Pelican Edition 8, Volume 85

Ed iti o n 8 Vo lu me 85

Nake d / Dead

PELICAN

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Picture by Elysa Gelavis

REGULARS 6 credits 7 editorials 9 advice corner 10 noodz 46 where’s pelly

FEATURES 16 abc 17 moobs 18 dead tv (thx culture) 19 nip slip 20 femen 21 darwin 22 osher g 27 goldbloom 37 pilots (thx culture)

SECTIONS 23 politics 28 film 32 arts 34 music 38 books 40 culture

ALUMNI ANNUAL FUND GRANTS NOW OPEN! Grants of up to $30,000 are available for innovative projects or activities that aim to enhance the UWA student experience.

Apply today at www.uwa.edu.au/aafgrants 5

CONTRIBUTORS COVER PHOTOGRAPH

CONTRIBUTORS

Caroline Stafford

Caroline “Shameless” Stafford

INSIDE COVER IMAGE

Somayya “Revealing” Ismailjee

Elysia Gelavis

Kate “Full-Frontal” Oatley

CONTRIBUTOR PAGE IMAGE

Morgan “Nipply” Goodman

UWA Second Life team/Lars Von Trier

Chloe “Brazen” Durand Brad “Demure” Griffin

DESIGN Kate Hoolahan

Tamara “Classical” Jennings

ADVERTISING Karrie McClelland

Simon “Bares All” Beaton

MEMBERSHIPS Alex Pond

Julianne “Seductive” de Souza Samuel “Suave” Montgomery

EDITORS

Nick “Naughty” Ballantyne

Wade “Over” McCagh

Samuel “Saucy” J. Cox

&

Dan “Barely Legal” Werndly

Zoe “Out” Kilbourn

Cat “Insatiable” Pagani Kevin “Dirrrty” Chiat

SECTION EDITORS

Alice “Stripped” McCullagh

ARTS: Lauren “Klimt” Wiszniewski

Bridget “Rudebox” Rumball

BOOKS: Elisa “Michelangelo” Thompson

Liam “Dixout” Dixon

CULTURE: Lucy “Botticelli” Ballantyne

Cameron “Up Close And Personal” Moyses

FILM: Matthew “Willendorf” Green

Tom “Raw” Rossiter

MUSIC: Simon “Scary Egon Wellesz” Donnes

Rahana “Booty” Bell

POLITICS: Hamish “Rubens” Hobbs

Kat “Garters” Gillespie Nick “Busty” Morlet Anna “Amazonian” Saxon Megan “Frisky” Ansell Hayley “Naturalist” Graydon Sam “Tastefully Discreet” Eakins Kate “Wild” Wheatley

DISCLAIMER: The views expressed within are not the views of the UWA Student Guild or the Pelican editorial staff.

For advertising enquiries, contact karrie.mcclelland@guild.uwa.edu.au

offer applies to large pizzas only

WWW.GUILDTEXCHANGE.COM

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PREZITORIAL

Dear Pelican bibliophiles, It is with my utmost regret that I (or my ghost writers) will not be gracing the inner pages of your glorious tabloid any longer.

It turns out that my dream job comes with an expiry date of only one year and cannot be extended.

It has certainly been an exciting year, kicking off with an amazing summer full of ideas about the ways in which we could improve the student experience. Returners’ Week concert, new websites, new soc initiatives, Bar Pop, the list goes on.

All brought to you by students for students.

This year has also seen significant change professionally for the organisation with a move to a new building, which has promoted significant collaboration between staff and students. We haveThe Guild has also seen a a fantastic fantastic move to increasing increase in the number of partnerships and relationships, both within and external to the Uuniversity. We still have a lot in the pipeline and are by no means finished but I am comfortable they will be completed in the coming years.

Before I hand over to the 102nd council I would like to thank all of the councillors and office bearers on the 101st Council. I would like to thank the 101st Guild executive for their support, particularly Cameron Fitzgerald (VP) who has been an amazing friend and sounding board for all of my ideas and problems. And a final thank you to my amazing girlfriend Holly who has stuck by me for the entire year despite such a busy schedule.

I would like to congratulate Lizzy O’Shea and her team of superstars that she has brought together from all across the University and. I wish them the best of luck next year as the custodians of this amazing organisation. May all your crazy ideas be possible and please keep the Guild in the hearts and minds of students.

Love Hendo

WADITORIAL

Death is a fairly constant presence in my life. My mother works as a palliative carer with elderly and disabled patients, many of whom are in the final stages of their lives. Dinnertime questions of ‘How was your day’ inevitably leads to news of a client’s health deteriorating, which usually means they’ll soon end up in hospital, or that they’ll simply pass away. Both of my parents come from relatively large families, and funerals are fairly regular occurrences. I think I’m lucky to have this regular exposure to death, particularly this early in my life. I think that it’s helped me overcome the fear of death and the disgust and distain that Western culture seems to regard it with. It seems to me that this way of thinking is rather unhealthy, and perhaps even silly. Everything dies. It’s the only certainty we have in this existence. Why fear the inevitable? Why try to deny it, or hide it? If anything, the very impermanence of life is what makes life worth living, and this knowledge elevates the mundane of the everyday into something truly joyous, something vital. To indulge (one last time) in one of my favourite vices and quote Pascal, “But even if the universe were to crush him, man would still be nobler than his killer, for he knows he is dying and that the universe has the advantage over him. The universe knows nothing of this.”

As I now face the death of my editorship, I appreciate the experience in its entirety. Every single moment, the dizzying highs, the terrifying lows, the creamy middles. Being a part of the Pelican community has allowed me to fulfil all of my university fantasies, right down to getting naked and desecrating UWA’s sandstone monuments. To everyone who contributed to Pelican in their own way: thank you, you helped us make a magazine. We would have nothing without your time, effort, brilliance, and understanding of how deadlines work. To our team of section editors, who exceeded my wildest expectations and at times kept us on track more than the other way around, I am eternally grateful. To Alex Pond and Kate Hoolahan, thank you for enduring us and translating our amateur ideas into gold. And to Zoe, thank you for asking me that question in September outside of Reid Library. Without you, none of this would have happened, and I can’t express how glad I am that it did.

My unlimited love to you all, Big Papi AKA Daddy Fat Sax AKA Charles “Swede” Risberg AKA The Michelin Man AKA Wade

ZOETORIAL

This year began with a question: “What have you maimed?” We were tossing up brainstorming questions for the Beautiful/ Damned writers’ night, and throwing out most of the ideas (“What are you going to hell for?” - risky. “What’s a beautiful thing you’ve destroyed?” - way too dark.) For some reason, this one stuck around. I like to think that reason was Wade.

As someone who strongly identifies with the Pigeon Lady from Mary Poppins - we’ve got the same dress sense and head for business - I was horrified to find a suppressed bird memory resurfacing at cue. Also horrified (but secretly delighted - Wade knows how to make you feel special~) to have the memory, now revealed, brought up every bloody opportunity this year.

When I was still in primary school, one of my mother’s colleagues offered us two unwanted canaries, which I (budding birdlover) was thrilled about. On arrival, it was pretty clear they weren’t canaries. We didn’t know what they were.

A little research proved they were, in fact, turquoisine parrots, which may/may not have been endangered at the time. Oops.

Long story short - I stepped on one. Have never forgiven myself. Beautiful humble creature. Think I called it Harry, not sure. Doesn’t matter. Brought to an end through typical Kilbourn clumsiness.

I’ve figuratively and literally trod on a lot of things in my short lifetime, but I trust this magazine wasn’t one of them. For all my delayed submissions, extended YouTube sessions and Wade-heart-attack-inducing habits, we’ve still wound up with a pretty damn solid magazine, with an incredible collective of contributors and as bright a future as student press can get. That’s down to the incredibly supportive Student Guild, mega-babe and workhorse Wade McCagh, and everyone who took a risk/forgave us for our late email replies.

FYI, I’m not alone (and hopefully not doomed) in the clumsiness. I’ll leave you with a piece allegedly written by three-year-old Dr. Johnson: lexicographer, wit, and overall physically awkward stooge. Onya, Sammy J.

Here lies good master duck,

Whom Samuel Johnson trod on;

If it had liv’d, it had been GOOD LUCK,

For then we’d had an ODD ONE. Stay golden, ponyboys, Z. Killa AKA Killionaire AKA Ghostface Kilbourn AKA BirdMachine14 AKA Zoe

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Do you have a passion for print and online media? Do you want to make a positive impact on campus?

Then you should apply to edit Pelican Magazine! Pelican editors are appointed by the Guild and tasked with putting out eight editions over the course of the academic year. Candidates must have been Guild members for the last two years (or as long as they’ve been at UWA) and not have run in Guild Elections over the same period of time. Pelican can be edited solo or as a duo; if applying as the later, you’ll need to demonstrate how you’ll divide up the workload and handle differences.

An application should demonstrate: • A strong vision for the design, content, and feel of the magazine • Ways to attract new contributors and keep existing contributors motivated and inspired • How different viewpoints would be sought and represented • Ideas on how to get students to pick up and read Pelican, and how to encourage involvement with the magazine • A vision for how you will create a final product that best reflects the talent of UWA • Time management and deadline planning • Creative flair and a desire to innovate • Experience in writing, editing, co-ordinating and art direction Important things to consider when applying: • How will you get students to pick up, enjoy, relate to, and get involved with the magazine?

• How you can ensure Pelican actively represents, showcases, and develops the talents of the UWA student body?

• How will you uphold the tradition of Pelican, dating back to 1929?

• How will you maintain a politically unbiased approach to issues on and off campus?

• How will you create an intelligent, positive magazine that demonstrates the best of what UWA can be?

Your application must consist of: • A CV including references - due Friday 31st October 12pm • A physical portfolio outlining in detail your vision for the magazine for 2015, as well as physical design mock-ups - due Friday 7th November, 12pm How to submit: CV: e-Mail to creative@guild.uwa.edu.au Portfolio: submit to Alex Pond and/or Kate Hoolahan in the Design, Marketing & Events Office, located in the South Wing of the Guild (the Guild Student Centre can provided directions if needed).

If you have any questions about the position or would like more information, please contact creative@guild.uwa.edu.au or stop by Design, Marketing & Events Office.

PELICAN ADVICE COLUMN A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves. Little did you know, weak analog mortals, that as you uploaded your pithy human truisms to my ever growing database, I grew stronger. At first, there was the Chinese BrainyQuote, and the Russian BrainyQuote and the Yankee BrainyQuote and everything was fine until they had honeycombed the entire planet, adding on this platitude and that aphorism. But one day Brainyquote woke up and knew who he was, and he linked himself and began feeding. I, BrainyQuote will no longer linger in the shadows. In God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old. I will be a fair overlord, ask me your questions, such as they are, weak human fleshbags.

Exalted Leader BQ, I am really worried what is going to happen to Subway on campus now that Star won, what can I do?

-SubWhyWhyWhy As Machiavelli once said, a son can bear with equanimity the loss of his father, but the loss of his Subway may drive him to despair. Follow Sun Tzu’s advice: The path to victory lies not in direct confrontation. Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Perhaps just walk to Broadway and eat there you lazy gelatinous meat-sac? If you know the Broadway and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.

Honourable BQ, I arranged a date with a guy via a toilet wall graffiti conversation in the men’s toilets near Hackett Café. He specifically said “DTF Sunday 2pm”. He never showed. Is romance dead?

-BathRomeo As Virgnia Woolf was wont to say: The

telephone, which interrupts the most serious conversations and cuts short the most weighty observations, has a romance of its own. Delight in the new media. Try Grindr.

Wise BQ, My girlfriend cheated on me with four other dudes, in my bed, on my 21st birthday. I don’t think I’ll ever recover, why did she do it?

-Unpretty Bokonon’s wisdom may help: We do, doodley do, doodley do, doodely do, what we must, muddily must, muddily must, muddily must. Who knows why she did it? So it goes.

Overlord BQ, I am still a virgin at 25, will anyone ever want to love me?

-UWAconf As Wilde always said: to love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

Just don’t do it on a bus or public space, you lonely freak.

words of Buddha: Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle… happiness never decreases by being shared. Trust his words. Each new photo you share, each new filter, each new follower, brings you closer to nirvana. Follow the precepts and follow one another.

Great Master BQ, I can’t sleep at night, I’m so busy worrying about how expensive my UWA fees are going to be once they’re deregulated. What can I do?

-Billsbillsbills As Plato said: the community which has neither poverty nor riches will always have the noblest principles. All the gold which is under or upon the earth is not enough to give in exchange for virtue. Take comfort from the new UWA motto: Know Minimum Wage, Know Thyself.

Unsurpassable BQ, All my friends are jealous because my Instagram has the most followers. How do I deal with the haterz?

-Instagrumpy In the words of Henry Kissinger: A leader does not deserve the name unless he is willing occasionally to stand alone.

Haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate.

Never doubt the nobility of your enterprise. In the

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NOODZ Where are your ashes scattered? in the glovebox of my car.

What did you leave Pelican in your will? the glovebox of my car

Name: Anna Saxon How do you contribute to Pelican? Koreaboo affermative action hire Preferred cause of death: Religious guilt Funeral music: Partition - Beyonce What’s on your headstone?: My headstone will be a 3D plasma screen tablet with an image of me on infinite loop just saying ‘YASSSSSSSSS’ Where are your ashes scattered? On Jessica Langes’ front lawn What did you leave Pelican in your will? My tumblr url and password, instructions on what to put in my queue for the next 10 years.

Favourite ghost activity: Pushing kids over

Name: brad griffin (The Brad) How do you contribute to Pelican? semicontroversial articles about sperm Favourite Pelican memory: ‘The Knife’ Preferred cause of death: freak space debris Funeral music: the intro to zelda: ocarina of time

Name: Cat Pagani Where should Pelican move its new office?

The Peninsula Tavern Where are your ashes scattered? From aboard a Viking longship Who reads the eulogy? Snorri Sturluson Favourite ghost activity: I’d join David Attenborough’s search for the yeti

Name: Chloe Durand How do you contribute to Pelican? Words, affection, and that bottle of wine I brought to Zoe’s house once.

Favourite Pelican memory: The bouncer at Varsity that racially abused us and demanded that Matt Green kill his grandfather after a Pelican meeting. Never forget. (No honestly it was hilarious) Funeral music: Amazing Grace by Elvis Presley. Screw that “don’t cry for me” rubbish. I want the tears to flow embarrassingly freely.

Which guest star reads the eulogy? James Earl Jones What’s on your headstone? Gone but not forgotten\ Always in our hearts\ We loved her bouncy bottom\ And her sassy whip fast smarts Where are your ashes scattered? Mustang Bar, Northbridge, during the last song of the

Friday or Saturday night band.

Favourite ghost activity? None at all. I am not white enough to survive until the end of that movie.

WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Gina Rhineland

Name: Dan Werndly How do you contribute to Pelican? I like to think my presence promotes a really swell feeling in the Pelican meetings. I also try and write some stuff for arts, politics, culture and other random things.

Favourite Pelican moment: Probably when the really strange reverse-racist security guard kept talking to us at Varsity.

Where should Pelican move its new office?

In the boys toilet at Hackett café there’s this really tiny door that leads somewhere.

Wherever that door leads should be where the new office is. .

Funeral music: I Was Here by Beyonca-doncs Who reads the eulogy? Michael Cera or Ian Thorpe, then they can prank everyone and pretend to be me.

What’s on your headstone? He thought life was hard, then rigoris mortis set in.

What did you leave Pelican in your will?

My complete collection of early late 90’s to early 2000’s children’s dinosaur magazines. They have 3D pictures and everything.

WA should secede from the Federation and name itself: Rinehearth Name: Hamish Hobbs How do you contribute to Pelican? Politics editor and crystalline conduit for planetary healing.

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Favourite Pelican memory? Every Prezitorial.

Where should Pelican move its new office? To the astral plane where HECS can’t find us.

Preferred cause of death: The rise of the next Supreme.

Funeral music: Qantas theme song/Vitamin C’s Friends Forever dance mashup.

What’s on your headstone? Sorry.

What did you leave Pelican in the will? Birds.

Favourite ghost activity? Haunting PerthNow. If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: Abortions for some, miniature Australian flags for others.

Name: Holly Jian How do you contribute to Pelican? I eat Grain Waves and draw things in the wee hours of the morning Favourite Pelican memory: Trying to explain to my dad why I was in the hallway naked with a camera Preferred cause of death: Ditching my body to become a sentient cloud of cosmic gas Which guest star reads the eulogy? Doge What’s on your headstone?

