Bastions of Baw Baw: Network Video Members - Warragul

When I'd just about come to the conclusion that Warragul was a cultural wasteland, akin to that of Canberra, a small but poignant moment brought warm restorational hope flooding back into my heart yesterday: 

For those of you who wouldn't know exquisite cultural offerings if they were served to you on an ivory cushion, shed your unsophisticated prejudices and open your mind as I direct your attention to the above DVD covers:  the compositions only hint at the complexities within each narrative, requiring multiple viewings and intellectual dissemination to fully understand and comprehend the genius of the filmakers.

It is now my mission to hunt down and befriend these individuals renters, these high-art connoisseurs, for they are truly Bastions. Over a Cuban and an open fireplace, we shall debate carnivorial symbolism long into the night... 

Now pour yourself a glass of elitist wine, sample these fine offerings, and help us put high culture back on the agenda in Baw Baw. 

The spoils of war...

Instigated by a need to show that gripes and hissy-fits aren’t all I’m about, I believe a bit of positive blogging on the delicacies of local life is on the cards.

In the weeks just passed, Shire fringe dweller Trafalgar felt the need to remind us of its existence with it's 'Battle of Trafalgar Festival'. This particular shindig began in 2005 - the bicentenary of a naval battle off Cape Trafalgar, on the southern coast of Spain, in which the British Royal Navy wiped the ocean floor with the wreckage of 22 French and Spanish ships. It was one of the biggest naval shellackings in history; not a single British vessel was lost. Some tech savvy Spaniard peasant live blogged the events as they unfolded from the shoreline.

The Battle of Trafalgar, as Seen from the Mizen Starboard Shrouds of the Victory.
  Willliam Turner 1806-1808. Oil on canvas. Tate Gallery, London, UK.

In Trafalgar 2010 however, not a single galleon was lost. For a festival that is named after an epic sea battle, I would suggest some kind mock battle in the outdoor pool with rubber dingies and pitchforks. At the very least, the local community of 35 y.o. men still living in their parent's basements could stage a recreation with their Man O'War sets (not to be confused their other Man O'War collection)

   My Dad always scoffed at small town festivals:

“Only towns without character hold festivals.” 

   I don't think Trafalgians should loose any skin over this one, as Dad himself only has character when holding a beverage or two... 

Merit permitting, any town can hold it's head up high over festivities held. But in judging merit, one must determine if the bare minimum requirements of a rip-roaring communal gathering are met:

Were lurid acts of public nudity encouraged?      Fail.

 Was the mayor carried home in a wheelbarrow? Fail. 

 Was anyone burnt at the stake?                            Fail.    

                                                                           

Traffers however found itself making up ground with a nifty town wide garage sale. Once mapped up, festival goers could make their way to one of the 50+ households who opened their carports up to public scrutiny, presenting multitudes of useless crap, adorned with price stickers and contrived anecdotes of how much use and joy said items have brought them over the years.

I'm a dead set sucker for useless crap. Check out my swag:

45" Single: The Proclaimers - 500 Miles

 7" Singles: Cyndi Lauper, Split Endz, Moscow, Cliff Richard

Wicked texta drawing of baked women getting dinked on bike by hideously disproportionate partner. 

Digital set top box & DVD Player/Recorder

And last but not least, quite possibly the most bitchin' action figurine ever to come in my possession: with 26 points of articulation, there is no move this Spidey cannot bust. The kid I bought it off for $2 got burnt. Big time. 

A message to the Baw Baw Shire Council...

GET A LIFE.

Mayor Adam Tyson: Hard Arse S.O.B.

He may be new, he may be young, but by God - don't even think of pulling the wool over the Mayor's eyes. 

