Every year I see advertisements for the football finals and then the preliminary finals and then the grand finals. And it is all a fraud and a bitter disappointment – they come back again the following year. It never IS final…
In some respects it has grown a little easier here in Western Australia with the passing years – the WA Football League has taken a back seat…somewhere beyond the Black Stump…to the Australian Football League and the flood of multiple games played at ovals around the town on Saturday afternoons has tapered off to a little dribble. Of course there is the televised AFL footy game in the afternoon and this is blared over screens in every pub, but at least the roads are clearer.
We pay the price when the game comes to Subiaco Oval, and will pay a worse one when the new Burswood stadium is built, but it is not as frequent as when we had a dozen teams in the city. I pin my hopes for happiness on the fact that the land that will house the new stadium was once a riverside rubbish dump and there is a possibility that subsidence or methane venting will cut the fans down.
There is also the consolation of knowing that Melbourne has more of this than we do – more fanaticism, more expense, more disruption. Possibly more methane…
And what about middle culture? Why is it ignored? What does the bourgeoisie have to do to get a little respect?
Try saying the word ” bourgeois ” in any social group and see what happens. Do it – if you possibly can- in a dead flat monotone and a context that hints no judgement of the actual word. It is the nearest thing that you can do these days to dropping a hand grenade into a koi pond.
No-0ne likes the bourgeoisie. No-one respects them. No-one has any faith in their tastes, judgement, intelligence, or morals. None of their history is pointed to with pride. No-one wants to admit to knowing them and certainly no-one wants to be considered to belong to the group. The reason for this is simple: no-one knows exactly what the word means – it is as nebulous as the word ” sin ” or the word ” goodness ” and no-one really knows how to use it Not until now. But this all changes – the Backstabbers Guild Of Australia will provide that definition and a clear guide to the whole concept. Bourgeoisism will come of age.
BOURGEOIS: Middle class – the one that the peasant owes money to. Oddly enough, also the one that the lord owes money to. A social creditor, without being a supporter of Social Credit.
You may also add capitalist in there somewhere. In any event the bourgeois is in a position that raises the jealousy and ire of everyone else for two reasons: They have property and they have independence. You might not think the latter when you see the extent to which rules are demanded by the peasants and imposed by the lords on the basis of ownership. There is a commonality in both high and low – they want that property but can’t quite figure out how to get at it.
The bourgeoisie is derided for their taste in clothing, architecture, music, and literature. No-one thinks well of them for what they choose, though in most cases the highs and lows will try to emulate them when they can. The most infuriating thing about them is they can pretty well have what they like, because they can pay for it. Those who can’t or won’t regard this as a reminder of their failings.
But the thing that should really make peasant and lord angry is the realisation that most of the actual productive thinking – as opposed to the military posturing of king and indolence of pawn – comes from the bourgeois and their propensity to do more than people have done before. They might want to profit, but at least something other than battles and beer barrels come of it.
Or to put it in more refined terms; the upper classes cause shit, the lower classes do shit-all, and the middle classes do shit and make shit.
” A Rainy Sunday In Cannington ” is not exactly the title of a show-stopping Broadway tune. Even given full Eurovision treatment, it is unlikely to get in the semi-finals…Yet it was as much fun as any exhibition could be. Here are photos of the day, and you can pore or gloss over them as you like. The aficionados will know what they are seeing and the rest of the populace can occupy themselves with looking at the enthusiasts and shaking their heads…
It was fun to see the wheelers and dealers circling each other’s wallets as well. It is quite reminiscent of the camera markets in Leederville…
Yesterday was the first time I got to exhibit a model diorama at the West Australian Model Collector’s Club…and it was a good experience.
Dropping into a fresh milieu can be a daunting thing, but the members of the club made me feel welcome, and my display was easy to set up. It encourages me to try my hand at further shows.
I’m not a seller of toy cars. I’m barely a seller of anything these days, unless you count cheesy humour – but I did get a chance to show off what I do to an audience that knows what it is looking at. As any artistic person will tell you, that is the most valuable thing of all. You may not be liked, but you are understood.
I think they liked the display of McConnell Beach and Muzz Buzz. These are two dioramas…or snapshots of life…that I have created with my 1:18th scale cars and a buildings. They are both uniquely Western Australian and as such can be readily recognised. They resonated with all the visitors at the fair. I think this was reason I chose them out of all the other dioramas available – the ease of social access.
Later in the year I will try another club and another exhibition – and the more difficult task of showing dioramas of a different country and time. I am counting on the universality of western experience to fill in gaps of perception for the people who see Mangina Motors and the Tomahawk Cafe.
If it seems to work, I will forge ahead with Crestline Drive and Mission…my slices of life in Spokane, Washington and Calgary, Alberta in the 50’s. If not, I will choose a local subject from Victoria or a country town in WA.
