Look, you’re about to die and I have no intention of rescuing you!

An issue which has forever been close to my heart is the inability of us as individuals to use self-initiative to succeed and instead blame past circumstances and seek pity from the rest.

It’s sad to see on a daily basis how much we, myself included, complain about almost every petite thing, attempting to gain some sort of pity from those around you. Yes, we all come from different backgrounds where some have been more privileged than others -but in what sense? Financial means?

You hear countless stories about how hardworking, determined individuals have succeeded against immense odds. And instead of serving as an inspiration, we dance to the typical tune of seeking every flaw within the individual while mocking the good that the person has done for themselves.

Personally, I feel that the greatest education you’ll ever get is the education you give yourself. With so many resources at our disposal and the tiny world that we’re living in, open doors are staring at us with GET YOUR ASS IN HERE written all over them.

I am a strong believer that if you’re not willing to sacrifice and go beyond what ‘they told you to do’, you won’t make any progress.
One cannot play the lotto every week, hoping to get your lucky break or drown your sorrows in a bottle for years because the guy next to you got the job, hoping that your life story will be documented and the whole the world will reach out to you in charitable embrace.

For the reality is, that nobody genuinely cares about your circumstance and they sure as hell are not going you to emancipate you from the dungeon of despair.

You have to do for you, quit complaining, and make it happen. The world IS yours for the taking.

And just by the way, trusting in the Lord makes a world of a difference as well. You should try it if you’re interested.

The Number 42 IS PURPLE

On first glance, a bright cheerful image of two bears greets the idle visitor of this blog site. Holding hands, they look out towards a rainbow over on a psychedelic green horizon, immediately below, the perky face of one of the blogs regular contributors, Cath Cunningham, smiles wickedly back from the screen.

Well written, witty and informative, it is clear to see why this blog was one of the favorites at the blog awards, the attention to detail is almost as perfect as any collective of women can muster and the relevancy found in each article glares at one in the face like an angry bear. Their tongue-in-cheek attitude towards writing is done cleanly and without the rough edges found in other blogs that occupy space on Blogspot.com (namely my own).

Personally, there is not one post that stands out above the rest, simply because to compare each one of these well educated writers would be unjust. Yet the flavours brought in by Cath, Mya and Michelle are as diverse as ice-cream stalls, but one cannot help but feel that two of the three authors were raised on a similar brand of psychoactive gymnastics as your truly.

That may make me a little biased towards their writing, hell, it may make me very biased towards their writing but its nothing that I am ashamed of. For a good laugh and a good time go check out their blog at www.thenumber42ispurple.blogspot.com.

One Hour...

It dawned on me, something that could open up eyes in this Rhodes institute of privileged kids who know no other way of life.

My plan was to sit alongside that old barefooted hobo, who plays his guitar and stretches his vocal tracts day in and out along the kerbs of High Street.

I was a bit nervous initially as I suspected him to be reluctant to have a stranger sit along side him to experience the life from the ground up.

I did not expect a conversation due to the language barriers in existence, which was a pity as my plan was to extract some information that might have served as an inspirational stepping stone for me as a student who has done nothing but walk past this soloist on his way to Pick n Pay.

Friday Morning.

The street is in its usual casual state with everyone tending to their own business, not a sign of a friendly handshake or a warm embrace – not by anyone.

And there he sits. Under the tree, strumming away.

‘Molo Tata’ was all I could utter. He grins with droopy eyelids and I take a seat next to him.
Not long after, the eyes start staring my way and I experience what it is to be looked down upon by the masses. I attempt to catch my new friend’s lyrics and sing along, but I am too intrigued by the passion with which he delivers his melodies. This man is content with his circumstance, it is clear as day.

The hour I spent with my new friend was an experience that has humbled me even further and I actually felt so guilty when I got back to my res and found an expensive hoodie of mine lying on the floor alongside my bed.

Nonetheless, it was experience gained through experiencing.

Red Hot Number 42

My current semester at Rhodes University has allowed me to attend lectures on the global crisis with Professor Cobbing. It is a high flying course covering human history and what we have done wrong to end up in the state that we are currently experiencing (which, according to Cobbing, is a crisis). Professor Cobbing’s reason behind our state of flux is simply because no one cares anymore. Humans are too selfish and more inclined to put themselves first than to be bothered about society’s problems. The writers of The Number 42 is Purple, however, show a conscious understanding of the world. Their writing shows evidence of social awareness and a genuine concern with the current state of society.

