Brenton Moore

About Brenton Moore

Brenton is somewhat a musician, somewhat a writer and has worked with a number of writers and musicians in Australia, and intends to continue doing so. Even if he has to work retail.

Kerri-Ann Kennerley is Australia’s first lady of rage sharing

Today, Kerri-Ann Kennerley again raised pulses and rolled eyes on social media. However, in the age of the hate-share, some are keeping those they actively dislike atop their platforms.

 

 

We find ourselves at a moronic pivot. Today, Kerri-Anne Kennerley whipped up another piece of unfortunate tat, morphing herself closer to the cookie-cutter replacement for Alan Jones, saying that protestors who clog up the road should be glued to it, and used as speedbumps.

While it’s not clever or smart, it’s not even original, as she uttered the words verbatim back on October 1.

 

 

Pair that with her previous rant (other than the one whitewashing the nation’s black history) where Kennerley ripped the great weight on the government tit, those “leeches” on the pension.

 

 

Oddly, the people she hated so much also represent a large part of her audience. After all, those who are able to watch daytime television are probably not at work, and probably aided and abetted by the government. Oddly these people would be her original fans, now old enough to be on the pension.

Ok.

Clearly, we’re a nation divided, not along partisan lines, but rather of logic. Further to that point, our boom industry is no longer mining, but the uncovering of deliberately grating voices to put on. But while the financially comfortable versus the financially uncomfortable is the engine that powered the election (see also: the RMS Franking Credits) we’re a way off from our very own ‘let them eat cake’ moment, one brought to you by the amazing power of Rupert Murdoch’s stoneware cookery.

What this today represents, is the final death rattle of criticism.

Clearly, those we love to hate have removed the solitary joy we have in them. It’s difficult to hit someone who wants you to knock them down. Shout out to her panel pal, Joe Hildebrand. The ease of modern criticism is a wine we’ve replaced all our meals with. We now exclusively trade in the currency of hate sharing.

Scott Morrison is exactly that. All the conspiracy theories about him sullying a McDonald’s bathroom, all the fists we shake and all the retweets we donate to him in an effort to bring him down has resulted in an uber tacky King Kong that threatens to scale the top of Canberra and swat us away with a rolled-up Trading Post.

The fact that he based his economic policy on an AC/DC hook is no fluke. It was created so we critics could share it. He later announced that the country will remain in deficit, but the damage is already done. We were the host for the virus. They played us like a damn fiddle.

 

 

We’re all guilty of it. This publication was the first to break the story about his poorly photoshopped shoes, and we felt like it meant something. It didn’t. We beat the competition to achieve what exactly? Perhaps we were the first to wander into the trap, the first to be wrong. Clearly, the only person who benefitted ‘wore’ the shoes.

Perhaps we need to go full-millennial and heed the musical lessons of The Simpsons, in that these heinous towering beasts we brought to life will stop trashing up the discourse the moment we stop paying them attention.

 

 

 

 

 

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