Hip hypocrisy gives way to stupidity

The last of the cool kids?

I came across this article by Vex News, correctly titled OUTRAGE: MIA about the hypocrisy of the left to try and boycott “oppressive” (in their words) Israel when they could be doing much more by taking aim at the oppressive world of fundamentalist Islam in the Middle East. What really grabbed my attention (and guffaw) was the description of BDS supporters and protestors of Max Brenner stores as:

be-scarved local private-school brats, Hamas-niks and anti-Semites raging against the chocolate machine.

Bravo, VEX! It’s always struck me as hypocritical that those who denounce Israel with anti-Semitism and stand up proudly for the torturous and actually oppressive Islam “be-scarf” themselves with the keffiyeh. Do they not notice the irony of wearing a keffiyeh when it’s the fashion accessory of choice for oppressors?

I’m sick of these bloody hipsters running around and wearing and doing stuff without a thought for it’s origins or the deeper meaning. And hipsters are now everywhere. Remember when cool kids used to be, actually, cool? A quick Google of “keffiyeh and hipsters” took me to this blog called (and the jury’s still out on this) Taking Life Seriously, and a post titled: The Keffiyeh: Modern Symbol of Hipster Ignorance. Oh, how my heart swelled when I read that title alone – a kindred spirit?

From the post, describing hipsters:

Their THC-drunk smiles relaying a kind of superficiality and ignorance usually reserved for the offspring of Hollywood celebrities.

and:

The keffiyeh began its ascent into Western fashion culture in the early 1980s when it caught on as a symbol of support for Palestinian freedom amongst politically-active non-Arab American students. Wearing the keffiyeh was a potent political statement to make too: The Independent called the keffiyeh “a symbol of Islamic militancy” while Spanish Prime Minister Zapatero was criticized by opposition parties after posing with a keffiyeh and was accused of “anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism and Israelophobia”.

Most beautifully, the author sums up with this gem:

Dumbass hipsters wearing keffiyehs is equivalent to gorilla-brained gangster rappers spouting ineloquent and violent lyrics while wearing giant crucifixes and, better yet, encrusting them with diamonds and rubies.

Although one anonymous commenter wrote:

Even if it is “clueless hipsters’ wearing the keffiyeh’s then at least the discussion of this should lead to conversation on the plight of the Palestinians. If complimented lots of ‘hipsters’ keffiyehs and questioned them on knowledge of palestine. The majority are aware of the symbolism of wearing a Keffiyah and wear it in solidarity. The few that don’t know will generally be interested and then research the situation and the history of palestine themselves. Surely that is a positive thing.

Oh come on! They’re hipsters! They’re never going to willingly learn anything other than what’s new and decrying it by saying they liked it before it was popular. Duh! Though that wasn’t nearly as bad as this other comment:

I’m jewish but I hate Israel because it kills people in the name of jews.

Which is basically saying I love Palestine because it kills people in the name of Islam.

I’ve never heard of a Jew raping, torturing and murdering their five-year old daughter due to doubts over their virginity. Have you?

There’s always been cool kids, and some of them have actually been pretty cool, but these hipsters are only cool to themselves. What’s cool about dressing in the latest high-priced threads that make you look like a kid playing dress-ups? Imitation Wayfarers that look like kids’ sunglasses, trousers that are glorified “babygros” and t-shirts with cartoon characters on them? I was confronted with this cartoon couture in 2009, when I went shopping for clothes in Myer (a half-arsed Marks & Spencer down under) one day  and all that was on offer were t-shirts with Sesame Street, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the most juvenile manga. I hated it as a kid, so why wear it now?

I first saw hipsters en masse in 2010, going to a gig on a friend’s free ticket at the Brisbane Hipster’s venue of choice, the Hi Fi Bar – home to overpriced poor-quality beer (Carlton Draught, anyone?) and on the bill was the hipsters’ favourite bands: the Hungry Kids of Hungary (rivals to Chilly Kids of Chile or Island Kids of Ireland?) All these hipsters were there, dressed in their best op-shop sourced and Enid Blyton-inspired finest, having forked out $40 per ticket they simply sat around on the floor talking to each other – why not save your (parents’) money and stay home instead? I was trying to take notes on the night in an attempt at a review and all I scribbled was: Sarah Blasko called, she wants her wardrobe back.