These four women have viewed and reviewed worldly issues with a critical lens. They have provided readers with a student’s perspective on the world and have shown that humans are not entirely focused on themselves. The Number 42 is Purple has provided me with a little hope about the world we live in. Many people today are so engaged with their own trivial concerns that the human race has slowly turned into an autistic community. Connecting with each other through a networking site or over some technological device is a more natural occurrence than physical, face-to-face human contact.

The blogging topics range from climate change and twitter, to Obama and animal testing. The broad topics demonstrate an extensive understanding in the world and are well executed in their writing. The world needs to see more of The Number 42 is Purple if we are ever to have any hope of living beyond this crisis.

No real Culture, but a whole lot of vulture

I decided to do my review on Young Culture’s Emporium. The blog, orchestrated by four opinionated young women, presents a simplified interface with articles that state the point and eliminate irrelevance.

The blog title, however, does not coincide very much with the content presented. I would have expected that with a name such as young culture, there would have been more focus placed on growing youth trends in terms of fashion, cults, belief systems as well as young people who are excelling in media and other industries.

Regardless though, the articles proved to compensate for the lack of title-content integration with a diverse mix of posts, ranging from commentary on fresh AWB onslaught-in-the-making to hits at the verbosity of parliamentarians in court to a direct challenge at the first year journalism course which is proving nothing more than plain boring.

Due to the critical nature of this blog, it would perhaps have been appropriate to include a sideline widget on the blog such as a poll or statistical chart, which would compliment the articles well or perhaps a darker colour scheme to point out the critical element.

The use of images and video were creative and stood out amongst the simplified interface,

I particularly enjoyed the articles ‘Just a thought on Varsity life’ and ‘Doomed for failure by global expectation’

One can tell that most posts have been well researched and hyperlinks are provided to substantiate this

This is a simple blog which secures the cash and disposes the trash, using imagery economically and making

it gets 7.5/10

The Sobriety Test

Grahamstown is well known for many things, but the student drinking culture most likely tops the list of the most famous or infamous qualities this fair town. I am not embarrassed to say that I have taken part in these activities with great enthusiasm and fervour. I have met a number of people, could tell a hundred stories and I have had a great deal of laughs along the way. This has been, however, all under the influence of alcohol. Therefore, I decided that I would spend a night out in Grahamstown with no trace of alcohol in my system.

The thought of going out sober was a daunting one. This is because, and maybe it is a sad fact, but going out in sober in Grahamstown is a little difficult seeing as there are numerous students wondering New Street in a drunk and disorderly fashion. This factor is somewhat off putting, because inebriated people do not have the same interests as those who are sober. For example, dancing on the tables at Union might be appealing to those who have had a few; whereas those who haven’t had a drop may not be able to muster the confidence to showcase their dancing abilities to the Rhodes student body. The reason for this would be that one’s inhibitions slowly fall away with the consumption of alcohol and the ability to acknowledge one’s appearance and behaviour disappears. Therefore, finding common ground with those who had been drinking made me a little reluctant to go out at all.

However, I had promised a mate that we were going to go out, even if it was in a sober state of mind. So we downed our Bioplus sachets and headed out. One of the issues I was going to have with this night of no alcohol was the weather. The wind was ice cold as we wandered down to Union. This is often ignored due to alcohols capacity to warm the blood. However, all was not lost as a lift was soon acquired.
Union was empty and for now, Sammy and I weren’t quite prepared to make fools of ourselves on the dance floor. So we sat and waited for Steph to arrive from Aquatics AGM. It must be noted that by the time she arrived at Union, Steph had already had copious amounts of free punch; which would mean that Sammy and I were in for an evening of a lot of work and effort.

I expected the night to be a rough one with lots of drunk people falling all over the place, which it invariably was, but I didn’t expect the night to be enjoyable. Wandering the Grahamstown streets, hitching lifts and having a number of drunk conversations was surprisingly entertaining. I am glad I ended up staying true to my word by allowing myself to see the Grahamstown night life without the drunken haze.
However, this is an experience not to be taken lightly. If you are a keen partier like myself who enjoys a bit of drink to get started on a night out, a sober night could be a risky move. It’s only when all the planets are in alignment, the moon is full and blue and that pig across road did fly, that you will enjoy a night out as a sober cobra in Grahamstown. And that night for me was last night.

