Journalism largely consists in saying "Lord Jones Dead" to people who never knew Lord Jones was alive.

No, it isn't the Daily Planet (or even the Daily Worker), it's Hobart's own The Mercury, more affectionately (!) known by the locals as The Mockery. In my mind, the main failing (of many) of this paper is too many "Elderly in Fear!"; "Children at Risk!"; "CORRUPTION!" banners, and not enough "SURFING DOG!"; "SEX ROMP ON MICROWAVE OVEN!"; and "CORRUPT ELDERLY SURFERS IN SEX ROMP WITH CHILDREN!"

Comments

USelaine said…

At least they don't "report" sightings of elves, fairies, and Elton John. Give me "elderly in danger" any day.

23 November 2008 at 12:44

Debbie Courson Smith said…

Really, those headlines sound far more interesting than "Wall Street has crashed and all your savings for retirement are mysteriously gone."

23 November 2008 at 14:56

Miles McClagan said…

Asian Gangs rampage through Syrup..that's still my favourite...but it still makes me miss the glory days of The Advocate...sigh, getting teary thinking about kids being good at board games being on the front page...

23 November 2008 at 20:57

blackie said…

I hate it when the summer festivals are on and the mockery starts telling us what to wear. Just what i always wanted, a newsprint mama to dress me.

26 November 2008 at 14:01

Kris McCracken said…

USelaine, only occasionally do they do that!

Diva, we have those too!

Miles, “SEX ROMP ON MICROWAVE” from 1999 remains my favourite by some margin. The Asian gangs are good, given that the most likely Asian gangs around Hobart are large groups of girls in short skirts, long socks and Hello Kitty handbags.

The Advocate is still capable of the gripping headline once in a while. Seriously though, it is by some margin the best paper in the state, primarily because it knows its market and services it.

Blackie, especially when their advice it to dress like the universal signifier for the mentally ill.

28 November 2008 at 10:26

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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