What is it with sporting team names these days?
What happened to good, old fashioned team names based on ferocious, testosterone-filled animals such as the Richmond Tigers, North Sydney Bears and Penrith Panthers? To come up with a mascot in those days, one had to simply think of any animal that could kill an angry Chuck Norris with one paw.
But Australian sporting teams started to become soft. To illustrate my point, we created team names based on feathered flying birds. If a hawk is masculine and predatory, and a vulture is fierce and ruthless…well then a team named after a swan sounds plain poofy. How many schoolyard fights could have been avoided if Sydney called themselves the Sydney Pterodactyls instead of naming themselves after a gentle pink bird that would lose a fight with a comatose three toed sloth?
And these days, a team name doesn’t even have to be based on a living creature. Hobart Hurricanes and Melbourne Storm team names are literally based on violent disturbances of the atmosphere featuring strong winds accompanied by rain and thunder. This sounds almost as silly as if they called themselves the Melbourne Snowflakes.
Then there’s the teams that aren’t even based on an object, but rather a sound or a number. The Brisbane Roar and cricket’s Sydney 6’ers have as much credibility as Simon Crean at the Labor party’s monthly Marx-reading evenings.
Team mascots based on ancient mythical beings are a slight improvement. The Gold Coast Titans sound better than the team they replaced; The Gold Coast Seagulls, whose name conjures up pictures of happy, healthy holiday birds eating fish and chips out of the kiddies hands. This is quite a contradictory brand image for the NRL who have spent years carefully associating their football-code with masculinity, alcohol-influenced violence and non consensual group sex.
Don’t even get me started on team names based on colours such as the Carlton Blues or the Western Reds. It must’ve been a deliberate marketing strategy conceptualised at boardroom discussions during the club’s founding days. “Our geographical demographic doesn’t contain citizens belonging to the highest intellectual quintile. If we name ourselves the Western King Parrots, will our supporters know what colour to wear? Why not remove the confusion and just call ourselves ‘Reds'”.
A mascot name based on a stereotype of the team’s catchment area is fine in my opinion e.g. North Queensland Cowboys. Future team names could be called Brighton Rabbis, Darlinghurst Homos, Bankstown Rapists, or the Marrickville Ethnics. A future NBL game between the Dandenong Single Mums and the Cronulla White Supremists has a rather nice ring to it.
And in the tradition of naming teams after inanimate objects (a trend copied from the US such as the New York Knickerbockers), let’s extend this to Australian teams such as the Northcote Skinny Jeans and the Alice Springs Petrol Cans.
Australia’s Got Tinea
Premise: The nation’s favourite show about our nation’s favourite podiatry infection. Across the vast expanse of Australia – North, South, East, West – no stone has been left unturned in a bid to find Australia’s greatest case of tinea, athletes foot and other fungal and bacterial foot infections. Australian viewers will once again determine the winner of a record jackpot $200 to go towards podiatry services. After the local success of last year’s winner Harry the Hobo, the stakes are high.
PaintBall Dragon’s Den
Premise: Series in which budding entrepreneurs have three minutes to pitch their business ideas to five multi-millionaires, all armed with semi-automatic paintball guns. The angel investors shoot the entrepreneur at close range with high-calibre paint balls if they do not like their ideas.
My Kitchen Rules: Halal Edition
Premise: MKR Halal Edition is a competitive Australian cooking show featuring the best Halal chefs from across the nation battle it out to be crowned the Honourable-Halal. State vs state (except Tasmania), the show’s contestants compete in typical challenges faced by Australian Halal chefs including the Cutting Of The Cow Jugular and the difficult Handling of the 3AM Drunk Kebab DickHead.
So You Think You Can Preach
Premise: So You Think You Can Preach will inspire and amaze viewers as Christian preachers ranging in style from Evangelical to Russian Orthodox compete to be named Australia’s favourite preacher. Catch Father Freddy, Paster Petey and Molly the Molester show off their favourite preaching styles. From burn-in-hell old testament fury, to wave-your-hands-in-the-air-and-fall-down-to-jesus evangelical stylings; this show has something for everyone.
The Farmer Wants a Reffo
Premise: One lucky illegal refugee will win the chance of a lifetime to work as a cash-in-hand labourer for an outback Australian farmer. Be captivated as Mohammed, Minh, Aleksy, Abdul, Yousef, Guang and Anh battle it out to win the coveted 15-hour-day-labour potential of Reg, the fair dinkum Aussie farmer from Coonabarrabran.