Ah, the Beach, a Blog that has Nothing To Do With Journalism

Hmmm, crap. This is public and stupid. I guess that’s what attracted me to it. I finally let go of my inhibitions and did something my parents would openly frown upon.

I sat on a beach and busked.

The spell check immediately asked me if I meant basked. No. I meant busked. For those of you playing the home game; busking is when you and a mate grab a guitar and play it in public while singing bad renditions of popular songs. For some its all about putting out the hat and earning some loose change, for others, like us, it was just about the feeling of doing something daft in public (and hopefully attract the attentions of the pretty girls sitting near us on the beach).

The feelings were not those associated with the usual euphoric tremblings found when performing before an audience who actually paid to see you. Instead, this felt more intimate. We had been mellowing out so much throughout the day that the actual act of busking just seemed like the next logical step to the intake of alcohol and hubbly already permeating our systems.

My friend Zane, bless him, recorded most of the one song, and it shows just how relaxed we all were, my friend Darryn was so relaxed, he opted not to even stir from his sleep.

The real truth behind all of this, which need I add has nothing to do with journalism, was for a break. To get out of our varsity town and visit the coast for a guys-only getaway where women, and booze were the only topics of conversation (two of the four of us were in steady relationships, as for myself and Darryn, well we have no clue). I guess the act of busking was an embodiment of our sentiments for the weekend; not to care while throwing out whatever we felt like to the big bad world. It was the musical equivalent of farting in public.

The end of the song, not shown in the clip, was more of a tapering off of notes than a resounding musical finale, but that is what busking is… bullshitting your way through a piece of music to look good and hip. Yet in this instance we did not do it to look cool and feel smart, we just did it to improve on our already considerable state of happiness. In other words, it was the worlds most selfish busk.

I do hope that everyone can feel what we felt for those few seconds. The sense that anyone can be watching you there and then and you won’t be self conscious about it at all. It is really one of the most liberating moments I have ever experienced, and if I have my way, it wont be the last.

Racism, Retribution and Forgiveness

It’s exciting to see young people becoming mobilised and active in society. However, are the reasons behind this type of activism well informed?

Today, the SRC of Rhodes University along with SASCO, ANCYL, DA, YCL, NEHAWU and DASO organised a protest against racism. This was in light of Professor Jonathan Jansen’s, the Vice-Chancellor of the University of the Free State, decision to allow the Reitz 4 to continue their education at UFS. According to the SRC at Rhodes University, this protest was against such a decision by Prof. Jansen.

Those who were involved in the protest, I can only hope, took the time to research the matter clearly. I am in no way for any sort of racist action. However, I do not believe one should blindly follow the other without determining the facts and making a well informed decision.

If I did agree with the protest’s aims I would have been more than willing to give up my lunch time meal of a Cornish pie and chips. However, this was not the case.
Vice-Chancellor Jansen’s decision is solely based on the ideals of forgiveness and reconciliation. The charges of the Reitz 4 have not been dropped. Their case is on-going with the UFS, the Human Rights Commission and the Directorate of Special Prosecutions. By allowing these perpetrators to continue their tertiary education is an act of transformation and an attempt to emulate the actions of the men who built the country we live in today. Archbishop Desmond Tutu pointed out in a letter to Vice-Chancellor Jansen that Nelson Mandela is a man much admired today because of his ability to forgive rather than his ability to execute revenge.

A case many years ago that we cannot forget is that of Amy Biehl. An American woman who’s work is greatly respected and marvelled at the world over. Unfortunately she was brutally murdered in 1993 as an act of ‘political mob violence’. Her parents participated in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s hearing and publicly forgave these men.

Therefore, I must ask members of the student body to remember such men and women and why we revere them. It is forgiveness, rather than retribution, that will serve us well in the long term.

Ahem, Stop Standing On My Toes

Insults. Political correctness. Insultingly politically correct. Insulting the politically correct. Correcting the politically insulting. Insulting the political.

I have often wondered why my mother would clip me about the ears for impropriety. Whether I was at school singing aloud Tenacious D’s Gay Eskimo song at the age of ten, or on the dojo floor urging a team mate to tear off the testicles of an opponent at the age of 17, either way you look at it, my attention to social fiber is not very good.

