Surprising Grace.

It was recently revealed to me through an act of providential timing that grace — the gift by which we are delivered from the consequences of our sin — comes not only from God, but from the City of Melbourne as well, in the mystical form of its many parking meters.

For its meters, you see, understand that we are fallen creatures, given to sin. And so, on those occasions when we've stayed for longer than we've paid, before bringing the hammer of judgement down and releasing the hounds... sorry, Parking Consultants, it extends to us a period of grace, an unearned gift of bonus time to shield us from the consequences of our sinful actions.

Don't believe me? See for yourself:


How sweet is that? Unfortunately though, unlike God's grace, which lasts an eternity, that of the City of Melbourne lasts only three seconds. So don't be too casual making your way back to the car, as there's not much grace to rest in. Which, incidentally, made this a bugger of a shot to take. Salvation is assured for but the blink of an angel's eye.

Take me to the chorus:

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
from the Department of Infrastructure
and a $110 parking fine.

Amen.

Criticising in the Streets.

Well, the handwriting analysis results aren’t back from the lab, but judged purely along lines of content, it would seem the Anonymous Critic has returned! And to the very same stretch of wall on Swanston Street, no less.


The scourge of derivative musicians everywhere, the Anonymous Critic was last seen hacking into Aussie rockers, Jet. This time, however, the Critic's directing both barrels at every mum's favourite "grown-man band," Human Nature, who are currently touring their double-disc collection of Motown classics "direct from Hitsville!" Yeah!

But unlike the Critic's attack on Jet, there's no appeal to our better natures this time, no plea to lift ourselves from the mire of mediocrity and stop settling for second best. No, this time there's just a nail-punching declaration that Human Nature "SUCK" and a fiery demand for the band to "Write your own fucking songs!!!" Three exclamation marks there, so you know it's serious.


Confusingly though, for a person so passionate about not just retreading the path of those who've gone before, the Critic has let him- or herself down with the illustration that's been used to flesh out this fuming condemnation. Instead of finding some inventive way to deface the four harmonisin' figures, the Critic has resorted to that old favourite doodle... a doodle! Two, in fact. And in case there's any possible doubt as to the doodle's significance, the man on the mic elaborates frankly, confessing to the crowd that he doesn't just suck, he sucks doodle.


Clever. Such wit. One wonders why the Critic stopped there and didn't add glasses and Hitler moustaches as well?

There's no way of knowing when next the Anonymous Critic will bring the gavel down, but I wonder who it'll be in the dock? It's not too late to change your ways, Wolfmother!!! Put down your ARIA awards and look into your hearts while there's still time!!!

The Apple-a-Day Massacre.

Tragedy on the streets of Melbourne today as another iPod-using hipster was gunned down in a tram shelter on Elizabeth Street. By some freak of providential timing, I happened to be right across the street with my camera, and managed to capture the exact moment of death on film. Or on CCD, rather.


With work already underway adapting Robert Capa's famous photograph for a new iPod ad campaign, Apple contacted me hoping to honour this second young hipster's choice of digital audio player by incorporating his image into their poster as well. I felt a little uncomfortable about handing the image over, but they drove a truckload of iPods up to my house and I'm not made of stone.


I still don't get how this is meant to sell iPods, but the marketing dude I spoke to seemed pretty sure they were onto another "epoch-defining, gold-class winner." I guess we'll see.

Neither victim has so far been identified.