The Apprentice: Electrican
Premise: The Apprentice: Electrician is a series in which budding electrician wannabes compete for the chance to become a real-life $9.50 an hour apprentice for a local Melbourne firm, Electrocute (as seen on Today Tonight). Contestants are required to successfully complete a series of initiation challenges faced by real life apprentices including The Eating of the Chocolate Log, The Black Nipple and the infamous Two Hundred Volts In The Nutsack Challenge.
My Kitchen Rules: Chinese Edition
Premise: Another spin-off from the MKR franchise. My Kitchen Rules Chinese Edition features budding Chinese chefs competing for the chance to win a scholarship for their child’s high-school tuition. You’ll be captivated as our talented cooks face typical Chinese chef tasks with limited resources. Watch Mr Chen create a hokkien noodle meat stir fry with no chicken, lamb, pork or seafood ingredients at hand.
Being Brian Lara
Premise: Being Brian Lara is an access-all-areas observational documentary that will take us behind-the-scenes of Brian Lara’s private life for the very first time. Viewers will be on the edge of their seats as they watch Brian Lara shop for vegetables at Tesco, drive his Saab to cricket coaching, and live out a safe, enjoyable, non-controversial retirement.
The North Shore
Premise: A reality-based look at the vapid lives of several North Shore Sydney 20-somethings and their respective friends and/or hook-ups. Never before have a group of rich, white wannabes so desperately tried to be perceived as poor and black.
I discovered yesterday that I have been the victim of a cruel, heartless and devastating practical joke.
OK sure I have been known to dish out practical jokes on my friends with more enthusiasm than a paedophile watching the local primary school play.
I’d like to use this post as an opportunity to formally apologise to Ceps for doing bad things to his toothbrush. I’d also like to extend an apology to Jimmi for the Captain America suit, to Davo for the hair gel and to Midget for the male escort listings on Gumtree. I’d finally like to say sorry to Mr Chan from Cape Town Golden Dragon Chinese Restaurant for ordering 120 spring rolls for takeaway…..from 12,000 kms away.
Usually I can handle retaliation jokes with grace and dignity. I have certainly experienced my fare share of pranks ranging from drinking dubious pints of ‘beer’ to being placed under the impression that I had offended the Australian chapter of the Polish mafia.
However, this latest action from an unidentified prankster is a monstrosity on such a scale that I doubt I will recover.
You see….yesterday I was browsing through my iPod….and….to my horror….discovered that some cruel person had uploaded on my iPod….the entire back catalogue of…..
I am shaking from sheer disgust even as I write this. Whoever committed this venomous act, I will find you and bring you to justice. I now need a new iPod because it is most certainly ruined forever.
What if I were to have a house party with my music on shuffle, when all of a sudden I Like It Rough appears over the speakers?
Even that song irritates me because if is obviously about her fetish for facial hair….something which I unfortunately can never grow due to genetic reasons.
Or what if god forbid I were jogging in Albert Park listening to random rock songs when suddenly Bad Romance started playing. I would surely trip and fall over, possibly hurting my foot. Perhaps I could sue her for this.
- I’m your girlfriend/wife
- You texted me at 2am
- We met at Revolver and I was impressed by your dance moves
- You said God will forgive me of my confessions if I did it, father.
- Bloody maggot
- Did we have sex last night?
- Downing 6 pints of lager whilst watching the footy isn’t foreplay
- You pulled me over and wrote me a speeding ticket…is that what you’re calling foreplay now?
- I didn’t have enough time to get warmed up
- I memorised the mould patterns on your ceiling
- Angry Pirate
- The Alaskan Snow Dragon
- Upside Down Bus Driver™
- The Vietnamese Rice Farmer™
- Hardly touched the sides
- I don’t think it should curve around like that, you’d better see a doctor
- Mind blowingly enormous
- I’ve temporarily lost the ability to walk
- About the same length as a Woolworths tv commercial
- The best 2 minutes of my life
- Appropriately timed
- We could have watched the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in the same amount of time
- You put the Italians to shame
- You made me feel an odd mixture of princess and Kardashian
- You called me the wrong girl’s name
- Please don’t ever mention cricket scores again
- I’m never mentioning last night to anyone as I’m mortified
- I’m slightly embarrassed
- It’s already on Facebook
- I’m recommending all my friends give you a call
9. Overall, how satisfied were you with my performance?
- I can’t believe I stooped to that level
- It was just what I expected
- I haven’t been able to sit down at all today
- Can I have my $200 now please?