It saddens me that society, with all the charm found in its ignorance, still does not like being politically incorrect. The act of political correctness only encourages one to remain a dope-fuelled government addict, sniveling when someone describes racism as dead and being white as a guilty sin. The fascinating thing remains that those who are politically incorrect don’t tend to reverse this role, they take their criticism generally quite well and continue to be as loud and rude about the subject of abortion as before.

The fact is, and always will be, that to be politically incorrect is to be a challenger of what people should be thinking about a given topic. You say abortions are necessary for the victims of rape, I say they are needed for the floozy’s in High School. Either way an abortion is the answer, but why do the reasons need to be the same? For a shining example of true political incorrectness, one need only gloss the likes of www.hayibo.com to know that there are people out there who just don’t give a crap anymore about what others tell them.

Could you Bring the Bill Please?

Over the last couple of days the African National Congress have been accused of overspending by R318 million. A number of newspaper sites have covered this story and have chosen to provide an angle of the story from the Democratic Alliance’s point of view. This bias in perspective can be seen on all the major news websites such as IOL, Mail and Guardian, iAfrica.com, TimesLive and News24.com. This is because the article about the DA’s accusations is the same article throughout the sites. The story has been taken from SAPA and used by all the news sites; this has, therefore, presented the reader of these sites with little perspective and insight into the story. What one can determine is that SAPA have maintained a biased view. There are no quotes from ANC representatives whereas the DA features prominently throughout the article.

IOL.co.za, however, provided an article that provided in depth analysis into government spending over recent months. Instead of listing the number of cars each minister has just acquired, there is discussion about state owned enterprises and bail outs involving the South African National Broadcaster and South African Airways. I prefer this angle more as it allows the reader to see beyond the R318 million that has gone to petty things such as government cars. This article provides one with a more balanced and all round approach to where the tax payers’ money is going.

The Hand Of A Woman

One Scoop, or Two?

The District 9 Naughtiness

Oh those pesky big-wig producers and their evil little racist friends! Whatever will they do next?

For those who have been living in complete isolation over the past few months, and when asked about this movie it would appear a lot of you have, our local cinema’s have been graced with a film called District 9. The premise is remarkably allegoristic, turning apartheid on its head by literally telling the story of how real aliens are received by us humans when forced to land on Earth for an as yet undisclosed reason (sequel anyone?). Oh, and it all takes place in South Africa (well, Johannesburg).

This time around the cinema critics actually took to the film on a million to one long-shot, with praise coming in from all corners of the globe with its bravery and originality. Everyone it would seem, except for those at racialicious.com.

Need I point out that this written in response to their post on just how racist district 9 was.

Yes, District 9 portrays the oppressed in an unflattering light. Yes, the only Nigerians in the film are trying to eat everything before (or after) killing it first. Yes, the oppressors are all white. And yes, it was all written and directed by an ignorant American called Niel Blomkamp.

What?

It wasn’t?

Neil Blomkamp is South African?

Get outta here!

Yup, much to the chagrin of racialicious.com, Neil Blomkamp was born and raised in South Africa, ahem, during apartheid before his family moved to Canada. Granted, his domestic touch may be influenced by foreign media, but what racialicious fail to realize is that District 9 is actually so stereotyped and out-therem (deliberately, I have read the interviews with writer/director Neil Blomkamp at empiremagazine.com) with the whole racist plot that it’s anti-racist? Understand Mother-Grandie? Also what the individual who wrote the whole article failed to realize is that the whole practice of Muthi (the eating of parts of another to gain their strength) is actually incredibly common in South Africa. I live in Durban, where there is an entire muthi market selling the limbs and innards of every living thing. So telling me that because of this aspect of the film the film-makers are racist, I would encourage whosoever writes such articles to do their research first. For fucks sakes! You can legally claim medical aid for seeing a witch doctor in South Africa!

All that I ask of these people, and unfortunately blog writers are particularly to blame, is to do your research first before making claims about countries and policies you actually know nothing about. It is our job as journalists to provide, when asked, an informed opinion. Not one that is made because you are insulted, but one which has been made because the facts you have acquired point to something else. In this instance, the writers at racialicious.com chose to believe, without justification, that elements of the film were racist whereas they were, for South Africans, a seriously hard hit home as to the problems we are facing everyday with prejudice.

