I started my week off in impeccable fashion last night by accidentally knocking my laptop off my desk and smashing the screen into a million pieces. Now all it does is flicker incessantly as if taunting an epileptic child who harbours dreams of writing C++ for a living. A single tear ran down my eye when I saw the damage. To think of all those pixels deprived of their ability to accept varying levels of voltage and generate one of several million variations on red, green or blue…  Saddening.

I must say before I go any further, welcome! Judging from the multitude of page views that’ve come in over the last 24 hours, I’d say that bankingcommish has spread from word of mouth like AIDS at a barebacking conversion party… Strap yourselves in and prepare for the reaming!

I used to work at a Harvey Norman store back in the day. I sold cameras and computers, mostly. A real fucking nerd, I was. Trust me when I say that there’s nothing more outright hilarious than witnessing an ungainly, uncoordinated giant geek in slacks and a short-sleeved business shirt (resplendent with Bic pens in the breast pocket and a name badge) passionately waxing lyrical about the benefits of the Pentium 4 over the Celeron. Terrifying.

Around this time consumer pricing of digital SLRs started coming down… rapidly. I refer to this time as ‘the birth of the white-trash photography business’. Irrevocable and unfathomable change lay ahead.

Right, let’s get one fucking thing clear. Just because you’ve purchased a digital SLR courtesy of GE Money’s ‘48 months, nothing to pay’ interest-free promotion and (somehow) miraculously bumbled your way through the relevant paperwork to register your business with ASIC (with a name like ‘Precious Moments’ or something similarly anaemic)  does NOT make you a fucking photographer. I don’t care if your second-cousin Sharni allowed you to take photos at her wedding to, ‘the love of me life’ (sic), Brayden. I especially don’t fucking care that you spent the required $150 to have 500 high-gloss colour business cards made with your particulars on them (and I guarantee you made a spelling error on them too, you ignorant cunt). However, like the petite cheerleader squirming restlessly in the BBC scene, there’s only so much that I can take before things start to get a little too much to bear…

‘Please, no! Not the sepia-tone filter! Send me back, send me back!’
(c) Steven McCurry

What I want to say:

‘Oh, you’re a wedding photographer? How intriguing! (sarcasm). I guess it makes sense when I think about it. After all, it’s a ripe market for someone differentiating themselves from competitors by undercutting on price alone. It’s funny how you seem to always fabricate a convoluted and unlikely position or scenario for the bride and groom to find themselves in for your shoot. My favourite is the ‘old-timey sepia-tone shot in front of a vintage car while the bride holds an umbrella despite the complete absence of rain’ scenario. That’s very classy!’

What I think:

I mean, an umbrella, seriously? We aren’t living in fucking Edwardian England. However, if we were, at least you’d have a fucking excuse for all of the photos being in sepia-tone, which when taken using the stock feature on your $900 base-model Canon D series is the absolute antithesis of what a sane human being would refer to as ‘art’. I don’t want real photographers to wind up being a necessary evil in society (like the tax-man), existing only to capture moments for posterity with no artistic merit involved whatsoever because of your bumbling ineptitude and insatiable greed. What happened to light, colour, composition and skill? Stop being the fucking tax-man!

/end communication.