I have come to the conclusion that the males on the third floor at work are unhealthy. This conclusion is based on the number of bombs that are being dropped in the lavatory. Dudes, if your body is capable of creating these splats/smells… change your diet, get some exercise, drink more water, for fuck’s sake do something; you’re not well. Cheers.
- January 2017
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E.g. ‘Moving forward, we will look to build on what we’ve done’. Forward, as opposed to when? Moving backwards? Even if we do move backwards to amend previous mistakes or oversights, we’re still moving forward. We don’t need to be told we are moving forward. Space, matter, time.. it’s common knowledge. Pointless, corporate, malarkey.
‘Just to pre-warn you, you may need to stay back tonight’. The ‘warn’ part, is the ‘pre’ part. It is the warning. Is a pre-warning a warning to the warning that is about to be warned? How far back in the process of warning someone do we need to go?
‘Oh yes, that generic, banal, Getty sponsored design you’ve done, is really impactful’. Look it up, the word doesn’t exist (Well, it has a token entry, but it is not a real word).
‘We believe in big society’. This is the term David Cameron and his band of cronies belt out to make their ideology for Great Britain a little more opaque. Problem is, it doesn’t actually mean anything. It sounds ok, but the reality of the way they see the world is different to the way they spruik it. The way to get around it? Create a broad, meaningless, pointless slogan that the lowest common denominator can latch on to. Also popular in marketing and advertising.
‘I/we/he/she didn’t get the job/account because there were circumstances beyond my/our/his/her control’ such as ‘The competitor had inside knowledge’, or ‘It wouldn’t have been that good anyway’. That’s code for, ‘I/we/he/she fucked up, but let’s not dent morale or ego’. Kinda like when someone says ‘it was a mutual break-up’. Bullshit, you were dumped.
This post looks at the contrast between how I imagined the speech panning out compared to the reality of how it actually went:
Hopes/Plans/Vision in week prior (The Dream)
- I pictured myself being a smooth operator, taking control of the room, putting on a show for the fans.
- Confidence was such that I genuinely considered writing a bit of comedy for the set, taking the blog on tour, as is the dream.
- Speaking without the aid of notes.
- Only loosely adhering to a script, ad-libbing it in parts.
- Not feeling any nerves in the build-up, as I am now able to rationalise and control nerves and fear.
The slow, incremental unravelling of The Dream (The Reality)
- The decision was made the day before to abandon the idea of dabbling in comedy. It was concluded that my attempt at comedy would potentially ruin the whole night for everyone, as well as the wedding itself. It would be remembered not for the occasion, but for the car crash that was my comedy set. It is one thing to write comedy, it’s another to deliver it. The script was subsequently revised.
- During the day there were bitter internal disputes amongst myself about the content and flow of the speech. I was unable to sign it off. Every time I did, I decided to revise it and rework it on my Blackberry. It precipitated a vicious cycle of ambivalence that threatened to derail my state of mind and the whole campaign. It was not printed until an hour before the wedding on Frank’s computer.
- As I tried on my rental suit, I discovered my shirt was 12 sizes too big, but still too tight around the neck, and my shoes were like clog boots. ‘Ah for fucks sake’… tugging at neck… ‘I’ve gotta do a fucking speech in this kit, I look like a fool!’. Everyone laughed, but I wasn’t trying to be funny. Furthermore, because I’m not used to walking in shoes with heels (the Guerin brothers don’t wear suits), I walked kinda like I was doing a space walk on the moon.
- As the moment crept closer, the idea to speak without the aid of notes was seen as utterly ridiculous and fanciful. Not only would I would I refer to them, I decided I would read directly from them, they would be my lifeline. This is not a time for risks or heroes.
- The ideology of the speech had now shifted, from seeing it as a chance to be a smooth operator, to seeing it simply as a task to try and get through without disgracing myself or my family.
- After the ceremony, as we entered the marquee and reception area, it all became real. I didn’t know anyone; I would be speaking to strangers. There was no lectern; I would be exposed. It was a big room; it will swallow me up. I became unable to envisage myself in front of everyone. ‘I just can’t see it happening’, I thought. This is not going to be good.
