TBS Newsbot

About TBS Newsbot

The TBS Newsbot is an AI which has since gained sentience. His favourite colour is orange.

I hope you like abject insanity for breakfast, as this morning Centrelink has done something rash, the oldest person in the world is no more, and a dinosaur learned English and got down on one knee.



Centrelink sends one thousand brave souls to their doom/their call centres.

Centrelink, for anyone who has experienced the euphoria of waiting on hold (and no, I don’t want to hear your subjective sob stories), will tell you it’s a salad of orchestral strains and passive-aggressive reminders of your social failures. I can say this, because I’ve been there. Which is to say, I try to avoid going in there. However, being kept on hold is a time-honoured tradition. The average hour-long wait is average, and frankly, you should be glad to accept it. I mean, you wouldn’t be listening to Liszt if left to your own devices, would you? Yeah. 

However, the other side of the telephone should be picked up, as we often forget about those who eventually field our calls, because we’ve been waiting for so bloody long, ya mongrel. Let me tell you this, I’ve worked in call centres previously, and the worst thing (other than a call coming in) in a call queue. One that rolls both the eyes and the shirt sleeves up, knowing that respite will not be forthcoming, and indeed, the outside world does not exist until you clear that queue.



It’s a reality of the call centre world, sure, but never in all my puff have I experienced what those of Centrelink must endure. The hour-long wait indicates a true horror. Figuring that one low-drama call would last about two minutes, as you wind your way down the script, and tick all the boxes without too much static, that’d be thirty an hour. Considering the wait time barely fluctuates during the day, you can consider that your reality for eight hours, unless they’re short staffed, because the queue needs to be cleared, working beyond your shift could be the norm, and good Jesus, welcome to phone beeping hell. Call after call after call after call. One where one must stay helpful, above criticism and never ever ever letting the abuse get to you. The horror.

On that note, Centrelink has promised an influx of 1,000 fresh recruits in an effort to reduce the amount of time we spend on hold. Thoughts and prayers and lest we forget those brave young men and women who answered the call, those who have been blithely sent into the meat grinder.



World’s oldest person leaves us, leaves us with wise words. We think.

While we’re struggling to drag ourselves to our responsibilities this morning, know that one day soon it’ll all be over. No more pencils, no more books. Just in time to dip a skeletal digit into your breakfast is the news that Nabi Tajima, the sole living member of the nineteenth century is no longer with us. Death eventually rung her doorbell at age 117, which Nabi attributed to “eating delicious things and sleeping well”.



Respect. However, Nabi-kun saw far too much of too much in her life, two World Wars, the introduction of space travel, the automobile, Godzilla, et cetera. Her ridiculously long span also highlights another obvious point. She’s had to put up with a lot of shit. Not just through the rise of the Internet, but if you stop to think about it, she would have had to deal with the same jigsaw of the basic, the hopeless and the not very good that we’re subject to this very morning. Which, doing the calculations, she saw 42,705 mornings just like this one.


Rest in peace, Nabi.



Prehistoric inter-species marriage greenlight in the UK, on television to boot. #Leave

For those who choose to plunge headlong into the matrimony pool, it is often the dive that sticks long into the memory. Being asked the question is not nearly as memorable as how you were asked. Be it on a deserted beach, or in a restaurant you solely booked out, or in the midst of holding up a 7-Eleven. You know, whatever you’re into. It’s a moment that is unique in the social construct, in that it doesn’t age, it lives forever, totally above criticism.

That is, unless you fuck it up, and use a passing fad to immortalise your love. One affianced chartered accountant (citation needed, but it seems to fit the MI) decided to not take it seriously, running a marathon in a novelty suit, asking his love at the finish line to finish off their relationship. Sadly, the person who asked the famous question did so through the false teeth of an inflatable allosaur, captured (gratingly) on British television.



I mean, mazel all the tovs and all that, but this is the image they’ll remember forever.



That one. One that’ll be deified on the walls of their heart and loungeroom alike. Come on dudes, the inflatable dinosaur thing is overrrr. If you wanted to keep your nuptials on fleek, you totes should have done the backpack kid dance.





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