As reported by ABC Local yesterday, a crack squad of undercover minors caught out 70% of tobacco retailers in the Shire selling to under 18s. Adam left no illusions as to the flavour of authority he'd be dishing out over this one; mark his words - the gauntlet is coming off:

DO NOT PISS THIS MAN OFF

"We've basically laid down the gauntlet to the retailers now to say, 'look, you've been caught out. We want you to educate yourselves on why you shouldn't be doing this'."

The Shire will be running free education programs in November. "Council did not want to give the impression it was a revenue raising program."

Just fine the weasels Adam, and give us a discount on our rates notices. I just got mine yesterday, and I'M gonna have to start selling ciggies to kids @ 50 cents on the dollar to pay for the bastard.


http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2010/09/28/3023635.htm?site=gippsland&section=news

Father's Day lament...

Along the banks of Hazel Creek in Warragul, ducks are in the thick of breeding season.

While a time of love and nurture, it's also full of stupid; ducks are notorious for underestimating the power of a vehicle 2000 times its weight (I took one out myself recently when it flew straight into the undercarriage of my 4WD).

For the last couple of weeks, a drake skittled on Bowen St has been lying next to the creek walking track. While walking my dog of an evening, I've noticed its partner turn up to loiter quietly for 15 minutes or so, as if it's going to wake up again.

This has been happening every evening for the past week without fail. Common wisdom is that ducks mate for life.

Fair dinkum puller of the heart string.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

Among my browsings to confirm whether ducks in fact were monogamous, I instead discovered they were sexual psychopaths:

'He forcibly picked into the back, the base of the bill and mostly into the back of the head of the dead mallard for about two minutes, then mounted the corpse and started to copulate, with great force, almost continuously picking the side of the head.'

http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2005/mar/08/highereducation.research

Never trust a duck.

So much for swingin'...

Swing electorate my arse. I guess I got a little ahead of myself in the election lead up...

Australian Electoral Commission

TWO CANDIDATE PREFERRED Polling Places Returned: 93 of 93 Turnout: 86.63%

Candidate	Party	Votes	This Election (%)	Last Election (%)	Swing (%)
MAXFIELD, Christine	Australian Labor Party	35,333	45.47	45.21	+0.26
BROADBENT, Russell	Liberal	42,371	54.53	54.79	-0.26

Because the only thing swinging right now is Russel Broadbent's third term goolies.

And rightly so - if you haven't seen this man speak publicly, pencil it in. Compared to some efforts on the national level: 100% pure statesman - even when he's talking about cows. Were McMillian safe liberal territory he'd surely have his own portfolio, although something tells me it wouldn't be Immigration:

"We are suffering a drought in this nation and it is my fervent prayer that the rains would fall to fill our rivers and streams, our lakes and our dams so that each raindrop would form a mighty flood that is so full of compassion and justice that it would not only soften the parched earth but also soften the nation's heart." (speech to House of Representatives, 9.8.06. Martin Luther King's estate has since sued for breach of copyright)

But all great men have their weakness. Russell found his when someone gave him an action contract and a teleprompter...

Notice how the boats part is missing? Awkward.

Steve Fielding "wandered the streets of Warragul"

I opened the Baw Baw Shire and West Gippsland Trader (26.8.10) this morning, to be greeted by none other than the bestest senator in the whole wide world - Family First's Steve Fielding - whipping up a whirlwind of support out front of The Courthouse restaurant on Smith Street.

How in hell did I miss this?

The article, 'Underdog pays local visit' said "one local, while waiting for his wife, even got out of the warmth of his car when he recognised the federal senator and cautiously asked - "are you who I think you are.(sic)"

I tell ya - they're wild for him in these parts. Had I been there, I would've stripped down to undies and dry humped his leg all the way to the post office. Such is the conviction of my infatuation.

Local McMillan Family First candidate Linden Stokes' presence was largely missed, he was obviously being mobbed by screaming fans elsewhere..

Now, take a deep breath, and prepare yourself for rapture:

"We want to get the message out that people have two votes because they don't understand that. Their vote is important and that's where family first is important"

The first sentence is self explanatory: we all know that only those blessed with philanthropic brainpower like Steve's are capable of understanding why we have two votes.

