THE FORKIE PHILOSOPHER

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  • SOMEONE NEEDS TO SHOOT THIS GUN HAPPY PSYCHO: Movie Musings #10

    ***Spoiler Alert***

    Wow! What a brain twister! The mental gymnastics in this one are fantastic! Yet through brilliant storytelling sleight of hand, I think it holds, by the skin of its teeth, but it holds.

    Dirty Harry is back with his trusty .44 Magnum: ready and willing to put large calibre holes into anyone foolish enough to draw on him. Remember that detail because it is important.

    This time Harry has to track down a psychopathic vigilante who is gunning down bad guys in cold blood. Don’t laugh! This lunatic has elected themselves judge, jury and executioner. It’s not funny! You can’t just go around shooting known murderers because you reckon the world would be better off without them. Stop fucken laughing!

    I see what has you so amused. Yes, Harry has been known to kill more than his fair share of villains. The difference is, if you watch the movie closely, Harry only ever mows down in self-defence or to save an innocent civilian. It’s a (paper) thin line, but he never crosses it. Not on camera anyway. He also never kills or maims any bystanders for that matter. It’s truly uncanny!

    Harry believes in the system. He’s a cop and a cop’s job is to capture the bad guys and gather evidence. After that it’s in the hands of the justice system. It’s only a coincidence that Harry always seems to arrive while a violent crime is in progress. What else can a good cop do other than charge in? Once he’s involved it’s not Harry’s fault if a gun wielding suspect draws on him or one of his colleagues or a civilian – Blam, Blam, Blam! Problem solved.

    Saves a lot of time and expense on incarceration and court proceedings. It’s just dumb luck that Harry doesn’t need to waste time going to court and all that bullshit. Harry gets to avoid the bitter frustration of someone he caught walking free. Not in this movie anyway. In this story he is much more pragmatic regarding the loopholes and flaws in the legal process.

    The assassin not only kills unarmed evildoers, but they also don’t have a problem with making Swiss cheese out of anyone unfortunate enough to be hanging out with the target. An entire fucken pool party in one instance! Talk about overkill.

    Harry meets a tight knit group of rookie traffic cops who take their firearms training very seriously and he is most impressed. The force needs guys who can put bullets into vital areas on hoodlums. That’s what good policing is all about.

    However, soon Harry begins to surmise that these gung-ho motorcycle cops are getting a little ahead of themselves when it comes to administering the law.

    There’s a great scene where the undefeated SFPD shooting competition champion Harry ends up in a tie breaker with the rookie crew’s best guy. Harry chooses ‘combat’ which involves one of those layouts with the façade buildings like a film set. Targets randomly pop out; some are armed thugs, some are civilians and some are cops. The young buck gets a perfect score. Harry is on the same track, but loses when he shoots the final target by mistake – a cop. See what they did there?

    Anyway, Harry gets his proof and even uncovers some higher ups that are involved in this death squad setup. Of course, he won’t have to prove anything in a court of law because the baddies all make the fatal mistake of trying to take him out. Problem solved.

    I’ve seen this movie many times since I was a kid and this latest viewing was the first time I really noticed the paradox. I find it fascinating that we all (as far as I know) accepted that Harry had the moral high ground simply because he didn’t fuck up and kill the wrong person. It would be a very different movie indeed if Harry took out a few passengers on that plane for example:

    Harry walks onto a plane during an armed hostage situation and after a little subterfuge, he beats the shit out of one terrorist and uses that guys gun to shoot the other one; through a wall, mind you. Harry demonstrates his concern for bystander safety by barking “sit down!” to the annoying passengers who are panicking and not behaving properly. That seems to be the minimum duty of care for having gunfights in public places.

    In this particular cinematic universe Harry’s halo holds. He saved the day and punished the wrongdoers. If the movie had Harry arrest the terrorists and then flash forward to them mocking him as they walk free from court, things obviously change. If Harry tracks them down and shoots them dead while they are eating McDonalds, we have might have a problem.

    In Harry’s world though, the terrorists would undoubtably see him coming and draw their guns, maybe even take a hostage for extra tension. We are so easily duped by good storytelling.

    I love movies and I love stories in general, but when you immerse yourself in any artform you cannot avoid seeing the man behind the curtain pulling the strings now and then. Funnily, it doesn’t take away from the enjoyment, in some ways it deepens my awe. It also has the added benefit of giving the next generation of storytellers a cliché that can be used as misdirection. Awesome!

  • BARBARIANS AT THE GATE: Rise of the Tycoons #17

    Conquering nearby tribes was not always a means of expansion alone. Sometimes it was necessary to eliminate hostile neighbours. Those boorish savages could be rather nasty sometimes. They might attack any unwary citizen who stumbles into their region, and they would most certainly be stealing shit from the wealthy empire every chance they got.

