Friday. Wunderbar. Overnight, Telstra’s incompetence struck new levels, as 000 went down, Bill Cosby was kicked out of the Academy, and a drawn line became significantly smudged.



Triple-0 down because someone cut the only line, crime temporarily legal.

Well. News just in proclaims that calls to the emergency services in parts of New South Wales, Victoria and Western Australia are not going anywhere after a “cable was cut” in the wee hours of this morning.

Telstra has offered a three letter tweet of explanation, telling everyone “soz”, well, they didn’t but you could just assume it would be something they’d do, right? Apparently, someone cut a cable between Orange and Bowral,  causing “intermittent voice mobile connection interruptions in NSW, Victoria, South Australia & Queensland”

Presumably, because there’s just one giant cable for everyone’s telephonic communicaes to travel through. I mean, Jesus. Is there a giant on/off switch somewhere in Sydney that would knock out the entire power grid? Is there a red “please don’t touch this” button that would return all our sewage to the original source?



While 000 down, it behoves us to act as we should. Which is a scuttering mass of brutal cro-magnon beasts steered by a lizard brain. Without those who enforce the rules present to correct our lawbreaking, it seems that all crime, no matter how heinous, is very temporarily legal.

Let’s get purging!

I’m kidding. Don’t be dicks.



Polanski and Cosby kicked out of the Academy according to recently established code.

Bruh. The discussion of separating the art from the artist is one we’re continually having. With the gavel falling on Bill Cosby, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (The Academy) have expelled him from the party. And yes, indeed they should. They’ve also lowered the boom on Roman Polanski, banning him for violating a code of conduct that the Academy adopted in December.



ICYMI: Polanski admitted having unlawful sex with a 13-year old in Los Angeles in 1977, serving 42 days of a 90-day psychiatric evaluation as part of a plea bargain, but he fled the country before his final sentencing, believing the judge hearing the case would overrule the deal. Cosby, well that’s fresher in the memory. Guilty.

Let me add a qualifier. They are both reprehensible acts or reprehensible people, and should be castigated thusly. One should never take advantage of anyone, and this especially goes for those who believe they possess the power to do it.

With that being said, please kick Polanski out, but can we keep his films? I mean, the Cosby Show is tired nonsense, but the catalogue of Polanski is one of true beauty. True specs of lasting aesthetic, true jewels forever forged by the hands of its unfortunate creator.

It’s an unfortunate plurality, yes. But the crimes of the father should be noted, and not forgot, but transporting them over to their celluloid children is something else entirely. If I were to meet Polanski, my disappointment in him may provoke me to slice his nostril with a flick knife, but I can still watch The Pianist and be endlessly moved, and still fall in love with the craft, and those who made it possible, while still morally castigating the other actions.

Can I hate one and love the other? I say, definitively, yes. Anything beyond that is needless filicide.

To twist the words of Marilyn Manson: “Is adult amusement killing their children?”




Place where North met South becomes a tourist trap, t-shirt merchants mobilise.

What holds true for Batman (and Plato) holds true for historical monuments. One day you’re a moment of great significance and beauty, the next you’re a tourist trap, devoid of meaning, as nobodies trample you to cheerily ape that moment, to seem important to their noboby friends.

As it went for the Berlin Wall, it is seemingly going for that slab of concrete where North finally met South to join hands; with the comfortable shoes of the curious eroding the importance of the place, and indeed, making that piece of important history, history.


I mean, think about it. The Korean war was one that raged for generations. One that divided the country, families, unions, thought. All that hate, all that suspicion and all that pain, finally concluded, full-stopped by the sound of a selfie-stick being extended.



This is how the war ends. Not with a bang, but with a click. And a fucking Instagram filter.


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