Other bizarre things hipsters call “clothes” (much like Vivienne Westwood‘s haute couture) include the trend of guys walking round with “salmon” coloured pants, and it’s not just me who’s noticed this – there’s even a site on Tumblr (the hipster’s own social media) White Boys in Salmon Shorts. Why pay money to look like a walking, talking salmon terrine? If hipsters were actually dedicated followers of fashion, wouldn’t they realise that the general concensus (even the uninspiring Vogue) is pastels went out in the 80’s?

Hipster males are also known for growing beards yet shaving their pubes, as if they’re constantly living Opposite Day. They also wear “plaid” (read: flannelette) shirts not seen since the early 90’s. When I was a litt’lun, anything called “vintage” was usually a vintage car, i.e. made before 1940. Now, these 90s leftovers or anything more than five minutes old are called “vintage”, and we’re poorer for it. Thanks, losers.

And hipster television sucks too – I don’t hate Girls because it is written by an intelligent, educated and switched-on woman, I hate it for pampering to the hipster ideal of having more clothes and money than sense. Why was there all the hype about it being so “white” and not casting anyone of a darker than hipster-pasty hue, but nothing about how they all seem to be still living off their parents? This is best shown in the pilot episode when Hannah (played by creator, writer and producer Lena Dunham) whines over her parents refusal to fund her badly-dressed and going-nowhere life. Think she’s got problems because Mama and Papa won’t give her a few grand whenever she wants? I can’t get $20 out of mine!

The only hipster-related thing I like is the song ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ by Foster the People – in a perfect world, I’d listen to this as I walked down the streets of Fortitude Valley, Fitzroy, Surry Hills, Hoxton and Williamsburg, taking pot-shots at the hip and stupid with a well-loaded rifle. Although next thing you know it will be a “hate crime” to discriminate against young, salmon-wearing fools.

As hipsters love to whine, “FML!”

Chai, chai, chai

Ofra Haza, from http://www.haza.co.il

I’ve spent this evening listening to Ofra Haza’s “Chai” on repeat, at least two-dozen times now, and I wish to declare her my second “Eurovision crush”. Here she is performing “Chai” at the 1983 contest, where she represented Israel to come second:

“Chai, chai, chai – Ken, ani od chai!”

(Alive, alive, alive – Yes, I’m still alive!)

I learnt of Haza a few years ago through indulging my inner sociopath – playing Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City Stories – her anthemic “Im Nin’alu” is part of the game’s soundtrack. At the time, despite my burgeoning Philosemitism and eventual love of all things Israeli, I didn’t know that Haza was born in Israel, Jewish and a Eurovision contestant to boot. Could there be three greater things? I’ve since discovered that the lyrics to “Im Nin’alu” are based on a Hebrew poem written in the 17th century:

Im nin’alu daltei n’divim daltei marom lo nin’alu

Even if the gates of the rich are closed, the gates of heaven will never be closed.

– Rabbi Shalom Shabazi

How much better would the Occupy movement have been if that was the mantra?

The song, originally released in 1984, was eventually remixed and tweaked and ended up in the Top 10 of various European countries, peaking at no. 1 in West Germany in 1988. The original version was released on the album Yemenite Songs, also known as Fifty Gates of Wisdom – without listening it puts Fifty Shades of Grey in the shade, doesn’t it?

A brief look-up of Ofra Haza reveals heaps of good things – including this interesting snippet from Haza’s official website: in 1986, Margaret Thatcher was a guest of the Israeli parliament and met Haza, who gave Thatcher a brief lesson in Yemenite dancing. Apparently Thatcher was given two of Haza’s albums and wrote to her afterwards, “I listen to your albums with great pleasure.” How awesome is that? For all the bashing you hear of Thatcher and her policies, to think the PM could have been singing and dancing (like me as I write this) around Downing Street to an Ofra Haza song is a wonderful thought. Don’t ruin it for me by saying it was just a PA or the tea-lady forging Mrs T’s signature.

