BIG CARL

What’s the word I’m looking for… mmm… intrigued?  Yes.  Intrigued.

I think the entire state of Victoria has been intrigued with Carl Williams since they were first introduced to him in the Underbelly series.  Certainly, what was depicted in this series was amped up and over exaggerated for dramatic impact, but apparently that’s called ‘artistic interpretation’, and they can get away with it.

However, we were all hooked; fascinated by these characters that are so far removed from our own ordinary, simplistic lives.  Not to forget that a lot of us will also remember some of it being splashed across the news at the time it was all unfolding. He lived among us, and his crimes were carried out on our front door steps.  He was the very ordinary looking man next door that we saw on telly when we were eating our dinner each night.

Matthew Charles Johnson is the man that bought all of that to an end, and one could say, has now laid that underbelly era to rest. 

It’s like something from a Hollywood movie, isn’t it?  The big underworld figurehead murdered in prison?  Scary to know that it’s real.

Johnson, whom none of us had ever heard of, who was a career criminal, having spent most of his adult life in prison, was referred to as ‘The General’, and was a member of the prison gang; Prisoners of War.  The POW’s hated inmates that helped the police (referred to as ‘dogs’), and were notorious for bashing these dogs at random.  Some say that this is what bought Big Carl’s life to an end.

Or was it, as rumour suggests, an ordered hit from the underworld on the ‘outside’?

Or was it, as Johnson would like us to believe, a matter of self-defence?

Some would argue that Big Carl’s demise has not come soon enough.  Others would argue that the death of one man is not justification for the death of another.

So, let’s look at arguments for and against his death.  Let’s have a little think about this.

Carl Williams was a ruthless monster that displayed no value for life, other than his own, and for his inner circle.  He was a psychopath that had no hesitation in killing out of pure revenge (take the Moran family, for example), or eliminating anyone that stood in his way, or threatened the extravagant lifestyle that he and his white-trash wife, Roberta, lead.

His actions over the years have impacted upon thousands of families.  Not only the families of those that he has killed, but those that have felt the impact of the drugs he has peddled. 

This slack-jawed yokel that was never paid any mind, sat quietly in the background, and waited for his time to come.  When he finally struck, the impact was devastating. 

His death has not only given peace to many people, but it has saved the Victorian taxpayers the millions of dollars required to keep society safe from his influence.  Clean facilities, three square meals a day, no demands or deadlines, access to gym equipment (possibly not in the way he intended in the end…), dental and medical services, books, televisions, newspapers and the like, and all he has to pay, is his debt to society.  Considering his own sense of self-importance, he would have been fair to think that this would have been an easy ride, and a ride at our expense.

Matthew Charles Johnson has possibly done society a huge favour in killing Big Carl, but does that make it right?

Here is the irony.  We punish a man for taking the lives of so many, yet dismiss the fact that he has been murdered himself.  It’s almost… justifiable.  However, it’s not, and in steps our beloved legal system to hand out justice where rightfully deserved.

Johnson deserved to be punished for the crime he committed. He killed a defenceless, unsuspecting man, in cold blood.  Brutally.  The end; and anyone with access to youtube.com could watch it

Kill or be killed; survival of the smartest and the strongest, Johnson would have us believe.  Unfortunately, considering the situation Johnson was in, that excuse simply didn’t cut it.    

Forget that Big Carl was scum and deserved it.  Forget that he and Johnson were counting the days in prison for their crimes against society.  Forget that they are primal creatures, living in an environment where position, domination and violence were the key to survival.  Forget that their prison world revolves at a completely difference pace to that of our own.

Big Carl had rights, and those rights were invaded when he was killed, and honoured when his death was investigated.  He too, was a human being that deserved justice.

Again, we could argue the moral rights behind this all day though, couldn’t we?

Maybe we should just call it karma, because in the end, we all get what we deserve.

Peace out.

FREEDOM OF SPEECH

It’s been an interesting week for the right to speak freely in this nation.

Yesterday, we saw one of Australia’s most infamous journalists and political commentators found guilty of racial vilification for two articles he wrote about indigenous Australians.

Although I had not read the articles in question, and a lot of the key issues around this case have been kept from the media, I think there are a few interesting points to note.

The people that were offended by these specific articles chose not to pursue Andrew Bolt (the journalist) and the Murdock Media through a defamation suit.  They chose to pursue them through a constitutional law that was introduced in the Keating era, which relates to racial vilification.  Why?  Well, to be successful with a defamation suit, the court must believe that defamation has occurred.  In this case, what Bolt had written was not defaming.  Therein, could it have been the truth? 