    Stealth would be the ideal method to prevent being caught and crushed. Of course, if you’re clever you would raid villages that had a few tribes between them and yours. Either way it’s a dangerous and foolish game, but all that surplus was just irresistible! Plus, those imperial fuckers will eventually be coming for us anyway, so screw ‘em! Part opportunism, part bravado and defiance.

    Now if you keep on the move…You know? A hunter/gatherer/stealer type tribe. Just another form of gathering really. I wonder if anyone who got caught tried using that excuse. A gang of thieves or a fair dinkum H&G tribe that sends out raiders when the opportunity arises; it could work. Life expectancy wasn’t that great anyway really, so the life of a guerilla thief at least kept things interesting.

    In the end, unless your tribe relocated a good distance, there was one of two outcomes: You got swallowed up, or you were fortunate enough to see the collapse of an empire and maybe get to lay a few boots in for good measure and go rummaging through the ruins for booty. You may get to live through an empire free decade or more. Eventually another will take its place of course.

    Another alternative might be the barbarians themselves mobbing up and becoming a force to be reckoned with. A group of nomads like the Huns who kicked ass and conquered. They weren’t your run of the mill raid and run barbarians. They fucken steamrolled and smashed anyone in their path. They scared the shit out of Europe and created an empire of their own, although not a long lived one in relative terms. They burned bright and burned out.

    Eventually we come to those infamous Scandinavians; or more specifically the groups that decided to make raiding their forte. A combination of seafaring mastery and ruthless violence led to these guys being the bane of anyone they decided to visit. While they did have ‘trader’ on their resume, their specialty was first and foremost pillaging.

    The Vikings were a formidable plundering force! They could travel great distances by water and strike with such ferocity that most of their victims could scarcely mount any kind of defence. They would then make a hasty escape with the booty, off beyond the horizon.

    Few mariners had the skill or guts to follow and the few that did would not have been in a hurry to catch up with a longship filled with bloodthirsty nutters. The idea of landing on a Viking shore and attempting a retaliatory strike would be even less appealing, I’m sure.

    These lunatics believed they wouldn’t get into Valhalla unless they died in battle. Fucking hell! I often used to ponder the fine print of this dogma. Must it be a ‘glorious’ death?

    What if you slipped and fell off a cliff?

    What if you were getting old and tired and decided to do death by foe?

    What if you panicked and got killed while you were running away?

    Is falling overboard during the voyage covered?

    What about getting killed during training or a fight in your own village?

    Or just getting outright murdered out of the blue?

    I suspect the stern answer to these would be no, tough shit! I’m not sure if the alternative was hellfire or nothingness, but I reckon it would get a little freaky spending eternity with a bunch of people who spent their lives trying to get killed, who are now immortal.

    The Viking scourge was a unique entity and maybe not an empire per se. However, they would fade like all the rest. They seem to have gone the way of an aging corporation that became a shadow of its former self. They were once savage competitors who never took a backward step; always hustling and striving; disapproving comfort and resting on laurels.

    Eventually the spoils of conquest would spoil the younger generation and they would go soft. The blood and guts old guard would complain about ‘the youth of today’ and how rampant attack had simmered down to defence. They start to settle down. Farming and family begin to dominate the culture, and the trade of Viking becomes an illustrious bunch of stories. Christianity would replace Norse mythology and help speed up the tenderisation process. They would evolve and re-conquer the world (markets) with plastic building blocks and affordable home furnishings.

    Many more empires would rise and fall. The Mongols would rise to raise hell centuries later. These barbarian hordes eerily resemble the cliché of the little guy battling the big guys – winning – and then becoming the new big guys – and then dissipate, or more appropriate become assimilated into the new cultural organism.

    We can all trace our ancestry back to one empire or another. All except for the ones whose forebears managed to get oceans between themselves and the human swarm. These people would remain blissfully unaware of the plague of progress until the rise of maritime mastery and competition. The new empires were no longer land locked and expansion could continue around the globe. The age of colonisation was about to begin.

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER: A Believer, A Non-Believer and A Fence-Sitter Walk into a Bar.

    In terms of the way we behave and interact with each other, religion cannot be ruled out. It plays a role in almost everyone’s life whether they consider themselves religious or not. In its simplest form it appears to be a three-way split: Religious, Atheist or agnostic, so I suppose I’ll attempt to break it down that way. Starting with religion I’ll have to narrow it down a little more; this looks like it will be an ongoing thread.

    So, why does it even matter?

    I did touch on it briefly a while back, but that was just an entrée… maybe just an hors d’oeuvre. Keeping it non-specific for the time being, I will expand on that concept: How a person makes sense of the world has a huge impact on how they behave and treat others. We do not need to get into specific religions just yet to explain how influential a person’s ingrained beliefs are on them.

