17 minute read
Columns
I was walking home last night when a stranger approached. They were tall and skinny (lot’s of skin). I had never encountered such a person in my life. I shouted, “What business do you have here, wretched one?” To which they hunched down and whispered, “Communism doesn’t work.” The way I recoiled and went wee-wee-wee all the way home. I lay on my bed, their words burning my ears. After some time I realised, I was mad. That statement couldn’t be further from the truth. Too many times do people on Facebook say, “CoMunIsM iS BAd” or “This socialist-communist-tyrannical government is evil, ” There’s so many wrong interpretations of communism and people don’t know what it means.
So it was there, in the deepest depths, where this fate came upon me, and I accepted it: educating you on the triumphs, the epic highs and lows of communism. This begins with defining communism in a non-gatekeeping way, making this knowledge available to all. Because there’s nothing worse than reading Instagram comments like, “Communism is destroying our democracy”, when communism is, in fact, not the culprit for democratic decay.
" So what is communism? "
It can be tricky to define because it has many definitions. I define it as a social system which can govern our way of living. I say ‘can’ because we don’t live in a communist society. Communism pushes for a classless system. That would mean the end of billionaires and the poorest no longer paying the most tax. Communism aims to abolish private property such as landlords and individualised landowners. So we aren’t a communist country because we have both of these: a class society (lower, middle, high class) and private property (farmland or housing being treated as investments, to name a few).
There is more to defining communism. Communism hopes to end all labour. In a modern context, that means the end of the 9-5 and a goodbye to the concept of money. Now, I know what you’re thinking - no money??? The idea of a moneyless society isn’t that farfetched. Sure, it’s difficult to imagine nowadays because this world is interconnected and dependent on transactions. But history has seen cultural groups flourish without a dependence on money. The relevance of communism and a moneyless society is increasingly important. We have some of the highest living costs New Zealand has ever seen. Saving money is a struggle. Surviving is expensive. But that’s because this modern way of living is antonymous to communism. We’re deserving of a better lifestyle, of which can be achieved through communism.
There is more I wish to say, but I’ll stop this brief definition of communism here. I should note that this article isn’t just glorifying communism. Countries throughout history have used communism (improperly) to fuel wars and gain power, losing lives and cultures. I’ll discuss those topics eventually, as they do not entirely fit the definition of communism. But for now, meditate on the sweet ideals of an alternative future.
Philosopher Bertrand Russell once said,
So I’m here to bestow upon you five science facts you probably didn’t need to know. You probably won’t have found these in your SciPad or Campbell’s Biology (for you, poor first-year biologists), and there will not be a quiz on this at the end of the semester. So sit back, relax and learn about the bizarre world we live in.
The colour magenta doesn’t exist. You may think, well why is there a printer ink for magenta or why was one of the dogs from Blue’s Clues is called Magenta? It is what is known as an extra-spectral colour, meaning it doesn’t fit the typical red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet spectrum, where each colour corresponds to a wavelength of light. Magenta doesn’t have its own wavelength. Your brain instead averages red and blue light. This should produce green light but the brain doesn’t like that so it creates the colour magenta.
Australia, home to earth’s most weird and wacky creatures. The wombat is a fluffy marsupial that lives in burrows and, wait for it, poops cubes. That’s right. Their poop is square. Why you may ask? Scientists only just figured that out in 2021. Wombats have a finetuned digestive tract that subtly moulds the broken down plant bits into a cube. Once excreted, the wombat puts these around its home to mark its territory and attract a mate. Have you ever stepped outside after the rain and inhaled that wonderful damp smell of wet dirt? This is known as petrichor and results from bacteria in the soil, which produce a compound called geosmin. This compound has a very earthy odour and is also found in beetroot. Most animals find it toxic and avoid it, but a microscopic organism known as a springtail is attracted to it. The springtails eat the bacteria and help spread its spores throughout the soil, in a similar way that bees transport pollen between plants as they look for nectar.