I am not a legal expert, and certainly not an expert in the area of constitutional law, so a ruling that these articles were founded in racial bias could well be accurate.  We’ll just have to see how that plays out.

There are also suggestions that this was an opportunity for powers far greater than us to silence one of the governments’ greatest critics.  This is just speculation, of course…

A dear friend posted an article announcing the Bolt/Murdoch’s loss in this case on Facebook yesterday, with a tagging comment of: ‘Freedom of speech is a privilege that provides people the ability to present the facts as news and be protected against bias to do so, not an open door to promote your Nazi agenda, eat shit Bolt.’

This comment resounded within me so strongly, I actually had to sit back and think about it for a while.

This is my friend’s personal opinion, and an opinion he is clearly entitled to.  However, in my opinion, he has contradicted himself in doing so.  You see, my friend is right: freedom of speech is a privilege that we enjoy, and it should be used to present facts without bias.

However, it would appear that my friend is displaying a bias of his own. 

It would seem that he doesn’t listen to Andrew Bolt on the radio every morning, nor watch his show, because if he did, he would understand the kind of person he is, and that he certainly does not have a ‘Nazi agenda’.  He would understand that he is a conservative Labor man that has worked with Bob Hawke on two election campaigns, and being from a migrant family himself (having come to this country at a very young age), is the last person to attack someone on racial grounds.  He is a political and social commentator, and entitled to his opinion.  Does he have an agenda? Possibly.  Is it Nazi based; I don’t think so. 

I would like to point out, that I do find what Andrew Bolt has to say, quite interesting.  However, that doesn’t mean I agree with everything he has to say.  That’s a freedom of expression that I enjoy; choice.

This ‘Nazi’ comment raises a very interesting question though, and I find my friends choice of words quite ironic.

You see, what is of great concern to me, and I dare say every other blogger, journalist, media commentator and individual that seeks and speaks the truth as they see it, is the government’s current inquiry into the print media.

This enquiry is fuelled by Senator Bob Brown’s pure hate for any media outlet (particularly the Murdoch Media) that highlights the inadequacies of the current Labor/Greens government.  Senator Conroy (our Communications Minister) even held an interview on the Today Show not so long ago, in an attempt to hose down Brown’s overzealous comments about the enquiry, and tried to assure the public that it wasn’t a personal witch hunt.  Massive fail on that one, Conroy.  We can see right through Senator Brown.

So the government are holding an enquiry into the print media, and how much freedom it actually has, to ensure that they are not overstepping their boundaries.  That is what we’re being told by the Gillard government.

The underlying threat here is the government wish to restrict what the print media publish, specifically anything that may be negative toward the government, as they feel that it encourages public unrest and dissatisfaction.

God forbid the public not be happy with the way the government are spending their money and running their country.

Mmmm… so, if the government control what we read, does that mean that we won’t be seeing the truth?  That we won’t be able to access alternative opinions to the ones they’re spewing out toward us?  That cases presented will only include the facts that support what the government want us to understand and believe?  Mmmm… the government controlling what we read… sounds like Nazi Germany to me… please wheel out the Minister for Propaganda, thank you…

I will also note that the Gillard government is not the first Australian government to come up with this idea, either. 

So I find it interesting that my left thinking friend believes a journalist has a Nazi agenda, but cannot see those tendencies within the socialist government he voted into office. 

BUT.  In saying that, my friend is entitled to his opinion, and I am mine.

And what is an opinion? I know I have blogged about this before, but I feel I need to re-emphasise it after this week’s events.

An opinion is neither right nor wrong.  It just… is.  Social pressures put weight on opinions, and as such, force this right/wrong mentality about them.  An opinion is quite simple really; it’s an expression of thoughts on a particular issue, founded from personal experiences.  Nothing more. 

It is freedom of speech in its simplest form.

I treasure my friends opinion, because although I may not agree with them, I find them quiet intelligent and debatable.  His opinions actually make me stop and think about things, and look at life from a different angle.  Isn’t that what an opinion should do?  Open your mind?

I believe you should try to be as open minded to everything as possible, but that doesn’t mean you have to agree with it.  This is a lesson I’ve taken a long time to understand.

It also doesn’t mean he’s right, I’m wrong, or vice-versa.  It is an expression of views from his personal stand point.  That’s what I think opinions come back to, and what we forget; opinions are formed from people who come from different stations in life, and to understand these opinions, we must try to understand where they are founded.