Ofra Haza and Margaret Thatcher, from http://www.haza.co.il

And as for the “Eurovision crush” title – well, I’ve been watching the Eurovision Song Contest since I was about 13 or 14, when here in Australia we get a delayed telecast of the proceedings with commentary from our own Des Mangan; if you think Terry Wogan was an ace commentator, then you’ve never heard Des do it. Unfortunately, I can’t find any footage of Des and Eurovision through the usual channels (read: YouTube), but to give you an idea, here’s one of Des’s intros from one of SBS’s Saturday night “cult films”. See what I mean?

My favourite Eurovision year has been 2010, when Lena Meyer-Landrut won for Germany with “Satellite” – one of the best pop songs made since 1998, in fact, it could have sat easily on the charts back then, with its flirty lyrics and easy to learn chorus – and I was able to pick first, second and third of the contest, which has made me want to bet on the competition every year since.

I like Eurovision for the blatant theatrics and camp so obvious it’s more a farce. I’ve also wanted to do the drinking game for it too – a shot of whatever you fancy whenever a “reveal” occurs, or a song changes key, languages or has some form of “special effects”; an easy and fun way to get hammered, basically drink whenever anything happens – but have always missed out due to having no funds when the contest is on. I shan’t do a Withnail and slug down vanilla essence, the closest I’ve got to proper booze.

And here’s another of my favourite Eurovision entries: in 2007, Israel was represented by a mob called Teapacks with the song “Push the Button” (the complete opposite from the Sugababes same-titled tune), a rock meets hip-hop/dub-step of English, French and Hebrew (they even rap in it). Apparently “controversial” because it featured references to Iran and nuclear war (the eponymous pushing of the button to launch missiles) – controversial to whom? Don’t tell me that even the Eurovision Song Contest isn’t safe from anti-Semitism? If a British entry – atrocious as they are – made references to bombs and mass-destruction (Why not get Faithless next year?), would it be considered “controversial”? Would it be seen as a dig against a fascist regime, the likes of which haven’t made such a presence in Eurovision since Spain’s General Franco ordered the namby-pamby “La La La” to trump Cliff Richard’s equally naff “Congratulations” in 1968; or would it simply be listened to as another song in the same treacle-laden vein as John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)”?

The defence rests, m’lud.

Related articles

• Sounds Israeli: Ofra Haza (jewishpress.com)

My brush with the loony left

People can talk of “skeletons in the closet”, whether they are personal or familial indiscretions. My shameful act was to join the Socialist Alliance a few years ago. Wanting to join a political party (lefty that I am) I naturally plumped for the ALP, but being skint (unemployed) I chose to join the S.A. because membership was cheaper for the jobless. I wasn’t sure I’d last long anyway, being a pro-Israel and Philosemite. It’s obligatory to barrack for Palestine in all matters as a lefty, no matter the circumstances.

Proof of my shame.

Invited to the first meeting of the Melbourne branch for 2011, I went into town one Saturday afternoon, pushed out of home by a friend who encouraged me to go out and meet people instead of sitting on my arse watching box-sets of Weeds. The most memorable part of the day wasn’t meeting all my new upper-case-s Socialist friends, but the train into town – as I sat in my seat with sunglasses on and headphones pumping out a playlist of Deborah Conway’s “Consider This” and the Huxton Creepers’ “My Cherie Amour” (my “Melbourne music”), watching the suburbs along the Frankston line fly by, a girl a few seats away kept staring at me and as soon as I noticed would instantly look away, as if caught doing something untoward; which by all accounts it is untoward and unusual if someone casts an eye in my direction – I’ve no delusions. Before I disembarked the girl made a call and asked, “Have you ever had that weird thing happen when someone keeps staring at you on a train?” WELL, YOU STARTED IT! (“I have no issues. Really, I’m fine … I’m fine … don’t touch me!”)