    You may say you are not religious, but it is almost certain you were raised to believe in something: a certain religious denomination, pure science, some ancient or new wave spirituality practice, one of the ‘isms’ or the Jedi. It doesn’t matter what it was, the stuff the grown-ups implant when you’re a kid has an effect on your mind. Accept it, reject it or really examine it and choose the bits that work for you; either way it is deep in your psyche.

    Santa Clause as most of us are taught is a mythological character who embodies generosity and kindness. The Boogey Man is the bad things that will get you if you go wandering off alone at night. We all swear we don’t ‘believe’ in that shit, but I am betting that if you grew up with it you can vividly remember the feelings: the joy and excitement of Christmas; the fear of things that go bump in the night.

    If you grew up with Santa, you certainly feel differently towards the 25th of December; Jesus or not this is meant to be a time of happiness and giving. You may hate it for that very reason, but it does influence you some way.

    It is not the same detached feeling an Anglo might feel during Ramadan or Diwali. If you live in a major city, you will at the very least know it is going on. Most will know people who are observing these acts of worship. You may be interested; you may participate as a guest, but you will never ‘feel’ it the way a person who grew up with it does.

    Once again, this person may refuse to participate and tell you they do not believe in that shit, but they cannot be disconnected in the way an outsider is.

    Are you religious?

    Yeah, I’m Catholic.

    Are you a practicing Catholic?

    Sort of, I don’t eat meat on Good Friday.

    When was the last time you went to church?

    My cousins’ wedding.

    I’m seeing a pattern here. When was the last time you gave a confessional and partook of the holy bread and wine.

    No idea.

    So that’s a no. Hardly a true believer here.

    Almost all religions have non-practicing types. Almost all these people still adhere to all sorts of dogma without even thinking about it. Others suddenly become pious when the shit hits the fan. Many simply comfort themselves with their faith to absolve themselves of a wrongdoing. “That guy wasn’t Christian or Muslim or whatever faith WE are, so it doesn’t count.”

    Your victim is of the same faith? No problem. They’re probably of a different denomination or branch. Shit man, if things keep lining up, just point out the differing nationality or something. “All I’m trying to say is that I would never do such a thing to myself or my loved ones (maybe).”

    The whole “our religion will take over the world” concept seems utterly absurd to me. Christianity is split three-ways and then a thousand:

    Catholic or Orthodox or God only knows how many Protestant denominations there are. Google Christian religions to see just how many variations on the theme there are. The protestant movement kicked off as a rebellion (or ‘protest’) of the Catholic church’s interpretation and monetisation of the Bible and exploded into innumerable unique versions regarding the ‘real’ message in the Good Book. Especially in the US where individualism really took off!

    As an outsider it seems that Islam has less ‘protestant’ type branches outside of Sunni and Shi’a. Probably has something to do with the violent consequences of dissent I would guess. I have no doubt there are still countless disagreements regarding the ‘Truth’ among the faithful.

    Add to these discrepancies the fierce ethnic enmity in the Middle East and it is hard to imagine a harmonious amalgamation. That’s before you even start with the African and other Asian Muslims, along with the people who converted from other faiths. Don’t try and tell me there won’t be a pecking order after this world domination is achieved.

    Even when we follow the same Holy Text we cannot agree. I suspect that it is a human quirk to tweak all rulesets when it suits our needs. It is also human to deny such a frailty.

    I seem to have gone off track again. Sometimes that’s where you find the treasure. Maybe not this time ay?. I’ll certainly be coming back around these parts again soon. I’ll leave with what I was thinking when I started this post, but never got around to mentioning:

    Rather than finding out ‘what’ religion a person follows, we may understand more by finding out ‘how religious’ that person is. “How strictly do you adhere to your creed?” There’s another post in the making right there!

  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: A Bit of Monkey Business

    I think it’s time to revisit that paragon of sobriety and workplace safety I survived all those years ago. Not only did I survive, but I learned to drive a forklift in that madhouse! Talk about a trial by fire! It was akin to having an L plate driver on an obstacle course in the middle of a kangaroo park after a gun went off. They would probably have to be impaired by performance reducing drugs as well to get the true flavour.

    Those forklifts were diesel too. I remember my cousin showing me how to fill them up from the barrel with a rotating hand pump; a cigarette hanging from his mouth the whole time.

    Today’s episode was yet another result of having a full crew of casual workers. When things got quiet the hours got cut. Monday, Tuesday and Friday were usually on, but the other two could go down to 4 hours or be cut altogether depending on volumes. Only the chosen few got to work Saturday morning and get those sweet overtime rates.

    It had been a lean few weeks and with the added free time instigating more drinking our wallets were getting rather light. So, when the boss offered us a couple days of random work we took it.

    The owner had finally put his hand in his pocket and shelled out for some new pallet racking to replace the battered and bruised old ones. Not all of them of course; we would have to be selective. Kind of like triage in the emergency department; only the really fucked up ones would get seen to first.