I’m older than my friend, and have lived a very different life to him.  I have a teenage child, he has an infant, I live in Victoria, and he lives interstate.  The paths we have travelled to these points in our lives are quite different, so our view on life is naturally different.

I respect his opinion, and the freedom with which he has to express it, which brings me back to my main point.

Freedom of speech; the ability to voice our opinions, is one of the greatest gifts that this democratic society provides us with.  We may not agree with everything we read or hear, but at least we have the right to do so. 

I hope my friend, myself and these controversial political commentators keep expressing them, for the day that we all stop being able to do so, will be a very dark day indeed.

Peace out.

GOOD OLD COLLINGWOOD FOREVER...

So, during the course of the past week, I’ve been littering my Facebook status updates with Collingwood jokes.

I hate Collingwood, and I am clearly not alone. 

Collingwood, the team everyone loves to hate, unless of course you’re a Collingwood supporter.

So, into the AFL Grand Final they are this weekend (again), and I couldn’t help but express my true feelings about this club.

As such, a few of my peeps have asked if I could collate my jokes and put them on my blog, so here they are.

Just a note: these jokes have come from other people (except for the one about Senator Conroy – that was more an observation on my part!).  I received one email from my dear friend Jane, and started peppering my statuses with those.  Then I started receiving messages from my nephew Josh, my mates Jamo, Kellie and I can’t remember who else.  Sorry if I have forgotten you, but I thank you for the entertainment.

Q. What do you call a Collingwood supporter with half a brain?

A. Gifted. 

Q. What do you call a group of Collingwood supporters running off in the same direction?

A. Jailbreak!

Q. A group of Collingwood supporters are standing on their tip toes up to their necks in water. What is the problem?

A. Not enough water

Q. Two Collingwood supporters jump off a cliff. Who wins?

A. Society.

Q. What does a Collingwood supporter use as protection during sex?

A. Bus shelter.

Q. What does a Collingwood supporter use as a contraceptive?

A. His personality.

Q. What do you call a 30 year old female Collingwood supporter?

A. Granny.

Q. What do you call a Collingwood supporter in a suit?

A. The defendant.

Q. Why did the Collingwood supporter cross the road?

A. To start a fight with a complete stranger, for no reason what so ever.

Q. What do you call a female Collingwood supporter in a white tracksuit?
A. The bride.

Q. If you are driving and you see a Collingwood supporter on a bike, why should you try not to hit him?

A. It might be your bike.

Q. What's the first question during a Collingwood supporter quiz night?

A. What you looking at?

Q. Two Collingwood supporters in a car without any music - who is driving?

A. The policeman!

Q. Why is three Collingwood supporters going over a cliff in Lexus a shame?

A. Because a Lexus has four seats.

Q. What do you say to a Collingwood supporter with a job?

A. Big Mac please.

You know you're a Collingwood supporter when:

1.  A Halloween pumpkin has more teeth than your wife does.

2.  You let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table in front of her kids.

3.  You've been married three times and still have the same in-laws.

4.  Jack Daniel's makes your list of 'most admired people.'

5.  You wonder how service stations keep their restrooms so clean.

6.  Someone in your family once died right after saying: 'Hey, watch this.'

7.  You think Dom Perignon is a Mafia leader.

8.  A ceiling fan once ruined your wife's hairdo.

9.  You think the last words of Advance Australia Fair are: 'Carn the Maggies .'

10. You lit a match in the bathroom and your house exploded, right off its wheels.

11. The market value of your car goes up and down, depending on how much petrol is in it.

12. You have to go outside to get something from the fridge.

13. One of your kids was born on a pool table.

14. You can't get married to your sweetheart because there's a law against it.

15. You think 'loaded dishwasher' means your wife is drunk.

16. Your toilet paper has page numbers on it.

17. Your front verandah collapses and kills more than five dogs.  

I can't believe that the Gillard government has put Senator Steven Conroy in charge of communication. He's a Collingwood supporter, and they're still learning to speak!

Q. What's the difference between a cactus and the Lexus Centre? 

A. A cactus has pricks on the outside

Q. You are trapped in a room with a crocodile, a tiger and a Collingwood fan. You have a gun with 2 bullets. What do you do? 

A. Shoot the Collingwood fan – Twice

 

Q. What's got 100 legs and 4 teeth? 

A. The front row of the Collingwood cheer squad

I will add more as I get them, just for your enjoyment pleasure.

Apologies to all Collingwood supporters out there.  Hahahaha!  Not really! Like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing to me!!