Anyway, I made my way to the so-called “Resistance Centre” at the top end of Swanston Street opposite RMIT. A few floors up the branch meeting had just finished and, wallflower that I am, pretended to browse over books about Unionism in Eastern Europe in the 18^th Century, Communist tomes and of course, the essential Marx and Engels, etc. Finally introducing myself, we all walked up to Carlton to a pub – this brightened my mood no end, friends and beer! Well, I was hoping I would make some friends after already committing a political faux-pas when asked what my thoughts were on socialism, “I’m a bit green at all this.” Cue lefties recoiling in horror at the name of another (and a damn-sight more organised and popular) political party. Thankfully the beer flowed and I did end up enjoying myself despite a few O.P. (other people’s) smokers – I aimed to please with my mercy dash to the nearest corner shop on a Saturday evening.

A week later I was asked to participate in a march to support Wikileaks, this being the summer of diplomatic discontent, and rocked up outside the State Library to find hundreds of people there of all different lefty backgrounds. There was a guy in a grey wig – to symbolise Julian Assange although he looked like Mrs Doubtfire – making speeches and was probably the organiser. Whilst milling at the edge of the crowd, lo and behold – another attractive girl came right up to me in her lovely purple ‘I SUPPORT GAY MARRIAGE’ t-shirt and tried to sign me up to another group, the Socialist Alternative. (I bet you all just said “alternative to what?”)  So we got talking and as the march set off down tourist-filled Swanston Street on a warm Sunday afternoon, I quickly got into the screaming of
“FREE BRADLEY MANNING!” and endless rhymes starting with “2-4-6-8!” Equality Girl and I talked of my reasons for coming, my support of lefty things (“I just do it because I hate Tony Abbott”) and becoming political through reading the works of Frank Hardy – strangely, she hadn’t heard of him – how can you call yourself “political”, much less a “socialist” and live in Melbourne without knowing of Frank Hardy? Odd, I thought as we marched on complete with police escorts and blocking tram access to Flinders Street. I even ended up in the very front row too, but of course sod’s law came into play and I didn’t get my mug in any papers at all. So embarrassing.

We suddenly turned off Swanston into Collins Street and came to a stop outside the British Consulate. Why? I don’t know – surely it would have made much more sense to picket the Yanks instead? And that’s when the lefties tried to cram every single one of their causes into the afternoon by having an Aboriginal smoke-ceremony, the (only way to say it) “token Indigenous” person, everyone’s favourite lefty fool, Stephen Jolly from Yarra City Council and other larks that had nothing to do with Wikileaks at all. One of the marchers had grabbed a megaphone and started singing “Burn, baby burn!” Yes, hell is a socialist disco.

I bunked off with Equality Girl after an invitation to attend Trades Hall, where the Alternative’s set-up. I managed to stay for an hour despite not getting a single lefty joke – something about Condoleezza Rice or Donald Rumsfeld or some Bushite that was neither topical nor funny – and praise heaped on the beginning of the Arab Spring – I think Tunisia had just come through it and Egypt was about to kick off. When I got to Trades Hall I was met someone and said I’d just been on my first march, only to be asked, “Do you feel like a radical now?” Um no, I lived in Parkdale. Come on, like one bullshit march makes you a revolutionary leader. If true then a cake walk would be called a show of solidarity and consciousness-raising exercise. And why are the words “consciousness” and “collective” bandied about by hardcore lefties so much? They’re a worse cult than the Brethren! At least that time my mention of Frank Hardy was understood, before the motion was passed that to celebrate the Arab Spring they’d spit-roast a goat. Yeah, to celebrate the oppressed getting rid of their oppressors, they were going to cook a goat in a backyard in Fawkner. It’s like when they want to show solidarity with refugees locked up in detention centres – I don’t see the protesters sewing their lips and self-harming in protest.