The Good, The Bad and The Media

One of our fatal flaws as human beings is how attracted we are to bad news. It is most troubling to see that we as a species do not take an interest in what is good in our world and celebrate it. I would, as an anti-journalism journalist, like to point out that a great deal of our fascination with the shocking and horrific events that take place in our society can be blamed on the media.
The media have an awful habit of reducing the focus on stories about triumph and success, whilst maximising the gloomier aspects of our world. One such example that I have found that the media have treated poorly on every account, is that of Caster Semenya. The media have put all their energy into the debate over whether she is a woman or not; whereas there has been little focus on her achievements at the World Athletics Championships that took place in August. After our dismal performance at last years Olympics, one would think that the media would make more of a hype about how our athletes did in Berlin last month. But of course due to our desire to feed on the misfortunes of others, journalists have spent the last couple of weeks questioning the gender of an athlete.
Not to mention these questions around Semenya's gender have been as subtle as Michael Jackson's plastic surgery. This poor woman is a human being. All that she has done was win a race in record time for her country and as the public we have celebrated her success by attacking her looks and gender.
This poor performance from the media saddens me. What society are we living in when we value hardships and downplay success?

Everybody knows a Kanye

The media world is up in arms yet again. It may have something to do with the little outburst Mr Kanye West had during the MTV VMA’s recently, where during the speech being given by the sickeningly sweet Taylor Swift, we as an audience were treated to a black man with the subtlety of clown rape. Not that I agree with Kanye, well I generally don’t agree with Kanye period, simply because any idiot who thinks it fashionable to wear glasses in the dead of night should be made to cross a busy intersection at 3 am. However, what I simply love about Kanye is how much like the Nazi War Regime he is at award shows; one minute you are politely going about your business, the next he is upon you trying to steal your podium space. So why is it that the media are sympathizing with Taylor Swift? It’s obvious; she is the cute and innocent country star who had her moment stolen by a drunk black guy. This begs two questions of the media today. One; why did nobody agree with Kanye and two; why don’t we let celebrities run more rampant? It’s no secret that the world of show business is one of violent subterfuge and evil little men behind curtains, would it not make sense on behalf of the tabloid press to stop creating stories for their precious little weeklies and start focusing on the real grit. Don’t delude us with mindless drivel about how many pairs of shoes George Michael managed to wank into before being caught in Sotheby’s, tell us about the figures and stories, the hard news behind what commonly is seen as a soft news topic. Can’t a man just watch an award show and laugh without having to be told how heart-broken Taylor Swift became and how broken Kanye West was. Let the entertainers entertain us, and the journalists enlighten.

I Write What I Bite

An afro yielding blend of burnt peach with an accentuated speech resembling that of your local cape coloured, coupled with a dose of intellect and source material and you have me – Jonny, Mr Critical himself.

With this here blog of critical analysis, my group members and I aim to dissect, inspect and project exactly what we think of news pieces and everyday occurrences which are in dire need of someone who can take a closer look and point out the specks hidden behind the silk curtain. Journalism is an art which has served as the bread and butter for the submissive housewife; the hardass businessman as well as the low-key street sweeper attempting to delay his lunch break for a tad longer. (Check me out, already using stereotypeadelicism to categorise my people)

The art, however, through the never-ceasing profit chase, has gone out and purchased a gold ring for its bride – entertainment value. Sure, we don’t see it right?, but this marriage of convenience has stood strong for longer than we thought we knew, watching us common folk nod our eager heads and raise our palms for another bowl of hot s(c)oup. People are discarding mom’s pure cotton jersey for a lavishly priced polyester replica that bears a picture of a monkey. What we as a citizenship have failed to realise is that this journalism, which we simply misconstrue as an innocent report of the day’s events, has in fact become the primal force in defining that sweet two-syllabic word – power. Ranging from petite disputes between unemployed workers and municipal elites, to senators seeking revenge against supposed terrorist groups, journalism has cemented both the foundation and the rooftop. Journalism schools teach students to free their minds and think outside the box, yet we are still bombarded with narrow-minded ideology which we as students are forced to use as our point of reference. I don’t see no free thinking (Now watch how my tutor penalises me for grammatical error…prescriptivism, damn it!)

So yes fellow citizens, have we scrutinized hard enough to confidently say that what lies before us can truly be set in stone and stamped with the TRC’s stamp of approval?or who then is the TRC? The Elite? Because they know better? Are you for real?

Let the blog begin…

Ingredients Include...

