“Don’t dig shallow wells.” — Cookiemonstergirl, June 2012
What’s that, reader? No post since July? I know! A girl much younger than me wearing a jacket that looked like she’d just hunted and skinned the Cookie Monster (seriously it even had a bloodish, red wine stain) listened to my bullshit dysatisfunctional predicament for about 3 minutes, nodded, said “Hmp”, then gave me the best advice I’ve received since Jon Safran said I could wear my undies four times without changing (“forwards, backwards, inside-out forwards, inside-out backwards”). She told me: “Don’t dig shallow wells.”
I’ll admit it, I’m a bad multi-tasker. Comes from being a perfectionist, which leads to procrastination, which leads to feeling anxious, which leads to me bingeing on extremely unhealthy foods, like our fresh-slain friend here. So I threw Dysatisfunctional.com in front of my singularly determined priority van, like it was Todd in Neighbours.
What I took from Cookiemonstergirl’s advice was: if it ain’t payin’ me dollar$, and instead diverting resources away from something that will pay off sooner, faster, louder, longer, then broom it. Sorry to both my fans; maybe they should GET A JOB >>>>>
Now I’m a little more focused, and using Dysatisfunctional.com as a symbol, something terrifying, something…elemental ***sorry fuck that’s Batman*** when a noteworthy thing occurs to my now-singularly determined brain: I’m expanding the self-improvement project to the media, which I’m trained in anyhow, which I do professionally, and which lately I’ve come to think is the single greatest vehicle of dysfunction I’ve seen beyond family Christmases.
Writing this blog is far more interesting for me, anyhow, than the one time per year I decide to write a freelance article, which always gets whittled down to fit the narrow demands of a bulk audience that may only exist as part of a self-fulfilling prophecy and failure of editorial imagination. But because this blog is still not a political soapbox, I’ll say no more on this for now, and instead talk about Simon Baker in the ANZ smartcard commercials. Check it:
Yeah they’ll make you go Youtube. Fair enough.
I’m convinced this was made by an outsourced freelancer who thinks Australia’s ‘Big Four’ banks suck of the balls. Let’s review: Simon Baker is vaguely Mentallist in his weekend garden vest, almost drops the wrench, needs to compensate so rips on the underling he just hired about his fingernails, which presumably got dirty doing a job Simon was unable (incompetent snob) or unwilling (snob jerk) to do himself. Next, Simon counters an argument the plumber never made–that his cashflow COULD be fixed with a wrench. Hands back the plumber’s wrench like he’s doing him a favour, makes out like payment for services rendered equals ANOTHER favour, shows him a thing or two about REAL modern tools, then grimaces at his mucky shit hand because he couldn’t think of a slick, stylistically consistent way to avoid the pretense of a handshake.
Why is all this the work of a clever filmmaker/advertising culturejammer who hates the ANZ? Because the caption reads, “We live in your world.” when everything about the ad screams: “CLASS DISPARITY!” I bet it was made by the same person who convinced the National Australia Bank to refer to themselves as lowercase “nab” in one of the only countries where banks charge customers for the privilege of maintaining our accounts, instead of the banks being privileged to hold our money and use it for whateverthefuck. This person, textually the same person, is for me a total gun. On the chance this self-parody was unintentional, its creators just effectively culture-jammed themselves, and might be smarter than even they realise.
As we conclude our maiden foray into a seemingly ever-dysatisfunctional media landscape, it’s worth mentioning that our proletariat plumbing friend actually could get paid faster swinging a wrench, late at night between the car door and the front door. Not to get political, but money could change hands fast if he rounded up some friends, “Oppa-Engels-style”, and many wrenches were swung determinedly at whatever smug executive-class pricks, who we know from this ad can’t/won’t do menial tasks themselves, need to impress their aristocratic airs on those helping them from below, and who find the materialist underpinnings of their basic existence far more distasteful than the virtual online world their money streams through. Though I hear the Class Consiousness App crashes all the time. But even if the revolution never comes, Simon, some people don’t pay their bills on time because they’re FUCKING BROKE, bruz, so don’t get on like an asshole.
I bet Simon casually refuses to indicate when changing lanes in his BMer, too. What has Cookiemonstergirl to do with Simon allegedly living in our world, I hear you ask? Well here’s an example of someone not digging shallow wells. You can bet dude got pai-yeed. And good on him for making it through the role of struggling actor, I say. But there, reader, is your take-away: if you must win, try to do it with some dignity.
Feedback me when you feel the function.