After two more subscribers pledged their allegiance (and their cash) to bankingcommish today, the kitty has increased to $1200. Yep, $1200. That’s a lot of Kit Kats. I made it very clear when I started this that I was only in it for the money, so, if you’re getting some entertainment out of this sweet collection of textual chocolate, GIVE ME ALL YOUR MONEY NOW!

Or just some of it?

Back when I was at University, I spent a couple of summers picking cherries just outside of Latrobe with a few mates. It was a good job for a tall person to have, as most cherry picking is done at or above shoulder height. We used to always have the radio tuned to Triple J when we were in the fields; it made the day go faster. After a few weeks, I got to know most of the songs on their rotation and could tell when they’d introduced new songs into their music catalogue because the tracks would change (some would drop out and be replaced by the new songs). Despite the repetition, I still enjoyed listening in…

What the fuck happened?

The majority of the current Triple J music programming library consists predominantly of turgid bands overflowing with indie cunts more concerned about their fashion and/or their ridiculous hairstyle than the substance of their songs, playing inane variations on 3-chord, 3 minute pieces of shit masquerading as music. Seriously, tune in at any time outside of ‘Full Metal Racket’ or ‘Short Fast Loud’ or any of the other specialist music shows and try and go half an hour without feeling like your ears have been molested by the utter ineptitude of their radio offering. I’m so fucking sick of their current trend towards giving bands that embody words like ‘whimsical’, ‘kooky’ or ‘chilled’ maximum airplay on their station. These bands are indistinguishable from each other because they’re simply clones of clones (of clones).

I laughed at a promo audio grab that came on In the car for Unearthed High (where Triple J run a competition to unearth an artist/band still in school and support them etc.) the other day on my way back from picking up dinner. There was a high-pitched 15 year old boy from Wesley College (an upper-class school in Melbourne known for having some of the highest school fees in Australia) going by his ‘MC’ name, Soliloquy, doing the voice introduction for one of the songs he’d written, called ‘Greed’.

I wondered if he had written the song ironically, considering his circumstances. I also wondered if his undoubtedly rich family had paid for the studio time and recording gear necessary for him to churn out what I would happily describe as one of the most shithouse songs of all time…

Triple J – just because you can play this music on your radio station doesn’t necessarily mean you should.

“I’m so wacky, let me regale you with stories from my youth!”

It’s not just their penchant for playing style-heavy, content-low ass pop that grinds my gears; their presenters are some of the most inept, self-congratulatory cunts I’ve ever had the displeasure of being subjected to. Their morning starts awfully with ‘zany’ duo Tom & Alex, two awkward-as-fuck 20-something retards who have wasted countless interviews with decent musicians due purely to their own incompetence and an undying need to continue to be kooky. They are the antithesis of humorous. I have physically cringed while listening to them.

The Doctor is another Triple J ‘personality’ that would I feel would better serve the public as a target in a live-ammunition military exercise. For starters, he gave himself the nickname ‘The Doctor’… Secondly, he’s a 30-something man in a 20-something world, trying desperately to hold onto his grasp of the afternoon slot he was pushed into after Triple J producers determined he was too old to appeal to their target demographic in the morning timeslot by dropping names like a withered rock and roll groupie reliving former glory (holes) in the vain hope that it’ll earn him some respect and help him to cling onto his fast-sinking (ageing) ship. Doctor – You’re in your thirties. Act like you’re in your thirties. Your attempt at youthful exuberance and whimsy just makes you look like a creep.

You’re also a self-righteous vegan twat.

/end communication

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