Yesterday, treasured 1990’s icon, Agro smeared his legacy when he joined One Nation. While some people are angry, I say that it’s a perfect metaphor for the general insanity of 2017.


The greatest victim of 2017 has been not a celebrity, but rather our ability to find someone to look up to. The White House has been reduced to a lewd cartoon pinned to the back of a men’s room stall, and Kirribilli House has been haunted by a Scooby Doo real estate swindler masquerading as an electric sea ghoul. On the horizon is the political pushes of Kid Rock, famous for shirking normal bathing routines in favour of crystal meth and writing songs that go bawadaitatabangdibang and his father, The Rock, famous for asking rhetorical questions and beating people up. The only recent saving grace was Jeremy Corbyn’s Glastonbury acapella number, and he lost the election.

Yesterday, the latest in a long line of shocks to the collective psyche was felt as we discovered Agro of Cartoon Connection fame has become politically aligned with another irrelevant 90’s throwback, One Nation.



And yes, on a logical level, who cares. He’s a mouthy (fictional) character with a hand up his backside, joining a party of mouthy characters who have their heads firmly planted up theirs. Agro won’t be running the Senate, or shaping policy, so what’s the harm in him doing it?

Well, as a millennial, the past is all we have. We believe the present to be broken, and the future as something that will never happen. Whereas, the past is beyond reproach. Pokemon Blue, Bubble O’ Bill, Ian ‘Hewie’ Hewitson. But, when of those icons are torn down by the angry baying mob of truth, it, to use a colloquial term, cuts us deep, bro. Even if that icon only has value through the propaganda of nostalgia, where we won’t accept the truth, instead believing that the reason why it’s no longer around, is the reason why we should bring it back. Just like we did with Toobs. The savoury snack we brought back from the dead, and then we stopped buying it when we freely could.


Believe me, we need to embrace this theory, as reality is set to get far worse. Consider what we’re yet to face as the bizarre hell ride from the original-flavoured Willy Wonka. There’s no earthly way of knowing which way that we were going.


The toppling of Agro is similar to the toppling of Saddam Hussein. When the concrete statues are shattered upon the cold dirt floors of our minds, it creates a power vacuum. Where do we turn to now for a figure that stands without the taint of corruption? The coalition forces that toppled him does nothing for us, neither does the opposition. The great musical voices of complaint are numbed by dementia and denial, and all the great writers are orphaned by our attention span, the sentence of tl;dr. Which, I suppose if you spend all day shuffling words around, you can make anything sound bad.

My point is if we’re left to wander the moral desert as refugees, I contend that we should look at the possibilities, not those we’ve lost. The great culture war is over, and the cost was great, but perhaps the hand that we should follow is the one planted up our own bum. Us. As the man with a wonky eye (that also wandered), Jean Paul Sartre, explained that with the death of original beliefs, we’re free to plot the points on our own moral compass. Therefore, If our existence doesn’t have answers, and weird terrible things happen for no reason (such as a puppet being a racist), it’s up to us to embrace the nonsense, instead of recoiling in angry Internet horror when the latest Donald Trump headline shivers and uncurls itself on our lawn.

Put simply, we should stop looking for meaning in the meaningless. In 2017, we should honour the fact that logic is dead. We can only really rely on us to be the sane ones, by identifying things as inherently insane. Believe me, we need to embrace this theory, as reality is set to get far worse. Consider what we’re yet to face as the bizarre hell ride from the original-flavoured Willy Wonka. There’s no earthly way of knowing which way that we were going. Why, hello there, Trump’s second half, North Korea’s atomic prong, and the collective assertion that gay is suddenly a disease.

The underlying message in Sartre’s theories is that hope exists when we find meaning after identifying the meaningless of it all. Like Religion, or that moral right will eventually make right. Modern example: Trump’s impeachment. He’s a fuck up, and thusly he’ll be kicked out of government for it. Just because. However, a noted antagonist to this theory, Albert Camus, claimed: ‘they deify what crushes them, and find reason to hope in what impoverishes them’. Transposed to this argument, the steadfast belief that Trump will be impeached, and the thousands of man hours we on that topic, be it article, status or comment box, will be worth it, because we hope it will. In reality, it is an exercise in futility, because we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment. It won’t happen. No matter how sharp our barbs are or many Nazis we punch in the face.

So, perhaps then, the solution, is laughing in the face of such meaningless horror. We should embrace the memes and gifs that are flung out of the abyss, knowing that those five-second snippets are the true barometer of our time: morsels of indispensable knowledge we digest on the toilet, before disposing of them moments after we flush. Perhaps then, when Toadfish Rebecchi trades practising law in Erinsborough for doling out fundamentalist justice in the name of the new caliphate, we’ll be cool with it.

Because it doesn’t matter.



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