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I remember sitting at the back of Chemistry with this paper thing. I'd been reassured that I would find it 'funny'. I sat there, bedazzled by an array of piss poor jokes revolving around the themes of 'poo', 'bum', 'wee' and 'fart'. I was in love. No longer was a weirdo stuck out in Bogan senior high. I knew that there were people like me out there, willing to say "I am childish and I am proud!" I got older and treasured these memories, always wanting more, wanting to learn about these mystical purveyors of crap. I learned to go to the city, wagging school to view the spectacle, to be harassed by many people to obtain this object of devotion.
And after many adventures I managed to con my way into university. And behold I could immerse myself on PROSH day into this orgy of silliness. This orgy of stunts, of marching, of costumes. And so, your humble narrator, found themselves being kicked out of offices while in the company of Santa Claus, touring the various sex shops of Perth, flogging my object of devotion to the sweaty masses. But I found myself wanting more.
So I sought out the people responsible and realised that there was more to this exercise in infantile behaviour. It was for the kids. I mean, I ran my usual spiel about the money raised going to Princess Magrat Horsespittle or RFDS but this was without any real knowledge of what the fuck I was talking about. But then I took the step to find out that the tomfoolery was for a worthy cause. It was for some real people in the real world that I rejected sanity by entering the unrealistic life of university. I felt good about this. Then I felt bad about feeling good. Then I felt good about feeling bad about feeling good. Then I felt bad about feeling good (and now I am entering the quagmire of personality which is diverging from the topic at hand. Which hand? It doesn't matter as I'm ambidextrous).
Involvement is a many faceted thing. By the time you read this it will be too late to join in the double fisted action (I told you I'm ambidextrous) which is the PROSH writers night. But fear not, for the alcoholic fog immerses you on the day. There are too-bloody-early-in-the morning drinks on the foreshore and there are many pubs in Perth and Fremantle in which to sell papers (although street corners, office blocks and public lavatories are good too). There is the fun of dressing up in costume, of stunts (ranging from the assassination of JFK re-enactment to the helicopter attack of Apocalypse Now staged with shopping trolleys) and the stagger back to uni and the sit (they don't like you lying on the floor) until they kick you out at six and then the fantabulous PROSH ball. And why? Why you ask? You may want to ask me "Why?" Well, go back to the beginning and read this again and pay attention this time.
A great deal of time and money has been spent telling us of the advantages of a healthy lifestyle and the many disadvantages of being unhealthy. However, little has been mentioned of the many advantages to yourself and to our country of killing yourself.
It has been said that if a person chooses an unhealthy lifestyle, then they should pay for that choice through "Sin Taxes". Should I choose to drive a car to the local for a quiet beer, cigarette and bet on the horses, the taxman slugs me for I'm worth. However, beaches, parks and cycle tracks are all free, built by the government, paid for by my taxes. But the freeloading does not finish there. Health Nazis scoff down bowls of "All-Bran with cardboard" (for extra taste) and then go to the toilet every five minutes. But who is affected by water restrictions? All of us, that's who. The panic that gripped the state last year when Matilda Bay and Canning Vale breweries were threatened with water rationing need never have happened.
Politicians, who were obviously made to wear cardigans by their parents in cold weather, delight in telling us about the economic cost of being unhealthy. But think of our giant current account deficit. Healthy people work out on gym machines from Scandinavia, wearing designer clothes and shoes made in southeast Asian sweatshops, and afterwards quenching their thirsts with French Evian water. However, unhealthy people do their patriotic duty by buying Australian. Most alcohol we drink, cigarettes we smoke and all of the greasy fried crap we eat is Australian made. Think of the millions that would be injected into our economy if people stopped thinking only of themselves and took up unhealthy lifestyles. Instead of "Fix Australia, Fix the roads", "Fix Australia, Get a Fix of Fat" could become the new rallying cry for Australians.
Much is made of the burden that unhealthy people place on our health systems. But have you ever been down to a casualty ward on a Saturday afternoon? Scenes reminiscent of a Somme Field Hospital greet the casual observer as hundreds of sportspeople lying in agony awaiting treatment of broken bones and torn ligaments. But I can assure you, no one got hurt weightlifting beer, ten ounces at a time.
Let us now examine the reasons why people choose to be healthy. Most guys become fit in order to play sport, which involves beating the snot out of opponents, or to become "big", which involves beating the snot out of bouncers, or becoming a bouncer themselves. Their mantra is 'no pain, no gain'. But as anyone who's woken up with a hangover knows, pain hurts. This is why unhealthy people are always respectful to people that will hurt them. And less violence in our society can only be a good thing.
Others become healthy to attract partners. But what happens when the two hardbodies discover that the only thing they have in common is a love of the other's physique, or more often, their own? They break up, causing huge emotional distress. And who hasn't turned to a few bourbons or a bowl of double choc-chip ice cream in times of emotional distress?
All in all, the sooner this fetish for fitness is over, the better we will all be. Life? Get the hell out of it!
Love and Kisses, Trav Bloke