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Martin McKenzie-Murray piddling on the Centenary BBQ

By 7 March 2013 33

It takes a special kind of person to turn up early to a party while the decorations are going up and stand outside shouting to passersby why it’s going to be a dud party.

The Age’s Martin McKenzie-Murray is, it seems, that special kind of person.

And for the love of god can we stop talking about the long abandoned Burley Griffin vision?

I swear it only comes up because everyone knows the name.

As for the Centenary celebrations. They’re happening.

We can stand around with the genius of hindsight picking at things.

Or we can give it a go.

It seem obvious which one is going to be more fun.

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33 Responses to Martin McKenzie-Murray piddling on the Centenary BBQ
#1
martyo12:32 pm, 07 Mar 13

ask @feed_the_chooks how all the shooting and stabbings are going ? tosser

#2
davesact12:58 pm, 07 Mar 13

Came to Canberra for 20 minutes. Do they have a non-members bar any more? Obvious expert.

#3
FioBla1:46 pm, 07 Mar 13

Inaccurate, and quickly generalised again.

Canberra is the cyclist of Australia.

>The argument is sloppy, of course – it’s leveraging the popular but inchoate sense that government is bloated

I know that cycling is healthy but…

> A few weeks ago a former departmental speechwriter wrote an opinion piece, ”Coked Up in Canberra”, about notional blizzards of cocaine swirling around our invented capital and enjoyed by over-entitled young bureaucrats. It

Y’all run red lights.

>There was a chilling vibe. Here was the ”unreality” of Canberra that Keating had described.

Y’all need to pay rego to be taken seriously.

>In open societies, cities normally express the power of pluralism – the fluent vitality of the fullest range of professions, personalities and nationalities.

Roads were made for cars. Idiot.

> It’s as if Griffin had unwittingly designed Superman’s Fortress of Solitude for wonks and staffers.

Tax dollars on MAMILs?? The worst idea ever.

Friggin Canberra*/Cyclist*. *Delete where applicable.

Sit back. Watch the clicks and comments roll in.

#4
poetix1:58 pm, 07 Mar 13

I feel there is quite a difference between poking gentle fun at the festivities and getting stuck into the whole city is such a predictable way. He even does the pathetic fallacy, god love him: ‘That cool wind didn’t just come from the Brindabella Ranges. There was a chilling vibe.’

Someone sounds a little bitter. And I don’t mean in a good beer festival kind of way.

#5
johnboy2:01 pm, 07 Mar 13

If only someone had invited him to join their mixed netball squad.

#6
poetix2:05 pm, 07 Mar 13

Did you get to play Goal Attack?

#7
johnboy2:56 pm, 07 Mar 13

A good take by Finnigan:

http://blind-dragonfly.com/?p=717

    we share our joy without reservation
    but we’re happy for people to curse us bitterly
    we welcome all sour outsiders to say what they can
    and we send them to the empty triangular potemkin village south side of the lake
    show them round some empty museums and a carpark or two
    then send them on their way thinking they’ve seen it all

    what we got you can’t have unless you ask for it
    and you can’t ask for it if you’re stupid
    and that’s how this works

#8
johnboy3:18 pm, 07 Mar 13

And now we have the Canberra Times trying to defend it’s stablemate against its own readership.

I love the self serving logic of arguing “Lot’s of people disagreed with me so I must be right”

#9
chewy143:19 pm, 07 Mar 13

What a peanut this guy is.

And I see he’s doubling down in the Crimes story this arvo.

Seriously, he’s surprised that when he goes on a scattergun attack of the city, that some people might be offended?

#10
Holden Caulfield4:18 pm, 07 Mar 13

I think we should be kind on him, with a double-barrel surname I’m sure he got picked on a lot at school. Now that he’s a big man and thinks he can write he’s just enforcing his faux-intellectual arguments on us in an attempt to be the bully he’s always dreamed of being in the physical world.

#11
Holden Caulfield4:26 pm, 07 Mar 13

Awwwwwwwww, poor Marty is feeling a little overwhelmed.