    Oh, and he wasn’t going to pay trained and experienced people to install them; we were much cheaper. Safety gear? You know the answer to that one.

    There must have been about 8 of us. Hungover and/or stoned, fumbling around like we knew what we were doing. I’m sure someone in the group had done this before or at least seen someone doing it.

    So here we all are getting hoisted up via forklift and traipsing around on the horizontal beams anywhere from 6ft up to two storeys high. Safety cage? You must be kidding. You don’t even get a pallet buddy; just stand on the tines and shut up.

    Hanging on with one hand while you bang away on a beam with the other. The one thing I recall most clearly was my cousin standing on the highest rung way up the top. He had to bend down a little because of the roof. He’s using both hands to hold a hammer drill and pushing it hard into the concrete wall to create a hole for a dynabolt. One foot on each horizontal beam and that’s it; no hands holding onto anything for safety, just balancing and pushing this big fucken drill into the wall. Fuck me!!!

    No one was hurt and no one thought anything was out of the ordinary. It was back to business as usual when we next came in. We would often notice a buckled vertical beam here and there and look at each other. Hey, we had to pick the ones most in need. Those rickety bastards might get chosen next time around – maybe in 3 or 4 years perhaps.

  • WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE: Hardly Anyone Was Kung Fu Fighting

    Let’s talk about generation X and the martial arts. In Australia we were quite cut off from the rest of the world. No internet, no cable TV. The only time we saw anything outside the ordinary was on the news or a TV show like ‘The Wide World of Sports’. Even then we could easily be fooled. The only way to verify something was to physically go to the library and do some hard copy research. Most of us just went straight for the encyclopedia and accepted the few paragraphs (if that) it gave us; and that was a very exceptional effort!

    It is safe to say that the average kid I grew up with got their information regarding martial arts from the movies. To us, Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris were practitioners of a style of fighting that seemed to work like magic! Not only did they beat up guys bigger than them, but they also defeated entire gangs single handed. This stuff was fucken awesome!

    Seriously, we had no way of knowing what styles even were real, let alone actually effective. Our experience of fight training was boxing or just getting into fights at school or on the street. We all suspected that professional wrestling was fake (maybe) and we were all very confused the first time we saw Olympic wrestling. I can remember seeing it in the TV guide during the Olympics and eagerly sitting down to watch it on telly. It was not what I was expecting.

    Neither was judo for that matter. I thought I was going to see some Oriental bad-assery. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the wrestling. Now that I think about it, even the boxing seemed boring; as it would to a kid whose only exposure to the sport would have been movies or highlights from the greatest fights in history.

    Back then kung fu and karate were interchangeable to us; it was shorthand for ‘mystical ass kicking system’. Maybe you would stumble upon re-runs of ‘Kung Fu’ on television and see poorly choreographed fight scenes with David Carradine, believing this stuff was possible.

    The martial arts parody “They Call Me Bruce?” from 1982 mixed up the kung fu, karate/ China, Japan stuff; I do not know if it was on purpose or not. A lot of other Asian references get mixed up in that movie too and now I need to go find out more.

    Any fights or brawls in the Hollywood and British films we most often watched were usually variations of boxing with basic street fighting techniques thrown in: headbutts, low kicks, trips and wrestling. Only rewatching stuff later did I start to notice the odd straight hand chop; judo throw or joint lock. I can even remember hearing the term judo chop being used a few times.

    Characters such as James Bond were shown training in Judo or karate, but it was just part of the characters substantial list of skills. The actual chop-socky film catalogue was limited, for me and mine anyway, to Chuck, Bruce and the few Hong Kong films that made it to our video stores. Jackie Chan had the added appeal of the insane stunt work. I am pretty sure we all understood that stuff was fake, but we all suspected he could whoop ass just as effectively as Lee and Norris.

    I mentioned the television station SBS in my last post (for this thread) and how we thought the show selection was crap. Well, that’s where we would have seen Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao if we bothered to look. Shit, they were probably screening early Jet Li movies and the Shaw Brothers stuff! That was our loss.

    Before Chuck Norris, Hollywood was a bare-knuckle boxing kind of town (along with guns, lots and lots of guns!). Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson would punch the shit out of any bad guys they didn’t shoot holes in. There might be a side character or villain who uses a foreign martial art, so I’m sure we got some ideas there, but they were just the exceptions.

    Except for ninjas. These guys were the epitome of martial arts magic! Shadow warriors who moved in silence; were so skilled at camouflage they were practically invisible. They used swords and all kinds of bizarre weapons AND they could fuck you up with their unarmed combat skills as well. Acrobatics and acts that straight up defy physics! These dudes were the crème de la crème of the Far East.

