Goodnight Cockhead
By Darryl Mason
With an ego this vast and royal and regal, and a fall so very hard and fast and public, 'the king' should probably be on suicide watch right now :
That's not fake. That's Kye Sandilands actual production company logo.
He can forget about TV and radio for the time being. 'Multimedia'? How quaint to see that word still being used. He could do a film, but from the impression you get of reading Australians' feelings towards Sandilands right now, most would only want to see the film if it ended with him giving live organ donations.
In one of the most exhilarating fuckups by a manufactured celebrity, Kyle Sandilands has lost his main sponsors, the corporations that pay the hundreds of thousands of dollars a year to be associated with his Brand.
Sandilands has also lost his 'Number One' radio show and his gig on Australian Idol. His name, his Brand, has plunged in value to advertisers. He's just another loudmouth obnoxious fuckwit to most Australians now he doesn't have these high-profile gigs anymore. He might as well be a blogger.
Sandilands corporate sponsors, of course, wanted him to be controversial, they wanted him to grab headlines for outrageous behaviour, for going off, for doing the stuff that teenagers might think is cool, even if, or because, much of it was cruel.
But no corporation with shareholders wants someone they're paying six figures to to suddenly have their name, their Brand, anywhere near endless headlines that throb ugly with the words '14 YEAR OLD GIRL' and 'RAPE SCANDAL'.
As far as corporate advertisers go, Sandilands might as well have been caught frotting a pregnant panda that he'd just bludgeoned to death with a handful of puppies.
The media, every branch and wing of it, has gone hard on this story. It's rare you see such a public crucifixion by the media of one of their own biggest stars, even one who hammered in his own nails.
It's been an online orgy for the Murdoch media in particular, and a successful one, with huge viewerships, and comment counts raging beyond 500 for multiple stories. And this time, they didn't have to print unverified old titty photos and claim, on the promise of self-sackings if they were wrong, that the nipples belonged to Pauline Hanson, to get such heavy traffic and ad revenue zing.
Sandilands did all of this to himself, and his genuinely weird attempt to explain himself in The Punch, acting like he wasn't in control of his own show and hey, he knows people that have been raped, so....only further fuelled and fevered the coverage, and the (probably temporary) destruction of his career.
Media Watch last night revealed an episode of incredible cruelty and humiliation heaped onto genuinely upset young people, all of it totally refereed by Sandilands. What he did to these two young women is far worse than his moronic attempt to get a laugh out of a rape confession by asking, "was that your only (sexual) experience?"
As far as I'm concerned, Kyle Sandilands should have known he was doomed from the moment he decided to fuck with Ernie Dingo.
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Showing posts with label career suicide attempts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label career suicide attempts. Show all posts
Friday, July 31, 2009
"Basically, You're A Commercial Wanker"
By Darryl Mason
Let's not go all the way over Kyle Sandilands seriously gruesome attempt to get a laugh - "is that you're only (sexual) experience?" - out of a 14 year old girl's confession that she'd been raped when she was 12.
Instead, let's revisit an earlier episode of on air fuckwittery from this violent idiot.
To start, below is a song from Frenzal Rhomb. The lead singer, Jay Whalley, didn't take shit from fuckwits, which didn't do a lot for his professional music career. Of course, it never does.
Frenzal Rhomb had a very dedicated audience. Entering the mosh pit at a Frenzal Rhomb festival gig in the 1990s was like plunging into a cyclone made of humans.
It was intense on a scale that you wound up so pummelled, battered and out of breath you thought you might die, but didn't care.
If Frenzal Rhomb were about to start a show, the crowd was already wired, thumping to go. That was never a good time for a corporate radio personality, basically the enemy of Australian punk rock, to step onstage and start talking. Enter Kyle Sandilands' radio partner, Jackie O. :
Jackie O, already hours late for her 'host' duties at the music festival in WA, was heckled by the crowd and the band, and probably the roadies, music journalists, parents of members of other bands who'd played that day....basically, "Get the fuck off the stage!"
And she didn't go.
Frenzal Rhomb tried to get Jackie O. off the stage, where she was dying the worst kind of onstage death there is (not knowing how monumentally everyone there just wants you to disappear), and they were not polite about it. Then again, why should they have been? Jackie O. was a no show for the whole day, and suddenly there she is, getting in the way of the fucking gig.
To Kyle Sandilands (proof positive that having the personality of a deranged guinea pig will not stop you from enjoying a successful career in radio), Frenzal Rhomb had insulted Jackie O. So he decided to take on the Rhomb's Jay Whalley in the one arena where Sandilands knew he could beat the the little punk into a quivering mess. One the phone, on his own radio show.
What a goose.
Whalley winds up Sandilands, easily, over many minutes, leading into the ultimate denouncement of a fake like Sandilands, who entertains a fantasy that he is a maverick in the music industry, and nobody's slave. Whalley tells Sandilands he is the enemy of good music in Australia, music that is about something, that means something, that he is commercial radio lackey, and it snaps Sandilands mind.
UPDATE : Actually, I think I like this stain wiping by Ernie Dingo better :
By Darryl Mason
Let's not go all the way over Kyle Sandilands seriously gruesome attempt to get a laugh - "is that you're only (sexual) experience?" - out of a 14 year old girl's confession that she'd been raped when she was 12.
Instead, let's revisit an earlier episode of on air fuckwittery from this violent idiot.
To start, below is a song from Frenzal Rhomb. The lead singer, Jay Whalley, didn't take shit from fuckwits, which didn't do a lot for his professional music career. Of course, it never does.
Frenzal Rhomb had a very dedicated audience. Entering the mosh pit at a Frenzal Rhomb festival gig in the 1990s was like plunging into a cyclone made of humans.
It was intense on a scale that you wound up so pummelled, battered and out of breath you thought you might die, but didn't care.
If Frenzal Rhomb were about to start a show, the crowd was already wired, thumping to go. That was never a good time for a corporate radio personality, basically the enemy of Australian punk rock, to step onstage and start talking. Enter Kyle Sandilands' radio partner, Jackie O. :
Jackie O, already hours late for her 'host' duties at the music festival in WA, was heckled by the crowd and the band, and probably the roadies, music journalists, parents of members of other bands who'd played that day....basically, "Get the fuck off the stage!"
And she didn't go.
Frenzal Rhomb tried to get Jackie O. off the stage, where she was dying the worst kind of onstage death there is (not knowing how monumentally everyone there just wants you to disappear), and they were not polite about it. Then again, why should they have been? Jackie O. was a no show for the whole day, and suddenly there she is, getting in the way of the fucking gig.
To Kyle Sandilands (proof positive that having the personality of a deranged guinea pig will not stop you from enjoying a successful career in radio), Frenzal Rhomb had insulted Jackie O. So he decided to take on the Rhomb's Jay Whalley in the one arena where Sandilands knew he could beat the the little punk into a quivering mess. One the phone, on his own radio show.
What a goose.
Whalley winds up Sandilands, easily, over many minutes, leading into the ultimate denouncement of a fake like Sandilands, who entertains a fantasy that he is a maverick in the music industry, and nobody's slave. Whalley tells Sandilands he is the enemy of good music in Australia, music that is about something, that means something, that he is commercial radio lackey, and it snaps Sandilands mind.
UPDATE : Actually, I think I like this stain wiping by Ernie Dingo better :
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