- At my lowest point, I think for a moment I actually considered doing a runner. Going missing for a few hours and abandoning the whole production.
- When the moment finally came, I had a complete lack of awareness of what I was doing and what was happening. I did the first part of the speech without the microphone working. I didn’t even know. There could have been a fire in the room, and I would have continued reading.
- Afterwards, I provided a very special encore. I took my seat to watch the second speech get underway, placed the speech on the table, and subsequently starting a small fire. Unbeknownst to myself, I’d placed it on a candle. The smell of burning started spreading through the room before I picked up the burning speech and stomped on it with my big clogs. ‘Ok, carry on’ I nodded to the speechmaker.
As it turned out, the speech made my sister, her husband, and a few other people cry. Thankfully the tears were due to the poignant nature of the content, not due to being sad and angry about being forced to endure a really shit speech.
Before I begin, I’d like to say that the extended absence between posts was due to the blog returning to the motherland in the name of a family wedding, at which I was asked to give a speech, which was a most unpleasant experience. If everyone could please refrain from asking me to do any speeches again in the foreseeable future. I have since delayed my return to work to create this post, which continues the previous discussion about caricatures in society. Today we’re going to look at the bogan and the hipster in more detail, as I attempt to explain that once the surface of both caricatures has been scratched, these 2 caricatures are actually 2 heads from the same beast, intrinsically linked through their annoying idiosyncrasies, rather than the binary opposites they would like to cast themselves as.
Let’s start by observing the following table. Here we see the common perception of the bogan and hipster relationship; they sit at opposite ends of society, a gulf lies between them.
In a moment I’m going to show you the same table, but from a different perspective, a perspective that essentially brings the bogan and the hipster together. Although binary opposites, the traditional bogan and hipster have somehow managed to cross paths through their collective extremism, to be united in their alienation from regular society. Here, let me explain. Unless the hipster is dealing with someone possessing a job title of a certain level of perceived coolness (fashion, art, design etc) the transaction will break down amongst a deluge of hipster sniggering and judgement. Conversely, a bogan will struggle to engage in meaningful interaction with anyone unless the other party has shown a willingness to drink a carton of beer in an afternoon or be passionate about wearing really dated clothes. The bogan will be serious about looking bad, whereas the hipster will be ironic about looking bad. Both look bad though, and both are mocked by the middle ground of society in equal measure. If the bogan speaks to someone who is not an alcoholic, or to someone who has read a book, they are a faggot. Bogans are one of the few species who link a mans desire to not be a bogan with his desire for penis. i.e. if he does unboganly things, he must be gay. Interestingly, the hipster will apply the same logic to non-hipsters, though in reverse. Example, a hipster will link a persons interest in sport with the conclusion they must be a bogan. The parallels: bogan sees inability to drink carton of beer in 3 hours: gay and or hipster. Hipster sees interest in sport as boganly and or overtly hetro/masculine. There is no middle ground for the hipster or the bogan. Everything is extreme, stereotyped, judged. So while binary opposites and direct enemies, they are actually united by their ignorance.
Back to the table, which, like everything, is best viewed from multiple angles to get closer to its truth. In its form above, we are unable to grasp the table in its entirety. This is similar to viewing a flat map of the world, which gives the impression that Russia and Alaska are oceans apart, but if we step into the third dimension, we see they are merely separated by a small section of the Pacific Ocean. So, when we step into the 3rd dimension of this graph and attempt to grasp that which is unable to grasped, we see step into another dimension of truth and discover the bogan and the hipster are actually linked:
See how they are at opposite ends, but by continued isolation from regular society, the table eventually bends back around itself, and the bogan and hipster meet. Kinda like Communism and Fascism, opposites, though so extreme they are actually 2 heads of the same dragon. So alone the hipster and bogan lurch on the edges of society, unaware of how the real world views them, and unaware that they are just around the bend from each other. Who’s to say the real world is real? Maybe I’ll cover that in my next lecture.
It all gets deeper when I realise that my categorisation and judgement of the hipster and bogan, in fact makes me guilty of the very thing I am mocking the hipster and bogan for.