Wednesday 17 October 2018

Irony - Good for the Blood

Just been brushing up on the use of irony as a literary technique. For those in the know, you'll be aware irony in literature falls into the categories of Situational, Dramatic, or Verbal. If you're an Alanis Morisset fan and happen to reading this, irony is NOT 'the good advice that you just didn't take'. That's not irony; that's poor decision-making.

Anyway, I got to thinking of irony just the other day. It is likely verbal irony, although the words were actually written, not spoken. Someone described me as 'dopey'. Given I had not partaken of the Devil's lettuce, I assume this person meant I was of somewhat limited intelligence. Reader, you're probably thinking I should be offended by that, but the words were levelled at me by a right-wing nutjob shock jock type, with whom I have engaged in online sparring and tussles in the past. So, given a person whom is capable of drinking Mark Latham under the table in a schooner of bile drinking competition thinks I'm 'dopey', this likely has the reverse (or ironic) effect of becoming a compliment for me.

I am a little bit embarrassed to admit I have been viewing the new Aussie series Playing for Keeps. If you've not seen it, it tells of the lives and dramas for the players and WAGs of a fictional Aussie Rules club. It is tacky and gaudy, and like some satanic blend of Real Housewives of Melbourne, Footballers' Wives, The Footy Show, and - best of all! - Dynasty. I would not be surprised to see Paige and Tahlia brawling in a catfight in a public fountain. It has drawn me in with its tractor beam of utter awfulness, and I'm tempted to watch with the blinds drawn and lights out, lest a person passing by my house suspect the occupant is watching this dramatic dross. To be honest, I haven't watched an evening soap opera for so long, watching again conjures up a feeling of the familiar mixed with the strange, and the guilt. We all need a guilty pleasure, and I suspect this just might be mine. However, the pleasure leaves me when the WAG characters share screen time; I resolve to never eat again, and book in for a course of fillers and Botox.

Speaking of viewing, I chanced upon a couple of episodes of current series of The Bachelorette.  Why do people volunteer themselves for such tawdry scrutiny? Dudes, if you want to pick up, there's always Tinder and the pub. Yeah, yeah, I know you've all said you're looking for love. Furthermore, why do people want to watch this arse gravy? I swear I dropped a few IQ points in the limited viewing I had.

Well, real life beckons. I am off to the library, to the supermarket, and then to drop my oldest to a job interview.

Ciao for now.  Oh, and buy my books.

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