Cath's tormenting tweets

Catherine Deveny (pictured). I’ve mentioned her in four previous Farmdoc’s Blog posts [1a, 1b, 1c, 1d] including here [2] where I anoint her my second or third favourite journalist. Why? Because judging by her numerous Age articles she’s irreverent, iconoclastic, funny, edgy, politically incorrect, cheeky, inyerface, authentic, honest and unique. Last Tuesday the Age summarily sacked her because of two irreverent tweets she twittered [3] during last Sunday evening’s Logie award ersatz extravaganza [4]. Impertinent they were; and arguably mildly offensive to some people. But in no way ‘not in keeping with the standards we set at the Age’ – as the Age editor-in-chief pompously opined. His overblown self-congratulatory grandiloquence’s all the more unfathomable as Ms Deveny wasn’t representing the Age at the Logie awards. The rabid right-wing shock jocks – whom she berated here [5] last month, took no time returning the favour. Behold Neil Mitchell’s pious sanctimony in the video at the top of this link [6]. Pardon me while I puke. If you reckon your stomach’s stronger than mine, test it by reading some of the hundreds of Comments at the foot of the same linked page. It’s scary how many weirdos are out there. I’ve no doubt Ms Deveny’s exit leaves the Age more homogeneous and sanitised. And impoverished. Shame on you, Age. I’m sure Ms Deveny’s resilient enough that she won’t let the turkeys get her down. Her employability’s undoubted. I wish her well. And the Age ill.

Catherine and the shock-jocks

The background to today’s post are my following tenets:

1. Apart perhaps from the USA, nowadays there’s little separation between right wing and left wing politics. And the gap’s narrowing.

2. To the extent that there is separation in Australia, I’m more aligned to the left.

3. Yet I’m ambivalent because the right’s more pro-Israel.

4. As our population increases, especially in cities, so does the need for social inclusion and tolerance.

5. This is more likely to be provided by left wing ideology. And vice versa.

6. And it’s more likely if women were in power. And vice versa.

7. So it’s no coincidence that most – if not all – so-called radio shock jocks are right wing, and male.

Next Monday in Victoria, an easy listening music radio station, 3MP [1], will reincarnate as MTR 1377 – Melbourne Talk Radio [2]. Its on-air voices will be almost 100% male. And they’re shock-jocks. No doubt about it. Of course its aim’s to sell advertising and thus make a profit – the bigger the better. But the inevitable, and to the MTR management presumably collateral, social ramifications are likely to be entirely negative and harmful. Catherine Deveny [3] (pictured), one of my journalist heroes, wrote – incisively as usual – of all this in yesterday’s Age [4]. Will her article make any difference? No. Do I care? Yes. Ho hum.

farmdoc's blog post number 676

In my life (so far) of over 62½ years, I’ve witnessed many unforeseeable changes. Today’s post’s about one of them. Last Monday I wrote of our Canadian friends Mark and Maya who recently visited us along with their (pictured) children Marina (aka my sous-chef) and Mateus (aka Pug, and The Boy Wonder). I’ve known for some time that the children’s surname is their mother’s maiden name. I’d never come across this before. When they were here in Mole Creek, I forgot to ask Mark and Maya why they’d done this. Two days ago I discussed it with Sweetheart Vivienne. Then, lo and behold, in yesterday’s Age Catherine Deveny wrote this article about precisely this topic. Talk about synchronicity. When I was a lad, all children were assigned their father’s surname. Routinely. No ifs or buts. I assume this ritual continued until recently. For example my granddaughters, born between 2000 and 2007, all have their father’s surname (albeit their mother’s maiden name as their middle name). I just don’t know how I’d feel if any of my daughters’ children had their mothers’ maiden name (i.e. my surname) as theirs. In one way it’d be nice because as the father of daughters my surname wouldn’t otherwise make it to the next generation. But a child’s surname being its mother’s maiden name’s still strange to me – even though Ms Deveny’s article helped explain the rationale. Again I feel like a sheep man in cattle country. Ho hum.

farmdoc's blog post number 648

Mole Creek’s in the Meander Valley municipality [1]. A couple of years ago, the elected geniuses in the Meander Valley Council and/or their masters the Council bureaucrats, decided it’d be grand if each town and village in the municipality had its own slogan. I can’t even comprehend why they decided that. But decide it they did. And, what’s more, they also decided what the slogans would be. Didn’t ask the ratepayers/residents, did they? Why would they? They know best. All hail them. And bugger us. Anyway it came to pass that, as the photograph tells shows, Mole Creek was anointed with the slogan ‘Magic Above and Below’. I hate it. My dictionary defines magic as ‘an illusory feat; considered supernatural by naive observers’. Neither the Mole Creek village and surrounds (above ground) nor the Mole Creek caves (below ground) is illusory. Or supernatural. Both are beautiful, to be sure. Exceedingly so. But not illusorily and not supernaturally. Maybe the slogan’s okay for boneheads who don’t bother to think what it means. I can’t second-guess them. Apropos of all this, I love this tongue-in-cheek look at town slogans by Catherine Deveny in yesterday’s Age [2]. As I wrote on 4 December 2008, she’s one of my favourite journalists [3]. And nothing’s changed since then. At least there’s one person in the world – apart from me – that thinks town slogans are stupid. I’m so relieved.

farmdoc's blog post number 238

Regular readers of Farmdoc’s Blog will know my favourite hobbyhorse is the Formula 1 Grand Prix in Albert Park. In fact I’ve mentioned it in seven previous posts. So the current one is the eighth. Year by year over the last decade or more, I’ve noticed that regrettably the length and depth of Australian newspaper and magazine articles has gradually diminished, and investigative journalism has all but disappeared. (Incidentally I blame managements more than journalists.) But every now and again I come across an item that restores my faith – usually because it’s iconoclastic, and a bit cheeky too. And, I must admit, I enjoy items like that because I agree with them. An example appeared in the Age yesterday. It’s about the Grand Prix, and you can read it here. Tracee Hutchison (pictured) has written a bobby dazzler. It’s an eloquent and tongue-in-cheek version of my 5 July 2008 post. And I savour every delicious word of it. So I’m compelled to add Tracee to my list of heroes, alongside her Age colleague Catherine Deveny. I doubt it’s a coincidence that, excluding Thomas Friedman who’s a genius, my two favourite journalists are women. I think women have a different way of looking at the world than men. And as an honorary female, I like that way. So keep up the superb work, Tracee - and Catherine.