too little accidentally and look stingy in front of your mates.

*Names changed.

“Everyone should be able to buy a block of chocolate. It's a fundamental right.”

E.M. GREEN

OUSA Petitions For Universal Study Wage

$385 a week? Sign me up

OUSA and VUWSA have put forward a petition to the Prime Minister and Minister for Finance and Education for a universal study wage for all tertiary students of $385/week.

The petition is part of a wider “No More Excuses!” campaign that the New Zealand Union of Students’ Associations (NZUSA) dropped on July 27. The campaign outlined three central areas of concern: giving Te Tiriti increased status in the Education and Training Act, giving student associations a voice in education policy, and implementing a study wage.

The study wage proposes an unconditional $385 a week, envisioned as a solution to increased student debt and dire living conditions. The payment would be annually recalculated to meet the cost of living, all the while abolishing the student loan and allowance system which currently finances most students' studies.

Speaking to the importance of the study wage, OUSA’s president Quintin Jane told Critic Te Ārohi how they planned to “reignite the conversation” about student wellbeing in Otago. Crucially, Quintin noted the importance of the “wage” tag to the ensuing debate, stating that it “recognises the effort that goes into study which is usually

By Hugh Askerud Staff Writer // hugh@critic.co.nz

equivalent to that which could be spent working.” Hence why all your tradie buddies seem to be buying houses while your student loan puts you further in debt.

“At the moment, there are two choices for people coming out of high school,” said Quintin. “You either work and earn money, or study and gain debt.” Quintin argued that a universal study wage would “get rid of this question,” allowing more choice and increased enrolments in the currently stilted tertiary sector. Importantly, the study wage would replace the role which the student loan currently fulfills, a solution which Quintin pointed out is proving damning. He argued that “the solution should not be increasing how much you can borrow.”

The choice to study has more recently been an unappealing one according to Quintin, who said stories he hears are “almost always related to how hard it is to get by.” Specifically, Quintin outlined that, “Rent is getting really expensive… the value for money is also terrible.” He must have been a victim of Chocmaggedon.

‘Everything Room’ Activists Appear in Court

All three remanded without plea on bail

Three protesters arrested for damaging University of Otago property appeared at the District Court Tuesday, August 8. Around 20 supporters were there in solidarity.

Third-year student Jowan Nute and non-students Liam Scaife and Carl Naus were arrested Tuesday, August 1, for intentional damage to property. They were part of a protest lambasting “university mismanagement” that involved occupying a room on an empty floor of the Business School, painting the walls, and allegedly damaging a fire door. See our article in issue 18.

The initial summary proceedings were cut short by a dispute over the revised terms of the activists’ bail. The contested term of bail in question was a non-association clause. Put simply, according to this condition, the three activists would not be allowed to

interact. This was raised as an issue as all three activists work together at the co-op cafe, Yours.

After over two hours spent hanging around in the courtroom waiting room, the activists were called into the courtroom next door. The prosecution’s case rested on mitigating the chance of the activists conspiring together to commit similar offences. However, as pointed out by the judge, the Police had not sought such a bail condition immediately after the arrests had been made. So any risk of damage would have already happened. The argument put forward by the prosecution was that Campus Constable John Woodhouse “didn’t appreciate these concerns at the time of arrest.”

The judge concluded that “the horse has bolted” on the issue, and the non-association clause was

By Zak Rudin Chief Reporter // zak@critic.co.nz

removed from the terms of bail. Liam described the judgement as a “small victory”. The bail terms relating to trespass remained; Liam and Carl are trespassed from Otago Uni campus for two years, and Jowan is trespassed from being within 20 metres of the Business School and Clocktower.

The trio are set to appear in court to enter their pleas on August 29 at 10am. It is expected that the defendants will be offered diversion, meaning that they will not go through the formal court processes and all record of conviction will be wiped. The main issue is the $10k in damages that the police claim were caused by drill holes in fire doors, which Critic Te Ārohi understands they would probably want paid out up front.

So, if you have an extra $10k lying around…

ODT WATCH

I too am scared of the teenagers

What's next? No drinking in class either?

Excitig new fluffy handcuffs!

Yayyy!

You'd think this would be about cutting hundreds of staff. But it isn't

Gore literally overflowing with pussy Crazy/hot matrix

Based Looks like your mum's homeless

What kind of munster would do this

Awwww

My Rotten Tomatoes review of seeing Oppenheimer at the cinema

CROSSWORD PUZZLES

ACROSS:

9. Garment worn in 31A areas

10. Billy Mays' product: "___-Clean"

11. Ivy League University

12. Let go of

13. Something given after a fight

14. Common plant on windowsill (usually dead)

15. David's biblical weapon

DOWN:

1. To fight, casually

2. Cooks over an open flame

3. One type of parking

4. Kind of evidence

5. Hindu festival of lights

6. Shaped like a mozzarella stick

7. _____ Puente, American serial killer

8. Word on Woody's shoe

14. This week's connecting theme

WORDFIND

FART

POEMS

CREATIVE

WRITING

ROSS

17. Heavenly

19. Condiment in Cluedo

21. Bigfoot, to locals

24. Intense pain

26. The herpes of craft supplies, it never goes away

27. Like some intro-level drugs

29. Sneeze noise

30. We revolve around it

31. Opposite

16. Former American president, to his friends

18. Mental tactic that your ex maybe used?

19. Fancy-type wood

20. Like many Silicon Valley businesses

22. Iron Man villain

23. Hip pump

25. "1984" author

26. Capricorn's symbol

28. Spun by the mouth

FRIENDLY TREES

ILLUSTRATION DESIGN WORDART

DOWN: 2. HAROLD 3. KERMIT 4. PENGUIN 5. PEACOCK 6. STOLEN 7. REAPER 13. INFER 15. TABOO 18. INNINGS 19. CUCKOLD 21. IGUANA 22. SICKLE 23. HONEST 24. KATANA

ACROSS: 1. SHREK 6. SCARY 8. EVEREST 9. ORDER 10. OCEAN 11. MAGICAL 12. IDIOT 14. NITRO 16. DEFEND 17. PHOBIA 20. BIRDS 23. HOOKS 25. CHICKEN 26. KAYAK 27. EQUAL 28. LEGOLAS 29. EAGLE 30. TOPAZ

ISSUE 18 PUZZLE ANSWERS

WORD BLOCK WORDS: FROSTBITE, DIAPHRAGM, AUTOGRAPH, PORTFOLIO, TYPEFACES, WRISTBAND

The (#) tells you how many words are in the solution. If a clue doesn’t have a (#), it’s a one-word answer. Answers in the grey boxes are all connected by the bold clues.

WORD BLOCKS

Make up the 9-letter word hidden in these blocks, using every letter once.

Self-guided Art

Gallery DPAG to The Craic

OLGA Gallery

Moray & Community Galleries to Pequeño

Black Dog to Milford Galleries

Tour/Pub Crawl

Want to go see some art but also want to make it a red card? Here are some preplanned stops on an art gallery pub crawl. Just remember: no touching the galleries, even after ten pints. And no, you couldn’t have made that yourself.

Start at Ironic Bar and Cafe before heading to the Otago Art Society in the railway station. Next, take a short walk to Koru NZ Art followed by a refresher at Maggie’s. Next, admire the fossils in the ODT building (not a gallery but certainly a museum) before stopping in at Gallery De Novo. After all that delicious, nourishing cultural exposure you’ll probably need a top up at Woof!. Head from Woof! to DPAG via the Octy, and once you’re done in there, head right back over to the Craic for a pint by the fire. Once you’ve warmed up, go from Craic to Moray Gallery, just down the road. Cross the street to the Community Gallery, if you like, but take the secret entrance into Pequeño. Exit out the back of the speakeasy and up the driveway to OLGA Gallery, and you’re pretty much done! If you want to really finish in style, have lunch at Black Dog (you need it) and finish with the Dowling Street Galleries - there’s heaps. Bonus points for off-map stops, especially the Museum of Natural Mystery and the Hocken.

Ironic Bar & Cafe to Otago Art Society

Gallery De Novo to Woof!

FINISH: Blue Oyster Project Space

Koru Gallery to Maggie's

The ODT

It's not an art gallery but it's a great museum full of fossils!

WINNER

A day in the park

By Fin Wong

Flat

“I hope it doesn’t snow.”

“We had a leak last winter.”

“The stain on the wall seems to be growing.”

“I thought they fixed that.”

Pond

“I think I stepped in duck shit.”

“Those shoes are disgusting anyways.”

“Did you hear the ducks are free?”

“You can’t take the ducks.”

Roses

“I wonder how much it costs.”

“They’re pretty ugly in the winter.”

“That’s ironic coming from you.”

“I’m not seasonal.”

Terrace

“This looks much better in the sun.”

“I’ll miss this the most.”

“I’ve always hated how loud the fountain is.”

“It ruins it a bit.”

Bush

“We should’ve worn boots.”

“I keep sliding on this hill.”

Editor's feedback: GENERAL

“These pants were just washed.”

“Fresh air is stupid.”

Bench

“Are you coming out tonight?"

“Not sure, can’t afford alcohol.”

“You’ll know people, it’ll be fun.”

“I’d rather go buy food.”

Cemetery

“I can hear the bass from here.”

“Imagine the skeletons just shaking to the beat.”

“Did you hear about the couple who were doing it in the bush?”

“Really? People are weird.”

Playground

“I forget normal families exist.”

“Please fall off that.”

“Could you imagine having kids right now?”

“I barely manage.”

Flat (again)

“I swear it’s warmer outside.”

“I hope that’s not duck shit on the carpet.”

“That was quite a nice walk.”

“Yeah, I enjoyed that.”