Water usually has three very separate physical states. We have ice, the solid state; water, the liquid state; and water vapour, the gaseous state. Everyone knows that ice forms below 0 degrees and water boils at 100 degrees. However, if you have a temperature of 0.01 degrees and reduce the pressure to 0.6% of atmospheric pressure, you will get the triple point of water. At this point, water exists as solid, liquid and gas simultaneously. Melting (solid to liquid), freezing (liquid to solid), boiling (liquid to gas), condensing (gas to liquid), sublimating (solid to gas) and depositing (gas to solid), all happen at the same time.
Bananas are slightly radioactive. They contain potassium, 99.99% of which is stable. The other 0.01% is potassium-40, which is unstable and every 1.25 billion years, half of it will decay into calcium. So technically, bananas are radioactive. However, don’t panic. It takes 10 million bananas to cause significant radiation poisoning. With the world record being 8 bananas eaten in a minute. At that rate, it would take two and a half years of non-stop eating bananas to do any damage. I don’t know about you, but I have better things to do with my time.
Sex isn’t an antidepressant*
*Unless it is
Welcome to your weekly, government mandated session with Dr. Sex. Hope you’re doing okay and recovering from a, I’m sure, very hectic o-week. But the afterparty blues are starting to set in, morale is low, and you’re leaning on the only crux you know. Mindless hookups with Tinder matches from last December, anything to fill that hole. The idea is appealing, I get it, and knowing you won’t have to deal with seeing their face (or the back of their head) again is screaming your name. And I’m not one to let you know that you can’t be out here dicking down anyone who responds with a winking emoji to that 11pm ‘u up’ Snap. Though understanding that the hole that’s formed within you can’t always be filled with the nearest dick or titty that had a nice smile and Farmers perfume on, you need to fix the problem internally before external sources invade.
Storytime. I’ve been you in the past, aimlessing looking through dating apps in the hopes of matching with an eligible bachelorette / bachelor for the night. The copious amounts of starting banter, followed with the inevitable exchange of socials as you prepare to send those glorious solicited pictures of your private bits. It’s a tale as old as time, true love – for the night. Once you finally do meet, the buildups become real as you realise that you have to undertake the things you said you would. “Gonna fuck you till you’re wet like the Pacific” doesn’t always end that way, but oftentimes it’s whiskey dick and the 3 minute jackhammer until you go soft and profusely apologise. Or just the 20 minute, “fuck I usually don’t have any issues cumming” or “promise it’s nothing to do with you, you’re hot as.”
But wait, is it whiskey dick or undiagnosed mental illness? I’ve personally not been the recipient of libido problems from alcohol sources, but antidepressants stifling my ability to finish? You betcha. Either way, realising that there’s a deeper problem should be your first move. It’s also not a definitive answer, mental health, to the inability to climax while fucking. It’s more just a possibility that you should consider.
There’s also some major benefits to having sex, it’s just fucking fun. A study conducted in 2013 found that 15% of 173 respondents associated the word “happiness” with the word “sex." In other words, when asked to describe happiness, 173 of the respondents would likely use the word “sex” as part of their description. It’s an obvious answer as to why we associate happiness with sex, as we release endorhpins in a euphoric haze as we cum. But what about post-nut clarity? Or post-nut depression? Why do we feel that way? Don’t ask me, because fuck knows. And like I’ve mentioned plenty of times, not a fucking doctor. There’s some science to it, some articles that I could trawl through and give you an answer as to why those emotions happen. In fact, I did and your brief explanation is Postcoital Dysphoria. A common illness shared mostly among women but affects men also. Some symptoms of PCD include: tearfulness, sadness, anxiety and depression, irritability and feeling unsatisfied . The more you know I guess?
What I’m trying to get at is this, sex doesn’t solve the problem everytime. It’d be a blatant lie if I’d said that I haven’t used sex to cure my undeniable urge for mental stability, but I’ve come to realise that engaging in meaningful sex is the way to go, and it’ll help you understand your body way more. Moral of the story is that you should be out here fucking someone if that’s your vibe. But what you shouldn’t be fucking, is your mental health. Be balanced and wear a condom bro. It’s just that easy
Coming from a poor background, in my family and neighbourhood, I’ve allowed for some of the darkest and saddest music to comfort me. Some people just like to feel sad – and that was me as a teenager. I’m not sure what attracted me to sombre music, I guess I just felt like pop didn’t portray the realistic side of my surroundings and upbringing.