#12
Mr Evil9:04 pm, 07 Mar 13

Some latte drinking, hipster wannabe from Melbs hates Canberra?

Really, I couldn’t give a flying truck what this dickhead thinks.

#13
Pork Hunt9:17 am, 08 Mar 13

Into english can someone translate please the gobbledygook that is paragraph six?

#14
johnboy9:22 am, 08 Mar 13

Pork Hunt said :

Into english can someone translate please the gobbledygook that is paragraph six?

My par 6 or martin’s?

#15
poetix9:35 am, 08 Mar 13

Pork Hunt said :

Into english can someone translate please the gobbledygook that is paragraph six?

I think he is saying that the term ‘public service’ covers many different types of work, and that some public service funding cuts may be justifiable, whereas others are not.

But my Google translator from waffle to clarity has been playing up lately (-:

#16
Alderney9:43 am, 08 Mar 13

johnboy said :

I love the self serving logic of arguing “Lot’s of people disagreed with me so I must be right”

So Lance Armstrong WAS right all along. Well, carry on then.

#17
Diggety10:15 am, 08 Mar 13

I tend to agree with his points, minus the hipster irony.

Probably good starting point for some long overdue self reflection.

#18
johnboy10:29 am, 08 Mar 13

because there’s never any navel gazing in this town?

#19
Madam Cholet10:31 am, 08 Mar 13

I started reading this article and gave up as it was all gobbledegook leading me to believe that he is indeed the alcoholic writer of media releases referred to in the article.

#20
Erg012:35 pm, 08 Mar 13

You’ve got to love the self-awareness of a former speechwriter who thinks that it was other members of the PS that were failing to add value.

#21
Erg012:39 pm, 08 Mar 13

(or, for that matter, a member of the print media complaining about others beating up a story)

#22
c_c™12:40 pm, 08 Mar 13

Well he’s a former political spin doctor so a penchant for bulls*** is a given.

Given how bad his writing is, the former part isn’t surprising. Sad indictment of the content big city Fairfax is willing to run.

#23
Jivrashia12:42 pm, 08 Mar 13

I don’t see anything more than just a rant of a self-loathing spin doctor.

And he was definitely under the influence when he wrote this rant, based on the fact that he indulges in mixing and phrasing words that only his fuddled mind believed it made sense at the time.

For example, the para 6 that everyone is pointing out as the worst:
we favour the broad and unhelpful slogans of prejudice

What?? Serious, WTF??

#24
Thumper12:50 pm, 08 Mar 13

I too have felt the bone chilling winds of Canberra as they suck the very soul from the people that live there, turning them into nothing more than husks of their former selves, now pitiful creatures alone and awash in a sea of unrelenting monotonousness, pushed down by the drudgery of a bloated bureaucracy hell bent on the subjugation of all who dare to attempt to rise above the desperate pits of the establishment.

Or it was simply a windy winters day….

#25
HiddenDragon1:42 pm, 08 Mar 13

johnboy said :

because there’s never any navel gazing in this town?

Never let it be said – Canberra is the Travis “you talkin’ to me” Bickle of Australia. What with this, and those uppitty Adelaidians thinking they’re better than us, it’s been a wonderfully, and highly therapeutically, diverting week.

#26
Holditz3:41 pm, 08 Mar 13

johnboy said :

And now we have the Canberra Times trying to defend it’s stablemate against its own readership.

I note that article also mentioned that Annabel Crabb also got a bit of a stick for her new TV series on the so-called Underbelly of Canberra. I can’t say I’ve heard of that little campaign, but I am looking forward to Ms. Crabb’s series- Canberra may have a heart, but it’s the heart of darkness…

#27
Diggety8:12 pm, 08 Mar 13

johnboy said :

because there’s never any navel gazing in this town?

Only the type that eventuates in public art unfortunately.

I think – after you subtract all the turgid filler – he raises some good points.