Yeah, okay, wow. Lots of trauma out there. It felt like about 90% of the entries were either about love or trauma, and I get it: those come with intense emotions, and intense emotions are a great inspiration for writing. The tricky thing about writing about your personal life, especially the bad parts, is that it’s high-risk high-reward. If you can pull off an emotionally-driven poem or story about a personal trauma, power to you; it will be incredibly successful, and that’s entirely because it will be relatable. But it’s extremely difficult to do. If you can’t nail it, you’re faced with two options: either the reader recognises that they can’t relate to what you’re saying, so they disengage, which isn’t ideal. Or, they don’t recognise that they can’t relate to what you’re saying, so they subject themselves to what becomes essentially a trauma dump. All of these experiences are some of the most formative moments in people’s lives, and putting them on paper is an incredibly vulnerable experience that really, really isn’t easy to do. But the catharsis of that process does not necessitate that it will be recognised for what it is by the reader. That’s why poetry especially is one of the hardest things to do well in terms of writing. I really appreciate people that are willing to take on that sort of vulnerability – just remember that while it may be of incredible importance to you, it will be observed alongside a swathe of other pieces, each of which holds some immutably important piece of its own author’s soul. After a while all that importance becomes overwhelming, and readers just start looking for the fun ones.

RUNNER-UP POETRY

woman-sac zoo (or: what's in your purse? a bridal shower game playing card)*

By Evelyn Zelmer

i own mascara. (or conserve me as a woman. so see me via arcane means. via aracne’s numerous irises. so see i am a weaver.)

i own scissors. (so i am curious. or i remain a voracious maw. never a creaser.)

i own six or seven coins. (minor mini monies. i.e. screw me. so) i own a can o xanax. (or i own a souvenir. or a maraca. so i own a music or an issue or so i

scare mom.)

i own a •. (so an aura arouses ursa. so i wince as an omen. so i can ooze ovarian cancer. so i care in concurrence or care a mouse’s ass. so i so we consume in a commune. or)

i own a menses-eraser. (so i am a mere woman-mirror. or so i am cain. a canine swarm.

vicarious wiener-user. someone’s assassin.)

i own a razor. (so i mar me. so i raze. so i remain convex in areas unseen. no wax so no sore.)

i own a z-name. (so sessions commence. occur. cease. someone unsummons me via omission. so i remain a winner.)

i own a cervix. (so sex carves a cavern. summa cum semen sewer. so i am concave. or so i

crave cocoa. or i rise avec ease. or so even in me is a renaissance.)

i own no swimwear. (mom: i swam in our sea. come care. come coo. come rescue. i scream come save me.)

i own sin. (mamaw: i mimic our memories as an excuse. we amaze me. i rue our sameness.)

i own seers. (woe is me. i see our son is runnin a race unwon. icarus’s insane ascension. never was crazier news on our screen.)

i own american mores. (across a cairn. a ruin. a rune. virus immune. so our savior is as our savior was. amen.)

i own no woman no man no someone. ( cause no someone owns me.)

i own us on our own ( cause we are messianic: mom. mamaw: we can sun our sin on some ore.

miss anna: i assure u: our sacs are on our insurance evermore so we can ram in we can cram)

in our sacs we annex receive secure our acne cream. our rosacea serum. some services. a

cow. some cum-aroma acorns. some za. summer sunscreen. some rare cancer. a coors can. a source. a sumerian summa. some ex-man’s crown. some career. a scone.

( cause our cases on our arms on our own: we own.)

*This poem is a prisoner's constraint, so it is written without any letters which descend below the line (q, y, p, g, j) or ascend above the line (t, d, f, h, k, l, b).

Editor's feedback: Poetry winner

Yesssss okay I really loved this piece. As I’ve said elsewhere, poetry submissions tend to be dominated by intense personal experiences, all of which sort of end up competing to be the most important, the most insightful, the most vulnerable, etc. It gets a bit overwhelming. Poetry offers you a slice of someone’s life, and sometimes the most intense flavours aren’t what you want out of that slice. This poem showed me an extremely intimate window into someone’s daily life – with the bonus points of a recognisable setting – without dragging me through some sort of trauma along the way. I deeply enjoyed this poem and it’s easily my favourite of the lot. Makes me want to take a walk with friends, if I had any.

Editor's feedback: Poetry runner-up

A close race for second. It came down to this and In My Father’s Language, which I thought was going to stay on top. In the end, though, while In My Father’s Language did what the winning poem did (a slice of life), woman-sac zoo just would not leave my mind. For days. I could not stop thinking about what the hell this poem was on about. I still don’t really know, but I think I love it.

Fallen From Above

By Teo De Rezende McGuinness

Another helicopter settled down on the newly-cleared landing strip. Dr Robert Marlo stepped out onto land. It was raining. It had been for the past three years.

A man with broad shoulders and a broader smile approached him.

Robert grinned, “Sam.” They shook hands as Dr Samuel Becker lifted his umbrella to cover them both.

“Good to see you, Robert. You saw our new pet?”

“From the chopper. It’s hard to miss.”

“That’s nothing compared to seeing it up close. C’mon.”

They set off up the road. The skeletons of buildings and cars were vague suggestions in the mist. Far ahead, impossibly imposing, was something larger.

“Some of the parasitic specimens were delivered to my university.” Robert said, “We found… human tissues in their stomachs.”

Samuel’s permanent smile wavered. “They left the host and went rampant after the impact.”

“They didn’t last long, though. Earth is too hot for them,” he quickly added.

“I hope you’re right. How’s the specimen itself faring down here?”

“Surprisingly well, given it’s bleeding a new Nile. That and the survivors have been taking bites out of it.”

