Published in Beat Magazine, March 22, 2006

A brain at war with itself is not fun to own.

I’ve been piecing together a comedy festival show about advertising, and so I’ve been watching a lot of ads. My brain desperately wants to find better things to do, of which I have counted two hundred and seventy-eight thousand, nine hundred and twelve so far – and yes, one if the better things to do, cerebrally speaking, is to count the better things to do. Focusing the mind on those thirty second annoyances is like hearing fingernails dragged across a blackboard, and then trying to translate the sound into English. While sane people have gone to make a cuppa, I’ve almost had to strap myself in Clockwork Orange-style, in order to keep watching the parade of lunges for my bank account. Particularly as they keep trying to tweak my heartstrings, rather than anything based on reason… when they want us to buy the brand of toilet paper the puppy is playing with, or the car that can play basketball, they’re not trying to woo our intellects.

So, let’s call this a “coming up for air”. For one column, I get to shunt Ronald McDonald and the chick from Brandpower to one side, and focus on something else, so that my grey matter doesn’t atrophy completely. On a small note, I’m amused by the release of Aeon Flux, Charlize Theron’s latest movie, as I can picture entertainment reporters around the world practicing saying the title clearly and accurately; any mispronunciation of “flux” could end a television career in a second.

On a larger note, two state elections were held last weekend, with Labor being returned to power in Tasmania and South Australia. In the case of SA there was a swing towards Labor, which has the spin doctors working harder than Wayne Carey’s divorce lawyer. Federal Labor has fired off a salvo of sound bites proclaiming that it was industrial relations fear. Tying these wins to anything Federal may be a tad bold, as most members of the Federal Labor Caucus seems to be working on their black belt in infighting. It’s like watching a rendition of West Side Story being performed by annoyed rottweilers, and is one of the reasons why Kim Beazley is polling slightly better than mosquito bites. Naturally, our beloved Lord High Exalted Poobah has weighed in. Not content to deny the link to nationwide issues, Mr Howard is actually claiming partial credit for the results, saying that oppositions have a tough time taking over during a strong economy, and that this is the economy that John built. Next, expect the PM to take credit for the fact that your car started at first try last time you wanted to drive (or to blame Labor if it didn’t, or the unions if you don’t have one). Looking for the truth? Good luck with that…

On a distracted note, as I type this I’m watching the video for Jamie Foxx’s misnamed song Unpredictable. Since when does an Oscar give you a key to a recording studio? Where’s De Niro’s soulless r ‘n’ b album? Which deity do I thank for the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow only released one song?

On a cyber note, a couple of US senators have suggested a new internet domain abbreviation. To the sea of .com, .net, .org, .edu etc, they have recommended adding .xxx for porn sites. This makes sense, although many men would lament losing access to the “I went to that site by accident, honey” clause. Channel Ten would breathe a sigh of relief, as dropping the .au from their web address would no longer lead to puzzled teenagers looking for Australian Idol and finding American Slapper (try it, you know you want to). I can suggest a few other suffixes that might save avid net surfers some time:

.NRD, to denote fan pages set up for those and by those who take their Star Trek too seriously.

.SPL, for pages that look like they’re hosting the World Conference of Spelling Miskates.

.SAD, for message boards full of people claiming to be thirty kilos lighter, ten years younger and one hundred times sexier than they are, all having convinced themselves that sexxy4U, who they’ve been corresponding with for a week, is actually the supermodel/tycoon/athlete that he/she/it says he/she/it is.

Well, time to leave the real world behind, and take another visit to Advertisia. See you in April.