It’s a crowded world we live in. Six billion people crammed in to 30 per cent of the planet’s surface area, minus desolate wastelands like Antarctica and Canberra.
We are as different as we are prodigious. There are more than 7000 languages spoken, 832 in Papua New Guinea alone. Burping after a meal is supposedly good manners in China but don’t try that bit of multiculturalism at an Asutralian Sunday roast. Humanity is so diverse we can’t even agree on which game is called football.
You’d think surrounded by all this variation the xenophobes among us would let the small differences slide and instead concentrate their intolerance on people who were genuinely exotic. Continue reading →
So let me get this straight: A greasy hamburger made by a minimum wage teenager is “fast food” but an equally greasy pork bun with onion rings made by some tattooed hipster is “dude food”. That’s the lesson I took from Sunday night’s episode of MasterChef.
Newspapers need a new audience. One that doesn’t care about things like popularity or convenience. One that would value the industry’s 300-year history and appreciate form over function. In short, newspapers need hipsters.