    To be a ninja was to be the ultimate warrior. We had no concept of MMA or military special forces at that age. Cinema hadn’t fallen in love with the whole CIA trained assassin trope yet. We had James Bond and ninjas. All the other tough guys were just guys who could fight really well and if need be, they would have no problem employing a firearm to eliminate a threat.

    My mates and I were enamoured with these enigmatic Asian ass-kicking arts. Our fathers, although they enjoyed the movies, were not quite convinced. “A good boxer will destroy anyone trying to use that fancy-dancy stuff” they would assert. It was early days and we all had no idea where it would go. I look forward to re-taking the journey with you.

  • CORPORATE CONFUSION: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

    When I was a kid, I remember seeing all these posters around the Sydney CBD saying, “Hands off the BLF”. I would see them marching through the streets on news programs chanting that same line. The grown-ups told me they were a powerful union; the letters stood for Builders Labourers Federation. I remember walking under all the scaffolding in the city over the footpaths and the boarded-up construction sites. I also knew that these BLF people were on strike a lot. I hadn’t really put it all together at that age. To me the only strike that mattered was a teacher’s strike – day off, you little ripper!

    Growing up I would hear stories about the outrageous antic of dock workers telling their bosses to fuck off and these same workers getting ridiculously high wages and penalty rates. Construction workers receiving extra pay through things like danger money, height allowance or fucken dirt allowance. Garbos getting a ludicrous number of sick days because of working in the rain.  I have actually met people with over a years’ worth of accumulated sick days!

    It sounded wonderful! Growing up working class, it felt like these people were doing the good work of Robin Hood. Getting a job backed by a strong union seemed like a clever career strategy. Economics be damned! Fuck those rich business owners! If they don’t want to share, we’ll force them to.

    I had no idea of the history behind these movements. The atrocious working conditions and abysmal wages. The ruthless and often violent pushback by the industrialists and their backers. These disputes didn’t end in the industrial relations commission (it didn’t exist). The early versions of strike action often ended in the hospital or the morgue. Brutality and standover tactics were used by both sides.

    I had no idea of the history behind these movements. The atrocious working conditions and abysmal wages. The ruthless and often violent pushback by the industrialists and their backers. These disputes didn’t end in the industrial relations commission (it didn’t exist). The early versions of strike action often ended in the hospital or the morgue. Brutality and standover tactics were used by both sides.

    More about the history and legacy of the movement in later posts. I just find it disheartening to see how the union movement is slowly but surely fading away. The vicious circle of people refusing to join the union because it is too weak and weakening it by doing so. I have worked in union and non-union jobs and the misery an unchecked asshole boss can inflict, combined with minimum wage is enough to convince me to stay a member. This is especially the case for unskilled labour: machine worker, manual grunt, forklift or truck driver – less than a dime a dozen.

    One realisation I had about this was when we had a load of freight arrive late. The supervisors gathered as many hands as they could and waited while we unloaded and sorted the goods. This was a union yard. I remember telling my coworkers that thanks to the union this delay was the companies problem. If there was no union, it would most definitely have been our problem. Supervisors standing beside us (or in the fucken way!) telling us to hurry up.

     “It’s time for your lunch break? Bullshit!”

     “Your shift is over? Leave now and don’t bother coming back buddy.”

    Sadly, it seems the writing is on the wall for the union movement, and many will be very sorry when it’s gone. People have forgotten all about the battles of the pioneers. Refusing to work while they and their families were starving. Threats and intimidation. Beatings and murders. Most importantly, people seem to forget the truth behind the statement “you get nothing from the bigwigs without a fight. No improvements to workers’ rights and conditions ever came from asking nicely.”

    Granted there is a plethora of labour laws in place to prevent a return to the days of child labour and sweat shops, although there will always be a black market. Those laws were won by the suffering of the union members who went before. Trouble is nobody is going to pay union fees to an ineffective union out of gratitude for things done in the past.

    There are also a bunch of laws that weaken unions and tie their hands with red tape. It is a hard sell to ask a new worker to hand over a portion of their hard earned for the protection of a withering brawler; especially when that worker knows full well that they will receive the same benefits of any improved conditions and/or any pay increases that this old battler might win for their members.

    I know the union movement is far from perfect. As are the human beings that run it. Corruption, personal agendas and incompetence are unavoidable. The same is true for a police force, but how do you reckon you would go in a Mad Max society? Anarchy is definitely not a step up and in terms of survival of the fittest…A corporation versus a divided bunch of workers vying for jobs – does ‘race to the bottom mean’ anything to you?

    Corporations are profit driven and this does not bode well for workers. There is only so much profit you can generate, but those shareholders are insatiable! In the end it will always result in cutting the bottom line. The number of workers, the equipment they use, the regular maintenance of that equipment, the hours they work and the pay they get is all part of that bottom line.

    A powerful union that goes to far can force a company to take their business elsewhere. Somewhere with lax labour laws and no unions.

