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Sydney Welcomes Oprah

13 Dec

After what’s cost taxpayers an estimated $3 million, initially set aside to be wasted invested in the NSW government’s phantom metro system, she’s finally hit our shores. Yes, that’s right, it’s Oprah-mania here in Sydney. With an entourage of 300 guests, security, staff and requisite stalkers (kept at bay with a few kilometres of electric wire fencing), America’s talk-show queen not only brings rare good publicity to Sydney’s starving shores, a freak outbreak of spontaneous emotional outpourings on Sydney streets has been reported, up some 78 per cent from the December average. Emotional binge eating is also on a rise.  Continue reading


Good, Good God

3 Oct

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Sydney – Where do we go now?

1 Oct


The performance art cube where I once saw a bunch of girls in fairy wings masturbating with glow sticks. Can't imagine that happening any more.

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More Clover, Moore!

14 Sep

One minute in.

Yep, that’s Sydney’s Mayoress with the Mostest, Clover Moore, protesting against the cultural icon that put Sydney on the map alongside other great metropoli such as Ogdenville and North Havenbrook; the Monorail.

Sometimes I try to  imagine a time before the monorail. When Sydneysiders didn’t have the option to pay $5 to travel between places of little to no interest in a longer time than it takes to walk. Now, this was well before my birth, but I’m pretty sure that such a time is unimaginable today even to those who were alive before its introduction. People had to suffer the indignity of catching buses or trains. Or even walking. Gosh.

I think of those dark times whenever I glide from the Novotel Darling Harbour to Paddy’s Markets in my noisy, rusting steel coffin. Which is never.

It takes a special kind of council (depicted below) to have the foresight to install a multi-million dollar network that doesn’t go to Central Station or Circular Quay. Or Oxford St, or the Museum/Hyde Park area. Or anywhere really.

But who cares about that? Because evertime I ride the monorail, I feel like I’m in the future. Or at least a late-eighties image of the future. And by ‘every time I ride’, I don’t mean to say that I’ve ever ridden it. I just imagine it would be like that, if I ever, I dunno, broke my ankle in Market City and really wanted to get to the Galleries Victoria. And there was a bus strike. And a train accident. And there were some Monorail-enthusiasts that I was meant to be entertaining.


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