I hate unnecessary duplication. I mean, what’s the point in having technology if you’re going to waste time and money getting enraged on separate occasions? With today’s busy lives it makes sense to combine these important and liberating expressions of futility into one electro-mechanical device.

Well today I can finally announce a revolution in household frustration, a prototype machine that combines a vacuum cleaner, printer and desktop scanner. Now, I know what you’re thinking; ‘I don’t get enough white-hot rage as it is!’, or ‘How will I be wrenched from the asphyxiating, glacial mundanity of life if I can’t kick the fuck out the vacuum cleaner twice a week?’.

Well don’t fret, because this machine will provide so much incandescent rage you’ll wonder how you ever navigated the pastelised banality of modern life without one.

This revolutionary machine, currently called ‘Gaar-FUCK 30i6i-&66j 234’ utilises the latest in adaptive technology to ensure a sense of rage so acute you can’t help but feel vibrantly alive.

For instance, remote sensors assemble a file of your home’s potential storage options and automatically reconfigure the machine’s dimensions to slightly larger than the available spaces. Got a suitable cupboard? Think again! A dedicated door sensor triggers a range of flexible tubes to launch themselves out of the storage space when the door is almost closed. Pressing on one section of flexible hose causes another to pop free and smack the operator in the face. This feature rated particularly highly with focus group participants, who likened it to making a balloon animal out of a cheetah.

Developments in quantum computing have enabled perhaps the most impressive feature of the Gaar-FUCK 30i6i-&66j 234, Cartridge Entanglement. Cartridge Entanglement renders the print function non-operational unless all cartridges are full, even if your document only requires black and white. A series of pop-up warnings will appear on every device in your house, while a 5 litre, high-pressure cartridge sluices the surrounding area in archival ink. Cyan? Now you fucking know.

The Gaar-FUCK 30i6i-&66j 234 comes with 16 USB cables, 8 black, 8 white, to ensure maximum camouflage amongst other household ephemera. It will not operate without all 16 cables, however there is also a remote control, peppered with symbols in straightforward Vedic semaphore.

The Gaar-FUCK 30i6i-&66j 234 ships overnight from Iceland, in its own polystyrene aircraft hanger.

Send money now!




So I like, really like Kale, really


If there’s one thing I love about the unceasing churn of hipsterism it’s the blossoming romance with rural living, the cultural colonisation of all things ‘rustic’. This newfound passion for rurality is not hard to understand. After all, ‘rural life’ is underpinned by what we in the provinces like to call ‘work’, a raw physicality that antagonises the increasingly intellectual urban world occupied by urban, artistic elites, who keep themselves busy marketing images of themselves to others, and ultimately, back to themselves. Rural living provides a wellspring of uncomplicated, binary images of straightforward production anchored through immutable, physical labour. (This is, of course, shameless romanticism. We’re an idle bunch of fucks too but since when did that stop anyone?)

The love affair with rustic living has reached fever pitch in Melbourne. Amongst the high-stakes froth of the inner city elite, it’s producing a wonderfully rarified, utilitarian idiom of a bucolic, authentic life, realised through trendy vegetables and a stream of elaborate food porn. Stylistically, the whole project is peculiarly filtered through Eastern-American, Shaker lens, reinventing an entire cohort of urbanites as a kind of dark-denim, good-time-Amish, while at the same time reflecting an absolute disconnection from the Australian rural life as experienced by third or fourth generation urbanites. I’ve yet to be reminded to rate the ‘Breech Strike and Scabby-Mouth’ App on ITunes.

Cynics might suggest this folksy revival is sheer folly, the work of depoliticised youngsters, frittering away their pampered lives, searching for meaning in the absence of hardship or struggle. And that may be so. But to critique hipsterism overlooks the project’s fundamental promise; That one day someone will bring home a sheep.

Oh yes, it’s only a matter of time before young Justin, freshly recovered from his woodchopping ‘incident’, discovers The Smith Journal’s article on hand shearing and convinces his flatmates in between cups of kombucha tea (Mongolian for ‘torrential vomiting’) that what they really, really need is a sheep.

This will be hipsterism’s high water mark. Because nothing keeps it real like sheep. Sheep are the ultimate hipsters. They cluster and shy in unpredictable ways, hovering vacantly over their raw-vegan menus. They bleat and renounce technology that can’t be operated with a cloven hoof. Sheep want to be like everyone else, except when it’s time to be counted and then they’re on their own.

Well I say bring it on, Justin, with your kale smoothie and activated sticking plasters. The world is your sheep dip.