Peace out.

STUPID TANKER!

To the driver of the Toll tanker; thank you.

Thank you for reminding me that there are still idiots out there that think they can drive.

Thank you for reminding me that these same idiots think, that even though they’re behind the wheel of a tanker, feel they can do whatever they please; even if it’s wrong.

You see, when I leave the quiet hamlet of Tooborac, and head toward my road, the speed limit does go up from 70kmph to 100kmph.  This I know.  I’m fully aware of it, and don’t need you tailgating me to remind me.  However, thanks for trying to help

So, when I speed up to 100kmph, I’m not going to stay there for very long, because what you don’t realise, is that in 500 meters, I have to turn off.

Mr Tanker Driver; you don’t realise this, even from the massive vantage point you have up in there in the ivory tower  you call a truck cabin.  You don’t think for a second that maybe there is a reason why I’m slowing down.  I would think that with that view, you could see everything, because you certainly drive like you know everything.

Amazingly, when I put my indicator on, you still didn’t slow down! Oh no! You kept tailgating me and decide that it’s perfectly safe for a fully loaded tanker to undertake me; on gravel.

Not that this was a problem.  Oh no.

You see, I didn’t mind my new car being showered in gravel as you thundered past me.  I didn’t even mind that you decided to merge back into the lane before you’d passed me, thus pushing me onto the wrong side of the road, causing me to slam on my breaks to avoid the vehicle coming toward me. Oh no.  I didn’t mind.

I didn’t mind that I was presented with a split second choice of being either sideswiped by you, or having a head on collision with the white commodore coming toward me.  Might I say that neither options were particularly appealing, at the time.

I’m ever so thankful that the commodore driver realised that you were clearly a douche, and could see what was happening, and backed off and moved over.

No, I didn’t mind the heart attack you have both of us, because you couldn’t figure out where your brakes were.  Or your fucken drivers licence, for that matter.  They’re possibly in the same place as your patience and consideration; up your fucken arse.

No.  What I did mind, was that whilst I was engaging my survival skills, and acting in pure, adrenaline fuelled desperation to avoid dying, I didn’t get your fucken registration number.

The fact that you had TOLL plastered all over your vehicle will help when I ring your office to complain about you being a complete dick.  However, the rego number would have been gold.

I just hope that with the 000.00125937 of a second you saved by tailgating and undertaking me, that you don’t use it to kill some other innocent bastard.

So again, I thank you.  Thank you for reminding me that there are still dicks out there that cannot drive.

May karma the angry elephant sit on your head.

Peace out.

THE RENOVATORS

I love this show, and I want the boys in the Fibro Cottage to win.

Now, for those of you that don’t watch the show, you can stop reading here.  Nothing will make sense to you from this point on.  However, if you are interested in getting into it, please continue reading.

For those that do watch the show (all two of you), keep reading, because this will mean something to you, and I won’t feel so alone! LOL!

So, why do I want the Fibro Cottage boys to win?

Well, they are so young and work so hard and look like lost puppies most of the time, and try so hard to win the challenges (and win a few of them, at that).

I like these boys.  One’s a tradie and one’s a real estate agent that is learning along the way, and working so hard.  They’ve done it the hardest along the way, I think, because within weeks, they were down to a team of just two people.  They’ve battled along like that for months now, and they’re kicking arse.

The underdogs, I would say, and doesn’t everyone love an underdog?

Why don’t I want the others to win?  Well, let’s break it down. 

The boys in the Inner City Terrace: they’re gorgeous.  One’s really pretty, and needs to work without his shirt on more often (I don’t care that its cold when this series was filmed, take your shirt off and show me your muscles!).  The other one is just absolutely hilarious, and also quite a talented interior designer.  I just think these boys are just too awesome to win.

The team in The Shop: I cannot stand August.  I can’t his smug, arrogant face, and the way he speaks.  I can’t stand his attitude, I cannot stand his name, and it annoys me how he does nothing and takes all of the credit.  He needs to be eliminated from the show.  The girls in his team need to pool their budget and bribe the judges so they can get rid of him.  I cannot stand August, so I don’t want his team to win.  The end.

The team in the Weatherboard house; boring.  Keenan’s a hot tradie and Mel’s a cute Mum that does the reno thing for a living.  Whatever.  You bore me, please leave (I miss Jason the giant – he was awesome).