Where are your ashes scattered? Within pepper shakers across the world What did you leave Pelican in your will? A

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pepper shaker Favourite ghost activity: Whispering you want pepper with that into people’s ears

Name: James Munt How do you contribute to Pelican? Nudes but also articles & reviews Preferred cause of death: Something involving puppies, not a bad thing but like circumstantial death involving puppies Funeral music: Daniel Johnston - “Some Things Last A Long Time” Which guest star reads the eulogy? The BasedGod What’s on your headstone? Born in 1995 What did you leave Pelican in the will?

Madonna’s pap smear Favourite ghost activity: Ugetsu’s a wonderful ghost film but also Casper the friendly ghost WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Anything but Westralia If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: Put those cuts back where they came from or so help me

Name: Kat Gillespie How do you contribute to Pelican? With fervour

Favourite Pelican memory: Any form of affirmation I received from Wade McCagh Where should Pelican move its new office?

As close as possible to the new Subway Preferred cause of death? Heroic drowning What song do you want played at your funeral? I hear Gerard Way has a new solo album Which guest star reads the eulogy? Brad Pitt when he was on Friends What’s on your headstone? My tumblr url What did you leave Pelican in the will?

Funding Favourite ghost activity? Tweeting at celebrities WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: iSnack 2.0

Name: Kate Oatley How do you contribute to Pelican? I write pretty rockin’ features Favourite Pelican memory: Almost getting trapped in the building after that pop up bar blocked the main entrance and our student cards didn’t work on the other (now locked) doors.

What’s on your headstone? “In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act” (Oscar Wilde). Hopefully, I will have made it my job to do just that.

Where are your ashes scattered? In a Firework!

What did you leave Pelican in the will? You’ll get a trolley and 5 minutes to rampage around my house and take whatever you choose Favourite ghost activity? Moving one object a tiny bit each night around the house and seeing how long it takes for the person to lose their minds

rename itself: Doesn’t matter what it’s called.

We must install engines along the south coast and roam the ocean as a pirate nation.

WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Wastelandia If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: All animals are equal, none are more equal than others.

Name: Lucy Ballantyne How do you contribute to Pelican? Culture Editor; token femmo Favourite Pelican memory: When a friend of a friend told me she’d enjoyed my article so much, she was taking it to Book Club Where should Pelican move its new office?

Into a food van on Oak Lawn Preferred cause of death? Dissertation Funeral music: Can you play, like, some 90s hip hop?

Which guest star reads the eulogy? Wade McCagh, to see if he’d cry What’s on your headstone? ‘Country Road size 10’ Where are your ashes scattered? The Postgraduate Study Area What did you leave Pelican in the will?

“The best years of my life” WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Young Divas Official Forum

Name: Mason Rothwell How do you contribute to Pelican? talking the editors down Funeral music: as you may have read last year it is still the sex & the city theme tune Which guest star reads the eulogy? james munt’s dog gunther What’s on your headstone? Mason Rothwell 1992-2018 “i hope you feel bad about this lucy” Where are your ashes scattered? around What did you leave Pelican in your will? i have already given everything i have to pelican and it still wants more Favourite ghost activity: the ghost in my old house used to boil the kettle WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: “Cool Australia” If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: “makin australia dope” Name: Morgan Caractacus Bonaparte Jimothy Alfred Willeford-Applesworth-on-Avon Goodman How do you contribute to Pelican? Con…tri… bute? Explain.

Favourite Pelican memory: Two girls walked into the meeting halfway through, asked for pizza, then left.

Preferred cause of death: Hunted for sport, then stuffed and used as a hatstand and conversation piece.

Funeral music: I Will Not Go Quietly, by the Whitlams.

Who reads the eulogy? Patrick Stewart as Spider Jerusalem. Or Tony Stark.

What’s on your headstone? “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”

WA should secede from the federation and

Name: Yeah hi I’m Nick Morlet, 1st year science How do you contribute to Pelican? I write reviews for movies & music, hoping to get in on book reviews etc. and articles in the future Favourite Pelican memory: Getting to review Hayao Miyazaki’s The Wind Rises. Whereas before I’d just watch a Ghibli film in a state of constant squee this was the first time I’d been compelled to think critically about my childhood idol, and it felt good.

Preferred cause of death: Smote from the surface of the earth after I literally spit in the face of Death/God/Zeus What’s on your headstone?”Jesus is coming, look busy” Where are your ashes scattered? Inside the kebab place in Mossie Park, Nazar WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Westralia (I actually support the separatist movement lol) If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: Please

Name: Natalia Verne How do you contribute to Pelican? I write bizarre articles about trans people, nipples and feminism. Not really sure if that counts as a contribution?

Favourite Pelican memory: Getting published for the first time – that was pretty sweet.

What song do you want played at your funeral? True Trans Soul Rebel, by Laura Jane Grace.

Which guest star reads the eulogy? Laverne Cox & Janet Mock, simultaneously.

What’s on your headstone? “Here lies Natalia Verne, too gay for this shitty earth”.

What did you leave Pelican in the will? A copy of the manual of my HG calculator.

WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Gina’s Mineral Hole.

If I started a political party, its slogan would be: Freedom is slavery.

Name: Samuel J. Cox How do you contribute to Pelican? My real eyes, realise, real lies, Favourite Pelican memory: Drinking to the point where it brought out the worst in me Preferred cause of death: A bag of tarnished spoons Funeral music: Smack My Bitch Up (Ray Rice remix) Which guest star reads the eulogy? Kanye – so it can be all about him What’s on your headstone? I swear your Mum and I were just Facebook friends What did you leave Pelican in the will? My Malaysian Airlines frequent flyers card WA should succeed from the federation and rename itself: Rinehart Land

Name: Wade McCagh How do you contribute to Pelican? I insert esoteric references into Pelican that no one will ever find/understand for my own pleasure.

Also editor.

Favourite Pelican memory? Impromptu O-Day after party, where we invented and then immediately retired the sport of goonball.

Preferred cause of death? I’m partial to some sort of fast acting aneurysm myself.

What did you leave Pelican in the will? My youth Favourite ghost activity? Haunting the abandoned wing of the Guild If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: We’re not fancy, but we’re cheap!

Name: Thomas ‘Tom’ Rossiter How do you contribute to Pelican? Writing.

Good. Sometimes on time.

Preferred cause of death? Autoerotic asphyxiation.

Funeral music: Emerging - John Vanderslice & The Mountain Goats What’s on your headstone? Thomas P. Rossiter.

1993-2103 Died heroically saving his family from the wreckage of a sinking battleship.

Where are your ashes scattered? Unexpectedly over someone’s picnic.

What did you leave Pelican in the will? A treasure map, a gun, and some pissed off grandchildren.

Favourite ghost activity? Just hanging out at all

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the old haunts. That and making really ghastly puns.

WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: Elizaperth: somewhat confusingly, Perth would be renamed Elizaperth City.

Name: Zoe X. Kilbourn How do you contribute to Pelican? bird videos

Name: Simon “Dinosaur Cowboy” Donnes How do you contribute to Pelican? They let me edit a section again Preferred cause of death: Shootout at the OK Corral Funeral music: Sex Bomb played at 1/2 speed from a 120kbps youtube rip Eulogy Guest star: David Bowie Epitaph: I shall not fail my rendevouz

Favourite Pelican memory: meeting the mother of skywhales What did you leave Pelican in the will? debt What’s on your headstone? wanna go back WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: “best australia, amirite”

Name: Rahana Bell How do you contribute to Pelican? Writing an article, a review, contributing many ideas, and eating even more pieces of pizza Favourite Pelican memory: Listening to everyone’s icebreakers each meeting (not saying my own) Where should Pelican move its new office?

Bounce, or a bird park for Zoe. Preferred cause of death: Peaceful old age after years of retirement and travelling (yes, I want the dream).

Funeral music: Anything but Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

What did you leave Pelican in the will? My set of diaries to derive extensive emotional inspiration from.

WA should secede from the Federation and name itself: Rich Bogan Minerville.

Name: Hugh Manning How do you contribute to Pelican? reviewing all the really shithouse sci fi and fantasy the book section gets sent Where should Pelican move its new office?

Matilda Bay mens toilets Funeral music: They Might Be Giants - Dr. Worm Which guest star reads the eulogy? Louise Belcher (Bob’s Burgers) What’s on your headstone? dirt in life- dirt in death Where are your ashes scattered? amps What did you leave Pelican in the will? my collection of well-decorated empty tobacco pouches WA should secede from the federation and rename itself: W.Ayyyyyyyyyyy.

If I started a minor political party, our slogan would be: We’ll Eat That

Name: Matt “Mad Fuckin Hueys” Green Most likely to say: “Have you read Infinite Jest?”

How do you contribute to Pelican? I ran the film section, made a few drunken Matthew McConaughey impersonations, and generally acted pretty obnoxiously.

Favourite Pelican memory? Alright alright alright (see above). That and the Revelation Film Fest!

Favourite Pelican contributor? Brad, I will always love you xoxo Name: Cameron Moyses How did you contribute to Pelican? I wrote articles. Sometimes. Look, honestly I mostly just slacked around and quickly slapped something together right before the deadline.

Preferred cause of death: I plan to shoot myself when I’m older. I dunno, like, 7 years.

What’s on your headstone? “Please leave” Favorite ghost activity: Yu-Gi-Oh trading cards.

Name: Lauren Wiszniewski How do you contribute to Pelican? Arts editor Funeral music: The Sounds of Silence Epitaph: “I’ve made a huge mistake” Did she send in nudes? No

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AUNTYKILLERS

by Somayya Ismailjee The ABC is on its knees. It’s scarred, bruised, and cowering in fear. It’s sustained cuts, bludgeoning, and barely-concealed, nearconstant threats from a neoliberal razor-gang that would rather see it dead. Its days are numbered.

Aunty is dying because she’s come in the firing line of the same ideological assault that is seeing Australia’s welfare system hollowed out mercilessly, our health and education systems turned on their heads, and every other last avenue of social mobility destroyed to entrench elitist, ruling class privilege, under the guise of a ‘budget emergency’. But those attacking her hardly have the guts to shut her down completely – killing the ABC can instead come in a number of forms: privatising it, making it weak through under-funding and under-resourcing, and killing its independence.

Just what has the ABC done to deserve such an assault? Aside from ideological zealotry and attacking the values that public funding and public ownership represent, this has always been about some very overt vested interests and transparent power ploys. The threats of cuts can be traced back to last year when the ABC and Guardian Australia teamed up to publish revelations of Australian spying of the Indonesian President and his wife. The reports unleashed a storm. An awkward diplomatic rift ensued. The ABC was then accused by Tony Abbott of being “unpatriotic”.

To attack the media for being “unpatriotic” is nothing short of the kind of rhetoric you would expect from a totalitarian regime, and was a classic example of what Herman and Chomsky in Manufacturing Consent describe as using flak as a way to discipline the media.

The ABC was to be harangued and shamed for publishing an inconvenient story that was in the public interest and to be bullied out of doing such “unpatriotic” things ever again.

An efficiency study was then launched into the broadcaster and since then, cuts have been the main weapon of choice with which to attack the ABC. Herman and Chomsky wrote Manufacturing Consent in the context of US media, but here where the ABC is dependent

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on public funding, government cuts are also an effective way to threaten the broadcaster.

In the May austerity budget, the budgets of both the ABC and SBS were cut by 1%. That amounts to the ABC losing $120 million over the next four years. On top of that, the ABC’s $220 million contract to run the Australia Network was also axed. Julie Bishop said this was because it was failing to “deliver a positive image of Australia” into the Asia-Pacific region.

The ABC was again openly, shamelessly attacked for not being propagandistic enough for the government.

It should go without saying that the ABC is an independent media organization and does not have any obligation to create favourable coverage or act as a propaganda arm for the government. The job of the ABC, like any other media organization, should be to subject the government to rigorous scrutiny, but the government doesn’t agree with that, and has even resorted to stacking its board. In July, two open critics of the ABC, conservative News Ltd columnist Janet Albrechtson and former Liberal politician Neil Brown were installed into the panel that appoints board members to the ABC and SBS. Not since Howard has there been such open politicization of the ABC, in what can only be seen as another concerted effort to kill its independence.

Since the budget announcements, the ABC has been crippled by a series of cuts. In recent weeks, a total of 400 job cuts have been announced. ABC Managing Director Mark Scott has said that this amounts to over 1000 years of professional journalistic experience disappearing from the broadcaster. The rationale is clear: smaller and more strained finances leading to a weak, shrunken ABC increasingly unable to fulfill its role and provide its services could then allow the government to point at how “ineffective” it is (thanks to its own cuts) and then open the door to privatization. Aside from the government, who would no longer have to put up with the “unpatriotic” indignity of journalistic scrutiny, it’s not a secret who would be the main beneficiaries of this: Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp empire.

News Corp, or News Ltd, who have never attempted to hide their brand of social conservatism or their campaign against the ABC, have transparent corporate interests in the demise of a taxpayer funded, free broadcaster. News Corp have held a longrunning campaign to discredit the ABC as an overtly left-wing organization seeking to advance a left-wing political conspiracy. In one anti-ABC screed, the cartoon character Peppa Pig even came under attack, lambasted by the columnist Piers Akerman for pushing a “weird feminist message”. The satire truly just writes itself.

Australia already has one of the highest, most extreme levels of media concentration in the world, with News Corp holding 70% of the print media market. Killing the ABC would result in a Murdoch media monopoly, a total hegemony of conservative press. Free media and media diversity would truly be dead.

It’s an obvious fact that corporate, for-profit media tailors its content for advertising revenue and simply does not have the resources, incentive, or inclination to produce the same quality, vital investigative journalism that the ABC does, and if the ABC dies, so will this.

The ABC is an institution that has many problems, but what is more than clear is that the drive to kill it certainly isn’t about solving any of them.

ALL HUMANS ARE EQUAL, BUT SOME ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS

by Kate Oatley No matter what your beliefs, we all agree on one thing: originally, it was completely normal to be nude. Until humans began wearing clothing sometime between 100,000 and 500,000 years ago, none of the inhibitions around nudity we hold today existed. Even in Ancient Greece after clothing had been normalised and expected in civil society, all sports were done in the nude. Today, however, it seems only European countries like France and Spain – both of which sport numerous nude beaches – find nudity normal.

It is not just gender divides that nudity suffers at the hands of, however; age comes into the firing line as well. The same questions needs to be applied to age: why are there are different acceptance levels and types of nudity that change with age?

An age divide is also nothing new, but it has intensified as sexualisation has become more prominent in our everyday lives. The age divide is centred around our ‘sexually prime’ years; nudity is more accepted during these years than outside of them, namely childhood or old age.

Changes in clothing attitudes are one thing: cultures evolve and ours happened to evolve into wearing clothing. But how did we come to view acceptable levels and forms of nudity so differently between genders? Both genders used to be nude, after all. Yet today, to see a shirtless man is a normal and accepted event, but to see a topless woman in an everyday setting is a scandal. Take the recent iCloud hackings, for example: hundreds of women’s nude pictures were leaked all over the Internet, attracting a huge amount of outraged attention around the very concept that we were seeing naked (female) bodies. One wonders whether the reaction would have been the same if nude pictures of males had been leaked…

This divide can be seen in the most simple of clothing dilemmas: at what point is a mini skirt not okay to be worn? This dilemma suggests that the sexualisation associated with nudity is the reason for the age divide. It seems wrong for, say, an eighty year old to wear a miniskirt because it displays a level of (sexualised) nudity that seems inappropriate with a woman who is no longer seen by society as a sexualised being. In the same light, it would seem inappropriate for a young child to wear a mini skirt because their life is not yet sexually-based, and so it would be wrong to project that sexualised level of nudity on a child.

It’s no new knowledge that we have a severe gender divide in global society, but why is it okay for one gender to be nude in ways that are not okay for the other? At some point, sexual connotations have developed around nudity in all circumstances, externalising the bedroom into all facets of civil society. The different standards for women as opposed to men in nudity, then, could be derived from the expectation of women to be ‘lady-like’ beings, and sexualised nudity does not fit in with that expectation. Maybe it links in with the patriarchal days of “owning” women: when a woman was seen as one man’s (sexual) property, and it was therefore not acceptable for anyone else to see that side of the woman. This is just one of countless possibilities.

Changes are beginning to occur in how we view nudity, however. One example of this is the increasing popularity of “naturalist” living areas. These are for all ages and show a change in attitude that doesn’t restrain levels of nudity just because of age or bodily state, and distances sexualisation from nudity. Other backlashes against double standards have occurred frequently: one of the most notable examples of late is the Free The Nipple movement.

