All White Australians Should Be Put Into Detention Camps

When the siren sings and the players collapse in victory and defeat, gallantly shake hands, share elation, finally drop their guard and wear their weariness for all to see, it’s one of the most compellingly team-oriented moments in the sport, a truly widescreen sight, a chance for our focus to peel back from the tense minutiae of action to take in the significance of the result. Instead, what happens? In this great team moment, we focus on one single individual, microphone under chin, so they can say exactly the same thing they always say, exactly the same thing every other player or coach always says, an oil-on-water voice breaking the spell like a glimpsed wedding ring in a chance encounter, reminding us that he was probably a dumb jock at school with a big head.

But that’s OK, because that’s what the public wants. We want to know what he’s thinking. We want to know what you’re thinking, too. You. And you too. And everybody. At all times. We don’t want you to internalize a single fucking thing. TELL US WHAT YOU’RE FEELING RIGHT NOW. If you’re not feeling anything, that doesn’t compute. That’s dead air. That’s not what the public wants. Make shit up. Over emote. Melodramatise. It’s good television. It’s what the public wants. If only we could get rid of those distracting bits of cooking, dancing, singing, then TV shows could just be filled with contestants telling us what they’re feeling right now. Wouldn’t it be great? Come on! Why stop there? Why can’t we mic up people as they’re dying? How’s it feel? What are you feeling right now? If only we didn’t have to actually DO anything in our lives, then we’ve have more time to tell everybody what we’re feeling right now. It’s already out there. Why stop there? Why not create these dialogograms that hover in front of us as we walk the city streets, telling everyone who walks past what we’re feeling right now? Wouldn’t it be great! Think of the product placement marketing potential! It’s not like we haven’t got the technology. It’s out there already! The orgy of information! Get synergised, you fucken luddite, you’re missing out! There’s lines and lines of people already there in the freezing cold with their sleeping bags camping outside the Apple store for tomorrow’s release of the latest app, the app to end all apps, the app that brings the noise, the app that connects everyone, the app that proves how far we’ve come, the app that lets everyone tell everyone what they’re feeling right now. What’s it called? iVuvuzela.

And you know what I fucken hate? People with opinions. At your barbeque: you know what’s wrong with your football team? No, I fucken don’t. Why don’t you tell me? At your workplace: you know what’s wrong with the government? No, I’d never considered it. Do enlighten. In the taxi: you know who I’d vote for in Masturchef? No, but I suspect I’m going to discover it. Opinions. You can get them live, on TV, on the radio, on your phone, in every newspaper, gradually taking the space of “old school” crap like serious reportage, and everywhere online. Opinions by nobodies who haven’t really done anything but have opinions, opinions by people whose only qualification for sharing their opinion is the fact that they have an opinion. What does Forcebook ask you to put in your profile? What is the very single raison d’etre of Twatter? TELL US WHAT YOU’RE FEELING RIGHT NOW. And as for blogs, don’t get me started. Blogs. Opening up the super info highway to endless streams of unwarranted opinion, words and words and more words, precious seconds you’ll never get back, blogs to suck away your life like a girl smoking a cigarette sucking away the suppleness of her skin, blogs and blogs and more blogs, blah blah de fucking blah. Anyone who writes a blog should be put in a detention camp. Anyone who writes a blog should be treated as a war criminal. Anyone who writes a blog –

- hang on… that’s me, isn’t it?

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