The team in the Half Done House: I really like Peter, and I’m glad he has Sam along for the ride now, too.  He needed heaps of help, but to me, he takes this shit WAAAYYY to seriously.  I suppose, I if I was in the competition, I would too, but he needs to take the intensity down a peg or two.  Wouldn’t mind if he won though, because I like what they’re doing at the house.

Then, there’s the 60’s Suburban.  To me, this project is just a train wreck.  Not only is poor Nate struggling on his own (and sick to boot), he’s fast running out of money.  I cannot see any way in which this demolition expert can turn this house into a gold mine without any outside help.  Plus, I think this house was in the best condition, too; it just needed a major facelift.  I seriously think he’s fucked.

I love this show, and it’s just a shame that it hasn’t taken off like its forefather, Masterchef.  We’re treated to the same out of control challenges, which stress everybody, including the viewer, out of their minds.  The same scattered contestant commentary, that produces such gold as ‘this is really hard work’, ‘I don’t think we’ll get this done on time’ and my favourite, which wins the ‘Captain Obvious’ award: ‘if we don’t secure this frame properly, this whole thing could come down on top of us.’

No shit.

The judges in this show annoy me less than those in Masterchef, because they seem to be more encouraging of the contestants’ concepts and ideas, and less like angry parents chastising their children for their lack of conformity.

I like the range of contestants in the show (apart from August), because they are all quite different, and I can see some of them are quite strongly willed, which makes some of the group challenges very interesting.

I can also see the animosity growing in The Shop team, because the two girls that do all of the work are not feeling the love toward August, and it’s starting to show.  They are not alone.

However, I dare say that after this show wraps, Australia’s Top Renovator will disappear into oblivion like all of the other contestants, as this show will be shelved due to its lack of audience.  I doubt there will be a season 2, which will be a shame, because the show is very entertaining.  I’ve certainly learnt a lot.

The downside to this newly acquired knowledge, is that it will cost a fortune.  You see, I would like a new sofa, a new lounge suite, a new dining suite, a new bedroom suite, French doors in the back room, leading out to the entertainment area, new carpet in the lounge, the paving done under the carport, some new outdoor furniture, an indoor pool, a home theatre, the main bathroom renovated, and my study finished.

Not much, really.  So, I think I’ll start buying Tattslotto tickets.  I figure that’s the only way any of this shit is going to happen.

 

Three weeks to go, and I wonder who will really win.  I wonder, after the laughable anti-climax of The Block, how this series will end.  They all have an ‘auction day’, and the winner is the team with the highest profit margin.  How will they judge that if nothing sells, particularly in this real estate climate?

Should make for an interesting finish, and I hope my Fibro boys are there at the end.

Happy renovating!

Peace out.

AS TIME GOES BY...

Is it just me, or are the days flying by?

I cannot believe it’s nearly October already! I swear; I’m still stuck in February.  WTF?

Maybe it’s a sign of me getting old?  I don’t know *sigh*… what I do know, is that life is going by too quickly.

When I was in high school, I remember the day just draaaagggginng out.  I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I remember sitting there watching the clock as its hand’s slowly clunked toward 3.30pm.  It was like the clock was in slow friggin’ motion!  Sometimes, I swear it was going backward…

Now, it’s the extreme opposite.  One minute, I’m looking at the clock, and it’s like 9.30am.  Then next thing, I look up and it’s 4.00pm, and I’m wondering where the fuck the day has gone!

I find that I’m also losing track of the days.  Now I know this is a sign of old age. 

Last night, I was lying in bed thinking of all the awesome things I was going to do on the weekend.  I was going to work on Mum’s kitchen plans, go to Bunnings, do some gardening, out to dinner…  I was so excited!  Can you imagine how devo I was when I realised that it was actually Thursday night, and I had another day to work through before I got to all that fun stuff?  Crushed.

The other week, I woke up in the middle of the night, things running through my head that I had to do the next day, like take Jade to the bus stop, stop for fuel on the way to work, etc, then I realised, the next day was Saturday! OMG! It was the weekend!  I swear to you, I cried I was so happy!  There I was, comfy and warm in bed, crying because I was so happy it was the weekend! It was like a complete surprise!

Losing my mind, I tell you…

The one thing that this awareness of fleeting time has taught me is patience.  Patience; because I know, that whatever I’m waiting for will come at me like a steam train in the end.  One day at a time and it will come.

I remember when Mum signed the contract to sell her home in The Nong.  We organised removalists, real estate agents, packers, skips, a garage sale...  now, it’s settled and she’s been living with us for over a month now.  Five months have flown by.  Where have they gone?