“We’re allowing that? While it’s still alive?”

“How would we stop them? It’s too big to cordon off. Besides, it’s not half bad.”

“Yeah?”

“Like chewy salmon.”

The mist had lessened somewhat, though the rain was heavy as ever. Robert could make out the shape of the specimen: a head, a tail, and six limbs, splayed over the landscape.

“Its spine was shattered from the impact. We’ve set up by the immobilised back half.”

Samuel led Robert up to the beast’s towering side. A row of patchwork tents of the beast's skin and canvas held laboratories and dormitories.

A great beaked head rose from the horizon to meet the clouds and gave a mournful groan.

“That happens sometimes. Makes it hard to sleep.” Samuel chuckled.

A responding bellow, like thunder, descended from above the clouds.

“That… doesn’t.”

“It’s probably a juvenile.” Samuel said, “We have to assume there’s something coming for it. We can’t let another crash happen.”

They were at a council. Scientists and security officers stood around the table.

“We can’t rely on it bleeding out, and its skull is too thick to break.”

Robert spoke, “You said it has a spine, right? That means it must have a meningeal sac.”

“What are you saying?”

“You have explosives, right? I could go under the bone, and plant them there. I’m a neuroanatomist; I can navigate it.”

“Can we risk it?”

Another bellow churned the clouds.

Samuel conceded, “Point taken.”

The drilling was slow-going; blood clotted within the drill’s mechanisms. The operators had to stop often and wait for the thrashing to die down, before again tearing into the beast’s back.

After metres of digging, the blood was accompanied by a clearer, less viscous substance.

Samuel helped Robert into a diving suit from the outpost’s stockpile as miners extracted the drill.

“Good luck,” he said, clapping Robert on the back.

The winch lowered Robert into the depths. Blood smeared red against the window of his suit as he entered the meningeal sac. The darkness was thick, Robert’s helmetmounted flashlight penetrated only a metre into the cloudy fluid.

Robert pulled himself, hand over hand, along the surface of the sky-scraper of a spinal cord.

The mountainous gyri of the brain emerged from the blackness. Robert could feel the fierce heat of cognition through the suit. He planted the charges and activated the winch cable. It whirred into life, pulling him back to the lesion. The beast’s shaking sent great buffets through the fluid, beating him against the sac’s sides.

He emerged from the wound. Sam yanked off Robert’s helmet and ushered him into a waiting helicopter, precariously balanced on the beast’s back.

From the air, they triggered the explosives. A shudder ran across the creature’s entire body. Finally, its head collapsed to the ground, quaking the earth.

Inheritance

By Ella Ruddle

Humans are desperate to tell stories. Desperate to misremember and fragment a time gone by. To reincarnate the past by way of narration; and preserve it. We collectively avoid eye contact with uncleared dishes, in fear of missing a dinner table tale. Stories shoot across generations, illuminated by candlelight, told to the soundtrack of U2. Or Van Morrison if Dad was on the aux. Like pairing meat and wine at a fancy restaurant stories are paired with wine, too. Drinking wine that wasn’t $8 that truly brings out the flavours of a story. Top-shelf treatment when the family is home. Stories are brought down from the top shelf, too.

Dad was always the narrator. I think it was something about him being Irish or maybe because he knew how to finesse a story. Or maybe it was both. When he starts a tale I think “I have heard this before” but that was another version at another time. This iteration has new bits, tacked on. Perhaps this time he remembered more details, perhaps it was for dramatic effect; a bit like Chinese whispers.

This one was about my granddad. A man who I knew only by pictures, and stories. It was about how he once spent two years building a mirror dinghy, on the third story of my dad’s family home.

Interruptions meddle with the storytelling but add to the hilarity. Someone chimed in “I never saw him as a sailor” followed far too quickly by “I think he had a little bar up there.” I remember hoping that he did.

Dad was certain it was a Sunday, the day of the dinghy’s inaugural launch. The family piled into the Ford Escort en route to Dromineer to check the conditions. A dodgy gap selection is made and there is a collision. They were lucky, with only a few healable injuries but the mirror dinghy was worse off and sold the following year. The reason my dad never became a famous sailor, my uncle said. We all laugh and you can feel the mood lift.

I had heard that story several times before, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t really about the story anymore. It was about seeing the reactions of new victims. It was about my aunty correcting the liberties her brother took in the retelling. It was about how my dad struggles to remember the year I was born but can remember the exact model of the car they drove to Dromineer in. It was about how this story ushered another one.

How you could feel the laughter not just hear it.

The real gift was telling the story and not leaving it unheard. That feeling of connection and sharing something intangible. Of not being there but feeling like you were. Being an inch closer to someone you never got to meet; a family

heirloom. Inheritance that can’t be cashed in. Makes me think maybe I do know my grandad, just a different version. A version pieced together by stories around the dinner table, illuminated by candlelight. Told to Joni Mitchell, or Norah Jones if I was on the aux. We are the stories we tell ourselves, yes, but we are also the stories we tell others. These stories are part of a bigger project; keeping people alive.

I think it is why the only requirement I had when searching for flats was a dinner table. I didn’t know why at the time but I do now; It’s where stories are shared. Passed down; Inherited.

