I'm all for whinging, provided the cause is fair and just. "It's a man's world", "Middle age bites", "Is it too much to ask for a decent blow-dry in this town?" These are all legitimate whinges.
Increasingly, however, the sacred institution of whinging is being eroded by interests without a decent cause. They have hijacked whinging, diluted its value with shallow bleating and made it very hard for the true whingers to be heard. If not for this last fact, I wouldn't even be giving their causes precious column inches.
She's talking about the farmers, you're thinking. Well, good guess, but no. When it comes to incessant all-weather whinging, farmers earn an honorary exemption by virtue of the fact that no one is listening anymore.
No, today my beef is with university students and rock stars, in no particular order. But let's start with the uni students. And let's start with their deluded definition of poverty.
"Poverty among students is at crisis point," claimed the National Union of Students president Angus McFarland last week.
"It's a struggle now where I think students are choosing to not even bother going to uni because they are facing at least three years of poverty."
Guess what, swotters. You are not poor. Not by world standards. Sure, you can't go out every time you want to. Yes, you sometimes have to bring your own sandwiches to campus. Percolated coffee is a twice-a-week treat. But hey, many of you still live with your parents. Most of you claim a study allowance and have a part-time job (with an average of 16 contact hours each week, it's the least you can do). All of you have the option to delay paying off your HECS fees until the big dollars roll in.
Moreover, here's what you seem to forget: tertiary education is not a right. It's a privilege. Tens of millions of hopeful teens don't have this opportunity waved at them by excitable guidance officers and focused parents. It's a privilege, and privileges demand sacrifice. A bit of give-and-take, sow and reap, a few years of falsified bus cards, devon sandwiches and two-buck chuck. I've been there, kids, I know the drill. Suck it up. The big bucks will come. Or not. Either way, you'll look back upon these years of sufferance with misty-eyed reverence, trust me.
Moving right along. Australia's biggest musical acts are whinging poor in a 10-minute documentary being distributed free to high schools. Ironically, or not, the "Please don't rip off our music" doco has been designed so that it can spread virally across websites that enable their songs to be downloaded free (ie. "pirated").
Guess what, Veronicas, Jimmy Barnes, Grinspoon et al? If you build it, they will come. Music-lovers didn't create the internet; it's just there. When we fire up our screens each morning, we take what is at our disposal. "If downloading is illegal, why does Limewire exist?" my 12-year-old asked me this week. Good question.
You're dealing with human nature here, folks. If you put magazines at the checkout stand, we're going to read them.
So don't come the poor-rock-star routine with me, not when you're charging $120 for concert tickets. Change the technology, fix the system or get a haircut and get a real job.
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