Monday, September 22, 2008

Equine bong art, footy players with dicks out and glassing in Black Hill

Ah yes... in the spirit of the Enforced Culture of Inclusiveness that's all pervasive in our increasingly heated world, this week Victorians are expected to care about who wins a popularity contest amongst football players

Brownlow night is a chance to step out of your everyday world into the make believe

Excitingly, this contest has been expanded to their wives and girlfriends, who realise there are a few brief years where they too can be famous for nothing more than getting their tits out at a paid-for pissup before years of slow decline, the inevitable slide from the social pages after their meal ticket does a knee/groin/shoulder, the lessened interest from Woman's Day in where they're getting their hair done, and then they find themselves as just another jaded, coked-out former glamour who gets glassed while waiting for the guy to turn up with the pills.

It's a grand tradition, only just begun.

Regardless - here in Ballarat there are other celebrations apart from the ones where massed groups of blokes stand around drinking bourbon, watching boxing on widescreen and asking where all the pussy is. We call it 'taking the piss'. It's been going on for years - and here you can listen to a couple of descriptions about the folk culture of B-Town. The Art. And the Footy Players. You may remember an incident with a rubber marital aid and Brendon Nissan-Fevola. Our dear Len has the insight to it - and MickDog has his own anecdote of what really happens inside Ballarat Football clubs at a pie night.

Meanwhile - news that someone was glassed at Black Hill has only further enhanced our basic political point that the kids are not being taught the proper amount of respect they should be showing in licensed venues. It used to be the tribal call of "You, me, carpark NOW"...

Ballarat's first radio podcast goes live

Step aside, 3BA bunnies and your automated computer jukebox system on weekends! Move over, earnest government-funded ABC types and your Consternation Hour! Ballarat's shiniest radio show - putting bums on radio since 2006 - is now up and shakin' a leg in the online stylee.

The Committee For Not Having Fun In Ballarat continues its deathless battle against creativity in this town (no, Roland, wiping your dick on the Southern Cross flag is not creative) - and my freakly newspaper the B-Town Times tells me the Sovereign Hill Music Festival has changed its lineup so ONLY tired, jaded hasbeens from Mushroom get work (hey Deb Conway! That's you!).

The Show With No Name - normally broadcasting live from a loungeroom hideout on Tuesday nights from 6 - is now pumpin' like the latest Crazy Frog ringtone in living mp3 colour. We're excited. Call the doctor.

There's a shiiteload more to come - due to popular demand the Equine Bong Art segment is currently being rolled in a herb and cheese crust for baking until perfection. Play your cards right and we might start posting the music as well... who could say?

Dirty Frank says "The Show With No Name puts a lump in my pants everytime I hear the sounds of dirty rock and roll and unshaven bums slapping on my radio."

And who are we to judge the man's taste?