Communists, Terrorists and Sport…

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February 14, 2014 by vinylburns

I’ve been enjoying my recent memories of the powerful and important cultural experience that comes barreling through this town every year, in conjunction with the largely unskilled sporting fiesta, the Rugby Sevens.

The Sport itself, is pleasant enough… Assuming that you enjoy speed, noise, closeted hypocritical male on male lust, and violence…


Let’s face it, it’s a thinly veiled descendent of the original gladiatorial, socio-political distraction from the corporate and, if indeed there IS any distinction, governmental oppression, suppression and ascension, over the numbed down and self dumbed, common man.

We all buy into it, paying through the nose for a tantalising wiff of vicarious glory and tabloid victory, at the cost of individuality, free thought and joie de vivre.

Communism, Terrorism and Sport… Those are your options.

However, the brainwash of sport is hardly the focal point of the Rugby Sevens’ religious festival.

Instead, the pulsing, engorged heart of this grotesque and staggering hidi-beast, is the sprawling human cesspit of self loathing, indignity and disrespect.


This zinc plastered masquerade ball of society’s bowels, annually deposits gaudy clusters of costumed, colourful horse shit and hard-ons, all across the shaky streets of Wellington city.

Granting them a license to flaunt, taunt, assault and revolt, under the protective Freudian helmet of civic sanctioned urban frivolity and patriotic naughty japes.

In reality, it’s a formally sanctioned vehicle for social destruction.

A license , not to print money, but to acquisition yours, in exchange for your guaranteed position, safe in the coveted ranks of bland, sexist, elitist genericisms and easy, excusable assault.

The Wellington ghettos roll and rush, to the melody of these sexy hunger games… Technicolor platoons of horn-dog assholes, seizing the chance to imprint every set of female eyeballs with brazen flashes of props and cocks, and brandishing the very real sense that a clear and disturbing crime is just one mistake away.

It’s corporate endorsed Roast Busting, with a funny outfit, and with ten minutes at the top of six o’clock.

Still, it’s good for retail, right?

Good stuff, New Zealand.

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Dr Vinyl Burns

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My Management: Kiwi Comedy Ltd.

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