Editor's feedback: Fiction

And we have a winner! Almost purely because this is the only one that isn’t about love or trauma. Congrats. You worked within your means and, most importantly, I’d take monsters over melancholia any day - and so would 99% of readers. I will say, though, before I go further: this was very close. I Can’t Speak was better-written, but this story fit more stuff into the word count and I just like monsters. It’s fun to depart from real life while reading a fiction, and that’s exactly what this does. It’s fun. It is the only piece I had fun reading. I will say, though, that I Can’t Speak was an excellent idea for a piece with a wonderful twist at the end. I initially missed the twist because I was so overloaded with trauma dumping from the other categories that I could barely make it to the end, but I’m glad I did. A very strong second.

Editor's feedback: Non-fiction

This is well-written and it’s sweet and I’m sure it’s a cultural touchstone sort of thing, but when someone puts a callout for non-fiction, personal essays ain’t gonna cut it. There were only two entries, to be fair, but there was not a single piece of genuine non-fiction in this category. I came away having learned a grand total of zero things. Non-fiction can be personal, it can be intimate, but it can’t be about your life. That’s why biography and non-fiction are different shelves at the bookstore. I guess I should’ve specified, so that’s very much on me. That being said, this is not a bad piece; it’s actually a solid personal essay. But it’s still a personal essay. I’d love for you to have used your knack for vivid descriptions and highly-relatable intimate moments to teach me about something tangible in this world. I liked the idea of feeling laughter without hearing it. I really liked your ending with the dinner table statement, that was very strong - but it should’ve been a strong opener to a piece about something truly non-fiction: how dinner tables work, or their history, or about how flat dinners in Dunedin impact culture, or something else, anything else, beyond the utterly-biographical sphere of personal musings. I really liked it – I could feel myself in that car – but these two entries read like poetry that had been stretched and folded into something called “non-fiction”. I know the word count is tough, but trust me - I could’ve learned a lot about something in 650 words.

weeklyspecials

SOMETHING TO WATCH

University’s Cyber Security Education and Awareness Programme

Some would say you’re supposed to engage with Otago’s Security Education and Awareness Programme, but I beg to differ; watching it from the distance of my bed was more effective. Sadly, it is much more difficult to watch with your eyes closed - a revelation, I know - but seeing as I possess a modicum of common sense, I was able to pass with flying - yet secure - colours. To enhance your spectating experience, I recommend completing it on the least secure network you can find, while leaving your laptop completely unattended as you stroll leisurely around campus. Although I was hacked in the process, the only thing the hackers could find on my laptop was this piece of writing… I dare say, they won’t bother next time.

SOMETHING TO READ

Your mate's thesis

Perhaps you have a few years to go before you’re in postgrad, but you’ve got an older flatmate; or perhaps you’re travelling headfirst into thesis crunchtime, too. Whatever the case, your mate who is almost finished with their first draft (or maybe just the first draft of the first chapter) is gonna need a favour, and this is your chance to shine. If you do, your postgrad mate in question (who is probably glancing anxiously while you read it, trying to decipher your reaction) will likely be all too willing to handle the next Night ‘n Day snack run. Even if you have no clue what non-Newtonian physics are or if Sally Rooney’s novels assert a post-structuralist lens on capitalism, the thesis could probably use a spell-check (or a vibe check). Even without knowing the technical details, it can be pretty helpful to read through a paragraph and tell your friend, “This makes no fucking sense at all.” Be gentle, though.

SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO

‘If Books Could Kill’ podcast

This podcast is great if you have an annoyingly intellectual parent or relative that loves to quote Malcolm Gladwell or whatever thinkpiece they read most recently. Each episode, the co-hosts take a massively popular ‘airport book’ like Outliers, Freakonomics, The Coddling of the American Mind, The 5 Love Languages, Hillbilly Elegy, and Nudge, and they absolutely tear them apart bit by bit, exposing the nonsense within. Not recommended if you already secretly judge everyone (if you do you will probably like this podcast a great deal, I just don’t think you should).

SOMETHING TO GO TO

Thailand

Fuck it, why not? It’s cold here. Thailand is warm. Cost of living is expensive here. Thailand is far cheaper. We are about to have an election and potentially elect the most conservative government in generations. Thailand just had an election and could potentially elect the most progressive government in generations. Weed is illegal here. Thailand has weed bars and cafes on every street. We don’t have monkeys. Thailand has monkeys. Need I say more?

SOMETHING TO SUPPORT

Dankfest

August 26th. The Crown Hotel. 7pm. Be there. You’ve probably seen the posters around town, with a monopoly board and a severed foot, and the names of the 14 bands from Ōtepoti and around the country that will be playing. You’ll probably want to bring ear plugs and be prepared for some very grungy and crunchy rock, but if you complain about live music in the city this is an event you can’t miss. Even if you walk away with one new local band you’re a fan of, I reckon that’s worth it. And where else can you get a weekend festival for less than a box of cruisers?

