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Urban Telegraph - Where Aussie Culture Gets Urbanised

 
Want to know how well Aussie culture is doing at the moment? Want to know some interesting things about our past? Think Aussie culture needs to start updating itself for a more relevant future? Then this is the place for you. Welcome to The Urban Telegraph.

Urban Telegraph - August 2008


"Free Tibet!"

The slogan that appeared to become the unofficial catchcry for many westerners has been nothing if not pervasive over the past three weeks or so. There have been no shortage of academics, Tibetan exiles and permanently pissed-off protesters willing to shout it from the rooftops, but what Media organisations covering the games are really clamouring for is criticism of China coming from athletes themselves.

Just why this is the case is somewhat puzzling for a number of reasons. Firstly, as an olympic athlete, the chances are you will be pretty well looked after by the host nation - whoever that may be - for the duration of the games, and would have precious little to complain about personally. Secondly, these people are elite athletes, not foreign polic'y specialists, and have most likely been spending the time before the games preparing their bodies for competition, rather than reading up on China's human rights record.


Now there may be a case for arguing that sport cannot completely be removed from politics - think of the sporting boycott of South Africa during apartheid, for example. However, China is a slightly different situation from South Africa, in that it is territorial integrity, rather than racism that seems to be at issue here.

Of course, a human rights violation is a human rights violation, regardless of the circumstances, and there is no doubt that China has a long way to go in improving things like freedom of speech and freedom of the media. Nonetheless, it is hard not to feel that there are subtle elements of western superiority complex at play here - in other words, that we have a right and responsibility to shed light on the situation in China, borne out of our supposed cultural superiority.


Consider this excerpt from a newspaper article as an example:

'As it was, from his powerful platform, IOC boss Jacques Rogge eschewed commenting on the two 60 year-old women who were given one years' hard labour for protesting on the streets of Beijing and instead chided Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt for his supposedly "unsporting" celebration.'

(Richard Hinds, "Iceland's fantastik silver", The Age, August 24, 2008)

Now while it may sound severe to us that merely the act of protesting can earn a sentence of a year's hard labour, the way in which this comment is phrased makes it seem like the Olympics should be some sort of trojan horse; a means by which to get into China and proceed to display their social backwardness to the world.

I am hardly suggesting that China's human rights record is without blemish, or that we shouldn't be working to improve that, but it seems that to constantly be looking to criticise the Chinese government, without offering it any kind of support is going to be counterproductive. The Olympic Games appeared to bring out a nationalistic streak in the Chinese people, in the same way that any other country would be proud to host such a major event, but there is now a dnager that they will look to the west for some kind of recognition of their achievements and find only a sea of criticism. Rather than encourage them to continue pressure on their government to modernise and reform, this could in fact make the average person more resistant to change if they see it to be merely done at the behest of western countries trying to interfere with their affairs.

So while we shouldn't be totally silent on the human rights situation in China, we should perhaps be slightly more tactful in the way we go about commenting on it. After all, if this is not at all to do with some kind of subconscious colonial attitude about 'bringing culture and civilisation' to China, why then do we never hear about "freedom for South Ossetia?"
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"is that a lamppost in your pocket?"

August 22nd 2008 07:57
phallic


I sit, trembling in front of my computer screen. It should be the simplest task. All I have to do is click the mouse and open my inbox, but I physically can't seem to do it. Ok, maybe that's a lie. I do have ten working fingers, but right now they simply don't want to co-operate. How has it got to this stage, you might ask?

In a word: spam.

Not just any spam, mind you. I'm well versed in the techniques used by Mr. Robert Mboko to solicit my assistance in handling the money so graciously left to him by his second aunt fourteen times removed. I also know that I can't have won $1 Million in a lottery I never entered. But there is one kind of spam that still strikes fear right into the deepest recesses of my heart:

"Would you like to be up to five times longer?''

"Give her what she really wants!''

"Enhance your performance!''

These subject lines jump out at me from the screen, grabbing hold of my thoughts and twisting them this way and that, but without fail leading me to the conclusion that I must somehow be... "inadequate".

This is not the only time I have to confront this problem. Giant billboards collar me while I'm driving, asking me if I want longer lasting sex - as if to admonish the obviously rather paltry amount of time I usually spend at the crease. When forced to use a public urinal, I sometimes have fleeting visions of the guy next to me chuckling away as he begins the laborious process of extricating the monstrous appendage he has been forced to wind around his leg and tape in place, lest it drag along the ground as he walks.

Even in my own home I am a prisoner, with late night TV ads reassuring me that if my performance is somewhat sub-par, the Advanced Medical Institute has a variety of treatments that can cater to my every need. I turn off the box and try to sleep, but I’m haunted a recurring nightmare: I’m running the 100 metres final at the Olympics, and in the lane next to me is Matt Shirvington.