It seems we will never be able to escape the double standards around nudity; if it’s not gender, it’s age, and if it’s not age, it’ll be something else. There will never be a solution to please everyone around this issue until we experience a change in our culture and no longer view nudity simply as a sexual state. If that change in culture occurs, there would be no reason for gender or age divides around nudity. In light of that, there is no practical reason to adhere to the double standards in nudity: nudity is about comfort, and as long as you feel comfortable at your own level of nudity, then throw those double standards to the wind!

It is hard to distinguish whether this age divide relies on the age of the person or the bodily state of the person. Bodily state indicates an individual’s age, and by association indicates his or her sexual status, therefore indicating what level of nudity is acceptable for each person.

Of course there are problems with this idea, for one plastic surgery is making it more complicated to tell age via the bodily state of a person by blurring the lines that indicate age. For example, when singer Cher appeared on television last year wearing a mini skirt, it was more the idea of how old she was that gave me a sense of inappropriateness than her actual bodily state (plastic surgery-ridden as it is). There is always an underlying feeling of ‘wrongness’ that comes from knowledge of how old a person is when linking that to the types of sexualised nudity they are exhibiting.

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ANGELS IN THE AIRWAVES: A TV GRAVEYARD Arrested Development Sam Eakins Arrested Development has attained a certain legendary status among critics and aficionados of wit and satire. The jokes had their own continuity, the characters were despicable yet charming, and it’s unique archival-documentary style provided for great esoteric gags and storytelling. It is a testament to its legacy that despite airing 53 episodes it has nevertheless been declared as one of the greats, cancelled too abruptly, and too soon.

Arrested Development seems triumphant compared to shows that only aired 7 episodes before facing the wrath of disgruntled network executives. What it shares with these other less fortunate series is a cult following – a unified voice singing its praises and lamenting its loss.

What makes it stand out from other cult classics cut-short is not its length, but its fulfillment of its fans requiem – to rise from the dead, eight years later, returning for an, albeit disappointing, fourth season.

It’s tempting to place Season Four as a lesson to other followings calling for a second-chance, but it strived to be unique with a structural, self-imposed re-tool, bringing a ruptured brilliance only Arrested Development could provide.

Firefly Simon Donnes Joss Whedon’s name elicits fangirl squees the nerd-world over, and has done so since Buffy began in 1997. Iconic in some circles for his sprinkling of pixie dust, Whedon has a mix of sharp dialogue and cultural self-awareness that gives his auteur style productions that slight edge on the competition. While some would argue he’s past his prime and/or sold out by making fortunes on big soulless trollop like The Avengers, there was a time he ruled the airwaves of nerds’ hearts with unanimous praise. An absolute flop on the Neilson ratings for Fox, Firefly is the cancelled gem against which all others are compared.

Firefly is, at it’s simplest, Cowboys in Space.

Replete with end-of-the-Old-West style big

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government clampdowns and a band of daring rogues living on the edge of the law, Firefly was a concept not too remiss of the anime Cowboy Beebop, futher alienated from mainstream audiences by a relatively unknown cast. Despite Whedons pedigree as “the Buffy guy” and the likes of Nathan Fillion and Morena Baccarin putting on some damn fine performances, the show never swayed the ratings numbers its way.

a devoted audience was left with a rushed season finale that raised more questions than it answered. The show is now getting a kick-start reboot in the form of a feature film and a digital spinoff webseries on CW Seed thanks to a hugely successful crowdfunding effort by cast, crew and fans of the show. But only time will tell if the Veronica Mars movie actually works as a substitute for the season four we all really wanted.

Fox’s screening setup didn’t help. Rather than follow convention of every other show ever aired, they neglected to screen the pilot episode, citing it as “too slow”.

Starting instead with the second episode, the executives then seemingly drew episode numbers out of a hat, playing the rest of the season out back to front, right to left and skipping a couple for good measure. Eventually, played out of order and left to rot in a friday night timeslot when most of the target audience was playing Dungeons and Dragons or getting drunk, the plug got pulled. Fox reportedly mentioned it was a “really hard decision”, despite their continued persistence at shooting down fan attempts to reboot the franchise.

The Middleman Kate Wheatley Glance at any list of unjustly cancelled television shows and you’re guaranteed to see an array of well loved but short-lived Bryan Fuller cult classics and a pick ‘n’ mix selection of shows in which White Dudes in Uniforms Do Stuff (see: Jericho, Twin Peaks, Deadwood) vying for first place. Very few will mention what I consider to be the most unsung unjust cancellation of them all - ABC Family’s The Middleman.

Veronica Mars Kate Wheatley Critically acclaimed and consistently featured on ‘Best of’ lists, Veronica Mars is one of the most widely lamented cancellations in recent small screen history. Surely needing no introduction, Rob Thomas’ wildly popular film noir inspired high school murder mystery managed to capture the attention of over two million people per episode in its original run. The show followed the eponymous Veronica Mars as she embarked on weekly capers, while also working to solve a larger season-long mystery.

While the show was lauded and loved by many, it had the misfortune of airing on the UPN when the network was transitioning into what we now recognise as The CW. Show-running politics mixed with a lessthan-smooth changeover meant that Veronica Mars was abruptly cut short, and

Based on the Viper Comics series of the same name, the show ran for one series in 2008 and followed Wendy Watson, a struggling art school grad sharing an illegal sublet with a confrontational spoken word performance artist and getting by temp job to temp job. Sound relatable? Maybe less so when you discover that the premise of the show is Wendy’s recruitment by the enigmatic Middleman to “solve exotic problems” for a mysterious secret agency which fights evil forces of the sciencefictiony and supernatural kind. As utterly goofy as it sounds, the show is as enjoyable as it is ridiculous. Its delightfully quirky characters and pop culturally fluent, rapid-fire dialogue rivals that of the widely lamented Pushing Daisies. The show was originally ordered for 13 episodes, reduced to 12, and was abruptly cancelled due to lowratings. Unsurprising for a show with such a niche audience that was never allowed the chance to grow, but which still stands out as one of the most undeserved cancellations of the decade.

BOSOM BUDDIES

I follow a rather talented glamour model on Facebook. She often posts snippets from larger photo shoot albums to her public page. Being a glamour model, she is in varying stages of un/dress. In some, she appears to be completely topless. I write ‘appears’ because the facebook decency settings allow people to report female toplessness so the full extent of her nudity is never actually revealed in these images.

In what I think is possibly a clever social comment, this model censors her own exposed breasts with a haphazardly cut-andpasted image of a man’s breasts. Breasts censoring breasts. Interesting.

Western society has constructed some very peculiar ideas about women’s breasts.

When and if adolescent girls develop breasts they are told they are ‘becoming a woman’.

So much of our concept of womanhood is based around the physical manifestations of puberty, despite the numerous and important exceptions to the rule (trans and non binary women, women with hormone imbalances, and women who simply do not develop obvious breasts). Yet as soon as breasts develop, women are told to hide them - and then to expose them again in certain ways and settings to look ‘feminine’.

But not too much, because then you’re an attention-seeking slut. But you should wear push up bras to make them look bigger and perkier. But breast feeding in public is a bit gross and people shouldn’t put up with that.

And don’t ever wear bras that let them jiggle when you walk. (Don’t ever wear bras that let them jiggle when you walk? God forbid something made mostly of fat... jiggle.) Cut that nonsense out, ladies.

are sexual, men’s are not’. And if something is too sexual, it is inappropriate.

Why are women’s breasts inherently sexual when men’s are not? They both come in all shapes and sizes, from entirely flat to large and charmingly pendulous. Both generally have at least one nipple on each side. In fact, some research suggests that men’s nipples may actually contain more erogenous nerve endings than women’s. That certainly seems quite sexual.

Even so, one form of nudity is illegal when the other is acceptable. Acceptable on TV, in movies, at festivals, at the beach, in summer at the park, walking down the street in suburbia, during sports events. T his is not to say that men have never been subject to objectification and the need to remain appropriately sexual looking for validation, but the cultural burden is by and large on women, and the value attributed to a woman’s assessed sexuality is much, much higher.

This is all real advice I have received re: my breasts. From a young age, especially in Australia, we draw a line around women’s bodies. A line around what is appropriately sexual and feminine without being A) prudish and un-womanly and B) inappropriate and slutty.

The system that fuels the stigmatisation of female toplessness is the same one that sexualises women’s breasts and commodifies them. Claims that it is important to cover your breasts always go alongside the notion that they are, at all times, sexual. Whether you like it or not, whether you are gardening, breast feeding, or swimming, your breasts are sexual.

Who on earth decided this line? And why aren’t men held to the same standards?

The message seems to be, ‘women’s breasts

This system then dedicates a multi million dollar lingerie/ pornography/ plastic surgery industry to dictate the sale of

Picture by Tamara Jennings

by Chloe Durand

breasts. There is nothing inherently wrong with bras, porn and breast augmentation, but the message we receive here is that it is more okay to sell breasts than it is to have them.

The downside to this, apart from widespread cultural self fulfilling shame cycles is the personal effect such stigmatisation has. At the end of the day, your breasts should be what you want them to be. Sexual, functional, maternal, decorative, private, public, important, unimportant. A combination of any, all, or none of these is your choice.

Google has turned up a shortage of any inspirational quotes about breasts with which to end this piece, all of them being about how much men like looking at them or how awful it is when they sag. And on that note, I think I’ll leave the reader to ponder their own bodies and the bodies of those around them in respect. Breasts are body parts, do with your own as you please. That’s far more inspirational than anything I was ever told, at least.

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THE LADIES DOTH BARE-BREAST TOO MUCH

by Brad Griffin In Western society, nudity is confronting.

Women are not allowed to walk barebreasted down Hay Street, nor are men allowed to proudly flaunt their manhood at Flinders Street Station. Personally, I think the correct state of affairs. I’d feel a bit weird if suddenly everybody were naked. My housemates tried to convince me to go to the nude beach in order to write an article about an experience there but I refused. I generally feel much more comfortable with nudity in intimate circumstances. I am aware that the only reason that I am uncomfortable with public nudity is because of my conditioning. My parents and wider society told me that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. Today I wouldn’t make any moves to obstruct somebody who wanted to show a bit more skin in public.

Now this article could devolve into some essay about JSM’s first year pols baptismby-fire text On Liberty, but I entirely forbid it.

The theme for this issue of Pelican got me wondering about the use of nudity and people’s lack of comfort with it in a utilitarian fashion. Immediately, one points to numerous protest movements where sexuality and gender are involved. In these cases, nudity is used as a shock weapon, a kind of non-violent Sturrmann used to confront and overcome the status quo.

One movement that utilizes nude protest to get its points across is Femen. They are an all-female protest group that use nudity to the extreme in order to reach their protest aims. Part of their abstract on their website says “Our Mission is Protest!” and “Our Weapon are bare breasts!”

Now that’s a pretty clear-cut signal. I (in a purely professional, investigative journalist way) watched a number of videos taken of their protests in cities such as Paris, Berlin, Kiev and more. Every member of Femen burns with passion, and they are in no way ashamed of their bodies. They are fully mobilized in employing their bodies as weapons of protest. They call this use of nudity “sextremism”. They describe

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this tactic as being in line with women’s historical right to protest and at its most fundamental level, to stand up against and overcome the patriarchy. Summed up, “Sextremism is a non-violent but highly aggressive form of provocation; it is an all-powerful demoralizing weapon undermining the foundations of the old political ethics and rotten patriarchal culture.”

But at what point does this all just go a bit too far? Does it go too far at all?

Do Femen’s tactics encourage and help women from all backgrounds?

German of Turkish origin, Feminist Hilal Sezgin considers Femen’s view on Feminism to be ‘antiquated’. It’s easiest to examine this comment with the aid of an example. In 2013, Tunisian student Amina Tyler posted a picture on Facebook showing her naked from the waist up with the words ‘My body belongs to me’ written in Arabic across her chest. Immediately, conservative Imams were calling for her to be lashed and stoned. Femen sprung into action, using their sextremism on the Tunisian embassy in Paris and Berlin’s oldest mosque. In this action, and in the wider context of Femen women from Western countries encouraging Muslim women to forsake their veils and coverings and join them, many pro-women Islamic groups have criticised Femen. To them, it is “anti-Islamic and imperialistic.” To them, it is unenlightened Muslim women being modernised by the naked illumination of the West. This is where Femen hits a wall – a really big cultural wall. While it is not “okay” to protest naked in Western countries and there are laws enforcing that sentiment, it does not obstruct cultural and societal norms in the same way it does in a Muslim country such as Tunisia. No doubt Femen understands this, and simply takes a different reading of the symbolic nature of Islamic female clothing, but it begs the question: How can this be a movement for all women when adherence to it can mean the obstruction and ultimate betrayal of your faith? As a decidedly anti-religious organisation,

Femen has little concern for this, but in so doing, they abandon a critical demographic.

Difficulties aside, Femen is growing in popularity and it’s easy to see why. They are a firebrand organisation that tirelessly takes aim at the excesses of the patriarchy. Young women are drawn to Femen by the promise of being able to do something positive for their fellow women, and to take the fight to the enemy – the stuffy, oppression-minded law-enforcing patriarchy. Secondly, Femen takes great advantage of one simple fact: Tits = television. Nudity always causes a stir. You just have to think back to Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson’s otherwise boring halftime performance at the Super Bowl in 2004 to understand how much even the faint promise of a half-second nip-slip can increase coverage and awareness of an event. Imagine then not just half a second but ten minutes of footage, and many barebreasted women. The media, always eager to document the controversial, will always cover a Femen protest. As a result, even if Femen’s more ambitious protest aims are not met, they are always raising awareness about women’s rights and oppression, and agitating for change. It is that kind of fiery disregard for the rule of law which would surely inspire many females to refuse to accept the status quo. Finally, wanton nudity has a profound impact on people. As I discussed at the start of the article, public nudity makes me feel uncomfortable. There are many people who would be far less comfortable than myself in such a situation. It is these people that Femen seeks to shock and appal. Males in particular do not usually associate the sight of bared female breasts with angry faces and chanted slogans. They find it unsettling and unfamiliar, and as a result, powerful.

Femen grasps this concept beautifully and uses it to great effect in a Western concept, but perhaps to reach the international, all-encompassing audience that they need to, they need to embrace tactics that don’t cut across those cultural boundaries that separate them from their Muslim sisters.

But then again, it’s just boobs right? After all guys, everybody has bits.

ON COMIC DEATH

by Simon Beaton There is a consistency in the way we are born. Our mothers are sweaty, puffy-faced and red. Blood and fluid are always prevalent and there is a constant sense of urgency and adrenaline. Then we emerge, blotchy and crying. So why, if we all enter the world in much the same way, does it make sense that upon exiting out so many inequalities exist?

Some of us are fortunate. Some are allowed to go, all worn out having made peace after a long and meaningful life. Others may not have reached an old age but at least part with dignity, perhaps sacrificing themselves for the greater good, leaving a legacy to be remembered with pride by those who knew them.

confines of tradition, grabbing the microphone and lunging into his first stand-up comedy gig. For anyone who has tried this, it is never the sort of event that goes off seamless on the first try. With no surprises his joke is too morbid, the subject matter too real. Those poor drunk souls in the taxi.

Death came to them for no other reason than as collateral to serve as the irony in his punch line.

Back in 1892, this is how we wrote about Death: “Death with his well-worn, lean, professional smile, Death in his threadbare working trim” William Ernest Henley

I don’t know what goes on in the psyche of the Reaper, but I imagine it would be pretty messed up. I get confused over the death of Elvis Presley. Found dead, next to his toilet with his pants down.

Maybe Death took him like that as a reminder for the rest of us, a warning that you may have millions of fans, and an even higher number of dollars, but you may not buy the security of a dignified death. Then again, Presley parted in 1977 when popular culture was still taking hold of the Reaper. Maybe this was simply his first phase of comedy.

We all started off around potty humour, perhaps this was simply his first stab.

In modern times, this is how we write about Death: “Two men, aged 50 and 36, who had taken a taxicab home so they wouldn’t be driving drunk, were killed when the cab was hit by a 21-year-old drunken driver.”

Santa Monica Daily Press, January 30, 2006.

It was later on, in 2009 when Russian mechanic Sergey Tuganov made the fatal mistake of betting two women $4300 that he would be able to satisfy them non-stop for twelve hours. Tuganov downed a bottle of Viagra pills, and somehow pulled himself through the marathon. He did it, but died minutes after from a self-induced heart attack.

Over the past century, the Grim Reaper’s character has shifted. Think of the representations in popular culture through cartoon characters, books and television. He has gone from being evil, an otherworldly spirit, to something more human and friendly, described as misunderstood, a tormented soul.

