* I’m not certain this was by me. I really can’t recall! It’s got elements of my style, but I’d bet Alison Humphry had a huge red hand in this.
Half an hour before handing this piece to the Metior Editor, Pelican’s Ed, Neil Wurmall, received the sad news that your very own ADAM CONNORS saw that his excessive verbage was better utilised at the front line rather than sustaining the balance of power in a minority newspaper. UWA morned the loss while the Murdoch crew laughed it up down the MU Tav, led from the front in the ‘boat race’ by the Cheshire Cat grinnery of Metior’s chuffed Bec Chau. What could it be that motivates Adam’s desire to leave goodness behind in search of evil, this loss of innocence, this turncoat rapscallionism? POWER! HUGS! METIOR’S BETTER LAYOUT! Because, really, The Best Of Intentions doesn’t pay the bills.
‘The Best Of Intentions’ is a concept borne only by the young, the volunteer organisations and the deluded. And, maybe, up until the day Democrat leader Cheryl Kernot calculated that her 17 years of experience in Polyfilla politics was better suited to bringing down governments, minority political parties. All of the above share(d) the same big-hearted bombast of ‘giving themselves’ to attain a greater good for all, or at least an alternative from the mainstream – AKA the economic imperative. This, Cheryl demonstrates yet again, is only a fleeting phase.
From the moment you sign up for 3-6 years of undergraduate tertiary education, your Best Of Intentions are pretty much doomed. So many times I have seen tree-hugging, dreadlocked peaceniks start their Environmental Science degrees with a concern for desalinising our urban swampland and four year’s later their CALM card-carrying butt is immersed in the same swamp, hammering in pickets, staking out the future outpipe of a major oil and gas project.
Is there little choice as the Australian government demolishes the funding of alternative thought – Humanities – and facilities, like Murdoch University’s Australian Cooperative Research Centre for Renewable Energy, because they have plenty of graduates ready to sell their soul for a quick buck, the cannonfodder for traditional heavy (and well paying) industry. Why do we need alternatives when the Big Guy already has everything under control? And can pay for it? And what good are high marks in Environmental Ethics when Environmental Business is being funded profusely, privately, and clad in chrome and glass at the front of campus?
Monash University’s Tent City, otherwise known as Monash Rebel University, is currently eroding its own institution’s power by offering alternative courses at its HQ in front of one of the main buildings. Rebel lecturers come down and give lessons on the lawn, munching on a tofu chunk, visibly thumbing their noses to admin and fulfilling the Democrat role – erosion through a whinging sneer. There is a place for this, as Cheryl’s 17 years showed. Who’s on top now, punk.
Posturing, giving the forks, stickin’ it to the man, is completely useless without some semblance of alternative direction or even individual bravado – a real Ralph-Macchio-Karate-Kid kinda oomph – that we see the Democrats fulfill time immemorial: dedicated losers, fervent 3rd placers, scatty crumb gluttens. GO THE ‘CRATS! Their prize is just being the niggling bloody swingers which could be Arthur or Martha at their own whim.
Thus nothing has dismayed and embarrassed a nation so much, in my memory, as to realise suddenly that a fence-sitting part-timer could really be our future PM. Except when peanut butter was contaminated and withdrawn from shelves everywhere. There she was, under our noses and bringing up the rear for 17 years, all while the tabloids fawned over the league players. Loyalty and sorority are held in the highest regard in modern times, so high-level defection is by far the best gut punch. But at a price.
Not many people voluntarily declare to go the hard route. Cheryl was a fantastic loser, far from the voter confidence of the soft, fat and waged Australian. Now, joining The Bastards, she may bring a whiff of hard earned clout to the game, but it ain’t exactly a [sic. Mmmm, I suppose I finished this direct to plate?!]
Maybe the time will come when an environmental impact assessment for a major new development is passed down to a group of first year students wandering through the bush for several hours, their texta squiggles and fluro pen marks being the only defence between bull finch and bulldozer. It’s not for me to tattle …
Originally in Metior, the campus newspaper of Murdoch University. Edited at various stages herein by Bec Chau and Chris McLean.
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