Did I have a good time today? Yes, I did. Did I buy some new cars? Yes, I did…though they were the bargain sort rather than the premium offerings. I have an airbrush and the desire to make my cars look real rather than fabulous. I am not daunted by beaters.
All in all, I think that I shall be very happy with the WAMCC.
PS: My vote for the best in show was the Muppet Movie display. That man has style!
Before you take exception to the title, remember that it is a direct quote from Lewis Carroll and is under the protection of Victorian literature and modern English teachers. Robert Crumb may have given it a different twist, but I assure you I have no idea what he was talking about.
I my case I am musing cheerfully upon a dinner eaten in a posh restaurant in Sydney that started with wine, included very large and juicy prawns, and finished with superb coffee. It also finished with a bill that was half of what it would have been in the local toot toot tavern in my home suburb in Perth. I live in Bull Creek but rarely go to eat at the pricier places in Mosman Park or Subiaco. I tried going there once and reading the prices of the menus but they were so high I got a nose bleed and had to come home…
So why is superb in Sydney so cheap? The rents for their premises cannot be less that those in Perth and they have minimum wage laws there as well as in WA. Is it really related to what was seen as a WA mining boom? You know, before it became the mining bust. And the prices of food paid to the growers plummeted…
Perhaps they do not catch prawns in the waters off Western Australia – perhaps they are all imported from New South Wales. Or Alice Springs.
Perhaps we are being done like the proverbial dinner, but at a higher price…
I have often wondered if you could make a decent income selling a do-it-yourself blasphemy kit by mail order. I’m not entirely sure what would be included in the box – because let’s face it – there so many different gods that seem to be able to take offence – but I am sure there will be people in various religious organisations who can advise me.
I am prepared to accept the fact that it will be a difficult product to sell in certain markets. Saudi Arabia for one…Arkansas for another. Ireland seems to have laws against it, though I suspect that they are only concerned that it may affect the quality of the Guinness. If that is actually the case I would be loathe to risk it there.
I am uncertain about another aspect of the business; why an omniscient and omnipotent being should need protection from something as frail as a human voice or pen. Indeed, why does the Divinity ( of whatever stripe ) not strike the blasphemer dead with lightning, or volcanos, or goldfish…instead of relying upon priests, mullahs, rabbis, and Irish courts to do the punishment? A good public lightninging would do more for public relations than a cartload of writs.
Of course it has been pointed put that anti-blasphemy laws are really there to prevent distress to humans who don’t want their invisible friend in the sky sneered at. In that they are kind, but I am wondering if they would be as kind to believers of different religions – protecting their invisible friends as well. I suspect not, given that the adherents of one friend generally try to slaughter the adherents of another friend, and frequently succeed. The invisible friends never seem to step in to prevent it…one wonders whether or not they actually enjoy seeing it take place. Is there a rather cruel reality show taking place on Divine Television Network and the contestants are winning coffins…?
I must investigate the business of blasphemy kits further – selling them may be a simple as mailing out religious texts…
A chance remark over coffee last year alerted me to the existence of a new old bookshop in Sydney. This isn’t a rare sort of business in a large city, but there are degrees of good in the trade and it pays to investigate whenever you can.
Gould’s Book Arcade – King Street in Newtown. Not all that far from one edge of the University of Sydney and served by an at-the-door bus from outside the Central railway station. Could not have been easier to find.
One big open door and then a maw of shelved books – ground floor and three-side mezzanine. I had been given to believe that it would be a maelstrom of paper stacks on the floor, but not so; the staff have been assiduously racking the stock into the metal shelves and putting up divisional signs. I was directed to the section I wanted for the first purchase and then it was way-hay and into it for the rest of the afternoon.
The original owner, now passed away, had definite political opinions and a fair bit of the stock on the left wing of the mezzanine reflected this – perfectly appropriate positioning, as it happens. I treated myself to a 50’s Soviet picture book with added propaganda and will enjoy baiting my friends with quotations and statistics from it. It will make a nice counter to their rabid support of Trump and Trudeau. I was tempted to get some Christmas presents in the political section but decided to go to the medical shelves for that.
The cat? Well, not quite right now – there has been a cat for some time but a replacement will be need to be sought. The special door arrangements are still in place for the new candidate. I’m sure it will be comfortable and certainly won’t lack for something to read.
Neither will I – the parcel of polemics arrived today and will keep me going for some time. Sydney has heretofore not been quite as productive as Melbourne in the book line – I usually average a metre of shelf space for each Victorian trip – but now that I know how easy it is to find Gould’s, I think this disparity can be erased.
Note: The Elisabeth’s S/H bookstore down the road in Newtown is pleasant but not a patch on our own Elisabeth’s in Fremantle.