The settlement on her new unit is at the end of October, and it seems like months away.  However, it’s only five weeks now…

Things come upon you so quickly, and then they’re gone.  Over in a heartbeat, just like my weekends, which are flying by too quickly for my liking. 

I wonder if it’s because I’ve developed a great appreciation of ‘time’; how little of it we have, how quickly it moves, and that it waits for no one.  Or, am I regretful of things in my life that I’m wasting my time on?  Like, could I be doing other things with my life than what I am?

Am I just wasting it?  Throwing it away?  What am I missing out on?  Am I missing anything?  If I am, I certainly have no time to dwell on it! LOL!

The seconds don’t tick over any quicker, nor do the minutes, hours, days or weeks, in comparison to when I was a child.  It’s just that… everything seems to be moving at a faster pace.

Possibly global warming.

Yeah.  I’ll blame that, like everyone else does.

Maybe it’s because, when I was a kid, I had no life pressures, no monetary worries, no places to be and things to do, no housework, no gardening, no dependants, no chores, no delays, no deadlines; just a life created by others. 

A freedom to enjoy.

Now, that freedom to enjoy is shoved into the spare seconds between a life I’ve created and a life I desire.  Is that normal?

I wonder if it’s a shift in society.  Days of going to the park or having picnics seem to be a distant memory.  Sharing quality time together, getting to know one another… not a priority any more.

Now, it’s about the thrill of experience.  Theme parks, movies, events, shows; experiences.  Sure, you share them with other people, but in the end, it’s about yourself.

And all of these things are dictated by money, transportation and time.  We cram them all into a weekend so that we feel that we’ve done something together.  But have we really?

Maybe we should just go to the local park with a pack of fish and chips and chillax? Maybe we should just go to a museum, sit in front of a picture and exhale?

Which would be the most rewarding?  Which would be the most satisfying?  The feeling of adventure, or the freedom from deadlines and time constraints?

I wonder what life would be like without time limits and deadlines.  Maybe this is what makes time travel so fast now.  Too many limitations and restrictions.  Too much pressure to get things done within a certain time frame, and no freedom to really enjoy it.

So life just passes us by.

Maybe we do need to slow down and smell the roses, as a girlfriend of mine use to say. 

Maybe we need to make changes in our lives to remove the constraints of time, and thus slow it down.

Mmm…

Food for thought.

However, dwelling on this day dream is not getting my housework, baking and grocery shopping done, is it?  I’m off to cram as much into my time constricted weekend as I possibly can, and somewhere in there, I hope to attain some joy.

I hope this weekend, that you can too.

Peace out.

RATINGS SEASON

Clearly, the new ratings season is about to begin.

Why?

Well, the usual life-sucking commercials that we see on the free-to-air channels have suddenly become less annoying, as they are littered with promo’s for the new season shows.  However, the downside is that these repetitive ads, if possible, are more annoying than ever. 

I can be anywhere in the house, and know that when I hear Sneaky Sound Systems ‘Big’, that it’s an ad for Junior Masterchef.  Or if I hear Lanie Lane’s ‘Bang Bang’, here come the Gleeks.  I’m getting a tad sick of that one…

I’m being brainwashed, and it’s working.

I am excited about the new season shows, because I’m sick of the repeats.  I cannot wait for Glee, NCIS, NCIS: LA, Junior Masterchef and Hawaii Five-O to start again.  They’re my fave shows, particularly the perve fest in Hawaii Five-O *starts humming theme*.

Then, we also have the new stuff coming, like Terra Nova.  Now that looks interesting.  I hope we get some more interesting shows like this, because some of the new stuff that has been thrown up this year, has been crap.

I read an article in the Herald Sun the other day, saying that the free-to-air channels had dished up no less than 50 turkeys in 2011.  Shows like The Renovators, Blue Bloods, 6.30pm with George Negus, Top Gear Australia, Top Design, Hamish & Andy’s Gap Year, Camelot, The Defenders and Detroit 1-8-7 are just a few of the shows that disappointed.

I tried to watch Detroit 1-8-7 and Camelot, but they lost me after about two minutes.  They just didn’t grab me at all.  I watched part of Hamish & Andy’s Gap Year, and wasn’t overly impressed.  Same old same old that’s just not funny anymore.  Don’t know if the rest of the series was like that; didn’t bother to hang around to find out.

Merlin and Offspring were over too quickly, and I miss them already.  Packed to the Rafters and Brothers and Sisters bore me now.  I barely saw an episode of their last seasons, and PTTR is back already!