    Not an ideal choice.

  • POTENTIAL DEATH OR SERIOUS INJURY: True Stories #19

    Ken, my boss, asked me to help him move one of those large double metal lockers downstairs. The locker was upstairs in a spare room near the kitchen. We shimmy slid it across the floor until we got to the top of the stairs. These stairs where the L shaped type with a 90 degree corner halfway down; they were also quite steep.

    Ken stood a few stairs down in front of the locker. I was behind it at the top of the stairs. We began slowly tilting the locker. I could feel the locker was tilting to the point where I would no longer be able to hold it. I told Ken this and he assured me that he had it and that I should continue tilting beyond the point of no return.

    The locker was almost to the angle where I no longer had anything to hold onto. I would shortly have no way to hold at least some of the weight and I informed my boss of this fact. “I’ve got it” said Ken, so I let it slide past the point of no return. The locker swiftly slipped out of my grasp and rocketed down the stairs slamming into the wall at the 90 degree turn halfway down.

    “Oh my God! I’ve killed Ken!” shuddered through my mind. “The locker’s smashed him through the fucking wall! Nobody will believe me when I tell them he said it was OK to let the locker go.”

    I could see that the locker had made a large dent in the wall where it had crashed. I sheepishly made my way down the stairs and looked at the place where the locker had imbedded into the wall. I was expecting to see blood and all sorts of carnage.

    There was the tiniest little gap between the locker and the corner of the stairs; a small triangle of space that could barely fit a grown man.

    Do you believe in miracles?

    Ken was bent up in a kind of standing fetal position. Through some outstanding feat of dexterity, Ken had managed to fit himself into the miniscule gap where the plummeting locker had missed the wall. The part of the wall where the locker hit was significantly damaged and anyone in front of the locker would be squished beyond repair.

    “I’m ok” Ken finally muttered as he tried to crawl out of the tiny gap he had squeezed himself into.

    We didn’t laugh, we didn’t really say anything. I think we were both in shock. I can’t even remember what happened next. I’m sure we eventually moved the locker and got it downstairs, but I have no recollection of it. I just remember seeing Ken balled up in that tiny gap and thinking how much luck was required for him to survive that lethal locker. My memory freezes as he drags himself out and on top of the locker.

    That was the very embodiment of a close call. There didn’t seem to be an inch to spare in the microscopic pocket Ken had miraculously slotted into. I still shudder to this day when I remember the crash of that locker slamming into the wall, and I am still awestruck when I recall how Ken survived.

    Wow!

  • EMPIRE OF RELIGION: Rise of the Tycoons #16

    As far as I know, every empire worshiped a god or gods in some form. As they expanded, they may have invited or insisted on the conversion of their new citizens. However, the religion was a part of the empire, not the basis of it. To my knowledge there are only two major religions that literally set out to convert the world, and both are steadfast monotheist.

    For the purpose of this exercise, I will remain strictly in the natural world and my own general understanding of people’s beliefs. I do not intend to critique specific religions. I am focused on the power of The Message and how it can inspire and connect people, yet simultaneously cause division, hostility and outright hatred.

    It is generally understood that Zoroastrianism was the original 1 and only 1 God religion. Whilst not part of the ‘Abrahamic’ religions, many scholars point out the similarities. So, whereas Judaism is 2nd in the monotheistic stakes, they did lead the charge for the ‘Desert’ religions. The big 3 being Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

    As a kid I was always fascinated with the similarity between the Greek and Roman Gods, and I think that carried over to the 3 most known monotheistic religions. Some idea about using the foundation as a springboard to a new and improved version.

    Moving right along, the Jewish people kicked around with the Pharaohs and the Romans with their separate hosts of Gods and Goddesses. The Hebrew Bible made a bold claim that these two mighty empires and their plethora of deities were not just foolish, they were headed for eternal damnation! Big call. The Tanakh asserted that there was one and only one God. Full stop, no room for debate.

    The Jewish community unlike the two mega-religions that followed were not concerned with gaining converts. They had more an exclusive club vibe going on. We are God’s chosen people and you are not; bad luck for you.

    Back in those days there were innumerable belief systems and no shortage of prophets insisting they were the spokesperson for the real supreme being/s. So, all supernatural elements aside it is most profound that one wandering Jew would gather such a massive following. Whether he existed or not, there is no denying the overwhelming popularity of the story and the book!

    Jesus was long gone before Christianity really took off. Believe in him or not, this thing was huge! You often hear people claiming that theirs is a religion of peace, well these original Jesus devotees took that non-violent resistance stuff to a new level. It’s certainly impressive to see an army charge ahead courageously with the conviction of their faith. If they keep kicking ass you are forced to wonder if they have divine backing.