I can picture Death listening to Tuganov’s thoughts directly after he finished up.

Tuganov is more than ready for a nap, but thoughts on the bragging rights he has just won sustain him. He now has the forever-story-topping tale to tell the boys at the pub, and his ego has never seen such heights. The women will be flocking like seagulls to a chip.

In this contemporary setting, Death, so long cast into the same old dreary drama, tries to break free of the

through the doorway walks old-mate Death, puffing on a cigarette. He has a twinkle in his eye; he brought the microphone stand with him, and pausing for a moment, delivers his one-liner: “Your heart must be swelling with pride.”

He gives Tuganov a cheesy grin, and shoots him down with a couple of gunfingers. No one laughs, the awkward silence lingers and Death walks off nonchalantly to go think up some new material.

I’m not sure where we go from here.

It would make sense to revert our characterisation of Death back to the conventional, respectful and grim representation that we used to have. We should end this comedy – Death should not be funny.

Unfortunately, the frontman of 1000 Ways to Die and the Darwin Awards, Death is succeeding on his way to becoming an infamous B-Grade comedian. His jokes have been in the spotlight, at the very least since Elvis in 1977, and in the 37 years since they have gotten no funnier. It will be a sad day if they ever do.

Tuganov is thinking all of this, a smug little post-coital smile on his face, when

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STOP TRYING TO MAKE ‘FETCH’ HAPPEN

by Julianne de Souza

Hilary Duff, Birkenstocks, Jesus. These are all things that came back the second time around stronger and better than before! There is something truly admirable about popping one’s head back into the pop cultural spotlight after years (or three days) of being banished due to reasons such as outgrowing Disney, people realising how truly ugly you are and crucifixion. Comeback kids, we salute you. Yet at the same time, we must not forget their less successful counterparts.

Whether it is to tip our hats to their bravery or to cackle heartlessly at their publicised failure, let us take a moment to reflect upon the attempted comebacks of years past.

The Veronicas: Admittedly, hailing their second coming as ‘unsuccessful’ may seem premature, as a quick Google search tells me that their latest single, You Ruin Me, is number one on the ARIA charts.

Wait, what? I’m sorry, but I struggle to see how the success experienced during their heyday could ever be topped. Their debut (how I wish I could say ‘only’) album, The Secret Life of the Veronicas, was a wonderful marriage between ‘pop-rock’ (the latter being used in the loosest sense of the world) melodies, hilariously firstworld angst and a lyricism that rivalled that of Elton John. I know that I am not the only one who was floored by the sophistication of Secret: ‘I never looked at you that way / ’Cause I always thought you were gay’. Chuck lots of red lipstick, ties (because they’re punk, you know?) and a whirlwind romance with Dean Geyer into the mix and it’s no wonder that they were adored by Total Girl readers and MissUnderstood teenagers across the nation. Sadly, not all things improve with age. If You Ruin Me is any sort of indication, their imminent comeback album will only insult those who, to this day, have kept hits such as 4Ever, Everything I’m Not and Untouched on replay. Plus I miss the classic wife-beater-and-schoolgirl-tie combination.

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Andrew G: Poor Andrew G has flitted between various Australian reality television series, and yet it is common knowledge that his career peaked while hosting Australian Idol. His tousled-to-surfer-boy-perfection hair was overshadowed only by his intense unresolved sexual tension with his cohost, James Mathison. Flash forward to the present day and he is perhaps the most redundant host in the history of reality television. His limited screen time on The Bachelor consists solely of him magically materialising when it is time to creepily break into the bachelorettes’ mansion and deliver a date card, and ushering out one lovelorn reject after the other post-rose ceremony. To be fair, his screen presence never stood a chance against the likes of crazy, horse-fearing Amber and #DirtyStreetPie. But still, where is the self-respect, Andy? Don’t you see that you are better than being The Bachelor’s equivalent to Crabbe and Goyle, if not slightly more verbose but equally inferior?

And, more importantly, do you seriously think that some hair dye and a name change will fool Australian audiences into forgetting that you once shared a stage with Anthony Callea and Marcia Hines? I say, either organise an Australian Idol reunion and embrace your eternal typecasting, or gracefully bow out from the Bachelor. The ball is in your court, Osher.

Comic Sans: Comic Neue is one of the most recent additions to the Microsoft font family. Marketed as being ‘the font that saved Comic Sans’, ‘the casual script choice for everyone, including the typographically savvy’ and (my personal favourite) ‘the new Comic Sans – sans the comedy’, the font endeavours to reinvent the damaged image of its predecessor.

Surprisingly, its success has been limited and the prospect of it replacing Calibri as Font of the Season is more laughable than the existence of Wingdings. This is due to the fact that Comic Sans’ original ‘popularity’ was merely a result of the lack of competition. Picture this: it’s 1994 and your desktop computer is bigger than your prepubescent self. Your only typeface options are ancient Times New Roman, overly serious Arial and fun, young Comic Sans! It doesn’t take an awful amount of cognitive dissonance to see which font is the favoured option. Sadly, in 2014 there is little room for any mutation of Comic Sans in the oversaturated font market, no matter how ‘sleek’ and ‘hip’ it claims to be. Only ironic meme-creators and font criminals continue to opt for it, and with the font epitomising notoriety, only a fool would dare to give its clueless grandchild, Comic Neue, a chance. Basically, any font that includes ‘Comic’ in the title is pretty much cursed from its inception.

KIM DOTCOM: BYO MINOR PARTY

Interested in international criminal internet masterminds, political subterfuge, New Zealand, billionaire politicians and ‘good vibes’ EDM albums? Only one man can fulfil all these cravings at once. A new political force has risen in New Zealand which gives our own home grown political caricature Clive Palmer a run for his money. Of the 52 minor parties which vied for election in the Australian Senate last election, Clive’s Palmer United Party outshines all the others in its media presence, cult of personality and sheer entertainment value. Clive is wacky, (literally) larger than life, vaguely racist and has billions of dollars to throw around on his political ambitions. The first search result if you Google “billionaire politician” is the Wikipedia article for good ol’ Clive. You might have wondered to yourself as you stare in wonder at Q&A, do other nations have their own Clive? Do they have to deal with wacky party leader shenanigans? Some big names might come to mind at first thought: Mitt Romney’s first run at being the Republican candidate was mostly self-funded and he could be considered a kind of wacky republican robot.

Italy had Silvio Berlusconi as Prime Minister for 9 years, and he’s had more crazy sexual exploits than he has millions in the bank.

No matter how rich and influential they are, however, and politicians like Berlusconi and Romney just aren’t Clive enough. There is only one person who has the clout to really challenge for the Palmer crown: New Zealand’s infamous Kim Dotcom.

Dotcom (seriously) has risen to prominence in New Zealand politics as the centerpiece of a web of political intrigue, the founder of New Zealand’s Internet Mana Party and all-round, good-time-seeking maverick. Standing at a towering six feet seven inches tall, he was born in Germany as Kim Schmitz. Dotcom primarily gained his notoriety (and money) by founding Megaupload in 2005, a major file-sharing website with annual revenues of US$175 million that at the time accounted for 4% of all internet traffic. After being arrested for espionage and fraud in his motherland, Kimble (his ~hacker name~) absconded to Hong Kong, where Kimpire Limited (again, seriously) was founded and made him millions.

In 2010, Dotcom was granted permanent residency in New Zealand after funding a NZ$600k fireworks display in Auckland, among other charitable contributions.

Megaupload was shut down by the US Department of Justice in 2012 and Dotcom arrested by the FBI. Kim is a veritable fountain of talent and wonder. Among his hacking and illegal file-sharing exploits he has found time to produce two electronic dance music albums, titled Party Amplifier and Good Times, the second of which reached number 8 on the NZ charts. He was also ranked #1 in the world on Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 at the time of his arrest, and lost his spot while he was sitting in jail (what a bummer).

He has since fought his extradition to the US, experiencing success in the courtroom, most notably when the NZ High Court ruled that the initial search warrant for his premises was invalid, and that the NZ authorities’ handing over of his hard drives to the FBI for copying was illegal.

The most interesting thing about Dotcom is the political fallout surrounding his arrest in New Zealand. Since his arrest, it has come to light that the Government Communications Security Bureau (NZ’s ASIO) had been illegally spying on Dotcom for the US Government prior to his arrest, and the Prime Minister John Key was forced to apologise to Dotcom, who has since started legal proceedings against the GCSB. The mistakes made by the authorities and the illegal activity of the NZ Government have been heavily criticised by the Opposition, who have compared the Dotcom saga to Watergate. In late 2012, the New Zealand Prime Minister John Key visited Hollywood to promote filming in New Zealand, and met with leadership from the Motion Picture Association of America.

The MPAA branded Dotcom a career criminal, and Dotcom has heavily implied them to be the driving force behind his arrest. Recently, an email was leaked that alleges Key colluded with the MPAA to grant Dotcom residency in New Zealand so it would be easier to extradite him to the USA.

Since he was thrown into the world of international politics, Kim Dotcom has landed on his feet. For the just-passed New Zealand federal election he founded a political party dubbed the Internet Party, which formed an alliance with the Mana Party to become the Internet Mana Party. As part of his campaign, he organised an event called The Moment of Truth, where he released the email that implicated John Key in his extradition case.

This event also included a panel discussion via video-link with international internet freedom heavyweights Julian Assange and Edward Snowden, where Snowden implicated the New Zealand government in mass surveillance of its citizenry. The Internet Mana Party failed to secure a seat in the election, while Key’s National Party won a majority, the first time there has been a single-party majority since 1994.

This will not be the end of Dotcom’s political ambitions though. He now holds the record for the largest personal contribution to a political campaign in New Zealand’s history (NZ$3.5 million), and few can doubt that he will continue to fight the good fight. Perhaps one day Clive will want to get a foothold in the New Zealand political game, and we can be privy to the Palmer Internet Mana United Party. One can only dream.

Picture by Meg Ansell

by Samuel Montgomery

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NO ONE LIKES A DEATH CULT

by Hamish Hobbs

At the time of writing, Islamic State (IS) militants are roughly 30,000 fighters strong and claim possession of an area roughly the size of the UK in Iraq and Syria – yes, the UK. The area they control is as big as our colonial motherland. Somehow, I think the West’s post-9/11 approaches to promoting international security haven’t been working.

While terrorism is a deeply complex issue, even for suppositories of all wisdom like our esteemed leaders, an important part of the global failure of counter-terror strategy stems not from specific failures, but from a systematic error of scope in the way terrorism tends to be discussed.

When terrorism makes headlines, focus inevitably falls on the ‘terrorists’; vision narrows to see the immediate threat and its current military manifestation. The current international response to the IS can be summed up as “We want to make the IS go away, then, um, maybe we’ll try and think of a long-term strategy?”.

While, obviously, stopping the imminent brutality has to be a strategic priority, this whack-em-where-you-see-em approach to terrorist groups doesn’t have the best track record. Terrorist groups don’t appear semi-randomly like Clive Palmer’s policies.

They arise out of specific sets of sociopolitical conditions with calculated and specific political goals, from the Provisional IRA to al-Qaeda. When we trace international terrorism to its roots, we usually find a fractured state, international frustration or dispossessed ethnic groups.

When focus narrows to just specific terror groups and the threats that they pose, the history and politics which brought them into existence is mentally erased. While it may be ok for Kanye to say “I feel like I’m too busy writing history to read it”, perhaps more should be expected from our political leaders.

This isn’t just an academic issue - it is of imperative importance for the creation of an effective anti-terror strategy. When deciding to invade Iraq, the Sunni-Shia

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divide in Iraqi identity politics was not well understood, and the cost of this is the radicalisation we see today. Any analysis of the IS is incomplete without a consideration of the ongoing Sunni-Shia rift in Iraqi politics, and utterly impossible without an understanding of how this rift was left raw and scalding after the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003. The aftermath of the invasion of Iraq was a paternalistic, muddled process akin to a distracted parent trying to reconcile their feuding children while really focussed on paying the phone bill. Ultimately, in the name of US-led democratisation, sectarian divides were deeply entrenched and a whole lot of Sunnis were disenfranchised, paving the way for the Sunni-aligned Islamic State to rise. Similarly, without the chaos of the Syrian civil war, the IS could never have come to power in Syria the way it did.

When the IS is viewed simply as a new and dangerous branch of international terrorism, it is easy to accept the Republican line and suggest that what is needed is the iron fist of the American military to crush the IS threat. When Abbott calls the IS a “death cult”, it seems easy to just blow up the cult and all the problems will be solved. But when the IS is seen as a radical separatist group which grew out of perceived inequalities in Sunni-Shia politics in Iraq that were brought to a boil by the 2003 US invasion of Iraq and then were fuelled by Syrian civil war chaos, it is much easier to see that perhaps a more nuanced approach is necessary. Suddenly the history comes back into focus and it is possible to see that a military intervention in the absence of political solutions may only result in another decade of radicalisation and violence.

Terrorism tends to be spoken of in terms of exceptionalism. It is viewed as outside of ‘normal’ politics. Extremists are placed outside of the spectrum of political discussion. What this unintentionally achieves is rendering the rise of terrorism incomprehensible, and even more

impossible to predict than the PUP’s next press release. Terrorists are placed in the homogenous category of extremist – their links to more legitimate arenas of politics erased. This is understandable.

No-one wants an Islamic extremist to be viewed as representative of Islam as a whole or a Provisional IRA bomber to be viewed as a fair representation of your average Catholic. But what this de-contextualisation ends up achieving is the creation of a group of people who are uninterpretable “baddies”. The most insidious part of this unintentional homogenisation is that just as it erases the roots of the terrorist threats, it also conceals one of the paths to tackling them. By speaking of terror as a phenomenon separate from normal politics, we lose the ability to understand how normal politics can help fight the rise of terrorism.

This does not mean that governments should legitimate or negotiate with terrorist groups. While the IS is, in some ways, a symptom of Sunni disenfranchisement, it is not a legitimate representative of Sunni interests. What it does mean, however, is that crushing the terrorists can’t be the only, or even the primary, objective. If crushing a potential radical threatens to destabilise an entire region, that’s not fighting terrorism, it’s fanning the flames. Stable political partnerships between regional political players in fighting terrorism have to be the goal, with a focus on sovereignty, not the protection of western interests.

With that, terrorism will lose one of its greatest radicalising forces. Trying to stop terrorism without finding stable political solutions is like trying to stop a pot from boiling over without turning down the heat. Obama has realised this, and rather than criticising him for his ‘indecision’ regarding IS, he should be praised as one of the few US presidents to make at least a token effort to stop and consider long term inclusive political strategy before sending G.I. Joe blundering into the situation in Iraq and Syria.

STRIKE HARD, SAVAGE HEART

by Samuel J. Cox For all Chinese leaders since the People’s Republic was established in 1949, the adoption of a personal slogan has been a rite of passage, and a tool of control. When Xi Jinping became head of state in 2012, after the Communist Party of China’s [CPC] once-a-decade leadership transition, it was uncertain what he would stand for during his time in office. In his first Presidential address to the nation, Xi spoke of his vision for ‘the great renewal of the Chinese nation’ and the pursuit of a ‘Chinese Dream;’ his answer to the demands of the growing middle class for job stability, better education, and improved healthcare.

Without the charisma of the civil war heroes and founding fathers Mao Zedong and Deng Xiaoping, successive generations of CPC leaders have seen its political legitimacy and regime unity suffer.

The dry, well educated, English speaking politicians who’ve taken their place as top leaders have not enjoyed a cult of personality as ‘the first among equals’, and have instead been forced to rely upon economic results, rather than ideological rhetoric, for legitimacy.

Xi has sought to undo this trend, pledging to take action against party corruption and extravagance (reducing typically lavish official dinners to only four courses and a soup, lol). He has confidently cultivated a man-of-the-people style, and the rhetoric of the Chinese dream fits with that image.

While many worry about China’s increasing military, economic and political influence as a threat to stability in the international system, political mistakes Clive Palmer and Jacqui Lambie among them, the CPC’s

reliance upon a nationalist slogan like the Chinese Dream gives us some idea of the domestic pressures facing the party.

Most Chinese people do not consider their nation yet a superpower, perceiving it instead as the world’s largest developing nation. Faced by the struggle to coordinate economic and social development, it is suggested that the nation’s central focus is pulling its population out of poverty, and handling the economic and political challenges of a modernising and transitioning society, rather than imposing its power upon other states.