But there's no denying the genius inherent in the second. It took me a couple of reads, but I think I finally cracked it. Let me break it down for you:

'their vote' = important, 'family first' = important, therefore we should've voted for Family First.

Understandably overwhelmed, the local press weren't able to gather their starstruck thoughts and report until three editions of local rag later (two Traders and a Gazette). His belated message rang loud and clear for readers, and I'm sure will be kept in mind all the way until the next election.

I wonder if he dropped in on Chairo Christian College in Drouin to talk creationism...

Official V-Line Gripe Register

Alright V-Line, you've done it now. Pushed me off of the platform you have. I'm going to blogger-town on your arse.

Busted my bollocks getting to the 8:27 to Southern Cross this morning. I'd annihilated my freshly brewed coffee in no less than five gulps, before a frantic bike-sprint along Queen St through morning traffic, arriving at Warragul station with a minute to spare.

Correction: 26 minutes to spare.

According to station staff, a streaker had been excercising his right for a little tomfoolery on the tracks around Morwell this morning. (The on-train conducter claimed a blockage on the tracks was to fault - which makes more sense given the length of delay - but I choose to believe the former.)

Fault did not lie with V-Line in this instance, but the unecessary coffee induced gullet scorching has caustified this experience. (If catching the train on time means a choice between no coffee and a gut scorching, scorching wins; when the caffeine deprived Hyde in me comes out - it really comes out.) That Morwell streaker better have pulled some awesome stunts....

I'm a regular commuter to the city, and a disturbing pattern is emerging: at least 50% of trains I've caught so far this financial year have been late. Some only 5-10 mins, some 15-20. Now before you accuse my '50%' figure as hyberbole, I'm not officially entering those stats into the gripe register. Hey - there's an idea...

I hereby announce the dawn of:

V-LINE GRIPE REGISTER

(feel free to unleash in the comments section below. a non reply indicates an unprecedented case of V-Line satisfaction. go on - get it off your chest.)

Either I'm incredibly unlucky and attract all the late trains, or like all empirical surveys the sample trend is reflective of the universal. Admittedly, I could just call V-Line and demand stats under Freedom of Information, but that takes the delicious subjectiveness out of the experience now doesn't it.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

I was considering entering these boys as the next Bastions of Baw Baw for having to drop the bad news to commuters, again, and again, and again, and again....

...but they're paid for it. Brian (on the left) did a good job of assuring a lady skilled in the art of masking her displeasure, that she was not going to miss her Tullamarine flight.

.........................................................................................................................................................................

PS - I'm all for streakers, they make everyone's life that little bit more meaningful. You'll no doubt see any locally documented examples being posted here in future.

Swingin' in McMillan: Election 2010

In the hours before Gillard's much hyped Monday night appearance on ABC's Q&A, Yarragon was treated to its own candidate forum, with four of the five McMillan parties represented.

The event, organised and hosted by local members of grassroots advocacy group GetUp, attracted a healthy (albeit elderly) crowd at Yarragon Hall.

As you can see, 'twas an action packed affair:

David cautioned candidates to curb their enthusiasm multiple times.

Christine Maxfield (ALP) dorked it up with an official Labor name tag, in the most non-genuine effort of the evening. Employing the exact approach that’s been turning voters off nation wide, Christine parroted well-known Labor campaign catch phrases, bringing the room to a collective cringe with "a vote for you local liberal candidate is a vote for Tony Abbott" - on three separate occasions (I heard someone choking on their own reflux next to me). But her highlight of the evening came when sharing her concerns on the 'risks' of soil carbon, and who would be responsible for its safe management if a farmer's moves off their land? (Malcom quickly enlightened her with a little something called 'science')

Linden Stokes (Family First) did not reply to Getup's invitation, but sent along their mascot Scribble Squabble. Frankly, it was out of it's depth.