SOMETHING TO CANCEL

Erectile Dysfunctioners

Someone sent in a video of this band playing at The Crown. I didn’t think it would be that bad. It was that bad. They have five albums on YouTube and I listened to parts of all of them because that’s as much as I could stand. And look, some of the actual instrumentals are okay, but literally as soon as someone opens their mouth it’s the worst fucking thing I’ve ever heard. The majority of the lyrics are the words poo and cum and then some actual human growling. That’s about it. And while I don’t want to say “stop making your art” because, y’know, power to you, I’m just saying that it sucks. If I paid to go to a gig and you guys came on and started performing these songs, I would be genuinely pissed off. If it’s a joke, it’s a bad one. So I’ll put this in words you can understand: this music is stink stink poopoo bad. No wonder you wear masks on stage.

SMALL PRESS FEST

illustrations: Tim Dustow

SMALL PRESS FEST

(@grits.n.grams)

This weekend launches the inaugural Small Press Fest. Critic Te Ārohi caught up with the festival’s creator and curator, Frances Pavletich of Evening Books, on the whats and whys of a dedicated fest to small press.

Small Press Fest runs from August 18-20, hosted at Evening Books and Yours café. The festival brings together small presses, independent publishers and writers from across Aotearoa to host workshops, panels, discussions and readings. GLORIA, Lawrence and Gibson, 5ever Press, Compound Press, Left of the Equator, Gabi Lardies, and magazines, Newzician and Ratworld, will all be present to share their journeys in the world of indie publication. Closer to home, the Dunedin Youth Writers are hosting a reading of their works, and a collaborative discussion-based event between Blue Oyster Project Space and Point Design.

Frances’ bookshop, Evening Books, was realised with a dedicated focus to Aotearoa writers and small presses. This kaupapa is extended by Small Press Fest. Small press as an alternative to mainstream publishing has always been of interest to France, especially in its focus on emerging and experimental texts and authors. “A lot of these presses or publications, they're filling a gap in our ecosystem and they are supporting so many of our emerging and experimental texts. Without them there just wouldn't be a place for that.” In creating Small Press Fest, Frances has created a time and place for small presses to be celebrated, and to connect with one another and new audiences. It also validates the form. “It’s supporting the underdog and supporting viable alternatives to mainstream publishing,” shares Frances. “And that not necessarily being just a stepping board into bigger publishing. That that in itself is a valid alternative.”

Small Press Fest was fortunate enough to receive DCC funding. This was the first step in allowing Frances the means to put together this festival, ensuring that all the creatives involved are financially compensated for their time, work and travel. Frances also ran a Boosted campaign to make up the final costs and it was met by overwhelming support. “A lot of people coming to talk will be able to talk to that,” shares Frances on the similarities between hosting an independent event and indie press. “I want the public to feel like things are possible. That you can reach out into these things and people will support you… knowing that your communities will rally around you.”

As the absolute point of wrap-up of the festival, a book object will be created. It will be an experimental and collaborative account of the event; a coincidence of the kaupapa of the event, the space, and indie presses as an opportunity for collaborative and experimental practice. The collective effort is led and inspired by the visiting 5ever Press and will be printed and distributed to exist as a memento, supported by UNESCO City of Literature.

In creating the festival and this particular book object, Frances was inspired by the Wellington indie publishing scene centred around Trades Hall, where much of the presses above exist separately but share the same machinery of Rebel Press. “I really want people down here to see that and to be able to imagine a possibility: if we had the actual press, if we had the machinery, what we could create.” There are multiple workshops across the three days, ‘whatever by 5ever’ in which you can contribute to the object.

You can find the Small Press Fest schedule online at spf23.eveningbooks. nz and you can also get updates on Instagram (@smallpressfest23).

By Anon

In the Eyeof the

This week: The Everything Room

Business school staff member #1: Did you see the new art exhibition upstairs?

Staff member #2: You mean the vandalism those students did?

Staff member #1: Allegedly. And I think there’s more to it; it’s artistic expression. If Banksy did it, the walls would be worth $10,000, at least.

Staff member #2: Isn’t that what they're being charged for in damages?

The answer: We’re looking at The Everything Room on the second floor of the Business School, a few boring disused office rooms converted into an artistic display of colourful expression - a metaphor for the “canvas of student potential”. Seeing as the whole floor is set to be completely remodelled, local artists made use of the free real estate to practise their craft.

Now, what do we have here? Creative artistic expression or common vandalism and graffiti? The immediate thing that you’ll find striking when you enter The Everything Room is the sheer amount of colour, perfectly juxtaposing the drab grey walls of the rest of the building. There’s rainbows, lovehearts, flowers and colourful messages. One such message reads: “Why do board members need so much celery?” Questions like these really make you think.

Ok, so maybe there is a little graffitiing and some anarchy symbols. But rumour has it that this art exhibition is for a limited time only; the whole floor is under construction and planning on being redone. In fact, wallpaper is peeling off as I write. So what gives for the cost of the installation? A few drill holes in a fire door? It’s just a little oopsie - artists are like that!

To an untrained eye, the exhibition may seem like common vandalism. But to our professional critics, this was some of the finest display of free artistic expression this campus has seen in a long time. It should be celebrated, not criminalised. We rest our case.