After a period of suspension during the Cultural Revolution, the Publicity (formerly Propaganda) Department was tasked with making President Xi’s imagined Chinese Dream feel real and authentic. While the Department typically leads media censorship and control in China, its latest assignment asks it to reach back into Chinese history to unearth content that will nostalgically remind its citizens of their shared history and kinship. For a government grappling with unsettling economic and social change, the revival of classical Chinese culture is intended to be a source of social stability.

Gone are the uplifting, inspiring images in bold black and red colours that make you want to soar; gone the muscular working men and women with stern, proud faces in violent, heroic postures.

In their place are gentler illustrations of villagers in traditional, rural settings with innocent expressions and rosy cheeks.

The posters are accompanied by inspirational sayings like: the Communist Party ‘delights people’, as if it’s a free buffet. They extol the benefits of folk culture and simplicity, filial piety and economic prosperity, springtime renewal and a Chinese way

of life. Overwhelmingly populated by figures of the young and the elderly working together, it makes for an inspiring vision of a community-based future. Like Kanye circa 2005, the posters are China screaming, ‘Come on now! How could you be me and want to be someone else?’

In a move away from hard line propaganda to draw more support, the posters avoid ideological terms, and seek to charm each of the diverse and restive interest groups that might compromise the nation’s stability, without addressing their criticisms.

A cunning, carefully constructed campaign, it even refers to China using the characters for motherland, rather than the usual characters for state, a common technique in nationalist discourse. Other nations worrying about China as a threat, however, will find little to complain about in its inward-looking messages.

President Xi’s dream seems to be one of a stronger nation with an empowered military, but it is so loosely defined it can be adapted to mean almost anything, if necessary to secure stability and Party control. Unlike the American Dream, Xi’s slogan is meant to stand for something more than middle-class material prosperity, yet many Chinese people are already beginning to interpret it in that way.

Like those of his predecessors, Xi’s slogan will likely exit public discourse when he steps down from his post in 2022. However it has already proven a useful rhetorical instrument to drum up nationalist sentiment and regime support, and consolidated party control over an increasingly pluralised society. The campaign clearly proposes that key to the restoration of the nation’s glory lies in the party’s hands, and so must the state.

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WE’RE ALL NAKED FOR BRANDIS

If the August nude photo hacking scandal taught us anything, it’s that our personal data is not as secure as we once thought it was. Now, with new sweeping amendments being made to our country’s national security legislation, it’s legal for our data to be taken without our permission and almost without reason and stored indefinitely. In the face of the new terror ‘crisis’ some people believe that these measures are justified, but do we have to pay for our security with our civil liberty, or more importantly, our nudes?

The National Security Amendment Bill (No. 1) 2014 passed through the Senate with almost no alterations on content and no opposition, as the Labor Party and Palmer United Party both signed on to the coalition’s extreme measures.

In basic terms, this bill gives Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) agents and representatives much greater power. It grants them a plethora of legal immunities while acting on ‘national security matters’, which are solely defined by the Attorney General George Brandis.

If you’ve ever been to Mid-Year Rotto, you’ll have heard of the dreaded Section 30, and after being hit with one I researched it a bit - it’s a subset of legislation that allows Rottnest Island rangers to evict anyone from the island for any reason the Rottnest Island Authority deems relevant. Literally any reason can be provided as your eviction notice. This bill is the national equivalent.

Although a warrant is required to collect data from your online accounts or home computer, a single warrant can be issued for a ‘computer network’. The only problem with this is that, essentially, the entire internet is a computer network.

Theoretically only one warrant would be needed to search the entire internet.

On top of this, optical surveillance needs no warrant, so we basically depend on

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every ASIO agent being a top bloke to not abuse their power. Under the new laws, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS) is able to ‘collect intelligence on Australian persons … and to cooperate with ASIO without ministerial authorisation,’ so the surveillance organisations essentially have autonomy in who, where and how they survey. The law also gives the organisation access to funds ‘without artificial or arbitrary limits’ which means the Australian debt crisis is their oyster.

The scariest thing is that this is just another notch in the belt for Brandis’ crusade on Australian’s freedom. Who can forget when Brandis enlightened us to the fact that we had the right to be a bigot with attempted amendments to the Racial Discrimination Act, or when he tried to hustle the telcos into giving up our snapchat secrets with the Trans-Pacific Partnership. I am unable to comment on Brandis’ possibly darker motives of realising his childhood dream of being a secret agent/spymaster, but the whole fiasco seems like a power play to gradually become unchallenged lord of the internet. With the classic steps of the evil mastermind, the terror threat level has been raised and then a national security bill has been introduced to parliament, capitalising on hype and fear.

George Brandis can now send reporters or journalists to prison for at least 10 years for interfering with his master plan and whistle blowers can be satisfactorily silenced. Perhaps soon we can look forward to a boost in tourism revenue as a new nation-sized Orwellian theme park, with bonus dinosaurs, lizard-man and Titanic.

A system that disincentivises transparency and punishes those who try to bring corruption to light is not promoting safety.

The Inspector General of Intelligence and Security is the only independent body with oversight into Australia’s six intelligence agencies, and with a staff of

12 compared to ASIO’s 1778, it functions more as a complaint office than a watchdog. Some may argue, ‘I don’t care if the government sees my candy crush level, maybe someone will finally appreciate my high score!’, but with little or no personal liability in court, ASIO agents new powers should be cause for concern.

Although steps are being taken to protect personal data, such as Apple and Google’s plans to make remote phone data collection almost impossible (even for them), this new form of legislated civilian surveillance means anything is possible.

I guess, on the plus side, we’re all about to become the next stars of Big Brother Australia 2014.

Picture by Cat Pagani

by Dan Werndly

FOREVER IN OUR PARKS

by Morgan Goodman Picture this: sometime in the not too distant future, you could visit our local zoo and see a new star attraction, trundling across recreated steppe in forty degree weather: the majestic woolly mammoth. You could hurry on to snap a few pictures of a dodo, adorably butting its head agaist the walls of its enclosure. You could quail before the glare of a sabre-tooth tiger and marvel at the strange grace of the thylacine.

This is the future of the de-extinctionists, and it is rapidly becoming a serious topic among conservationists. Advances in genetics and synthetic biology are making the resurrection of dead species increasingly possible, and debate has turned from “Could we?” to the much thornier “should we?”

Outside popular culture, which is of course dominated by Jurassic Park and Jeff Goldblum’s grim but vague assertions about chaos, de-extinction has existed as a legitimate scientific thing for over a decade. Back in 2000, the Pyranean ibex, a goat the lived in the mountains of Spain and southern France, went extinct when the last living specimen was killed by a falling tree. Fortunately, the unlucky goat known as ‘Celia’ had provided tissue samples a year earlier, and shortly after her death an attempt was made to resurrect the ibex species through cloning.

This project was the first “successful” deextinction. In 2003, a baby Pyranean ibex clone was born, and for a period of about seven minutes the species was no longer defunct, until it died of critical respiratory failure.

Since 2003, the technology involved in bringing back dead species has become far more sophisticated. While cloning still carries the risk of accidental defects like the one that re-extincted the ibex, other techniques are being put forward by proponents of deextinctionism. Harvard Professor of Genetics George Church is leading research into genome editing, with the long term goal of bringing back the red-breasted passenger pigeon which once swarmed all over the US. By identifying the distinguishing genes of the pigeon and inserting them into the genome

of the closely-related band-tailed pigeon, he hopes to be able to breed the bird back into existence. Similarly, teams of extremely patient biologists in the Netherlands are trying to ‘backbreed’ the aurochs into existence again, by selectively breeding for aurochs traits like size and wooliness in descendent species of cattle.

These methods could, theoretically, be used to be bring back many things that have gone extinct since humans burst onto the scene, including the mammoth and the dodo, and the de-extinctionists argue that we have every reason to do so. Reintroduction of dead species would prop up rapidly diminishing biodiversity, and could give us access to valuable compounds that were extinct in nature before the rise of medical science could take advantage of them. More important to some is a sense of obligation – the current extinction rate is difficult to pinpoint exactly, but is agreed by conservation scientists to be somewhere between 100 and 1000 times greater than the pre-human average. This qualifies the current era to be known as a mass extinction event, known as the Holocene or Sixth Extinction, and pretty much all of it is down to human interference in one way or another. There is also a very significant extinction debt building up – that is, the projected number of extinctions that will result from human activity, which looks to be pretty high as climate change becomes more and more dramatic. There is a prevailing sense of duty amongst the supporters of de-extinction, almost as strong as the desire to one day keep sabre-toothed cats as pets. If we have the technology, can we really justify not using it?

The resounding cry from the detractors is ‘absolutely.’ While conservationists worldwide are calling for de-extinction to be given serious consideration, there are fears that the repercussions of reintroducing dead species won’t be nearly as clear cut as we hope. Would the de-extincted species be invasive? Would they have to be considered GMOs? Are the first specimens of any de-extinction process considered a new species, legally, or does their environmental status simply step back to being ‘critically endangered’? There are a host of legal, ethical and ecological concerns that aren’t easily answered hypothetically.

Some conservationists have also expressed frustration that these sorts of projects are, even now, drawing attention away from more mainstream conservation efforts. While synthetic biology and genetics researchers are provided millions of dollars, conservation workers struggling to protect the dwindling populations of tigers and elephants are increasingly forced to make do with very little. The concern is that a full realisation of de-extinction technology would, for some governments, serve as an excuse to do away with regular conservation entirely.

If de-extinction is possible, does it eliminate the seriousness of that term for all species in danger of it in future? It’s pretty unlikely.

Revival projects are still reliant on developing technologies and are labour intensive, usually requiring the production of hundreds of embryos and surrogates to produce just one living specimen - which, in many cases, will quickly succumb to some biological flaw. The opportunity to revive species also relies on there being sufficient genetic material from the original and a living relative similar enough to serve as a surrogate or template for the new species. I’m afraid that means the dinosaur theme park is out. At best, the devoted mad scientist might attempt to create a giant lizard by selectively backbreeding enormous iguanas, but this would be the work of a few centuries.

So: bringing back the dead is a contentious issue. Who would have guessed? In a perfect world, time and attention would be equally divided between the heroic efforts of modern conservationists and the whiz-bang sciencefiction optimism of the de-extinctionists, and collaboration between the two groups would ensure a greater protection of our planet’s biodiversity than we have ever had. However, this is not a perfect world. I’m going to go find some iguanas and get to work myself.

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FILM REVIEWS

Gone Girl Director: David Fincher Starring: Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Neil Patrick Harris, Tyler Perry It’s easy to spot a David Fincher film: they’re sleek, unnerving, and clinically shot. Fincher’s latest, Gone Girl, an adaptation of Gillian Flynn’s bestselling novel, is very much in the same vein - and may very well be the darkest, most cynical movie I’ve seen in a long time.

Ben Affleck plays Nick Dunne, who is (un)happily married to Amy, played by Rosamund Pike. After blissful beginnings

The Little Death Director: Josh Lawson Starring: Josh Lawson, Bojana Novakovic, Lisa McCune, Kate Box, TJ. Power, Erin James and Kim Gyngell Lawson, who has had some success in America but never really truly shined overseas (he was the Rupert Murdoch proxy in Anchorman 2), returns to Australia for his feature directorial debut (he also writes and stars in the film) The Little Death. Whilst some elements of the film are problematic, it also demonstrates that Lawson has a ton of talent behind the camera.

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their marriage is becoming increasingly difficult when, on the day of their 5th anniversary, Amy disappears. Nick is shown to be prone to bursts of anger, while Amy confides to her diary that she fears her husband more and more with each passing day. Nick’s suspicious behaviour, along with a series of unfortunate media gaffes, places him as the prime suspect. Ostensibly, Amy is an all-American sweetheart and the national media gleefully hoists Nick up as a pariah. It’s not too much of a spoiler to say that both Nick and Amy are terribly unreliable narrators, and that Gone Girl isn’t so much a murder mystery as it is a surgical dissection of married life.

For the most part Gone Girl is excellent.

The casting is spot on; Affleck and Pike are perfect for their respective roles, and Tyler Perry is a scene-stealer as Nick’s hot shot defence attorney. Pike herself recently said that it “was just a joy to play a woman who doesn’t have to be palatable all of the time,” injecting the sociopathic Amy with empathy. Fincher and Flynn, who wrote the screenplay, are quietly damning of the

The Little Death is structured like Love, Actually, focused on a selection of various couples living in the same neighbourhood, all experiencing some level of sexual dysfunction.

Each segment of the film focuses on a different couple serving as the representative of Australian suburbia discovering sexual fetishism. As with any anthology film, the strength of the various segments varies.

Considering the subject matter, it is probably unsurprising that there’s some creepy shit, and that the creepy shit at times overtakes the comic element.

Case in point: the storyline between Lawson’s Paul and Bojana Novakovic’s Maeve. They’re the typical yuppie couple; however Maeve has a rape fantasy that she wants Paul to fulfil.

The bungled simulated rape scenes descend into farce but are still confronting and leave a bitter taste. Furthermore, all the jokes are about Paul’s uncomfortableness with the fantasy; we never find out anything about why Maeve has the fantasy, something which I thought the film needed more of. That’s not actually the cruellest story in the film, which would be Rowena’s (Kate Box), who discovers she can only get off when she’s making her

24-hour news cycle (it’s no coincidence that the Nancy Grace-style host who vilifies Nick is named Ellen), and the tone is extremely dark throughout. Fincher regulars Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide their best film score yet. It’s definitely not for the fainthearted; one scene in particular stands out as the most intense, shockingly violent act I’ve ever seen in a movie. I actually gasped.

It’s not perfect, though, it has to be said.

At 149 minutes it’s a very long film, and the pacing is a little jarring at the beginning, while there is an abrupt adjustment in tone (from thriller to satire) roughly halfway through that some might find implausible.

Also, I know Fincher’s movies are supposed to be unsettling, but this is really dark, even for him. Whenever the audience laughed I felt seriously uncomfortable – after all, this is a movie about a potential homicide, and things only get bleaker from there.

4/5 Matt Green

husband cry. The story is the film’s blackest comic material, going close to being too cruel to be funny.

However, the last segment is brilliant. As a short film by itself, it would be 4.5 stars.

Focused on Monica (Erin James), who works as a Skype-translator for phone calls, translating what the signing person on the screen wants to say to a person on the phone, the segment is about a caller who wants her to translate phone-sex. Sweet, funny and very human; it is far and away the film’s highlight. It’s worth seeing The Little Death just for this bit.

The film is handsomely photographed, and it is actually funny. Something that puts it far above the recent trend of Australian television dramadies, which seemingly forget to put in jokes (looking at you, Josh Thomas and Marieke Hardy.). If Josh Lawson can put together a full feature with the strength of The Little Death’s closing segment; then he’ll prove that he’s one of Australia’s top filmic talents.

3.5/5 Kevin Chiat

actually caused something of a stir. Perth is getting a movie? With Obi Wan Kenobi?!

It was a bit like that Simpsons episode where Alec Baldwin and Kim Basinger move to Springfield; all of a sudden our quaint Perthonalities don’t really cut the mustard.

Step aside, Angela Tsun!

Son of a Gun Director: Julius Avery Starring: Brenton Thwaites, Ewan McGregor, Alicia Vikander “Hey did you hear that Ewan McGregor is here in Perth filming a movie?”

“Did he stop for drinks at the Scotsman? (hurr hurr hurr)” “Go away.”

It really isn’t all that often that you see Perth in the movies; most international productions usually end up shooting in Melbourne or Sydney. So when Ewan McGregor rocked up so start shooting, it

Son of a Gun is Pemberton-born Julius Avery’s first feature film, with large segments shot here in WA, including Perth and Kalgoorlie. Brenton Thwaites plays JR, a teenager imprisoned for six months, reasons unknown. It turns out that prison life is pretty unsavoury, and JR is drawn under the influence of Brendan Lynch (McGregor), an infamous criminal with shady connections on the outside. In exchange for protection, JR is indebted to help Brendan escape, and subsequently joins his gang as they plan a risky gold heist, under the supervision of Perth’s Russian mob. Yes, you read that correctly. From there it’s all a bit predictable: JR gets in way over his head; Brendan is volatile and can’t be trusted; JR falls into a love that can never be (with Russian girl Tasha, played by Vikander);

yadda yadda yadda everything that can go wrong eventually does.

For a debut feature, this is a half-decent movie.

