Where common courtesy comes to die
You might think that I’ve been using my public transport posts solely as a means of ranting about the types of people I don’t like.
Don’t get me wrong, that’s a large part of it, but occasionally I like to think I can also do a public service and examine the unspoken rules that exist within this unique social subset of a couple of hundred people crammed together for an hour or so.
As well as identifying the assholes that we all have to endure, sometimes I’ll try my best to provide you with helpful information so that you don’t end up as one of those assholes yourself.
TODAY’S LESSON: Relinquishing your seat
It’s early morning and you’ve got a seat! YAY! Even better than that, you find yourself surrounded by decent human beings who aren’t displaying the traits I’ve previously mentioned. What a beautiful world! Suddenly the doors open (hopefully when the train has stopped) and you’re confronted with the issue of whether or not to give up your seat. OMFG WHAT DO YOU DO?
Fuggen owyagoan mate? Straya!
It’s that time of year again, when a large chunk of the population get way too drunk, wave their flags and engage in casual racism thinking it’s the same as patriotism, and another large chunk write leftist articles, go on protest marches and/or put up memes and too-long-to-read-posts on social media to show not just how progressive they are, but how bad we should all feel for revelling in a day off from work, because of things a bunch of 18th-century Englishmen did and that we had no control over.
Then there’s the other group, and dare I say the most Australian of all – those who just don’t give a shit.
That’s right, it’s Australia Day/Invasion Day/Citizens Day/January 26/Tuesday/Whatever the fuck you need to call it to feel better about yourself and the world.
I honestly didn’t expect the first instalment of my contempt for pricks on public transport to receive much attention, but it got more than anything else I’ve written for about a year. It helps to know that I’m not alone in my unabashed hatred for these public transport pricks.
Did you honestly think that there were only two types? Ha! I present to you now the long-awaited (2 days) sequel, featuring even more of those fuckwits we all love to hate.
The gates of hell (Photo: Daily Telegraph)
It’s the start of a new year, and after a decent break I’ve re-entered the joyous population of commuters forced together in the close confines of a train to get to the jobs that Clover Moore doesn’t think exist for people from the Western Suburbs.
Living a further 20-30 minutes out West than I used to both sucks and has its advantages. Yes, I get a seat, and the ride gives me a bit of extra time to go on rants such as these. Sometimes I’m even lucky enough to get the single seat so I don’t have to endure the constant struggle for leg and arm space we all enjoy when sharing a seat with someone else.
But of course, this return has seen a re-invigoration of my contempt for people at large. It’s only been a week but I’m already painstakingly aware of these people and why it is they should be put to death, or at least heavily sedated.
I don’t want you to think I’m just a petty whinger. I am, but I’ll also offer solutions to the problems if you feel remotely the same as me. Continue reading
Like the last few seasons of The Simpsons, a Netflix program being animated doesn’t necessarily qualify it as a comedy. Bojack Horseman, while full of funny moments, edges far closer to drama than comedy half the time.
Coming from a comedian who is as overtly cynical (but still hilarious) as Bill Burr, perhaps I should have expected the same from F is for Family. Watching his stand-up you note that he’s not someone who necessarily hates life but hates what society has become and the way people are, and he’s not shy to admit it. Do you have to know Burr and his take on life to appreciate the show? Not necessarily, but I think it helps. Continue reading
Compared to the enormity of Quentin Tarantino’s most recent projects Django Unchained and Inglorious Basterds, the premise of The Hateful Eight seems consciously constrained by comparison. Eight people spending the night in ‘Minnie’s Habedashery’ – a quaint little cabin out in the sticks – to take shelter from a worsening blizzard.
That’s one of the most prominent features of The Hateful Eight; gone are the expansive settings, ensemble casts and show-stealing Christoph Waltz that have featured heavily in Tarantino’s last two epics – although we do see the return of frequent Tarantino crew members Samuel L. Jackson, Michael Madsen and Tim Roth. Continue reading