Song Recommendation: Funkytown, Lipps Inc.

the Beholders

SATAY CHICKEN VERMICELLI

This recipe is dedicated to the lovely human who sent an email complaining about the use of prawns in my first ever recipe for Critic. I still think about that message sometimes. This was going to be a prawn recipe out of spite but I am choosing kindness. Chicken it is, and don't forget to be kind.

INGREDIENTS:

Oil

Two chicken breasts (they're cheaper if you buy with skin on and just peel it off)

1.5 cups edamame beans

3 carrots

Quarter cabbage, red or green

FOR DA SAUCE

Third cup peanut butter

Generous sprinkling of chilli flakes

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tsp fish sauce

Lemon juice if you've got any

DIRECTIONS:

Splash of warm water

1 tsp sugar

FOR DA BASE

A packet of vermicelli noodles, cooked and drained

Rip the skin off of the chicken breasts. How good, you've already saved a dollar or two. Cut the breasts into bite sized chunks. Heat oil in a pan and add the chicken. Cook for 5 or 6 minutes stirring occasionally. Check if it's cooked by cutting into the biggest chunk. If it's pink, cook it for longer.

Defrost the edamame beans by running them through hot water in a sieve. Slice the cabbage and carrot into small slices.

Add all of the above ingredients into the pan the chicken was cooked in. Now in another bowl, add all of the sauce ingredients. Stir it all together and taste. Add more sugar if it needs it. Add the sauce into the chicken pan and stir throughout.

Serve this on top of vermicelli and tuck in. Should feed 5.

Kriller feed, even without prawns.

WILD MOOSE

BY ALBERT EINSTEINLAGER

Wild Moose is the greatest New Zealand/Canada collaboration since Gallipoli.

Much like the mythical beast of Fiordland for which it’s named, our country is resigned to its existence and must drink in its honour. That moose is never going to turn up. You’d have an easier time finding Noah’s Arc in Central Otago, or so I’m told. These seem to have faded from the forefront of RTD supremacy, but they were all the rage when I was in school and you can still find a box kicking around somewhere.

Wild Moose comes in 4% bottles or 7% cans, which is like having the choice between a good night's sleep or pissing in your family's shoe cupboard. This is one of the few circumstances where I would edge out the higher percent brew for the lower. The bottles are exactly how this should be drunk. With a somewhat respectable flavour and ease of consumption, you’re likely going to plough through a box without even realising it. For the cans, I’m unsure what deal was made to gain that extra 3% of alcohol, but I am damn sure whoever signed off on its production has the devil inside them. “I don’t care how you do it, just get it done!” they shout as they molest each and every ham being handed out as a Christmas bonus.

The few times I’ve been close to (and likely was) poisoned by alcohol have been with Wild Moose cans. It is the reason I cannot stomach dry drinks to this day. Even thinking of the wretched stuff is conjuring an ancient nausea from my gut. The slurry of whiskey, ginger ale, and Dominos pizza barraging my uvula as they are ejected from the depths of my churning innards is as close to torture tactics I’ve experienced. If it’s a choice between Wild Moose and waterboarding, you’re likely in Guantanamo Bay.

There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a 16-year-old in the depths of a Wild Moose binge. I recall asking my older sister to get me some bottles for that night. Knowing I could handle the alcohol without coming home absolutely fucked, she brought me a box of cans. Unbeknownst to my 16-year-old self, I was about to endeavour upon an illustrious career of alcohol-induced brain damage. I don’t remember much of that night, but I do remember how it ended: face down in my mother’s mint bush. Yep, right in the mint bush of the garden, which I had brilliantly used to stifle the sounds of my incessant vomiting. With no end to the vomathon in sight, it was easier to build a nest of shrubs in which I could lay cockheaded as I pleased. Only to get up in four hours to play some of the drunkest (and then hungover-est) volleyball anyone had ever played at the Howick recreation centre.

While the initial story is quite tame, it bears the fruit of considerable guilt. I thought I had gotten off scot-free, but the following weekend on a scorching Summer's day, the air turned sour with the scent of bile and mint. Mother was in the vegetable garden. She was weeding the mint bush, and found herself completely engulfed in a cloud of festering pizza and whiskey, “I think the neighbour's cat has been vomiting in my vege garden!” Yeah Mum, I’m sure it was.

Tasting notes: Ginger and stomach acid.

Chugability: 4/10. Sickly sweet.

Hangover depression level: 10/10. Sorry Mum, and sorry to the bathroom floor of Macca’s on Fatty Lane.

Overall: 3/10. No moose, but definitely an ass.

and fill the deep void of loneliness we all experience from time to time. However, things seem to have taken a turn. Two weeks in, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him to chill on this, because it was never meant to be a serious thing. However, he clearly didn’t read the room, and then asked me to come meet his mother for his birthday lunch. Also seems important to note that he’s a Leo. Is he fucked in the head? Should I call it off? Help me orb, I’m being love bombed.

Birth Date: 10/012/97, 7:43pm Location: Timaru

SUN: MOON: RISING:

SAGITTARIUS ARIES GEMINI

Sun determines your ego and identity.

Sagittarius suns are adventurous, outgoing, and creative individuals who are always up for a chaotic experience. They have a desire for change, and hate feeling stuck or stagnant.