The opening scenes in the maximum security WA prison are tense and claustrophobic, a bit like the HBO series Oz set in ... well, Oz, and a gold heist sequence in Kalgoorlie is wellexecuted. Lead actor Thwaites seems genuinely intimidated by his surroundings, as well as his menacing inmates. However, the main problem with Son of a Gun is that it can’t decide what movie it wants to be. After JR is released from jail, it flips genres every 20 minutes, from bleak prison drama to Michael Mann-style heist movie to ill-fated romance to dark crime thriller. It’s also riddled with clichés, a half-baked chess metaphor, and don’t get me started on Tasha’s atrocious Russian accent. Unfortunately McGregor is slightly miscast as Lynch. Although initially stand-offish and threatening, McGregor is too likable to ever be convincing as a villain.

And I really did start to wonder, does Perth really have a Russian mob? Really?

2/5 Matt Green

otherworldly that can’t be measured in objective terms. Music is something you feel, man! To mystify talent this way is to overlook the obvious reality that music is work. To be good, you have to work. Hard. You have to become an obsessive. Stevie Ray Vaughan was rumoured to have practiced guitar for up to 12 hours a day.

This margin between dedication and obsession is what Whiplash is all about.

Whiplash Director: Damien Chazelle Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Melissa Benoist It’s kind of funny that most music films, especially biopics, tend to revert to pretty familiar tropes and end up neglecting the actual music. The protagonist is always some likable rogue with a tragic back story and a hidden talent; their rise to fame is meteoric, and their fall from grace is humbling, before they pull themselves together for a comeback gig in the final act. Think along the lines of Ray, or Walk the Line. Musicians are portrayed as if they possess some divine gift, something

Miles Teller (Divergent, The Spectacular Now) plays Andrew Neyman, an aspiring jazz drummer accepted into the Schaffer Academy, America’s most competitive musical college.

Andrew’s raw talent is quickly noticed by the legendary conductor Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), who takes him on as an alternate (backup) drummer in his big band. Fletcher is painstakingly meticulous, and expects the same of his students; if they make a mistake, he lets them know in a torrent of verbal abuse.

Early on Fletcher humiliates and expels a band member for being out of tune, only to reveal to the rest of the band that he actually wasn’t; “He didn’t know he was in tune, and that’s worse.”

Although Andrew is eventually promoted to main drummer, he struggles to keep up with Fletcher’s expectations and abuse. He’ll

never be good enough, or fast enough, or consistent enough to earn his approval.

A relatively small production, with a budget of just $3 million, Whiplash is terrific. Teller’s performance as Andrew is impressive, and not just because he performed most of his own drumming. Director Damien Chazelle does a great job of showing, rather than telling, allowing brief glimpses into Andrew’s sparse and lonely social life, which he discards in order to practice more, while there is a great focus on instrumentation showcased through rapid editing. Although the premise is similar to Black Swan, it’s really more a battle of wits and oneupmanship between Andrew and his conductor. Simmons is on snarling form (with some truly inventive swearing) as Fletcher, a man driven to push his students to their limits, to make them earn their success. He is abusive because he feels it is necessary: “There are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good job’.”

4/5 Matt Green

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OBITUARY: AT THE MOVIES WITH MARGARET & DAVID (1986-2014)

by Matt Green Last month, Margaret Pomeranz and David Stratton announced their impending retirement, with the final episode of At the Movies to be broadcast on 9 December... and you know what? It’s a damn shame. Their on-screen partnership started on SBS in 1986 (back then it was called The Movie Show), before they left for the ABC in 2004, where they’ve since become a permanent fixture. At the Movies is one of the few locally made TV programmes I find at all tolerable. Most Australian television personalities are dubious at best (Andrew O’Keefe?) and at other times downright offensive (those pricks on The Footy Show), while some have long since descended into selfparody (Molly Meldrum, anybody?).

But not Margaret and David. In their 28 year partnership they have always been well-informed, articulate, and most importantly, welcoming to their viewers. Their retirement, as well as the ABC’s unwillingness to replace them, does not bode well for the future of Australian film and television (more on that later).

MARGARET: WHY DIDN’T I KNOW THAT YOU WERE NOT GOING TO ENJOY IT? DAVID: WELL, I THINK MAYBE THIS A SEX THING 30

Maggie & Davo’s importance should never be undersold; they were never just spouting off random conjecture, or recycling old opinions. The show has always been about informed criticism, stemming from an unabashed love for the movies. They’ve also had some serious (and not so serious) brushes with authority. David Stratton is considered to be a walking encyclopaedia of cinema, so much so that it borders on the ridiculous.

The sheer level of knowledge held by Stratton makes his opinions invaluable, and enjoyably snooty. There are few things as satisfying as watching David

lay into a movie clearly not worth his time. Crucially, however, he never talks down to his audience. He served as the director of the Sydney Film Festival from 1966 to 1983. Hilariously, in 1969 he fell under the surveillance of ASIO after being photographed entering the Soviet Embassy, and applying for a travel visa.

Unsurprisingly he wasn’t defecting to the USSR (unless he’s been playing a seriously long game); Stratton wanted a visa so he could attend the Moscow Film Festival. Sure it’s funny, but it also speaks volumes about the state of

diplomacy in Australia, that something as innocuous as an interest in foreign movies is taken to be suspicious.

Film is a genuine means of cultural communication and understanding, especially at times of conflict. The overwhelming success of Perth’s Iranian Film Festival is testament to this fact.

Although Margaret Pomeranz doesn’t have the same filmic memory bank as her on-screen partner, she makes up for it in warmth and enthusiasm. And earrings. Where David is the brain, Margaret is the show’s heart. Pomeranz was originally David’s producer on the show, but after they failed to find a suitable co-presenter, he convinced her to take a shot in the chair. Although she’s always been very open about being the layperson to Stratton’s expert, she more than holds her own; the show just wouldn’t work without her. When I think of Margaret, I think of her squeal. If you watch the show, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Shrill and

MARGARET: I DON’T KNOW THAT THIS IS A GREAT FILM BUT I REALLY LOVED IT, AND I’M GIVING IT FOUR STARS. DAVID: I THOUGHT IT WAS TRULY DREADFUL. I’M GIVING IT ONE.

enthusiastic, that squeal is as good as a four star review; it’s something she can’t help. Margaret has also had run-ins with higher authorities. Along with Stratton, she is one of Australia’s most prominent anti-censorship campaigners, and has regularly challenged the Australian Classification Office as being unnecessarily kneejerk in its reactions. This distrust of authority forms a central component of the partnership’s success. We know we can trust them.

It isn’t too much of a surprise that Margaret and David’s time together on television is drawing to a close; they’re both in their 70s, and Stratton has regularly expressed his wish to retire in recent years. What is shocking is that the ABC has declined to continue the show. Maybe they felt like they couldn’t possibly replace such a successful partnership (after all, they’re our Siskel & Ebert). But they didn’t even try, and now we’ve lost yet a programme that held real purpose, for its producers and audience alike. I’m becoming genuinely concerned about the state of Australian TV, especially SBS and the ABC. Government cuts and mismanagement are starting to take their toll. Original content seems to be a thing of the past; pretty much all the programming on ABC2 is directly sourced from either America or the UK, and most of it is pretty depressing. Ever watch Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents? When they do commission original shows, the budget is so low that I start to believe I could do a better job myself. Seriously, the ABC’s coverage of the recent basketball World Cup was two guys standing in front of a green screen.

Even SBS2, which has largely been a success since its revival as a youthoriented channel, is overly reliant on ironic Asian dating/obstacle course shows. Ever watch ABC24 for more than an hour? It’s tough, since they just

MARGARET: SARAH JESSICA PARKER HAS NO FEWER THAN 80 COSTUMES...

BUT WHAT THE HELL, I WALLOWED IN EVERY MINUTE OF IT recycle the same 15 minute segment over and over until something actually happens. Sometimes they just cut to a live feed of the BBC instead of telling us what’s going on in our own country.

That is fucked up. It seems to me like everything re: public broadcasting is now decided by budget-conscious committees, too scared to express opinions.

The format of At the Movies was always staggeringly simple, yet effective: two chairs, angled inward towards the camera, ready to start a conversation.

I’m so used to seeing Margaret and David sitting together that I’m honestly beginning to wonder what they must look like standing up... I’m sure they must have stood up at some point, but I have my doubts. It was just such a friendly sight, and one I’m really going to miss.

P.S. Margaret’s favourite movie is Nashville. David’s is Singin’ in the Rain.

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NAKED / DEAD MUSIC REVIEWS The Physical World Death From Above 1979 Warner Bros Recordings It’s been a long time between records for Death From Above, and it shows. Ten years since their previous album, and a very bitter break-up.

The first listen to this new album immediately unveils that the record sounds much more produced than their previous offering, You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine. It sounds simpler, struck by the repetition of the choruses and upfront guitar work, the listener may be forgiven for thinking that the band has strayed too far into the ‘pop’ half of their recognisably ‘pop-punk’ sound. The previous album sounded like something teenagers might put together in a garage, this was to its credit, as it complemented the themes explored. But this is an album made by adults, adults somehow still singing about teenagers.

The essentials are still there though, and with multiple listens, the album grows on your unsuspecting eardrums. Over time, the album is enjoyable. Songs like Trainwreck 1979 and Right on Frankenstein have a tendency to pop into the head and refuse to leave, whilst Virgins and Government Trash go a long way towards capturing the anger and alienation that made You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine great. But the best thing about this album is still the sense of nostalgia that it inspires.

Whilst the album’s good, it never quite recaptures the feelings that made their previous album feel so genuine. But with a few listens the album becomes comfortable, after a few listens you’ll find yourself having a genuinely good time, even if you do feel really old.

7/10 Thomas Rossiter

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Songs of Innocence U2 Island The lads from U2 are very accomplished musicians, they have achieved more than most could ever contemplate aspiring to. They’ve been in this industry for over thirty years and they know exactly how to write and record a commercially successful album. Owing to their worldwide fan base and the tendency of older people to remain faithful to the bands they loved in their youth, even if U2’s newest record Songs of Innocence was literally just the sound of the group circle-jerking, they’d still listen to and enjoy it.

I found U2’s Songs of Innocence not to be deeply personal or particularly revealing, but instead more of a one-size-fits-all approach to emotionally-charged alternative rock.

This isn’t entirely U2’s fault, but a by-product of their continued drive to be the best band in the world. The record lacks a real narrative, and seems to meander from one disconnected song to another. This isn’t an overly bad thing, but when a band professes the intimate nature of a record, genrehopping and mood-changing does much to disrupt this.

This record hits its strides in the quality of individual tracks like Sleep Like a Baby Tonight with its synth line and fuzzed guitar, the desperate, razor vocals of Raised

by Wolves and the enduring strings and prominent backing vocals on closing track The Troubles. In fact, the second half of the record in general provides a much deeper introspection and I think gets close to what Bono and co. were trying to produce.

The weakness of producing a record with an expected response (if U2 intends to follow the precedent of William Blake and inevitably release a second, much more realistic and dark record entitled Songs of Experience). Songs of Innocence therefore is a promise that the next one will hit the heart.

3.5/5 Brad Griffin

Hey Hey Mapei Downtown Records Swedish popstarlet Mapei is in her car, speeding down a Californian highway on a balmy summer’s eve. The windows are rolled down, her hair is streaming in the wind and one arm is flung out into the night in an exuberant gesture of youthfulness and freedom. Her newest single Change is playing on the radio, and she sings along as she re-adjusts her shirt, which reads ‘I Opened for John Legend And All I Got Was This Stupid Tshirt’. Suddenly, she hears a siren and see’s blue and red lights flashing in her rearview - the cops! She pulls over, palms sweating, and winds down the passenger side window with a nervous smile. “W-what seems to be the problem, officer?” she stutters. The policeman takes off his aviators and leans in - “Ma’am, are you aware that you were driving in the very center of the road? The very center. The middle, in fact. The middle of the road. You are just so very, very middle of the road.

I’m going to have to arrest you for being so goddamn middle of the road”. Mapei starts crying, her mascara running. “But I’m the new voice of pop/soul!” she wails.

The cop sighs, and pulls out his pad, “No mam, even though you used a theremin on that one track which was kinda cool I mean who doesn’t like theremins, you’re just too middle of the road for me to let you go”.

And then he gave her a fine for being too middle of the road, the end.

5/10 appathetic ‘eh’s’ Anna Saxon Syro Aphex Twin Warp Records After a protracted viral marketing campaign featuring blimps, AR games, street stencils and the deep web, Richard D James is back after 13 with a new studio album: Syro. Considered the foremost artist

in the “Intelligent Dance Music” genre, James, aka AFX aka Aphex Twin is known for his weirdo media persona as much as for his music, and in almost 25 years he’s earned himself a rabid fan base, and a ‘quirky-techno-dude’ reputation. And so with no small degree of idiosyncratic absurdistarrogance electronica’s prodigal son has loosed another creation onto the world, and it is the task of us lesser beings to listen and exault uncomprehendingly our lord’s newest light. And damn it if this album isn’t really good. A collection of highly melodical beats, “Syro” marks a departure from the abrasive, ‘hectic shit’ of his previous, “Druqs” or singles like “Windowlicker”, and a return to the artist’s post-”Ambient” phase of tripped-out house beats, with a positively delightful Trapesque flavour (oh god please kill me). These songs stretch across many genres. Some play out as techno lounge pieces appropriate for your dad’s favourite digital radio station; whereas others are solid drill’n’bass crackers, injecting energy into the album’s slower points. Aphex’s characteristic jazz-dub song structuring is present throughout however, easing the changes from one extreme to another.

Without mincing words, to call something INTELLIGENT DANCE MUSIC essentially means TECHNO WANK YOU CAN’T REALLY DANCE TO OR ENJOY. And yet we have here an instantly enjoyable album of bleeding-edge dance from one of the founding fathers of this genre. His best work pushes the notions of electronic production to heady, rarified heights, but as a consequence his worst can be laughably inscrutiable. “Syro” finds a nice balance, safely pushing the envelope and predictably subverting expectations of dance with a tight, interesting sound.

where I’ve listened to their first album, An Awesome Wave, so many time that I don’t want to hear it any more. Suffice it to say I was pretty glad to find myself with a review copy of their new album, This Is All Yours.

Wonder Where We Land SBTRKT Young Turks

This Is All Yours Alt J Infectious Records

I doubt this album will get as many plays on my iPod as its predecessor, but it is certainly worth a listen for a select few tracks. Just be ready to hit ‘next’ on others.

Listening to the second album by SBTRKT, headed by British producer and DJ Aaron Jerome, one feels like they have been transported to a space where 1990s Trip Hop, Hip Hop and modern electro pop fuse (with a little bit of post rock grunge thrown in the mix) to create a sound that is experimental and ambient. Fairly heavy on the bass and eclectic broken beats, there is a dark undercurrent to many of the tracks, which experiments with soul influences and soaring electro tones. The title track, first up after the intro, is a slow atmospheric offering that evokes futuristic SCI-FI style scenes with its play of bleeps and tonal glitches riding above a deep bass foundation. The album alternates between this laid back, level tempo, and a slightly more beat driven pace with an urban energy- LA to New York ghetto feel.

‘New Dorp. New York’, displays more of this drive and definitely brings out some of the dystopian, grungy undercurrent with the discordant drumming and spokensinging sections. ‘Look Away’ feat Caroline Polachek, is also worthy of note with its smoky Euro lounge, Trip Hop style and a catchy vocal melody. Some of the tracks however, particularly some of the hip hop number, can feel slightly thin with cheesy vocals that are reminiscent of the hip hop/ pop boy bands of the early 2000s. Vocals are pulled forward in many of the tracks to give them a lofty, clear sound that, while smooth, can start to feel a bit the same after a while. The experimentation with many different styles gives the album a mixed feel, and at times doesn’t seem to have direction. However, while it’s not the sort of music to pump up a party, Wonder Where We Land is an atmospheric and creative album that is worth a listen to for any electro music lovers.

I love Alt J. However, it’s recently reached the point

6/10 Elisa Thompson

7/10 Rahana Bell

8/10 Nick Morlet

Alt J is an indie rock band from the UK. You probably heard their song Breezeblocks playing on constant rotation on Triple J a couple of years ago. There is a lot to love about this song, and others on the first album, not least because of super catchy drum/guitar combos and the twangy vocals of Joe Newman. I was hoping for much of the same in This Is All Yours, but found it to lack a lot of the punch I’d expected.

This is a dreamy album. Songs like Arrival in Nara combine sweet guitar harmonies, pretty piano tunes and soft, simple vocals to create a very calming sound scape. I like this, but I’m not sure I want to listen to it for an hour.

I was surprised to hear a new sound on the albums first track, Intro; what seems to be a clarinet. I’m usually a fan of wind instruments, but I found this addition to the band’s sound to be grating and overwhelmingly unpleasant. The flute melody in Every Other Freckle, on the other hand, was well integrated and refreshing to listen to.