A week later I returned to the Trades Hall mob for a free six-week course on learning all about socialism. Needing (and still) to know a lot more, I enthusiastically went along, only to be given a lecture on communism (which I can differentiate) and more “consciousness” and “collectives” being said. Me being me I started to take the piss but my barbs went unnoticed. So what more was there to do then just stop going? I’m glad I did – I’d have happily broken rank to condemn the BDS groupies and shame them for the anti-Semitic thugs they are. And so many middle-class members too – take this any way you want, but why try to change things on the other side of the world when there’s tonnes to do here – but of course, they’d be NIMBYs wouldn’t they? NOT IN MY BACKYARD! And I “love” NIMBYs. They’re the people who hate to see a block of housing-commission flats in their own street (“don’t want any riff-raff to come in”) but will happily snap up “investment” properties left, right and centre, charge exorbitant rents and thus create homelessness in the first place.

Like the Occupy movement, especially in Melbourne – what did the participants do for a living? They wouldn’t get the dole because they’d refuse to leave their pile of tents and squalor to attend appointments at Centrelink. I believe any hardcore and brainwashed member of a two-bit political group will always have a trust-fund or ready cash from Mummy and Daddy, especially if Pater works in the mines. How great to protest about minerals and natural resources being sent overseas when you’re living off the money your father gets for raping and pillaging the land and exporting said resources. It’s got to be true – when was the last time you saw a member of a political group other than the big four (Labor, Liberal, National and Greens) work from nine-to-five?

As much as I identify as a “lefty” (I believe in equality, free healthcare, education and public transport and less privatisation), I’m not a real one because I support Israel – and if I choose to support people who are holistically attractive instead of the other side with their tea-towels, hankies and policies of torture and abuse – then all the more fun for me!

Related articles

• Why I hate the BDS movement (thejoshholley.wordpress.com)

Why I hate the BDS movement

Since the age of sixteen, I’ve had a deep love, interest and respect for Jewish people, whether they be practicing or just of the blood pure. It all started from reading the columns of Julie Burchill, the British journalist who is known as one of the fiercest defenders of Israel in the British media. Where are the defenders of Israel in Australia?

Why do I have such a thing for Jews? I can’t explain but I hope the following list will. How many of the people listed are either clever, talented, intelligent, funny, switched-on, interesting or even downright sexy, and all because they’re Jewish, regardless of whether by birth, religious observance or descent:

• John Safran
• Deborah Conway
• Sir John Monash
• Malcolm Fraser
• Frank Lowy
• Abe “Mr Sin” Saffron
• Robert Manne
• Peter Singer
• Sir Peter Abeles
• Poppy King
• Sidney Myer
• Renee Geyer
• David Helfgott

And that’s just a selection from Australia alone. I could go on with a list of people from overseas but we’d never hear the end of it, such is my passion.

I consider myself a philosemite (a Judeophile if you will, but small-minded people hear the suffix of “phile” and their minds go instantly to child abuse – I can’t fathom it either) and am very slowly learning all about Judaism, Israel and Zionism. Thanks to Burchill’s and others’ writings and the dozens of books I’ve read, I’m gradually becoming more passionate and learned.

I overcame the slight dislike of my name once I learnt it was of Hebrew origin, (Yeshua, translated to God is Salvation) and that even the alias I tooled about with, Levi, was again by coincidence Hebrew, meaning “joined in harmony”.

But the real turning point for me was when I decided to join a political party. Being of a lefty persuasion (despite favouring Israel over Palestine, a slap in the face to any left-leaning cause) I decided to join the Socialist Alliance, cheap at only $15 a pop for yearly membership. I only attended meetings and such for a fortnight before realising what a crock it was, of people brainwashed by words like “solidarity” and “cause” and “consciousness” bandied about like stones, the same stones that Israelis are pelted with by Palestinians. Also I got out before the question over the Middle East arose and would surely have been kicked out anyway. I can just picture myself being chased out of Trades Hall for refusing to kow-tow to the demands of a group of people whose chosen fashion accessory is one of Mum’s tea towels, straight out of the third drawer down.