Welcome to the anti-Journalism blog where anything and everything that has to do with journalism will be criticised and scrutinised and victimised and every other –ised word. This entry will be all about what you can expect from this unique package that you have purchased. And by ‘purchased’ I mean, spending your well earned time to view this blog, when you could be writing an expose piece on some politician’s latest philandering actions. I guess it is one of my responsibilities to give you something good to read. I shall do my very best to entertain you, enlighten you and, of course, encourage you to stop by more frequently to read this most profound blog.

Now, let's get down to the "disclaimer"/warning/you read this at your own risk. I am completely aware of the fact that this is a public forum and my blog will be broadcast to millions of people – I hope. Therefore, I am aware that I will be taking the risk of advertising my opinions and points of view. So I know I will be opening myself up to a variety of people who think differently.

However, I will warn you that I will be giving you my conclusion of Journalism that has been formulated based on my own research, opinions and ideas. Therefore, at times I may require my readers to take what I write with a pinch of salt and if you truly cannot stand the utter drivel I post, well then kindly close the web browser you are using and return to your narrow minded view on the world. There is no need to leave rude and vulgar comments, however, if you so wish to leave such comments on my blog they will require some constructive criticism or else they’re just wasting cyber space.

Now that we’ve got the house keeping out of the way...

What can you as a reader expect from this very blog? Well, I promise you that it will not inform you of the two for one sale at Jay Jays or the latest moan about the liquor law that is having a drastic affect on the drinking habits of students in Grahamstown. No, this blog will provide you with a reason to question all things that involve journalism and the media. Expect harsh commentary on first year Journalism as well as the way journalists conduct themselves; not to mention there will be callous remarks made about the media’s ability to report on stories. However, as much as I may sound insensitive, I will of course provide my own constructive criticism.

The commentary provided in this blog is all based on a first year Rhodes student and her impressions of journalism. This will provide you, the reader, with a firsthand account of the media as it has been taught to me and how I view it with the knowledge given to me by the Journalism Department of Rhodes University.

Therefore, all I can ask of you is to sit back in that comfy office chair provided by the Jac labs; relax, if you can even though you know you have a psych test in a few hours; and enjoy.

In Case You Were Not Listening First Time Around...

I am not typical. Well at least I am as typical as much as everyone else is not typical. It is with this approach that the topic of journalism will be tackled by what can only be described as a slightly disgruntled student. Not that it will make me biased against Journalism itself, oh no! I just want to get a voice out there that will create some little change, however small, in the thinking behind prospective journalists. It’s more of a hope really. We were told to state our aims; the little hooks that will make you as a reader follow our blog posts with interest and enthusiasm, but what good is it to tell you as a reader about them if we as a group do not mean them. Obama asked for change, we intend to express it. So what is it that we intend to do? For one we intend to change the perception of journalism, our first little post stated that we will have a no holds barred approach to what we as journalism students study, that we intend to take the topic and turn it on its head. This is not because we are against journalism; it is merely because we see this as the most efficient way of questioning it as a subject. By highlighting the faults of an object, do we not eliminate everything from it that is not beautiful? With that said I hope I have justified the next action that we as a group will take; tearing down the subject of journalism and building it up again. We will not be constructing it in the image that we want it to be, but instead leave you as the reader open to interpret in a way that is most natural to you. That way you can take what we say and form your own, natural opinion about a subject which is synonymous with negativity and decide what you think is fact and fiction. Like I said, we are not out to shatter journalism, just hurt it into being honest. I hope you enjoy the work that will follow, the tongue and cheek attitude that will be presented to you will merely be a mask, a foil for what we are really trying to say: open your mind as a journalist, and the rest will follow.

A Needle of Heroin to the Eye of Journalism

This is not a blog, it is more a screaming, huffing rant that is meant to upset the people who put us in this position in the first place. The upstanding Faculty of Journalism on Rhodes campus here in Grahamstown South Africa have given us a task to write a blog about important issues to fellow journalism students. We will respond by telling them exactly what they don't want to hear. Nobody likes groupwork, nobody likes work in particular, yet here we are doing both thanks to the great minds who stand up on a daily basis and lectutre us on what they think is great journalism. In truth, none of it is, its all a deluge of conformist thinking and we all have to deal with it like a rash from a lover. With the first post from this blog fast approaching, you can only expect the best from us, or at least what we hope the faculty thinks is our best. There will be no sacred cows here, no room for crying about the colour of skin or the fairness of gender equality, if you don't like what is being said here, download porn instead.