10. Please write down any further comments you may have that will improve the experience.
Yesterday I received a letter from the council threatening me with a $70 fine unless I could provide a valid reason for not voting at the recent council elections.
The actual truth is, I chose to ignore the election because…how can I put it….I simply don’t give a flying toss.
However, rather than risk a $70 fine I had to come up with a legitimate reason for not voting.
I pondered a leukaemia hospital operation, being overseas helping refugees in Ghana, our mailbox being broken into and the election letter stolen, pulling the racism card and saying they’re targeting me because of my ethnicity, saying that people from my culture do not believe in voting, claiming that I have a rare blood-disorder that prevents me from leaving the house, and finally just admitting that I do not care.
However, I decided to go down the religious-nutter route. Here’s what I wrote.
America, fuck yeah.
I noticed quite a few Aussies in New York and they weren’t our finest specimens. One extremely loud Aussie on the subway honestly thought she was from Orange County, not Orange. Every sentence of her winey drawl started with oh my god. E.g. “Oh my god, American guys are like SO cute”…”Oh my god my tits look SO small in this top”… “Oh my god I told him I’m a virgin, do you think he believed me?”
Another Aussie I met in a pub in Harlem was actually wearing an oversized floral sweater because he thought he looked cool. I told him that the only people that wear floral sweaters are those that suffer from a single missing chromosome. He thought that was funny, I actually had intended it as an insult.
There are loads of buskers on the NYC subway. Almost every train features a performer ranging in quality from:
There are even more homeless people. American homeless really put in an effort to be respectful and polite, and will often walk through the trains vocally describing elaborate images of their family’s situation in order to gain a few pennies. Australian homeless rarely go to that much effort and think that masturbating in public will extract enough sympathy from passersby to throw money.
Baltimore is a shithole, don’t go there. In fact the word Baltimore comes from the Latin words Baltius which translates as ‘boring’ and Moricus which means ‘as fuck’. Baltimore has more concrete than a Greek family’s front yard. It is littered in grey factories spewing out more noxious gases than a group of teenage boys after a baked-bean eating competition. Whoever wrote Good Morning Baltimore was either high, taking the piss, working for the tourist board, or all three. Look I know Baltimore is historically and symbolically significant, so I hope I haven’t offended any Ceppos reading this. If I have, please take a semi-automatic into your local school and start shooting, it’ll make you famous.
In Australia, most pubs and bars are more or less of a similar standard, unless of course you are in Campbelltown. In NYC, the range in quality is enormous. A cocktail bar in Soho sells drinks that cost roughly the same price to smuggle a South East Asian sex slave in the country. On the lower end, a dive bar in Bushwick sells beers in styrofoame cups made from recycled-hamburger-packaging-bought-using-welfare-cheques. This beer was called Brooklyn Bitter but really should have been called Watered Down Homeless Man Urine.
Accents in New York are similarly wide in range. Previously I thought all New Yorkers sound the same, probably similar to how people think all Asians look the same.
When Americans come to Australia, all our local girls go gaga over their accents. In fact, the male American accent is single-handedly driving the Australian lubricant industry out of business.
Anyway, accents in NYC range from:
Ghetto Style – “Look at me again and I’ll pop your fuckin knee caps”.
New Jersey Style – “I have a taandancy to over prooonouunce my vowels and um not from Nuuuw Yaawk City”.
Williamsburg, Brooklyn Style – “I found this beret on the ground, so now I’m wearing it”.
Chinatown Style – “How many duck you wan?”
Upper East Side Style – “Waiter please… there’s an Asian man in this restaurant and it is putting me off my entree”.
Southern Girl Trying To Make It On Broadway Style – “I’m auditioning tomorrow for a show and he wants me to take my clothes off so he can see how the colour of my skin will reflect under the theatre lights”.
Newly Arrived Eastern European Immigrant Style – “Im Puland uh im midi cool suuurgin, im Nu York a junnh ita”.
Braindead Aussie Who Thinks She’s From O.C. Style – “Oh my god there’s like so many black people in New York, they’re SO cute…like big vegemite men”.