I’m not into the talent shows.  They’re all hyped up, over dramatised shows that mean nothing at the end of the day.  Same as Australian Idol.  Have these talent shows made a difference to these competitors lives?  Possibly.  However, I haven’t seen any Madonna’s, Coldplays or Foo Fighters come out of it.  That would require an individual longevity and talent that some of these contestants clearly do not have.

You know what show I really miss?  Ladette to Lady.  Now that was entertainment! LOL!  I loved my slappa fest! I just wish they would bring it back again for another season.  Hil.ar.ious.

Apparently, Big Brother is supposed to be making a return.  That show was good for the first couple of seasons, because free-to-air had never really had a reality show like it before.  Bought the voyeur out in us all, didn’t it?  Now, we’ve been inundated with reality crap (Masterchef, The Renovators, Farmer Wants A Wife, Wife Swap, Amazing Race, Worlds Strictest Parents, The Block, and I can’t remember what else).  It’s all a mash of the same thing, really.

Now I hear that the mother of all reality shows will be back for like the 20^th season: Survivor.  Does anyone watch this any more?


Now is it just me, or are the ratings seasons coming around a lot quicker now?  It use to be a season a year, now we get two or three seasons in one year... Packed to the Rafters is a perfect example of that.  Are the channels that desperate to make up for the crap they've been showing us, that they're pumping out the old faves as quickly as they can?  Do they realise that they're compromising quality when they do?

Give me some real entertainment, please!  Give me a story I haven’t seen before, or take me to a place that’s different!  Peak my interest! Do something other than serve up the same crap year in year out! C’mon!

Here’s hoping that my fave shows have something different in store this season…

Peace out.

JUNIOR MASTERCHEF

Just when you thought you had gotten over the drama.

Just when you thought your humble little life couldn’t get any better!

Just when you thought you wouldn’t have to see any more horribly clashing fashion from Matt Preston, no more ‘what I love about this dish…’ comments, no more bald midgets yelling ‘Boom! Boom! Shake the room!’, no more obvious product placements, no more spoilers through poorly controlled production, no more corny catch cries, and no more Gary Mehigan trying to hide his bald spot through frontal shots only.

It’s back, baby.

Only smaller.

To think, I was so happy not seeing Curtis ‘how hot am I?’ Stone, in the middle of a supermarket telling me to cook like a Masterchef cooks.  Curtis; I don’t want to cook like a Masterchef cooks, because they cut and burn themselves too often, cry through the intense stress of boiling an egg, and seem totally confused about where they are, what they’re doing and that they’re even there in the first place.

And I had gotten over Dani.

Extensive therapy has helped me deal with the fact that although top international chefs, along with Australia’s (apparent) best amateur cooks, make me feel like I can’t boil water, that I’m quite comfortable with the food I consistently throw onto the dinner table every night.

And it’s helped me deal with the loss of Dani.

In saying that, of course I’ll still watch Junior Masterchef. 

Yes, there’s nothing like kicking my self confidence in the nuts when I see an 8 year old produce a perfect sponge, and I produce Frisbees.  Yeah; that’s just fucking great.

I think back to when I was 8, and honestly; it’s all a blur.  Seriously.  I can’t remember anything.  I didn’t have siblings to bounce things off, which would help me remember things.  I didn’t even have imaginary friends!  Nothing!

However, what I didn’t do, was spend time in the kitchen learning to clean, separate, prep and cook a fucken mud crab.  Then serve it on a bed of jasmine rice with a subtle satay sauce, garnished with fresh chilli and sliced shallots.  I bet we’ll see that thrown up during the competition.

I didn’t understand the concept of ‘balanced flavours’ (cheese, strass and beetroot on white bread was heaven on a stick to me), nor did I know what protein, stock, sauté, creaming or poaching were.

No, I was too busy pinching my mother’s Anzac biscuits and playing with Lego, like a normal fucken kid.

However, I’m now starting to question my parent’s decision to let me lead a normal life, and not tie me to the kitchen bench and hammer the skills of international Michelin star winning chefs into my head.  I shouldn’t have been reading golden books!  I should have been reading Michel Roux ‘Sauces’, and Julia Childs ‘French Cookery’ and ANYTHING by Margaret Fulton! How dare they neglect me so!  Damn you making me play with Lego!  Damn you!

So, as I settle down to watch the new series of Junior MC, I steel myself for the freak show. These children who have been primped and preened to perfection, and pushed out into the public eye, in the hope they that will be able to secure their future and enjoy their cooking dream.

