Monday, March 30, 2009

Earth Hour, Ribbon Wearing and Crap Art

How good was Earth Hour aye? Everybody switched off the non necessities of life for an hour i.e. the hallway light and collectively New Zealand saved 3.5% of a normal Saturday nights power usage. Great stuff.

Only 3.5% doesn't seem like a helluva lot does it? It's a piss poor amount really which I think says a lot about peoples awareness or desire to switch off, even when it's a much publicised party event like Earth Hour. Which I'm not against, really I'm not. I'm a closet greenie and have been for a few years now. I teach my son about recycling, I collect the water that I use when I rinse stuff in the sink and use it in the garden, I switch appliances off at the wall and I even let the yellow mellow sometimes. But only when it's the colour of apple juice, none of that first morning, Berocca coloured carry on. That stuff stinks at the best of times, there's no way I'm going to leave that for the family to walk in on.

I'm all for sustainability and reducing the carbon footprint, but I shake my head at shit like 'Earth Hour'. Let’s be honest, if we're serious about saving the planet then every hour should be earth hour. Easier said than done, I know, but switching off the lights on a few gay landmarks around the place for an hour is symbolic, but not terribly efficient, especially when the streets surrounding it are still lit up like Hiroshima was in 1945. That little irony seemed to have escaped the organisers of celebrations here in New Zealand, who held concerts and parties in squares and octagons up and down the country, all powered of course by power, which they used copious amounts of to help celebrate saving the power they just switched off.

Personally I think all landmarks should be lightless at night, unless of course they pose a serious risk to low flying aircraft and alike. If you want to see Auckland Harbour bridge at night then take a torch I say, or go sightsee during the day, like normal folk. This need to plaster lights all over everything is one of those things that city councils spend their time dreaming up to waste money on that they could actually spend on useful shit, like amenities, parks and other such rubbish.

I think commercial properties should have their power metered and when a predetermined threshold is met, booya, off goes the juice. Men in raincoats who list one of their hobbies as 'letter writing to the Editor' could all be employed to cruise city centres each evening noting down companies that leave the lights burning for the masses all night, every night. For every hour a light burns in an unoccupied building after 6pm there will be the penalty of an hour's less power during actual business hours. For that real 'Earth Hour' affect none of the offenders should actually be told that this is going to happen. It just does. Fuck yeah.

Any company silly enough not to get the message the first time gets to take it to the next level; for every hour a light burns in an unoccupied burning after 6pm the CEO has his testes wired to the mains for an hour. Now that’s a cause we can all get behind.

A bit like ribbon wearing. Everyone seems to be getting into wearing a coloured ribbon of some sort. I feel bad because I'm not wearing one which I can't help but think sends the message that I must be for smacking my bitch up, or breast cancer, or Aids. Now I'm pretty sure, as long as my arse faces south, that no one is 'for' these terrible things, but you sure do feel like a prick for not owning a ribbon. I feel the same about anyone who doesn’t wear a poppy on ANZAC day, they must be Nazi lovers.

Maybe to detract from the fact that I’m not wearing a ribbon of any sort, I should go and stand somewhere with my willy hanging out of my fly and call it 'art'? Hey, if a fruity Spaniard can get away with it as part of Wellington’s art festival then what can't you get away? I love the write ups that pre-empt nut bars like these too; 'he's challenging the perception of art as we know it'. No, he's not. He's standing in a darkened room with his chopper out.

Try that same technique on your nearest street corner and see how far it gets you. A few weeks ago some French tart chartered a plane and flew a bunch of goldfish in bowls across the Tasman. She filmed this groundbreaking piece of history and showed it to anyone silly enough to pay the entrance fee. All under the guise of 'art'.

I might be a simple lad from Naenae but I know art when I see it. The Sistine chapel is art. The Mona Lisa is art. The Andy Warhol inspired, colours reversed self portrait my son drew at school a year or two back that hangs in our garage, is art. Standing with meat and two vege out in a darkened room of Dixon Street, is not. It might be some Gaylord getting his willies at you checking out his willy, but art it is not. Art, like fashion, is an inbred private joke at the best of times, you either get it or you don’t, but rocking out with your cock out is a lame excuse for a lack of creativity.

Maybe we should wire his testes to the mains for an hour. And call it 'art'.

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