Culture belongs in yogurt

Hello Fans,

Well you can't say that we here at The Show With No Name blog-a-ma-doodle
don't bust out the freshest jive since Will Smiff left Bel Air.

I, (and by that I mean me), can break it to you (etc.) that our beloved B-Town is due to get a new Arts Precinct within the near future (geologically speaking).
The juicy prune goss is that the Old Railway building (down in the old Railway Yard, on Old Railway St, in Railwaystopol) has been ear marked, (like a wandering Beagle), to be turned into some sort of magic playground of imagination, so the residents of our town can git along and look at some purdy pictures of gum trees on a widescreen digital format.

Sources close to the Proj. can reveal that it's some sort of State initiative and (in the infinite wisdom of the bureaucrat) it's been decided it's best if the whole thing is keep a secret from everybody.
As you read, development/funding/consultation etc. is being undertaken by industry profs who wouldn't have a clue as to where the Albert St bogs were even if they were having a shit in Albert St. at the bogs.

Which is tremendous stuff. Just what we need!
Another Arts Precinct designed by people who know about nothing but Art! Yay!
Who know nothing about Ballarat and it's curly inhabitants! Whoopee!
And probably find the fact they don't have hot cold and cold running wank in their rooms (like they have in yon big cities) a thrilling brush with colonial life! Gasp!

I suppose it will follow on from the fabulous success of the Camp St Arts precinct.
My heavens...hasn't that changed out cultural landscape?

Indeed there's nothing like heading down to Camp St, gliding along the glitteringly lit paths, watching the beautiful displays of local sculpture and endeavouring screevers, sitting down to be tempted with the fine and luxurious foods from our district and then being swamped for choice as to whether or not to enjoy the world of film at the University's Independent Cinema or to head off to the Ol' Helen McPherson McSmith McBuggeryTheatre for some excellent type of wonder music or challenging new theatre, then shaking one's rumpa to some imported boogaloo from interstate at the heated outdoor Venue-ma-tron and truly feeling the life of this funky town pump through the floorboards till the sun comes up, so we can all troop happily along, hand in hand, to the French Breakfast restaurant where it's always Croissant o'clock.

Why, we're spoiled for choice here that to that Sparkling Beacon of Wonder!
When someone says "What's going on Dude?" those two bounteous words "Camp St" are all you need.
It's the happening place Daddy-O!
Why the millions of dollars thrown at the re-vamp have paid off in spades!
I can't think of a more happening joint, right through the week, but especially on the weekend.
The variety! The inventiveness! The ever changing surprisery! The Goodwill! The sheer magnificence of it all!

Berlin can go to buggery. Tokyo's for tossers. New York is Old Hat.

Camp St!

It's got the buzz, friend.
Up there with Beale St, Soho and Carnival!

So yah-boo sucks to those nay sayers who said "The the entire joint was a poorly designer three legged white elephant that nobody would ever go to and would primarily be used as a walk through and spew stop for late night alcho monkeys"
.
A big bite yer bum to those negative types who said "The University is run by a bunch of nepotistic fossils, who's tenure means they can be a bunch of incompetent hacks, grimly ignoring the 21st century and not giving a shit about their work reaching any further than payday, who've never ever been interested in a wider community (what would those philistines know anyway)...and run a third rate bag of guff Uni"

Go to buggery for those who said "Helen McPherson McDonalds Theatre? What? Where? Who?"

Up ya clack to those who skyted "With so many musicians and theatre types supposedly hanging around, why is it we never see any thing good? Why are there no independent companies producing modern work? Why are the same old hacks producing shit that was crap in the 40's?"

Go to steaming Hell those never satisfied types who said "Another bloody Arts precinct? What in the fuzzy muffin would we need one of those for, when our current Arts Precinct, which was touted to be a fuckin Mecca of Western culture's greatest achievements, is nothing more that a huge albino mammoth, squatting like a bored cane toad, inhabited by nitwit kids and senile staff, ignored by the locals, laughed at by visitors, a place that begrudgingly squeezes out a small shiny nugget of dancy poop (to be watched by the people who are studying Dancy Poop Squeeze 101 and associated relatives) twice a year and is nothing less than a complete and utter fucking debacle that has successfully alienated anyone who could have breathed some life into it and whose only redeeming feature is it's ability to relax while the icy cock of corporate culture jams another inch in?"

Ha! You were wrong. All of you.

Camp St!
Wow!

And on a personal note, I'd also like to point out the fabulous success of the Music Festival held at Sovereign Hill last year.
A triumph of planning!
Why putting a festival in a rickety old joint where you can't touch anything was genius! Charging people their superannuation to see the cream of 80's folk really made me feel like I'd sacrificed for culture.
Getting the kids up to run around in the land of rusty spikes was a touch of brilliance!
And placing that roped off area for councillors, developers and associated cronies in the middle of the festival made me thankful that people (superior in all ways to myself and most others) were generous enough to let me wistfully gaze upon their grace and allowed me to furtively photograph them enjoying their trays of delicious sandwiches.

Indeed, there's nothing that says "Eureka Spirit" to me than spending a mortgage payment to gaze at the musical past and give silent and respectful regard to my betters who can proudly say "The Birthplace of democracy means I'm free to say get the fuck away from me you filthy fucking urchin. I bet you can't even name Max's merits!".

So....New Arts precinct....
I've said it once and I'll say it again......
When it comes to building Arts and Culture that reach out to plain old dumb bunnies like myself, that subtly and amazingly make me proud to live here, then Ballarat is number one.
The Big Cheese so to speak.

With the Wonder of Camp St and the Folks responsible for incredible Events at Sovvy Hill (for which the financial figures speak for themselves!) at the Helm, how could this new Art Precinct Endeavour be anything but the envy of the World?

Face it.
All past achievements have been met with resounding success and the next time you pass a group of carolling singers who warm your heart with generous song, while strolling your way to The Camp St Art precinct in the Christmas like hope of being thrilled to bits again by Art (or the twinkly Elves of creation), you can squeeze your honey tight and give thanks that you don't live in a place where our poor ignorant forebears had to eat a crap Italian sandwich, sink a jug of cheap hooch and try to con onto something with a pulse at a crowded, pestilent nightspot run by a belligerent Mafia in order to have fun.

We should all thank our lucky stars.........

All for now


Mick "Does anyone have the Events calendar for the Pre-mix King?" Dog