“I think I speak for all dim-witted imbeciles when i say…”: A critique of shock jock jerkery

2 Oct

Apparently to be on radio all you need is a mouth big enough to fit both feet in. This fucking fat tracksuit-wearing dickhead has demonstrated this to great effect on several occasions recently. Take your pick of the worst offence:

  • Responding “right…is that the only experience you’ve had” to an upset girl who announced she was raped as a 12 year-old
  • Claiming that the daughter of a Jewish Polish WW2 resistance fighter could have lost lots of weight if she was in a concentration camp
  • Claiming that he would hunt down a female journalist, who he also claimed was small-chested
  • Apologising for the above comments graciously, before effectively saying “she started it”
  • Becoming the heavy-weight champion of nowhere by throwing his substantial weight into an altercation that had already occurred. 

Now it seems that the this fuck l’orange has some company in the naughty corner, courtesy of an old stager. Alan Jones has a history of abusing his gold microphone (note, this is a sure sign of two things: 1. You are a big-headed wanker; and 2. You are the lowest form of radio-journalist). Jones’ rap-sheet is as long as it is undistinguished. He’s particularly discriminatory of Aboriginals (as opposed to “average Australians”), and has never shied away from an opportunity to colour make generalisations about people solely based on their ethnicity. Another faux pas was the naming of a juvenile who was, at the time, a witness in a murder trial.

The latest jewel in this prick’s thorny crown refer to some statements he made about Julia Gillard’s recently departed father. Such an event has an unusual effect on the usual parliamentary proceedings, as even hardened opposing backbenchers put down their swords to acknowledge the significant loss that occurs when a parent dies. Indeed, such decorum would be expected in just about every corner of life in Australia. However, Jones scurries around on the fringes of decency, and thus took the opportunity of Ms Gillard’s grief to lay the lowest of blows. His comments that her father “died of shame to think that his daughter lied every time she stood for parliament” represent the muddiest of stains on the soiled underwear that is Alan Jones’ legacy.

Julia Gillard was right to ignore his calls. While we tyrannosaurs consider ourselves the bastions of decorum, even I am quick to acknowledge that there are limits to when someone has to let bygones be bygones. I implore the rest of the country to follow Juwliya’s lead and turn our back on the scurrilous shock jocks of the world with raised eyebrows.

I realise the irony of hijacking my own public forum to project my heated and cantankerous ire, however, there are three differences between myself and these pathetic provocateurs:

  1. My opinions are based in something called “the truth (see also: fact)”
  2. I am not being paid
  3. I have no golden microphone
  4. I have 30cm teeth to testify that my bite is worse than my bark

In closing, I offer this to Mr. Sandilands:

You don’t drive a Rolls Royce, you pleb. You get DRIVEN in one. If you can’t afford a driver, you can’t afford a Rolls.
T

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3 Responses to ““I think I speak for all dim-witted imbeciles when i say…”: A critique of shock jock jerkery”

  1. Ya Mamma October 3, 2012 at 11:59 am #

    Interesting – you should watch the latest Rake – it is directly on point in this regard.

    • tyrannosauraus October 3, 2012 at 12:28 pm #

      He featured on the Gruen Planet too. I missed it as I was too busy watching Puberty Blues. For tyrannosaurs there is no puberty. There is only death.

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