    Imagine confronting an enemy that, first, refuses to view you as an enemy. Next, they refuse to fight and if you insist on violence, they are content to die and are comforted in the knowledge they will be with their maker. That’s some sublime stuff! True or not, that is an awe-inspiring concept.

    I can still recall the confusion during a screening of Quo Vadis (1951) in high school. Nero is showing these Christians whose boss and having them herded into the arena for the entertainment of Rome. They are to be fed to the lions and as an old wise man stands among the crowd of spectators, silence falls.

    The old bloke blesses those about to be eaten. He asks God to soothe their pain and suffering. He assures them and everyone present that they will soon be with their Lord in heaven. What? No wrath of vengeance? No “our God will see you in hell for this”? No valiant uprising? What kind of victory is this?

    The victims devotedly sing hymns as they await their fate. Later in the proceedings more believers are burned alive! These martyrs sing their devout praises even during this unimaginable torture. Pardon my French, but Holy Shit!!!!!

    If ever there were a display of unwavering faith, this must be it. To resist murderous hatred with compassion and resignation has to affect the aggressor psychologically. It would be fucken freaky to say the least!

    A peculiar recruitment pitch though: “No one turns the other cheek like us!”

    Jokes aside, try to imagine living in this era of religious fervour. These Christians are prepared to passively suffer and die for their God. Maybe they know something we don’t. That kind of conviction has an allure all its own.

    God or no God it is miraculous how this faith grew as influential as it did. inevitably the empire builders got hold of this spiritual blockbuster and locked it down with dogma. A kind of religious copyright if you will. They continued its expansion and of course it became a cash cow of biblical proportions!

    Then it became a tool of tyranny and conquest: Blood-soaked Crusades, colonisation and witch-hunts all sprouting from this seed of love and compassion. Translation, interpretation and bastardisation split this divine message into countless variations. More on that later.

  • WE NEED TO DIG A LITTLE DEEPER: The Brainwashing Business

    I have had a deep-seated contempt for advertising going back a long time and it is only the logistics of compartmentalising and organising my thoughts that have led to this being post #71. I find it irritating and terrifying just how inundated we are with this perpetual persuasion. It is fucking everywhere we turn and it is created by very clever people for the sole purpose of influencing our thoughts and behaviour!

    Long before mobile phones these mini manipulators were unavoidable. “Free to air” TV and radio sponsored and relentlessly interrupted by advertisers. Newspapers and magazines prices kept low by advertising which ends up being half the fucken content you see inside! Massive billboards with attention grabbing images and slogans dotted along the roads and highways. Little billboards on the walls inside trains and larger ones on the walls of the stations. Same thing on the inside and outside of buses; on the rear hoods of bloody taxis for fuck’s sake!

    You go to the movies for some ad free entertainment and have to sit through the annoying bastards before you even get to the previews. Any popular sporting event? The players are wearing logos and brand names; it’s printed all around the boundary fence; it’s painted on the damn grass!

    It boggles the mind how much money gets fed into this insatiable beast. It wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t creating profit that’s for sure. All those funds being invested in plugging the product or service rather than improving it. It’s more profitable ensuring you ‘think’ the product is good than its actual quality.

    Think about that for a moment. Brand recognition is more about how you feel about the product than its superiority over competitors. I can clearly remember the advertising wars between Pepsi and Coca Cola in the 80s. Media attention was focused on how much money each competitor spent on their campaign and what big name celebrity they could afford to promote their product.

    An even more glaring example can be highlighted by these two giants: The Pepsi Challenge. Random people asked to taste two unmarked colas and pick the tastiest one. Pepsi wins hands down. They have the better product, but Coke still reigns supreme. In another amazing experiment people are given the same challenge, although this time they can see the cans and brands. Coke wins.

    Why?

    Because “Coke is it!”, “Coke adds life.” And you “Can’t Beat the Real Thing”! Pepsi just tastes better than Coca Cola to a bunch of random strangers on the street. With Coca-Cola “Life tastes good!” It just feels better drinking Coke. Don’t believe it? Look at the scoreboard; the sales spell it out.

    Just as an aside, have you ever felt like a beverage was out of place with a certain meal because of constant exposure? In Australia when they were the big three fast food chains, KFC and Pizza Hut served Pepsi, while McDonalds served Coke. If for any reason the drinks were swapped, I would notice a mismatch. It wasn’t bad, just weird. Just me?

    Anyway, the thing I think most of us overlook is that the budget is not only for celebrity endorsements and ad placements. More crucial than those is figuring out the best person/place and time for these extravagant campaigns. Research people, research!!! That’s where the smart money goes.

    Paying marketing experts, artists, psychologists, statistical analysts and all kinds of eggheads. Not to improve the actual product – those guys have a little room down the hall. No, the team responsible for conditioning the preferences of the populous get their own floor! Nay! building!

    Over a century of science and research on successful propaganda techniques are applied to us almost constantly. That’s fucked up right? I mean that is truly terrifying!

