Interview: Trading Places
Safety: Snow Job
Politics: In the Vanguard
Unions: Gentle Giant Goes For Gold
Bad Boss: 'Porker' Chases Blue Ribbon
International: Cruising For A Bruising
History: Under the Influence
Economics: Working Capital
Review: Fahrenheit 9/11
Poetry: Bad Intelligence Rap
Satire: Osama Bin Manchu
The Locker Room
Tom Goes Asexual
Road Rage At Work
Democracy In Action
The Locker Room
Half Time At The Football
Imagination is a wonderful thing. It's a pity the NRL hasn't got any.
Cheerleaders are one US copycat import we can do without.
You'd think that with all the image problems Rugby League has had over the last 12 months it would want to treat women as something more than a 13 year old boy's fantasy.
The ridiculous concept hardly sends a signal that the NRL takes women as anything more than objects to throw to the blokes.
You have to wonder about the appropriateness of taking the kids along to watch some sequin clad harpie in hotpants in the middle of July. It can't be good for the cheerleaders or the crowd that has to suffer them.
The dumbest part of the equation is that the cheerleaders, themselves, come from an entertainment 'agency' - they aren't fans of the clubs they perform for. Some will perform for two or more clubs over a given weekend.
Just what they bring to the game is unclear; how they cheapen it as a spectacle is obvious.
And while they're at it, why cant those irritating booming ground announcers who sound like they went to the Austereo FM wanker school of public speaking just shut up.
It's bad enough having ads plastered all over the Channel Packer coverage, without having it shoved down your thorax at the ground as well.
Because there's no room for community in the NRL, which is now part of the 'entertainment' industry, we have to put up with third rate celebs, sad bastards and other wilful hangers on - the sort of people who need a trip around the back of the shed with a .22 - being shoved in our face while we're trying to have a yack with your neighbour and finish off the lukewarm overpriced pie.
As The Ghost Who Walks pointed out, we'll be putting up with parasites from Australian Idol presenting themselves at the football as if they are relevant to anything until we take to the streets armed with machetes.
The only time they got their grand final entertainment right when they brought Billy Idol halfway around the world and didn't let him sing - now that WAS entertaining.
When they have the break at quarter-time at every level of Australian Football bar the AFL a large portion of the crowd surges onto the paddock, surrounds the team huddle, and listens to the coach go off his nut. This spontaneous public theatre is a brilliant thing and to be encouraged. Why the hell they don't try it in the AFL is beyond me.
No doubt they're busy keeping the paymasters at Foxtel happy, but considering that Murdoch pay TV outfit BSkyB dropped 20% of it's worth last month you'd wonder how long the Sun King is going to prop up his regional subsidiaries, the AFL and the NRL.
The great suburban poet Dave Warner penned a wonderful piece of spoken word, entitled 'Half Time At The Football' that managed to combine Alan Bond, Kylie Minogue and Wally Lewis in a blunt expose on the horrible dark heart that underpins Australian society.
The Austero cheerleaders are symptomatic of this.
Half time should be a period of quiet reflection; a time of interaction with your neighbours in the crowd. A chance to dream upon the small mercies of life. Not a time to flog sponsors product at a volume that'd drown out a 747.
As the Olympics bill hits $10 billion in Athens it is heartening to hear of the industrial chaos sweeping the country. I'm still offering six to five that it will not be a fondly remembered experience, if it is an experience at all.
The scene for what we can expect has been set with reports of Olympic security goons threatening a Mexican TV crew with sodomy.
The latest bizarre development has been the Olympic security blimp that will hover over Athens during the games. No doubt this will come a cropper as well.
"Oh the humanity!"
Two weeks of drug addled madness. Athens hasn't seen such fear and loathing since the Trojan's visited the joint.
Enjoy it all, it's half time, and I'm off for a pie.
Phil Doyle - coming off the interchange bench early in the second half.
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