Malcolm McKelvie (Greens) made his sustainable presence felt early – getting up from the panel to close the entrance door, instantly improving energy efficiency. Confidence lacked early on, but came through with the goods on mental health, bringing his experience as Yarragon's GP into the foray. Then (with the home turf advantage) made us feel warm and fuzzy, identifying the kitchen directly behind the panel where he helps out with a community youth initiative. Then it got to climate change. While Russell and Christine spent their time waxing political/economical on the issue, Malcom got up and dropped some more of that 'science' on the table, leaving the rest for dead in the wake of ideology by which The Greens define themselves. Malcom eyeballed journos making sure they made note of his moment of glory.

Leigh Gatt (Independant) The 27 y.o. Moe sign writer quickly established himself as the wildcard of the evening, coming out with a 'puppet of the people' pitch; to enforce what the majority wants. Preceding each stated position with 'this is just my opinion...', Gatt showed no vision, or aura of leadership. To say that he struggled to capture the hearts and minds of an audience that was mostly pushing 60, is an understatement.

Gatt - Plays of the Day:

1. “Those who arrive by plane get put back on a plane. Those who arrive by boat get sent back on a boat. Boat they arrived on gets sunk” (thus concluding his entire contribution to the asylum seeker debate)

2. Gatt appealed to the electorate’s sci-fi boffins, alluding to a future possibility of 'fish zoning' (as an alternative to marine national parks)

3. “I've lived in the Valley a long time and it hasn't affected me yet” (talking on the affects of climate change, and Latrobe Valley coal fired power stations)

Russel Broadbent (incumbent Liberal) started off with a sook, claiming Green McMillan preferences going to Labor was a ‘shock’ to him (I guess he missed the news). While waiting his turn, his posture was sinister – slowly sizing up the crowd, finger tips touching Mr Burn’s style – and other times borderline senile - slouched, absent eyed, staring at the ceiling. But when Russell hit the floor, he blew the house down. With deep grandfatheral tones of authority, and convincing hand gestures punctuating each point, there was no doubting his dominant presence over the panel. At one point he was hands-on-hips lecturing, another contemptuously over-speaking the timer bell by almost a minute (it took three rings to get him down).

But the money grab of the night came when Russell strongly asserted; 'I’m more likely to get voted in than the rest of you.' I’m not kidding – the man was on fire. He even played the older audience demographic, prefacing his solution for the overall lack of youth societal contribution with the view that "the youth have no hope”, to which many a head around me nodded in agreement. If Russell gets in for a third term, I foresee myself developing an unhealthy infatuation with the man.

Potential love affairs aside, climate change was where the night was at. A good third of the forum was dedicated to the topic, and the crowd, in true Baw Baw form, were particularly prickly about the issue. Malcom and Russell went head to head; Nature vs Economics. Fundamentally incompatible, always entertaining.

It was unfortunate however to see such a poor attendance of Gen Y - I was one of about five. Hell, even Gen X only managed a poor excuse for a 'presence', which is ironic considering one of the most contentious issues currently, climate change, will directly affect the younger generations. The apparent disengagement of local youth from politics is disconcerting.

Before moving to Baw Baw, I've lived in an electorate that's been held by the Nationals since 1922. It's great to be finally in the company of swingers.

...

Latrobe Valley Express forum coverage:

http://www.latrobevalleyexpress.com.au/news/local/news/general/debate-heats-up/1911681.aspx

...

PS - I managed to score me a nifty souvenir of the event: David Stratton's review notes!

Looks like I'm not the only one appreciative of Russell's thespian talents.

Notice anything out of place in this Ellinbank landscape?

Looks to me like someone at artificial insemination services got their test tubes mixed up.


Takes 'black sheep of the family' to a whole new level.

Angry about analogue @ Warragul Cinema Centre

Call me tragic, but every now and then I get excited about a film.