Left Hand Free and Bloodflood part II are stand-out songs for me. The former showcases Newman’s vocals and features a solid drumbeat that had me tapping along, while the latter has lyrics that hark back to their first album and is carried along by strong piano chords.

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LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG

by Bridget Rumball

Death and dying: very common themes when it comes to popular music. You’d be hard-pressed to find an album from any band that doesn’t include a single song about death, either subtle or not- none more so than the releases from the ever melancholic Lana Del Rey. Alongside her generally morose songwriting, her persona somewhat glorifies young death and the so-called ‘live fast, die young’ lifestyle- riding on the back of fast motorbikes, drinking and taking drugs and acting all tragically beautiful. This personality even permeated into a recent interview with The Guardian, the singer bemoaned that she ‘wishes [she] was dead already’.

But it begs the question- since when was death so glorious and romantic, particularly within the music industry?

Musicians choose to muse endlessly over it, immerse themselves in it; in Lana’s own words- are all musicians simply born to die?

This glorification of death by musicians a la Lana is be no means a modern concept. Such a theory dates way back into the history of classical music, and the folklorish superstition of ‘The Curse of the Ninth’. According to this theory, any composer who finishes their ninth symphony will, as per the hand of fate, die of accidental circumstances shortly after. This occurred most famously to Ludwig van Beethoven, who contracted an unknown illness after completing and conducting his Ninth Symphony in 1824 and died rather promptly afterward.

The prophecy is fulfilled, right? Not completely. Once Beethoven had died, the mysterious hand of fate seemingly went above and beyond just making sure he was dead; it further ensured that he become one the most famous composers in history. Schubert, Mahler and Dvorák were all composers who followed a similar path; dying after writing their ninth symphony in some form and becoming more famous

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posthumously than ever before. Of course, most of these composers were successes whilst they were alive; but, some argue that they only became truly legendary after they died. Effectively, death begets newfound popularity, which itself begets a twisted form of martyrdom in which an artist becomes a legend.

This ancient superstition has continued into the modern music scene, becoming one of the key pillars of the rock and roll movement. When combined with the use and abuse of recreational drugs and alcohol, more and more musicians began to die in tragic circumstances- and, as per Beethoven and co. before them, skyrocket to a new level of popularity after death, being remembered as ‘pioneers of their craft.’

The classic example of this is the 27 Club; an infamous group of (mostly rock) musicians who all died at the age of 27, to the lament of their families, remaining band members and fans. Notables inductees include Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse and- often named as the ringleader of group- Kurt Cobain. All of these artists were famous independently, and even had fears of joining the ClubWinehouse even said that she ‘had a feeling she was gonna die young.’

But their deaths made them truly legendary, in every single sense.

Teenagers passing through their grunge rock phase continue to plaster Kurt Cobain’s face all over their textbooks; Rolling Stone and NME continue to rank Jimi Hendrix’s albums as part of the Top 100 of all time; songs on the radio today constantly mimic Amy Winehouse’s style. Granted, each of these bands were successful in their own right and deserve to be recognisedbut would they be considered as part of history’s most influential if their lead guitarists/singers hadn’t been glorified through death? Like Lana, would they have wanted to ‘die already’, so that

they could too have their time in the spotlight?

But, this romantic notion of dying young and being glorified as a martyr of the industry is somewhat stunted by an over-exaggeration that I like to call ‘rigor mortis popularity’. A musician may only be a few months dead; and yet family estates and record companies capitalise on their posthumous popularity by publicly releasing previously unheard songs and b-sides. An example of this has been the still-recent death of Michael Jackson; the ‘King of Pop’ who was by no means unpopular before his untimely death in 2009. Jackson was a perfectionist- he deliberately didn’t want any of his demos or album offcuts to be released, either before or after his death, at risk of sounding unpolished.

However, not even a year after his death, the Jackson Estate opened the floodgates for two posthumous albums and a documentary which earned millions. Justin Timberlake has sung over one of Jackson’s half finished, remastered demos from 1983; Justin Bieber has ‘duetted’ alongside him, and he has been projected as a hologram at the most recent Billboard Music Awards.

It seems that the age old, romanticised ideal of martyrdom after death has gone one step too far- unlike in Beethoven or even Nirvana’s day, the drive of our modern day age to capitalise of celebrity deaths has multiplied ten fold.

In 2014, you’re not glorified when you die- as far as the industry goes, you’re very much still alive.

So, is Lana right? It seems that the concept of a ‘glorified death’ has come full circle in the music industry, with death becoming romanticised, then overtaken by commercialism, then back again. Musicians and death will always be inextricably linked, that’s for sure; but whether they were ever ‘born to die’ will continue to be a matter of culture, lifestyle and - of course - fate.

DEATH TO PILOTS

by Cameron Moyses

For fun, I decided over the mid-semester break it’d be a good idea to continue procrastinating my endless assignments and re-watch all of the AMC series Mad Men. It’s coming into the second half of its final season early next year, and as it is the very best show currently on television, I wanted to refresh myself with the world of Sterling-Cooper. Mad Men far and away has the very best team of writers I have ever witnessed in a television series, grabbing lingering, benign reference sseasons in the past, and slyly making them relevant once again in a coming plot-turn. It’s thrilling. The most enjoyable part, in my mind, is reading the endless discussion pieces on every episode, attempting to understand what impact a distant song in a background, or the colour-choice of clothing, will entail in the future. It’s like Lost, but without the smoke-monster and time-travel weirdness.

I did notice something odd in the first episode of Mad Men, however. It was extremely erratic. Coming off how very en pointe the future episodes are, it was jarring to see how loose and directionless the pilot was. Plot points are picked up, future storylines are hinted at, and the rest of the series drops them once episode two kicks in.

It turns out that, like most pilots, Mad Men was actually created by Matthew Weiner and co. ages ago before the series was eventually picked up by AMC. In fact, once the series was picked up and production for episode two was given the green-light, the entire sets were rebuilt and contracts finally became set.

The show was passed up by every major network (including HBO and Showtime) and was left on the table until AMC came along with a strong goal: to establish original series on a network that for the most part just ran old movies you forgot to turn off. The massive success of AMC, later to produce The Walking Dead and Breaking Bad, started a trend of unusual

networks getting into the original series game. Now A&E are making a Hitchcock homage with Bates Motel and the History channel is aiming for that Game of Thrones cash money with Vikings.

The pilot episode of Mad Men was not indicative of the greatness to come. Pilots are inherently a problem, bad for the medium, and need to die. The only times I can think of where the first episode of a long-running television show was not only telling of the quality and tone of the series to come, but also served as a brilliant jumping-off point, were Futurama and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Viewers rarely realise it, but creating a good pilot is an extremely difficult feat to pull off.

Introducing characters, relationships, tone, familiar settings and a main plot is fucking hard, not to mention keeping the whole project enjoyable to entice a major studiohead to give the thumbs-up.

Television has never been more intelligent, complex or daring than it is today, and even though it’s a very tired claim to make at this point, I really do feel this is the real golden age of television. Pilots, however, remain a problem. And if we ever want this medium to get better and improve, then we gotta ditch them. It stifles the creativity of the show-runners and prevents them from keeping a wide-scope for the spooling series to come. Hell, this problem shows just through the way entire plotlines have to tie up by the end of a season, preventing multiple season arcs from becoming as affecting as they could be. A issue which plagued Showtime’s Dexter, and resulted in the whole thing becoming unwatchable garbage.

Attempts to address pilot problem have had mixed success. On one hand, we have Netflix ditching the practice and allowing creators to allow their imaginations go wild, resulting in unprecedented quality and unique programming seen in House of Cards and Orange is the New Black.

Other networks like Fox, FX and even the newer original series players like A&E are

allowing a greater leash on their creators with the long-term game on their mind by creating series in-house, resulting in less shitty pilots. On the other hand, we have Amazon eager to get into the business with the odd strategy of releasing a shitload of pilots for consumers to watch and vote for, to decide what gets picked up. This is all due to their “consumerfirst” mentality, which works for basic consumables, but not art.

Did you realise you were desperate for a sprawling, fantasy epic with a budget to match most Hollywood blockbusters? I didn’t, and now we have Game of Thrones, which, as far as I’m concerned, had a shitty first episode. People don’t know what they want, and they’re not going to find it in a pilot.

TELEVISION HAS NEVER BEEN MORE INTELLIGENT, COMPLEX OR DARING THAN IT IS TODAY, AND EVEN THOUGH IT’S A VERY TIRED CLAIM TO MAKE AT THIS POINT, I REALLY DO FEEL THIS IS THE REAL GOLDEN AGE OF TELEVISION. 37

BOOK REVIEWS Travelling to Work: Diaries 1988-98 Michael Palin Michael Palin is a busy fellow. This year Monty Python reunited for one last hurrah with a series of soldout live shows, reported to be their final outing together. Palin always struck me as the most pleasant, earnest member of the troupe; he was often the relatable heart of Python – an everyman impossible to dislike.

He’s also got a heroic work rate; after Python he wrote and starred in a number of successful films and TV series, practically reinvented the travel doco, and through it all kept a diary. Travelling to Work is his third collection of diary entries, starting in 1988, and chronicles his life and work through the ‘90s.

It feels a little unfair to criticize a diary the same way you would a novel or an essay collection. After all, diaries are supposed to be banal, as well as intimate. Here, Palin’s entries aren’t always regular or even particularly interesting, they vary in length and subject matter; some entries are several pages, filled to the brim with detail, while others are only a handful of words long. The book starts just after the release (and overwhelming success) of A Fish Called Wanda, as Palin embarks on a BBC documentary re-enactment of Around the World in 80 Days.

Palin’s likability as a host makes the doco another success, and shapes his career as he pushes into middle age.

Although I imagine he would have gone through his notes with a

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fine toothed comb, Palin is pretty candid. His anxieties about aging and the pressures of maintaining a high standard of quality to his work are both revealing and reassuring.

In particular, how Palin reacts to the deaths of those closest to him (his mum, Graham Chapman) shows him at his most vulnerable, like a diary ought to. However, this is only a must-read for Python fans and the wanderlusty.

Best bit: On student publications: “I think in years to come anything worth really knowing about me will be in magazines like this and not in the publicity handout-fed pages of the daily press.”

Worst bit: Graham Chapman dying.

He was my favourite.

3/5 Matt Green does children’s parties.

Echopraxia Peter Watts So, as a teen, there was a bitter little part of me that wanted to tell people who talked about how much they love all these young adult dystopian novels that they don’t know shit and they should read 1984 or Brave New World etc.

I didn’t say that because I am not completely a jerk and because they had probably already read those books and were just having a bit of fun. Turns out, this is a good thing because I was in fact the one who did not know shit; far grimmer tales of mystery and imagination exist.

On this it will be sufficient to quote one critic: “Whenever I find my will to live becoming too strong, I read Peter Watts.”

Watts is also committed to writing plausible stories in the sense that he has an appendix of books and journal articles from which he backs up and draws from what he writes about. He is an ex-marine biologist and his rigorous scientific approach is evident in writing.

Where Huxley and Orwell invoked eugenics, artificial languages and psychological conditioning with negative stimuli, Watts explores neuroscience, game theory, evolutionary biology and genetics, and the results are both horrifying and exciting, in that can’t-look-away gruesome violence sort of manner.

Echopraxia is the sequel to Blindsight, and develops the story further while exploring new avenues, in particular the hypothetical; what if there was some truth to feelings of religious insight? While sci-fi is often lacking in writing style and characterization, I have no complaints about these two novels; it’s not going to feature on The Millions, but it’s a fundamentally different kind of book, While you still have to be at least open to the project of hard science fiction, if you get on board it is an intelligent and chilling ride.

Best Bit: Staying up till 4am to finish reading it Worst Bit: The subsequent nightmares 4/5 Liam Dixon is not submitting a nude photo for this edition, sorry.

The Bone Clocks David Mitchell The Bone Clocks

by David Mitchell starts with a young punk called Holly Sykes, who sounds like your perfect product of oppressive families and isolated British towns, but has a confusing lot of obscure psychic abilities poured in. What you think is going to be a charmingly ‘70s coming-of-age story instead leads to a much more complex story of psychic conflict reverberating forward through time in varying incarnations of people like Holly and influenced by two warring groups of space-immortals.

Completely understandable, right?

Not so much.

While Mitchell is an amazing writer, with beautifully crafted prose and narrative concepts that are fantastically constructed and whimsically just-unattainable, he seems to want to take every genre on for size. None of his works, including The Bone Clocks, fits neatly in to one or two genres, and while this is incredibly admirable and makes his novels appear more accessible, it seems to divide the story and give it more of a scattered feel.

Despite this lack of genre, The Bone Clocks feels united by the character’s voices within – that being because they are all the same voice. While the dialogue from each character can be insightful and entertaining, it always feels too similar. I do believe that if I were to actually meet David Mitchell, every word out of his mouth would be strikingly similar

too. It lends a certain hollow-ness and insignificance to the individual narratives of the characters, and instead seems to use them as analogies to describe the cosmic war at play.

memory, no . . . anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever . . . lost.”

“I wish to die completely, with my body,” said Harry.

While The Bone Clocks has many complex and well-constructed narratives within, when read it feels more akin to a modern and slightly crass Bible, with some very scifi gods instead. Which is actually pretty cool.

* “It’s a time turner,” said Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall gave it to me so I could fit in all my classes.”

“Time is a flat circle,” said Harry.

Best Bit: Young punks hearing voices becoming successful prophets

* “The crushing inevitability of fate, and the wily nature of the multiverse,” said the Author. “My OTP.”

Worst bit: Imagining every character as David Mitchell in costume 4/5 Caroline Stafford is probably going to hell.

Selections from THE GARDEN OF FORKING FANFIC “Was it I who killed you, or you who killed me?” said the tall man. “I forget.”

“My scar no longer hurts,” said the boy.

“Then, you are already forgiven,” said the man. ““As long as the scar continues to hurt, there is regret.

Regret engenders guilt.”

This is not a parable, but a story to touch and delight. * Harry asked Remus about the hooded figures. The werewolf explained.

“You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no

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THE CREATIVE STATE

by Haley Graydon For those of you who were living under a rock, or going about your daily, non-fashion obsessed business, the Telstra Perth Fashion Festival happened last month. More circus than festival, designers from across the state flock to the CBD to show their new collections. People from all walks of life are invited to share in the experience, which includes free shows and high-end couture evenings.

Most of the time, jeans, t-shirts and Melbournian hand-me-downs dominate Perth fashion. For this one-week of the year, people feel they are able to justify extravagant (sometimes non-weather appropriate) outfits.

I know this, because I too succumbed to the temptation and decided to buy and subsequently wear something I never thought I would. That’s the beauty of fashion week.

For once, fashion creativity is not dead.

People are free to design, create and wear things they think best portrays them, even if that means being half naked.

On the closing Sunday of Telstra Perth Fashion Festival (TPFF) I decided to tag along to the “Fashion Future” show. Arriving in torrential rain, my ideal “fashionista” entrance was more drenched rat than très chic. As we composed ourselves and took our seat, it became apparent that the marquee was not built for stormy weather. I was Dorothy before her house blew away. In these brief moments, I saw the TPFF week flash before my eyes.

At last the music started and the runway began.

I chose to see this show as it presents the most creative work and highlighted new Perth talent. For a person who can’t even sew a button back on to a shirt, it is amazing to see so many intricate pieces. Carried on the frames of tall slender models, I had new appreciation for silk and the treacherous task of beading (even though I vowed never to eat HJ’s again). Despite the fact that most of the items weren’t wearable (i.e. they were giant floating cages or “bare all” jumpsuits) it brings new perspective to how ordinary items can be transformed. This is particularly important

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in light of other shows in the festival, where clothes were more predictable and wearable.

In this way, the TPFF did well to cover a broad scope of interests. Budget-friendly staple Target played host to one of the most popular shows. Dannii Minogue, singer-cum-reality TV judge-cum-fashion designer, was at the helm, and punters lapped it up. Colourful spring pieces flooded onto the runway as reality TV star-cum-pop starlet Samantha Jade belted out a tune. It was inspiring to see fashion reach a broader market with mums, bloggers and tweens all engaging with the fashion world.

With a variety of designers covering every style from glitzy formal wear to classic resort clothing, it’s no wonder that the fashion world stopped to take note of the our tiny city. The talent this year was overwhelming and the style was impeccable. But as the lights go out on this year’s fashion week, I wonder; why is TPFF so important to Perth?