In short, it's hard not to feel like I should be dancing around behind a piano, playing the Rach III (and not with my hands), before embarking on a marathon session of lovemaking with a blonde Swedish porn star who can barely make out my identifying features past my flagpole-length manhood. And as if that's not enough, when I am too old to achieve this feat of my own volition I'm supposed to take a hearty dose of Viagra and repeat above process.

But let's be realistic about this for a moment. Do I really want to be "up to five times longer?'' Surely that would be highly impractical at best, and at worst leave me looking like someone in the Star Trek makeup department stuck my tail on back-to-front as a practical joke. Will "enhancing my performance'' in this manner truly "give her what she really wants?''

Sure, if she is some kind of sex-starved plaything, prone to regular bouts of nymphomania and blessed with an abnormally high pain threshold - not a description applicable to the majority of women. In fact, I would hazard a guess that for many women or gay men, the prospect of this kind of enhancement would be - after the novelty value wore off - about as welcome as a dose of the clap.

Reassuring as this thought is, it still does not entirely solve my dilemma. True, a number of studies have concluded that men frequently overestimate what is an 'average size', and there is plenty of evidence to suggest that in the bedroom at least, we men are not quite the wild animals we may like to believe. Yet, in the blokey Australian culture of mateship, there are certainly few worse fates than to be labelled ‘soft' – a tag usually reserved for those who fail to excel in key displays of masculinity, such as on the sporting field, or drinking in the pub.

While it may not always be consciously used in a sexual context, its use as a derogatory term stems from this meaning, i.e. someone who is unable to perform sexually. The obvious implication, therefore, is that your virility determines how much of a ‘man’ you are. Indeed, this concept is so ingrained in our society that to fight it seems almost futile. It is quite simply a case of sink or swim, and as the saying goes, if I want to be successful, I must project the image of success.

What this situation calls for is an action plan of Extreme Makeover proportions. The foil-wrapped cucumber down the pants, a la Derek Smalls from Spinal Tap, could definitely be a good place to start, and perhaps some T-shirts with slogans such as “cut me off at the knees and call me tripod”. I’ll start wearing those boxers with lame jokes about ”packing a large trunk”, or perhaps even make a point of espousing the benefits of going ‘commando’ to allow breathing space.

Sure, all these things make no practical difference whatsoever, but then isn’t that what this issue is all about? This is not about being practical; it’s about the manly image I project in society! Those idiots who sign themselves up for surgery to be bigger, faster, longer and stronger are missing the whole point. Size doesn’t matter, only the perception of size. Really, it’s all just one big game of bluff!

Of course, life would be so much easier if we ‘average’ men didn’t have to worry about this elaborate game of deception, but as they say in the classics, if you can’t beat them, join them.

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The true history of sport

August 7th 2008 03:21



No matter which part of the world you are in, sport is an obsession. Whether it is Football in Europe or South America, Cricket in India, Aussie Rules/Rugby in Australia, or Sumo in Japan, there is no escaping the passion we all hold for some kind of sport. But how did we come up with this concept and how do we define a ‘sport’? In the past, the answer was fairly simple: a sport was anything that involved a ball, goals and big, boofy blokes in tight shorts. However, if we briefly trace the historical development of sport for a moment, we will see how these pre-requisites have changed significantly over time.

The first challenge to this conventionally accepted wisdom came during the pre-first wave feminist era, in late-Victorian Britain. Many women, discontent with their lot as domestic ornaments, began to rebel against the establishment by participating in organized sport disguised as men. Eventually, this led to the grudging acceptance of women in sport, and now we even see, somewhat ironically, examples of male tennis players competing disguised as females.

No sooner had women been accepted into the sporting arena when another significant challenge arose, regarding the notion that sport must involve a ball. At first, the idea that dwarf-tossing could be considered a sport was laughed off by the establishment, but after a court challenge that went all the way to the Privy council, the International Dwarf-Tossers Association (IDTA) got its way and the sport of dwarf-tossing was officially recognised. As an interesting footnote to this particular story, once usage of the word ‘dwarf’ became politically incorrect, the IDTA was faced with a dilemma as to what they should choose as their new title. As “The International Short-Statured People Tossers Association” was deemed to be a bit of a mouthful, the governing body eventually settled on the shorter “International Tossers Association”. The resultant 94% drop in membership suggests that perhaps in hindsight the former option would have been more sensible.

The acceptance of dwarf-tossing as an official sport had extremely wide-ranging implications for a range of other pastimes. Activities such as archery, fencing, wrestling and rhythmic gymnastics – which in the past were merely ways for men to show off their athletic prowess – now became ‘sports’ eligible for inclusion in the Olympic Games. This forced the IOC to relax their once-strict eligibility criteria and (after a lengthy naming rights battle with the makers of a hit series of porn movies) they adopted the mantra “faster, higher, longer”, which now is the basic criteria for entry into the Olympics.
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