Months later and the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions campaign kicked into full swing in Australia, spearheaded by Senator Lee Rhiannon of the NSW branch of The Greens, and a few mimsy words from then party leader Bob Brown, who didn’t anywhere near calling it out on the anti-Semitic bullying it is (And doesn’t Lee Rhiannon always remind you of that weird teacher from primary school that nobody liked and always smelled like they’d pissed themselves and rolled round in chicken-salt before leaving home?).

I’m glad I cut all ties with the lefty loonies by then, because at that time they all decided to do the only thing a BDS campaign can do, to picket a chocolate shop because it was started by two guys who happened (by fortune) to have been born in Israel. I was livid and had a near panic-attack when I read in the papers that 19 protestors (some of whom were from the S.A., just one letter away from S.S.) were arrested for protesting outside a Max Brenner store in Melbourne’s CBD, on charges including riotous behaviour, trespass and besetting premises. In my upset state I seriously thought that the next thing the S.A. would do was goose-step down Glen Huntly Road to Caulfield, Elsternwick and Balaclava (the home of most of Melbourne’s Jewish population) and attack any newsagent that dared to sell the Australian Jewish News. Thankfully, this has not happened, but if anything so resembles that sickening thought I’ll be on the first plane down there to abuse them in turn whilst proudly wearing my Israeli flag-patterned bandana (sorry,  it was cheaper than buying an actual flag-sized flag, of which I hope to buy a few to put up in my front windows).

Picketing Max Brenner stores and other businesses with links, however tenuous, to Israel is not just confined to Melbourne, or even Australia, but has happened throughout the world too – from London to Los Angeles. It also happened at around the same time to another Max Brenner store in Brisbane, and delightfully the BDS mob were met by a counter-protest, with bigger numbers and louder voices. Happily there was as a pro-Israel protest and show of support for the beleaguered chocolate shop in Melbourne, although sadly (to me personally) was sponsored and organised by the Liberal Party (don’t let the name fool you, international readers – the Liberal Party of Australia are conservative and currently there’s a right-wing Catholic at the helm), but at last Josh Frydenberg, Liberal MP for Kooyong, finally endeared himself to me, by asking BDS protestors to their smug faces: “Where is your Boycott, Divestment, Sanction about the butchers in Syria, about Ahmadinejad in Iran and the perils of Hezbollah?” If I should ever move to Anglican, leafy, upper middle class Kooyong – he’s got my vote.

So why do we hear nothing from a pro-Israel point-of-view in the Australian media? Granted we hear precious little about the Middle East anyway, usually only a few seconds on the evening news of rockets being launched over borders. And even that’s only on World News Australia on SBS! Australia needs a shake-up to scrape off the anti-Semitic crust that somehow most people I’ve met have inherently got. Even last week a 17 year-old (now former) friend of mine heard me mention that I was reading about Israel. His response to this was “bomb the shit out of them.” Considering that the political history of the Middle East isn’t taught in high school history (for shame), how could he say this without knowing a thing? How come in February 2012 on a block of toilets in near-redneck Wantirna of all places, some yobs chose as graffiti “The best Jew is a dead Jew” and a picture of a stick-figure in a noose, in a place with no Jewish people at all?

As Peter Finch cried in Network, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not gonna’ take it anymore!” Why is there no history of out-and-proud philosemitism in Australia, particularly in the most Jewish-populated cities of Sydney and Melbourne? Why do studies say that anti-Semitism in Australia is on the rise since 9/11? Correct me if I’m wrong but was Israel in anyway involved in an attack that was orchestrated by the suicidal shareholders of Al Qaeda PLC? I know Muslims, whether fundamental or not, have taken stick (if not a branch), since then but blaming Jews for a cowardly offence committed by people? Have you not heard of Nick Griffin? Isn’t this just fringe-dwelling conspiracy nuts blaming Jewish people for everything wrong in their lives becoming mainstream?

It’s not on.

NOTE: Next I’ll be writing about what it’s really like attending a Socialist Alliance meeting and joining them on a protest – in other words, “My Brush with the Loony Left”.