#28
LSWCHP10:34 pm, 08 Mar 13

OK team, in the spirit of the double-barreled Bulwer-Lytton contest, I would like to submit my inaugural contribution to the ACT McKenzie-Murray Really Poor Journalism award…

Here we go…Brave up and read on…

Bleakly, and with a heart full of acid bitterness and bile, which was odd in itself because bile normally enters the intestines versus the circulatory system, I trudged wearily and step by step up to the top of Mount Ainslie as the chilly wind vibe thingy lashed me and the taste in my mouth was that of the finest French champage slowly turning to ashes, mud, dust, rust and blood or actually it would have been that taste if only I had been able to afford French Champagne instead of the mid-range non-vintage Canberra Region sparkling I’d bought at the Civic Supabarn because I like to support local winemakers and when that taste turns to something like rust in my mouth I find that the plummy cigar box sweaty saddle notes really start to sing on the rear of my middle palate.

Phew…it’s a dark and lonely job writing like Mr M-M, but somebody’s gotta do it.

All contributors to this body of work will receive the admiration of their fellow Rioters, and the best entries will receive…errmm…more admiration than the others. :-)

#29
HiddenDragon11:03 pm, 08 Mar 13

Diggety said :

johnboy said :

because there’s never any navel gazing in this town?

Only the type that eventuates in public art unfortunately.

I think – after you subtract all the turgid filler – he raises some good points.

I thought so, too – the closeness to the bone, not just the unkind timing, might explain some of the reaction to the piece. Anyway, we can always take comfort in the thought that Canberra has Katy to look after us for the next (nearly) four years, while MM-M and his fellow Melbournians are now stuck with daggy old Premier Moth Balls – so boo sucks to them!

#30
poetix11:03 pm, 08 Mar 13

LSWCHP said :

OK team, in the spirit of the double-barreled Bulwer-Lytton contest, I would like to submit my inaugural contribution to the ACT McKenzie-Murray Really Poor Journalism award…

Here we go…Brave up and read on…

Bleakly, and with a heart full of acid bitterness and bile, which was odd in itself because bile normally enters the intestines versus the circulatory system, I trudged wearily and step by step up to the top of Mount Ainslie as the chilly wind vibe thingy lashed me and the taste in my mouth was that of the finest French champage slowly turning to ashes, mud, dust, rust and blood or actually it would have been that taste if only I had been able to afford French Champagne instead of the mid-range non-vintage Canberra Region sparkling I’d bought at the Civic Supabarn because I like to support local winemakers and when that taste turns to something like rust in my mouth I find that the plummy cigar box sweaty saddle notes really start to sing on the rear of my middle palate.

Phew…it’s a dark and lonely job writing like Mr M-M, but somebody’s gotta do it.

All contributors to this body of work will receive the admiration of their fellow Rioters, and the best entries will receive…errmm…more admiration than the others. :-)

‘Twas as if I had ingested an opera singer whole, in a strange reversal of Jonah in the whale, and that soprano, or even mezzo-soprano, or even contralto, was tickling upon my throat with the fan from the disastrous but well-costumed production of Carmen from 1986 – and if she was Carmen I suppose that closes the case as to which register she sang in, this mythical creature now plying her trade amongst the multifarious caverns of my throat, but perhaps she was a mere bit player, now biting at my tonsils like a newly discovered Devonian fish, all funny and eager and broad? – and, thinking such profoundly, or possibly sopranoly, big thoughts, I stared out upon this visage of a view, upon which the trees grew like stubble upon the face of a carefully ungroomed hipster who might possibly park his bike outside a cafe in Lonsdale Street, Braddon, that mysteriously goes by the name of Lonsdale Street Roasters, and, having chained it to the frame provided for that purpose, walk inside and order, say, a latte, or an espresso (carefully pronounced with a bad attempt at Italian, as if Fellini were lurking around the corner, looking for a new stubble of extras) and a bacon butty, and just as he sits himself at the table in a cloud of ennui generated by the coffee machine imported from Italy, and asks himself WHY? (or pourquoi, which is French, and has nothing to do with bacon or Canberra or Italy or even coffee); I looked, as previously stated, upon the view, and asked myself the same questions, in a slightly different form: why am I an ex-speech writer, and what does it all mean?

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