    How many of our preferences, desires and goals have been covertly implanted? Not just in relation to goods, services and holiday destinations, but our whole concept of what constitutes a ‘good’ life.

    Whenever you think your life is not up to scratch or other people are more successful; how are you measuring that? Where do your ideas regarding ‘quality’ and ‘luxury’ originate?

    What the fuck is Schweppervescnece?

    What the fuck is ‘The Real Thing”?

  • MUSINGS ON THE JOB ABOUT THE JOB: Get a Job You Bum!

    Growing up in the west certainly has its advantages, but comfort can breed complacency. Going back as far as the end of the Great Depression, in Australia it has not been too hard to earn a living. Maybe not ‘living it up’, but enough to get by on. Jobs (in the cities at least) were not hard to come by. If you didn’t have the hands to get yourself a trade, there were plenty of jobs in factories to keep you fed and housed.

    Industry was the refuge of the unskilled. Like it or hate it, Henry Ford’s breaking down of complex manufacturing into numerous specific and repetitive tasks created a way for the unmotivated majority to contribute to the profit machine. In return they would be given a tiny bit of the profits to maintain themselves and possibly have a little fun.

    Once the unions had won the right for fair wages and working hours, the average unqualified grunt could keep off the bread line without having to break their backs. Overtime and penalty rates even made it possible to indulge a little or be able to afford raising a small family.

    If you managed to get yourself into an industry with a powerful union, you were laughing. Big dollars and less authority for management – happy days. Maybe you could upskill a little. Get yourself a licence: Forklift, heavy vehicle, crane, bobcat etc. Better shifts more overtime. Line yourself up right and you could soon be looking for an investment property to go with your home.

    For most of the 20th Century people only continued schooling who were planning on getting a profession: Doctors, lawyers, teachers, engineers etc. Alternatively, there were arts and humanities degrees and completing one of these often opened the door for some form of white-collar job, or the life of a struggling artist if that was your bag.

    The unlearned masses usually cut out as soon as possible – 14 & 9 months I believe it was. A few would stick around for the school certificate and that was it. The more hands-on parents would insist that their kid get a trade of some sort. “Something to fall back on” was the common phrase. Most would have been pleased to see their offspring just get a job and not be a layabout.

    While the dole (unemployment benefits) is available for hard times (and obviously abused by some), the majority of people prefer to work as a matter of pride. Funnily enough, many ‘dole bludgers’ take pride in their shirking the system, but that’s another post entirely.

    So here we slam up against that capitalist paradox again. People want to work for a living as a matter of self-respect, yet they loathe those people who provide the jobs. Those evil industrialists do not give us enough of the profits, fucking greedy hogs! The same sentiment would hold for the owner of the store, restaurant or pub we work in. “Greedy fucken owner”.

    The response is always the same: “go start your own business then”. Don’t we hate that? “Fucken smart ass rich cunt!” We do not want to put in the effort and take the financial risk, yet we feel contempt for the person who did because they keep more of the pie for themselves. Not every business owner was born rich, and no business owner is immune from a downturn leading to bankruptcy. I’m not talking corporations here but remember even they had to start somewhere.

    Your average working stiff mucks around all through their school years and stumbles out into the workforce with little to no marketable skills. Yes, I totally agree that this is a dreadful system. It is cold and spirit crushing. Trouble is, hating it does not make it go away. We live in THIS economy and unless you are part of the silver spoon society you need to earn your means of paying the bills and buying food and clothing.

    My generation (X) had scores of kids continuing onto year 12 and receiving a Higher School Certificate. Most of those kids were simply delaying the inevitable and would have got the same job they ended up with if they left 2 years earlier. Kids that got into trades were completing their 2nd year and earning decent money by then. Kids who were aiming for university were on a different trajectory all together.

    The bulk of us had fun that final summer as if it was school holidays as usual. Come the new year we were confronted with a stark reality: life aint free buddy, are you going to eek by on the dole or are you going to get a job? You are most definitely going to hate that job, and the pay will not be very good – and tough shit! You’re not living here for fucken free; that’s for sure!

    “You are young and life is long

    And there is time to kill today

    And then one day you find

    Ten years have got behind you

    No one told you when to run

    You missed the starting gun”                              

    Time (Pink Floyd)

    Wow! What a bummer. If that’s not enough of a downer, consider this: most of those people who put in the effort and got the better paying jobs probably hate getting up for work too. “It’s work. You’re not meant to love it. That’s why they pay you” as the saying goes.

    The difference being, they get paid a lot more than the average working slob, unless of course that slob has a strong union job and then the balance shifts again. The person with the degree and the debt to go with it might be somewhat uneasy knowing this high school loafer is earning more than them.

    “No one is happy with their job, unless they are DAMN sure they are being paid more than they are worth”

    Andrew Denton