Moon determines your inner emotions and subconscious.

Aries moons are fiery, and you’re probably the no-nonsense friend who keeps it real. While you’re loyal and passionate, at times you can be aggressive or explosive.

Your rising sign is your outward persona and how you express yourself to the world.

Gemini risings are often social butterflies who love their friends and having a good time. Creative and unique, Gemini risings have a strong sense of self and individualism.

While there is nothing wrong with a harmless sneaky link or flirtatious fandango, running into trouble is always expected, especially when it’s with the same person. While it’s only natural to accidentally catch feelings for the person you’re boning, it seems your fuck buddy has really taken this to a whole new level. And with that, I say run. If you looked up “gaslighting” or “master manipulator” in the dictionary, it’s highly likely that a Leo man would be the definition. Your first mistake was fucking a Leo, and your second mistake was doing it a second time. This guy is definitely love bombing you, and I’d say it’s only a matter of time before he goes full blown SayAnything-standing-outside-your-house-with-a-boombox-stalker on you. This also doesn’t marry well with your Sagitarian nature. You’re a free spirit, you crave change, and are repulsed by any sort of commitment or romantic feeling towards other human beings. Although you’re fucking, you find this dude both suffocating and cringe. If that doesn’t make you run, then surely his subconscious mommy issues will. Dudes aren’t usually excited or eager about the prospects of introducing their mum to members on their roster, so I can only imagine this fella has Freud on the brain. Overall, I say block him, run for the hills, and guide him to a therapist. Perhaps find another Sagittarius or an Aquarius, someone else who doesn’t have it in them to fall in love within two weeks. But to be honest, it won’t be hard to find a better alternative.

XOXO, Orbtago

Want answers to the burning questions and troubles in your life? Send your query, birth date, time, and location of birth to orb@critic.co.nz

HOROSCOPES

AQUARIUS PISCES ARIES

Being numb and having no feelings is actually not normal. In fact, it’s rather concerning. Ease up on the sociopathy this week, and try to find some emotion deep within the creases of your soul.

DIY project: Clean your mojo dojo casa house.

TAURUS

Normalise accountability. Normalise selfawareness. Normalise watching your tone. Normalise being a kind and caring civilian.

DIY project: Make friendship bracelets.

LEO Jul 23 – Aug 22

Leo, now is the time to MANIFEST all your hopes, dreams, and desires. August is a powerful month, so exert all that positive energy while you can.

DIY project: Build a vision board.

SCORPIO Oct 23 – Nov 21

Roses are red, violets are blue, you’re batshit crazy, and your fuck buddy has no clue.

DIY activity: Paint a self-portrait.

You’ve got lots of feelings and plenty of delusional dreams, but don’t let that get in the way of experiencing the everyday joys of life. The grass isn’t greener on the other side, it’s green where you water it.

DIY project: Pick up a new journal.

Shoutout to all the Geminis across the world. You are the brightest of people, the shiniest of stars, and embrace the joié de vivre of life. Keep being zesty!

DIY project: Develop your old film.

VIRGO Aug 23 – Sep 22

Remember, there’s a remarkable difference between venting, gossiping, and bitching, and it’s important to distinguish between the three. You don’t wanna keep starting shit in the flat.

DIY project: Make a tin can phone.

LIBRA

–

19

I am once again reminding you that actions have consequences, you can’t run and deflect from every situation you encounter.

DIY project: Crochet.

Inflation is your worst enemy, the winter power bills have got you, and cash is scarce. It’s time to embrace your inner hustler in order to find new and innovative ways to make more money as the capitalist hellscape soldiers on.

DIY activity: Knitting.

You should probably go to class and get the degree you voluntarily signed yourself up for. Oh also, stop talking so much shit.

DIY project: Decorate your room.

Sep 23 – Oct 22

You love to live life in excess, but sometimes it’s a little too much. Be sure to watch your alcohol intake this week, nothing good ever came from blacking out!

DIY project: Yassify your wardrobe.

The Capricorn girlies need some extra love and support right now. If you have a Capricorn girlboss in your life, give them a hug and an iced latte. Not for Capricorn dudes though, y’all still suck.

DIY activity: Cultivate a herb garden.

was around 10pm, I had lost all my mates and could feel the party favours kicking in so I was absolutely wildin’ in the mosh and clearly sending out a vibe. A man puts his arm around me, he’s cute, we immediately click. Mr Traumatik comes on stage with his saucy ass lyrics and apparently that really set the mood.

Three songs in me and the boy are making out. By the fifth song, we had wandered out into the city to find a spot to continue this vibe that was brewing between us. We find an alleyway that seems pretty deserted and get down to business. It's fine, it's fun, it's casual, we finish up

above me.

No. It cannot be. Apparently our ‘deserted’ alleyway was right below an apartment building, and about 15 men were out on their terrace looking down directly at us. Listen, I live to perform, so I stood up, dusted off the knees, and took a bow, then walked away and got in the Uber. Never spoke to that boy again but hope he's thriving.

Only regret is missing the rest of the show tbh.

Have something juicy to tell us? Send your salacious stories to moaningful@critic.co.nz. Submissions remain anonymous.

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