At a very young age I felt like I was in perpetual existential crises, beginning mostly at the start of High School. Music has always been a means of coping, with certain songs allowing me to escape and disappear. That’s honestly what I’m here to talk about today, songs that allowed a sense of false reality. That being said, there’s a wide range of artists that moulded my sense of inner-being and also shaped me into who I am today, but these are a select few.
Going to op shops, looking for vinyl and experiencing music just by ear was fine in achieving that sense of nostalgia but coming to University, learning music theory has evolved and helped me detach from these feelings I had of the music and just enjoy the music. I still think about those emotions sometimes, with some songs bringing the memories of childhood sadness back (promise I’m chill now). So I’ll share with you the few that really helped me through my “existential crisis”.
Frank Ocean - Channel Orange
This album, along with Earl Sweatshirt’s Doris and Tyler The Creator’s Wolf (they all collabed in 2012) really shaped me at the time. Reiterating that I was a misguided, rebellious teen just trying to bring the hardships of life together through music, this album helped me through my darkest times. Channel Orange is a masterpiece as it challenges contemporary society in what it can and can’t be, while also maintaining its maturity. Nothing could beat music in 2012-14 as they really helped adapt the music that you hear now. Have a listen to these 3 albums; you will see how they all relate to one another and appreciate how some guys are just trying to bring together their audience.
Drake - Take Care
Okay, Drake kind of seems overrated, but I would sleep to this album every night (honestly just the chill songs) as they provided me comfort enough to deal with whatever was going on. Aubrey Graham really knew what he wanted to do in this album, and I promise it’s not as depressing as you think. Although he did get hella memed for being too soft… Nevertheless, this is a masterpiece of hip-hop/rnb, so if you’re going through something right now, I’d suggest you take a minute and just listen to this album.
King Krule - 6 Feet Beneath The Moon.
I’ve been listening to this album for fucking ever man, and there’s something about this guy that just really gets inside your head. But in a good way? Through dissonance and reverbed guitars, to loud af drums and just sudden madness, Archie Marshall and his band find your nerves and hit them hard. I would suggest listening to the album at night, or going for a walk around the block to really get where this guy’s coming from. No doubt one of my favourite artists.
Any Lo-Fi soundcloud user
When I started making music, it was mostly Lo-Fi, but now that it’s recently blown up, I’ve moved to mostly r&b – but don’t forget your roots. Lo-Fi has always placed me into this sort of 90’s nostalgic trip, somewhere I felt I belonged. There’s that joke of “I was born in the wrong generation”, and Lo-Fi gives the impression. There’s so many different genres of music to help you understand yourself. Whether it takes you to a very dark hole, or to the gates of heaven, there’s something for everyone. Some Lo-Fi artists are perfect for relaxing or just studying. If you’re searching for that vibe, look up bsd.u, hm surf (produced for doja cat & ugly god) and grimm doza (produced for xxxtentacion & wifisfuneral). You’ll soon find your sound, like I hope I’ve found mine.
Maybe just don’t be racist?
Hoata Rāta
Recently there's been something playing on my mind as a trawl through the many media outlets that decide to broadcast news that they find important to tangata whenua. News that feels empty in nature, quotes that leave much to the imagination as their readers lay dormant behind keyboardsm attacking those featured in the articles. I am of course discussing the nature of Māori Tauranga councilman, Te Pohue Rose and his recent encounter with blatant racism at the hands of pākehā.
Let's start a discourse about the portrayal and understanding of mataora, tā moko and its significance for the Māori people. I understand it's polarising, I understand that it's not something that you're used to looking at. I can even understand that it's a little bit jarring for you to comprehend that anyone would have a culture that differs from your own, but that does not give you the right to point, nor stare, nor even make comments about markings on one's skin. Especially those who are tangata whenua, indigenous to the land that your ancestors decided to rape, pillage and steal from.
E aha ana koe?