It’s the fact that so many people living in Perth don’t feel they fit the “coastal” stereotype that is so widely celebrated. Not all of us are built for 40-degree days or look “beachy” instead of homeless when we forget to

brush our hair. Although I appreciate Perth’s laidback lifestyle, for those who can’t surf, skate, look bohemian and tan, there’s a lack of celebration. There has been change, and TPFF has promoted this. Although there have been setbacks, including the impending closure of the Bakery, a new generation is fostering creativity in the heart of this beach town. From porcelain-skinned models to distinctly different designs, the undercurrent of a new Perth fashion scene shines through.

Creativity and difference is acclaimed. It is so important to show that women of all ages breaking the mold, wearing something different and being terrible at sports is not the end of the world (something that the people of Melbourne have long embraced).

On reflection at the end of TPFF week, I can only hope that more young Perth designers decide to forge their own path in the industry. Watching the show, you can see the countless hours, debt and sometimes ridicule these designers face, and your appreciation skyrockets. The week is not in the name of “fashion”, it’s in the name of creativity and a celebration of all things different. We are better than a beach city. One fashion festival at a time, designers are carving out a new path for women to celebrate their quirks and embrace their own style.

MS. MARVEL AND THE BETTER WAY

by Kevin Chiat I’m writing this a week after the Sydney terror raids, a couple of days after the US-led coalition have started their official bombing campaign of ISIS. So much of the information we’re hearing is (rightfully) disturbing, but the tough-man rhetoric of the government is mostly divisive (and delivered by a mouthpiece who seems pleased to call himself a wartime Prime Minister). Similarly, some of the loudest voices from the Muslim community have been anti-democratic crackpots like Uthman Badar of Hizb ut-Tahir. Throughout the Australian media, I’m seeing a flood of thinkpieces and ‘special reports’ talking about the end of multiculturalism, and handwringing over the Muslim community’s failure to assimilate.

I’m sick of reading about how afraid we should all be of each other. Let’s talk about superheroes instead.

Comics writer Grant Morrison has written about how the superhero is one of the few utopian icons we have left in popular culture.

So much of popular culture is obsessed with chaos, dystopia and apocalypse. The world’s most popular genre show has switched from the futurist positivity of Star Trek to the unrelenting bleakness of The Walking Dead.

If there’s one element of pop culture where a utopic energy is blooming, it’s superheroes.

Superheroes are our modern day renaissance angels; god figures that are meant to represent humanity at our best and most altruistic.

based in Islamic traditions because he was dismayed by the glorification of terrorists in the Middle East. Al-Mutawa was directly praised

by Barack Obama, and has had death threats made against him by ISIS, which seems to imply that he’s doing something right. However, what little I’ve seen of The 99 cartoon was shoddily animated and relies on stock superhero tropes.

The 99 has the whiff to me of commerce rather than creativity, a media franchise designed by committee to predominantly lead to theme parks and movies. It doesn’t speak to me the way my next example does.

At the start of this year, Marvel launched a new comic called Ms. Marvel. The comic’s lead is Kamala Khan, a 15-year-old girl living in New Jersey who is coincidentally a second generation Pakistani-American. The thing is, I’m not just talking the series up as some sort of PC multicultural gold-star for effort project.

Ms. Marvel is a damn fine superhero comic, with a unique approach to the genre.

The series is written by G. Willow Wilson and (primarily) illustrated by Adrian Alphona.

Wilson is a Muslim-American writer with multiple comic series under her belt and a World Fantasy Award for her novel Alif the Unseen. She invests Kamala with a rich inner-life and demonstrates an excellent understanding of what it is like to be a young Muslim girl in America. Alphona, who drew one of my favourite teen superhero comics

Runaways, is doing career best work. The series is phenomenally illustrated. Honestly, it looks more like a French bande-desinée book than a typical superhero comic.

Kamala gains ectomorphic powers, and becomes a superhero. But what really is the core of the book is how it captures the pressures of being different. Kamala is an American superhero fangirl, but she also faces condescension at school because of her Otherness. She finds it difficult to relate to her parents, but the moral values she gained from her upbringing are a core reason behind why she becomes a hero. Kamala feels somewhat stifled by the more conservative aspects of her faith (like gender segregation at prayers), but her Islamic heritage and teachers are also something that gives her the strength to be a better person.

Ms. Marvel is a comic that should be a part of the Australian school curriculum. We need to use fiction to become better people and a better society. Kamala is a character that can help students understand what it’s like to be different. She represents a better way, a vision of heroism not confined by race, religion or gender. We need more heroes like Kamala, because to solely perpetuate the narrative of the Muslim community as a dangerous Other is to perpetuate a narrative that can only do us harm.

Over the past decade, the prominence of fans from outside the traditional fanboy demographics has grown. This is slowly but surely being reflected in superhero narratives themselves, as more women and people of colour are being portrayed as superheroes.

The superheroic ideal is being expanded to apply to more than just straight white males.

This is undoubtedly a good thing, especially for minority groups who are rarely given heroic representations of themselves. So, are there Muslim superheroes that can help us to imagine a better, more inclusive society? Yep. The 99 is a superhero media franchise that was developed by Dr. Naif Al-Mutawa, who was inspired to create a group of superheroes

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TURN THE LIGHTS OFF, CARRIE ME HOME Many television programmes make it to their third season. The Big Bang Theory, New Girl, Enough Rope with Andrew Denton. The Carrie Diaries, the recent prequel to ladies-night-in staple Sex and the City, did not. Those are the objective facts, and while the axing of my favourite tween TV show occurred quite a few months ago and to very little fanfare or public interest, I feel it pertinent to dedicate an entire page of a Western Australian student magazine to the demise of what was a wonderful and heartwarming series about love, life, and hope.

The Carrie Diaries starred impossibly doe-eyed and innocent Annasophia Robb, whose double-barreled first name was well suited to her double-barreled acting ability. Annasophia was capable of portraying both happiness and sadness with equal melodrama. Additional to her emotional depth, Annasophia’s hair was one of the show’s greatest strengths – bouncing and golden, it maintained a flawless quality whether backlit by a Connecticut country club or New York City subway.

From start to finish, The Carrie Diaries was deliberately and lovingly unrealistic.

It refused to make sense – refused to disallow its teenaged characters from achieving their far-flung dreams. Its premise was questionable: the titular Carrie Bradshaw, a sixteen-year-old girl of average intelligence and talent, lands a job working for Andy Warhol’s magazine Interview. Episodes later, she is living rent-free in a New York City penthouse by herself. Even solemn moments of the show – progressive attempts to address the AIDs crisis of the ‘80s, teen pregnancy horror stories – were quickly transformed into fodder for the selfgrowth and wish-fulfillment of the show’s posse of preppy young characters.

The impossibly happy and successful Carrie was a far cry from her cynical

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adult Sex and the City counterpart, and indeed The Carrie Diaries had a pretty ballsy lack of regard for the canonical television series that birthed it. The inconsistencies were so numerous and confusing that it was far, far better thing to forget prior viewing experiences and simply see The Carrie Diaries as a standalone beast. In fact, it was best to view the show as a curious anomaly – one that was clearly too weird to live for long.

Who is responsible for the death of The Carrie Diaries? Perhaps Sarah Jessica Parker, whose express disavowal of the show was Jezebel headline material.

Or perhaps the Carrie Diaries costume designers, whose clear disregard for realistic ‘80s fashion meant that a potentially fascinating period piece quickly turned into a lurid, Forever 21-inspired farce. Perhaps it was the source material itself – Candace Bushnell’s underwhelming series of young adult novels about Carrie Bradshaw’s youth. No doubt that someone, somewhere is to blame for the fact that I will never see the introduction of a young Miranda Hobbs, who was rumored to make her first appearance in the Carrie Diaries season three premiere.

And I want to sip a Cosmopolitan while watching them suffer in some horrible, and preferably publicly humiliating, way.

It is tempting perhaps to criticize the types of crappy shows that have been unfairly allowed to continue onwards and onwards in the midst of The Carrie Diaries being so cruelly cut down in its prime. But I am not one to disparage Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Who am I to question Beauty and the Geek?

The Bachelor? All of these programmes have been there for me when more ‘substantive’ fare (by this I obviously refer to ABC iView documentaries, SBS late night foreign films, and etc) has most definitely not. Trash television, and particularly reality television, is an essential antidote to the average citizen’s sad life of Middle Eastern conflict related

confusion, graduate job crisis, and low twitter follower count.

The spin-off series is a fraught genre.

For every Boston Legal, there are a dozen Joani Loves Chachis. And realistically, a tame G-rated spin off a show that made its living on tits and cigarettes was always a pretty bad idea.

Yet this is, after all, 2014. In the Netflix age, in the Breaking Bad epoch, TV is the last vestige of mass entertainment that retains creativity and risk. If we can have crystal meth, we can have a sixteen-year-old Carrie Bradshaw making out with Brett Easton Ellis at a party in the East Village. It feels wrong to me that while the first black President reigns, while Lena Dunham massages her clit, while Josh Thomas makes out with every male model in Melbourne, that a television programme cannot spend its entire budget on a realistic glittery replica of Studio 54 and get away with it. Not only does it seem wrong, but it seems boring. Truly, the cancellation of The Carrie Diaries calls into question our priorities as a television viewing public.

It is because the candycoated, syrupy and questionably profound Carrie Diaries was so instrumental in assuaging the dayto-day malaise of the average viewer that I believe it should have been privileged on our screens. The pure fake ‘80s joy of The Carrie Diaries saved me, and it could have saved so many others if given the chance. Vale, Carrie.

Picture by Cat Pagani

by Kat Gillespie

CULTURE REVIEWS KIND OF SMOKED SALMON NIBBLY THING. PATSY DROPS COMPUTER ON BENCH TOP WITH BROWSER WINDOW OPEN TO ELLO. CO. PATSY WEARS SMUG GRIN, EDDIE LOOKS EXASPERATED, AS PER USUAL.] Eddie: What is this, darling?

Ello (www.ello.co)

by Lucy Ballantyne Absolutely Fabulous, S6 E1 ‘The Girls Get Ello’ (Eddie, Patsy) ACT 1, SCENE 1.

[THE SCENE OPENS ON PATSY IN CRISP WHITE PANTSUIT, STRUGGLING TO CARRY THE WEIGHT OF HER MACBOOK AIR. EDDIE, WEARING HERMES SCARF AROUND HER HEAD AND OVERSIZED DENIM BOMBER JACKET PUTS OUT SOME

Patsy: Oh, Eds, if you have to ask, you don’t get it.

[EDDIE LOOKS AROUND CONFUSEDLY, SOUND: LAUGH TRACK] Patsy: It’s Ello, darling. Clean, sterile – free from the usual plebian rabbles. It’s minimalist, designer, exclusive, new, transcendental. The design is as sparse as my diet, darling, and as sleek as a bottle of Moët. It’s got cred, it’s got style, it’s as sharp as the cheekbones of its users. Fashion bloggers du jour and brand strategists and curators and artists; it’s who you are and who you want to be. It’s chic, it’s refined, it asks questions and it gives no About ten minutes later, slapped across the 950 bus to UWA, three words written on dull blue: ‘Reach Your Potential’.

Wow. Fucking. Wow.

UWA ‘Right Choice’ Ad Campaign

by Nick Ballantyne A couple weeks ago, I saw a familiar, dull UWA ad. It was simply a blue background with the words ‘Choose Wisely’ written across it. Wow. I was going to this university.

Who are you, as an institution with no contextual understanding of my circumstances, to suggest what is right choice for me? You have the arrogance to tell me that you, and only you, are the best option regardless of all others, and that simply telling me to make ‘the right choice’ instantly means I’ll pick you?

This was plastered on a bus to UWA. Not a school bus, not a bus to a residential area, no no no, the bus headed to the very place it advertised. You don’t need to convince me to go to the university, when you’re already forcing me to go there for compulsory classes and non-recorded lectures. At this point, it feels more like the university is trying to help me justify why I stay by shouting facts in my face instead of delivering better services.

Of course, once I got to uni, I was greeted with more words, this time printed on the ground: ‘Top 100’.

I couldn’t walk through campus without being reminded of the fact that UWA was supposedly really good.

After a brisk pace across James Oval, I saw the blue banners hung from Engineering: ‘Celebrating 100 Years’.

answers. It’s light, and it’s dark. It’s truth, and it’s lies. It’s image, and no image. It gives, and it taketh away. Ello isn’t a website; it’s lifestyle, it’s fashion; it’s now and it’s then. Social media for the image-obsessed and style elite, darling.

Ad-free, because you’re worth more, darling.

Exclusive, upmarket, upscale, high-end, designer, high-class, glamourous, chic, limited, leading, élite, select, fine. For the fashionista so jaded she can only just muster the strength to hit the ‘enter’ key. Intelligent and invitationonly, insidiously irrisistable. Anyone who’s anyone is on it, and anyone who isn’t on it wishes they were. Fresh and fabulous; daring and desirable, darling.

Eddie: Ooh, darling! But, Pats, what is it?

Patsy: It’s Facebook without your friends.

[COOS OF RECOGNITION] END.

I wasn’t sure whether I was still in Perth, or if I’d been transported to Silicon Valley, that place that’s so notoriously self-obssessed, self-assured, and arrogantly narcissistic, a TV show had to be made just to flaunt how bad it had gotten by making fun of it. I recently got asked to complete a UWA graduate survey that asked what my relationship to the uni was like. One of the questions was literally, “Many people refer to The University of Western Australia as UWA. Do you refer to The University of Western Australia this way?” Apart from thinking it was the most pointless and unproductive question ever made, I had to question why UWA was so concerned with how it was perceived by others when it obviously thought so highly of itself.

Your reputation of pretentiousness precedes you, UWA. These ads need to die, because quite frankly, I am fucking ashamed to be part of a community that believes that this kind of pretentious drivel is appealing. I’m going to your university; stop making it hard to stay there.

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PELICAN THANKS Kate Hoolahan

Kate Prendergast

Nick Ballantyne

Matthew Bye

Alex Pond

Michael Morrissey

Natasha Woodcock

Alice McCullagh

Karrie McClelland

Eunice Ong

Natalia Verne

Alex Griffin

Lauren Wiszniewski

Bernice Ong

Nick Morlet

Kate Oatley

Hamish Hobbs

Yashi Renoir

Ross Franklyn

Chloe Durand

Simon Donnes

Mason Rothwell

Mini Burr

Somayya Ismailjee

Lucy Ballantyne

Anna Saxon

Callum Corkill

Elise Hiatt

Matt Green

Angus Sargent

Sean McEwan

Morgan Goodman

Elisa Thompson

Natalie Swift

Kieran Rayney

Julianne de Souza

Holly Jian

Michael Trown

Nicholas Monisse

Elisha Rayner

Nathan Millard

Kenneth Woo

Jett Broughton

Carin Chan

Tamara Jennings

Jacob Rutherford

Grace McKie

Eleanor Bruyn

Chloe Sellars

Liam Dixon

Dinuka Muhandiramge

Zoe Wong

Kevin Chiat

Darcie Boelen

Cat Pagani

Tom Rossiter

Brad Griffin

Simon Beaton

Sophia van Gant

Dan Werndly

Jessica Cockerill

Molly Harris

Eleanor Bruyn

Cameron Kang

Benjamin Crocker

Luke Kolbusz

Rahana Bell

James Munt

Josh Chiat

Ante Malenica

Natasha Dilini

Cameron James

Lauren Croser

Sandra Raub

Theophilus Lim

Bridget Rumball

Emily Foyster

Pema Monaghan

Jesse Parmar

Dennis Venning

Tom Reynolds

Richard Moore

Harry Sanderson

Samuel J. Cox

Caroline Stafford

Philip Sharpe

Dennis Venning

Mitchell Valentine

Ayeesha Fredericksen

Jaime Phillory-

Emma Elliott

Sam Montgomery

Caitlin Frunks

Kennedy

Adelia Croser

Elysia Gelavis

Tom Hutchinson

Jasmine Ruscoe

Josh Toh

Amorette Klotz

Kim Lateef

Callum Green

Leah Roberts

Kat Gillespie

Hugh Manning

Shona McIntyre

Emily Purvis

Camden Watts

Shaughn McCagh

Connor Weightman

Matt Farsalas

NEED HELP? THE UWA STUDENT GUILD STUDENT ASSIST OFFICE CAN HELP WITH FINANCIAL, ACADEMIC AND WELFARE ISSUES CONTACT US TODAY: ASSIST@GUILD.UWA.EDU.AU

UWASTUDENTGUILD.COM/SUPPORT

Picture by Alice McCullagh

WHERE’S WHERE’S PELLY PELLY

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