People seem to be a lot more patriotic in America, and this features heavily in the naming of things. For instance, there’s George Bush Drive, Liberty Fries, Freedom Tower, Independence Day, Democracy Avenue etc. I’m sure there’s a sex shop somewhere in the USA where you can buy a Clinton-Clit-Tickler to complement your Yankee-Beads. You can probably even buy a Michelle Obama Doll. OK, too far?
We’re nowhere near as patriotic in Australia, because frankly we don’t give a shit. If we named things after what we cared about we’d drive down Ben Cousins Avenue to go to work in Gallipolli Tower. For lunch we’d eat Chuck a Sickie Burgers washed down with a pint of Kevin 07 Brew at the Cold Chisel Beer Garden. In the evenings we’d take our special someone out for a drink at the Fuck Off Boat People Cocktail Bar followed by a concert at the Spent 2 Years Completely Pissed In England And Now I Have An STD Opera House and finished off with a late night stroll along the sand at the We Blindly Followed Britain Into A War We Didn’t Know Anything About And Lost Thousands Of Men In Our Worst Military Disaster And We’re Commemorating Not Celebrating This As A National Holiday Beach.
1. We don’t need much sunscreen. My fairer mates get burnt standing in front of the microwave….even when it’s not turned on. I just become a nice consistent brown colour in the sun. Saving money on sunscreen allows me to play more games of Dance Dance Revolution at Timezone.
2. We have very minimal body hair, both men and women. I literally have 12 chest hairs which I’ve named after Santa’s reindeer. It’s taken me 31 years for Dasher to proudly take centre stage. I’m very proud of her (they’re all female).
This means I don’t spend money on razor blades. I use these saved funds each month to treat myself to a night at a Karaoke bar.
3. Society expects us to be genetically disadvantaged with our penis-length. Yes, the stereotype of tiny-wieners is a huge benefit for those that are well endowed because it completely lowers all expectations prior to trouser-removal. In fact I’ve always told women that not only do I have a small penis, but I last 30 seconds, don’t like cuddling, have bad breath, snore loudly and usually have diarrhoea after a big night out.
4. The typical Asian upbringing is actually really positive. Yes, I played the piano well, was good at maths and had tutoring at school. But this just meant I got a good degree, climbing the corporate ladder, play in rock bands, have travelled the world and can cook good stir fries. The jocks at school are now all working in “retail” (I shouldn’t be too hard because one guy made it to evening shift supervisor at Dunkin Donuts), still live at home, and holiday at boutique caravan parks that are accessible by Greyhound buses.
5. We rarely put on weight. I usually eat as much as a family of bogans with a Sizzler Groupon. However, I’m as skinny as a heroin-rockstar and have the asshole of a seven year old girl.
6. We always look young. My theory is that Asians always look 10 years younger throughout their lives until they reach a point around 70 which I call the Maximum Age of Oriental Benefit. After MAOB, the faces loses all hydration, resembling a dried mackerel with a white wig. I intend to die from symptoms of excess-hedonism well before then.
7. Having poor eyesight means you can wear fashionable designer frames. Unfortunately most Asians in Australia still wear the cheapest 2-4-1 rims from Budget Eyewear.
8. We have really strong, thick hair. Did you know that Asian hair is often used to make wigs? So next time you pick up a King-Neptune wig (I actually have one), you’re probably wearing the hair of one of my ancestors. Please treat it with utmost respect; hair in Asian culture is revered almost as much as one’s Hello Kitty collection.
Strong hair means it’s easy to spike. Those that know me will recall that I have 2 inch spiky hair. For the Asians reading this that don’t know how big 2 inches is, think about what you normally hold in your hand at night.
However, a lot of my countrymen don’t take advantage of spikes, and instead choose a popular cut known as The-Bowl. Except for this guy below…he’s a rapist in Melbourne and inconveniently is Asian with my exact spiky hair. Thanks mate, but rape’s not funny….even if it’s done by a clown.
9. We don’t have body odour. On a hot day, my hairier male friends can smell very bad. One fellow who’s ethnicity is of the race that invented clever techniques to construct large pyramid shaped structures in the middle of fucking nowhere, smells worse than the inside of a bus departing from the Australian Garlic Appreciation Food Festival.
10. We’re less likely to be involved in a sporting accident, coz let’s face it…we suck at sport so generally don’t play. I’m so uncoordinated I can’t brush my teeth without poking myself in the eye. All my money saved on sporting gear has gone into paying for driving lessons.