Local Māori man, Te Pohue Rose, was on the receiving end of such discrimation, words harsh enough to cut but he fought back through his ability to kōrero and perhaps help them understand his decision to get his mataora at a young age. The strength that it takes to be able to make a decision like that is one that shouldn't be taken lightly. And here's where the concern and anger lies within these hallowed words. Those pākehā decided that they thought they had the rights and ability to tell a Tāne Māori that his birthright was disgusting, and would impede on his future. But this is not new, this isn't something that rarely happens - but rather an occurrence that's been going on for far too long and being ignored wildly as a form of harmless discrimination. I mean, call it what it is: racism.
One of the most prevalent issues we have in ‘New Zealand,’ is lighthearted racism and allowing it to just continue existing in a society that should have and should be more developed than we are. We find it really easy to look at our mates across the pond, Australia, and joke about their racism and not understanding the needs and cultural differences of the indigenous people. But when will the common New Zealander recognise that those problems are still very much relevant in our everyday societal expectations of who Māori people are? We can be and we are just as racist as those we point our fingers at and mock in a childlike tone, not understanding the absolute irony in the words that we speak.
I'm gonna leave you with some food for thought. Have you ever looked at someone sporting a mataora or a moko kauae, and thought yourself, “faaaar they look fucking weird?” I'm not saying that you're part of the problem, but you certainly aren't part of the solution.
Disclaimer: The name was chosen by the Ētita, much to the dismay of the writer.
The unbearable weight of being a sports fan!
The unbearable weight of being a sports fan!
The notion of burning out is one an athlete knows all too well. Whether it’s the G-Force tax on a Formula One driver's body, or the 180 games in a season a Major League Baseball centrefielder can play in a single season, the fatigue is real. That is why physiology and sports psychology are key to ensuring a modern athlete maintains physical and mental performance.
The same can’t be said for the sports fan. It is physically and emotionally exhausting being a sports fan. The investment of your time is one thing, but the real killer is the hope! Hope is a powerful drug. I have taken almost every other drug in my life and none of them has made me think the Vodafone Warriors could actually win a championship. But every now and then in the dark recesses of my mind, a nagging voice whispers softly, “this might be our year.” The Sharks, with two fewer men on the field convincingly beat them, and two weeks from now when they get a narrow one point win over a misfiring team I will hear that echo again: “this might be our year.”
It is faith in evidence as yet unseen and it plagues us all. The Celtics sweep the Nets and in my head, that same siren song calls, “maybe this will be our year”. It won’t. We don’t have a deep roster and Steph Curry still exists. But I don’t care, because I have hope, and hope is a mother fucking drug!
Hope defies all reason too. Manchester United signed Varane, Sancho, and Ronaldo and in my head, I thought “our midfield is terrible, Harry Maguire can’t catch a cold, and we have no obvious style. But something still called me like a siren song saying, “how can we lose?” Then we lost. We lost so fucking bad they will write obituaries for this season. We became unrecognisable. And at the deepest moment of my despair and rage for the subpar performance of a team, I am way too emotionally invested in them announcing a new coach for next season. And I thought, “maybe that will fix everything.”
Being a sports fan drains every emotion, every spark, and every ounce of energy from you. It doesn’t matter if your team are the most storied in history, a scrappy underdog, or the bookies' favourites. Hope keeps you hooked.
Once hope is seemingly extinguished, we temporarily transfer it to something else. For the last few months, I have wasted hours hoping Liverpool lose because the only hope I have left is that they don’t win a treble (or a quadruple). In the end, we feel the void in our souls and, like any good junkie, we look for our next fix. We wait for news of off-season moves, trades, and contract renewals. Will the Phoenix keep Piscopo? Can the Black Caps batting lineup put a successful run together? Why don’t I spend time with my family anymore?
Sports fans are addicts!
Every single season we burn ourselves down till we have nothing left to offer to our friends, our jobs, or our group assignments, because of something we had zero control over that we didn’t participate in but that we have convinced ourselves defines our very identity. And just when we are completely reduced to a lifeless and depressing shell of our former selves we hear that careless whisper once again: “you won’t believe who the Warriors are looking to sign…” and we are alive!