With their hair pulled back or spiked with more product than there is cream in an éclair, with their bright tops, white aprons and colourful safety knives, running around a fantasy ‘pantry’ that looks like something out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, with baskets laden with produce, to prepare the dish of their dreams, the circus will begin.

Some of these children, who can produce dishes from memory that I couldn’t even cook with the recipe in front of me, can barely reach the bench top!  Let’s not forget one simple thing above all else: these kids can actually cook.

And they achieve it all whilst their adoring parents look on. 

As I sit there watching, flinging my Frisbee sponge across the room during the ad breaks (because I can’t stand Curtis, and need something to distract myself from him), I will wait for that moment when those poor kids are told that their Masterchef dream is over. 

Let’s be real about this: these kids have a passion for cooking; no doubt.  However, at that age, they really don’t understand the concept of a ‘culinary dream’.  They don’t understand what’s really involved in getting there.  They don’t understand that in 10 years’ time, they can do a TAFE course, and they’ll be there.  Fuck Masterchef, and the spotlighted stress that goes along with it.

What they do understand, is that this is a competition, and there can only be one winner.  If they fall along the way, they have lost.  They didn’t come ‘top 10’, or ‘top 5’; they lost.  The end.  Bring on the tears.

At least when these kids cry, they are not crying from the ridiculous pressure that the adult Masterchefs have to endure.  They’re crying because their little hearts are broken because they lost.

My heart will break for them, but only until we return from the next ad break, because by then, I, like everyone else watching, will have completely forgotten them.

And for the winner?  Complete glory? Well, they win a $15,000.00 trust fund to put toward their culinary dream.  Call that complete glory if you like.  Personally, I think it would be less traumatic on the kid to take out a small loan and shove it in a term deposit for them.  That’s just me though…

So, in 10 years’ time, when their win on Junior Masterchef has been forgotten, they’ll finish their apprenticeship (like normal people), and start out on their own.  Just another chef in the crowd.  If George and Gary are still around, they may offer them a job as a kitchen bitch or something, just to help them along the way.

They’ll need something to cushion the blow that reality will provide, because when you grow up, no one gives a fuck that you were once a Junior Masterchef.  You have to find your way through life.

At the rate our economy is going, the $15,000.00 they won will be worth $10,000.00, and possibly afford them a second hand Kia, which they can sleep in at night, and sell sandwiches out the back of through the day, outside the Channel 10 studios that handed them their ‘fame’, all whilst wearing their crisp, white Masterchef apron; the only souvenir of their triumph.

Cynical? Hellza yeah. 

As a parent, I don’t know if I could put my kid through the stress of that competition. I believe that the producers structure it so that the kids are nowhere near as stressed as the adults are, because apparently, adults can handle it.  (I think the adults would disagree though, just quietly…)

I imagine that there are two types of parents in the Junior MC arena: the first will get white line fever, pushing their kids, yelling instructions from the sidelines, fist pumping all the way.  The other will be sitting there thinking ‘what the fuck have I agreed to here?’ as they watch their children struggle through.

Have you spared a thought for last year’s winner?  Do you remember who it was?

Isabella.  The lovely Isabella, who defeated her twin sister on the way to claim the top prize. I wonder how she has adapted to life post Junior Masterchef.  She’s possibly in high school now, dealing with the challenging life of a teenage girl, her victory a distant memory, because life simply moves on, and she’s too young to really cash in on her success.

I just hope she’s still cooking, and her dream of opening a café with her twin sister becomes a reality in the future.  See, I remember.

I was seriously waiting for her cook book to come out, because I would’ve bought it.  That would have been one cook book that I may have had a shot at creating something out of.  Maybe.

You know what I like most about Junior Masterchef?  Anna Gare.  I love Anna Gare.  She’s cute, spunky and funky, and I would jump the fence for her.  She’s gorgeous.

She also cuts through the testosterone, and provides just enough maternal warmth to melt the sugary sap that flies around the Masterchef arena.  She makes Mehigan, Colambaris, Preston and Moran bearable.  Just.

I wonder if this season will bring us cute, funky kids with spiky hair and cool names?  Prissy princesses (like Lucy from last season – couldn’t stand her), or big rough kids that just love cooking shit (like Jack)?  See, I remember.

So, bring on another season of Masterchef Brats.  I’ve already booked in my sessions with the therapist, who I pay with Chocolate Hazelnut cookies from the Julie Goodwin (1^st Australian Masterchef) cookbook.  Fair trade.

Happy cooking.

Peace out.