I’d been anticipating Christopher Nolan’s Inception since the first teaser trailer came out August '09. The Dark Knight blew my mind, securing Nolan a place in the top echelon of filmmakers. Take a look at his track record - the man can do no wrong.

For those of you apathetic to pop-culture buzz (I feel you), this is a film that lingers in your mind for some time afterwards, nagging away at your sensiblities until you submit and indulge in a second viewing.

I popped my Inception cherry at Warragul Cinema Centre on the Saturday after it’s Australian release. A week’s worth of stewing on the film’s content followed, before returning for a second helping. By this time, it had transferred from Warragul’s premiere cinema 3 – equipped with Dolby Digital surround – to inadequate analogue sound of cinema 2.

And boy, did it show. Cobb (DiCaprio) had suddenly developed a severe case of sibilance, hissing gratuitous logic with distracting execution.

Cobb and Ariadne’s spawning in the crashing surf of limbo (the film’s most gut churning moment) is augmented by deep orchestral horn blasts rumbling through the core of the cinema, up your legs and into the pit of your stomach. You KNEW you were in the distorted depths of the subconscious. At least in digital sound you knew...


In cinema 2, it felt like a bullfrog farting into a pillow.

I’m being harsh, I know, but I don't go to a cinema just to watch a movie. I hire a DVD if I just wanna watch a movie. I go to the cinema to be fully transported into the world of the film - to be dazzled visually, and aurally. I want the dickhead with the rustling bag of takeaway behind me to get taken out by a stray M4A1 bullet in a gunfight with Fischer's subconscious private security. I want his head to explode. Digital can almost grant you that. Analogue cannot.

Last year, my sister took me to Transformers 2 for my birthday at WCC. Again, as it was some weeks after release, we were in cinema 2. The screen showed me shape-shifting robots blowing the shit out of each other, while the speakers struggled under distortion. As much as I’ve always been for supporting local economy, I had subsequently vowed to view my films elsewhere (as a virgin viewer at WCC, I was unaware of cinema 3's superior sound quality). It seems time has an uncanny ability to heal all wounds.

Cinema manager Kelly Moroney , whose been at the complex for 7 years now, said that "complaints are very rare". And to be truthful, a lot of people I've talked to have trivialised my quality gripes, while an acquaintance recently attempted to subdue my criticism; “It’s all we have, so it’ll do”

But if you’re passionate about your movie experience, and want to buy into the 'dream', quality is paramount. Nolan would've had a monkey fit if he new half of DiCaprio’s lines where hissed through the speakers.

If you're a local who appreciates quality, see the flick you've been waiting for in the opening week while it's still soundin' digital, before Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz waltz in and kick it into analogue.

...

PS - Cinema 3 is prepping for a 3D upgrade. A new screen has just been installed, and hopes are that the projector arrives by Xmas. Sure, 3D’s gonna pull in the kiddies, but I would argue strongly in favour of getting your sound quality up to scratch in all cinemas, before heading to novelty-town.

Bastions of Baw Baw: Mick - Postal Service Officer - Warragul

I've lived here for over a year now, and have been crestfallen with the utter lack of moustache in the Shire.

Mo-vember saw some spirited lip-crops, but by December, participants could no longer handle the abstinence policies enforced apon them.

Today - this wonderful wonderful man made up for a year's worth of disappointment. Note how the left side practically touches the rim of his glasses.

Represent.

Warragul: ED smorgasbord?

You've spawned in a foreign environment, unknown perils loom. Your training kicks in - you locate all freeway exits, boozers, and the infirmary.

Scratch that: infirmaries.


Turns out Warragul's a choice location to cop a glassing. The universal bulwark of orientation, Google Maps, claims there's a major rural hospital North AND South of the M1.

But it seems the North site construction of 'Latrobe Regional Hospital' is still in the initial phase:


It's gonna be one hell of a birth pool.