Lateral Junk

I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for Greece this morning, when I heard that their sovereign debt had been downgraded to junk status. Never mind the perilous financial position this puts them in, or the adverse affect this will have on the Euro, in this context, "junk" is a really, really mean word.

It makes me wonder what their status was before, which got me thinking about the other uses of junk as a descriptive term. It tends to be applied to really bad food, Asian boats and, well, junk. So, I'm guessing Greece were previously on either "casual dining", which is above "junk" but hardly "gourmet"; "yacht", which is better than "junk", but well below "ship" (or even "mega-yacht"); or possibly "store-room", which is usually where we put stuff after we're done using it, but before we throw it out. As you might have gathered, it's a long way from "pool room".

To go from "store-room" to "junk" had to happen eventually, but to go from "pool room" to "junk" must take some doing. I can't remember the last time it happened to a nation, but any framed poster depicting Tiger Woods as a Saint probably knows from where I'm coming.

Still, I hope Greece makes it through. It's a gallant little country, and deserves to do well. Still, when it finally gets around to ordering itself a new economy, I hope it diversifies beyond ouzo and damaged crockery. You know why the Greeks break plates, by the way? After drinking ouzo, breaking plates makes sense, that's why. It should come to no surprise to anyone that a liquor which - as I understand it, is made from feta juice and fermented goat urine - should taste a little peculiar. And when I say peculiar, I mean poisonous. It is to aperitifs to what Napalm is to the threat of trade sanctions.

But enough about ouzo. While Greece looks under the couch (and possibly under the Parthanon) for some coin, it's worth spending some time thinking about what can be learned from their plight, other than don't try to make a beverage (or an economy) from boiled rats. What springs to mind for me is that a broader use of the "junk" classificaton system really ought to be brought in immediately.

For a start, Commetti is "pool room", Russell is "junk". We're going to have to bring in a category below "junk" for Naylor. Given that "turd" can fertilise the garden, I'm leaning towards either "nuclear waste", even though it's a little wordy, and way too powerful, or "mould", which probably has its nose in front.

And why stop there? I'd like to be able to classify footy teams; whereby Geelong is "poolroom", and Richmond is clearly "junk". Also we could do cities; I mean, what better classification for a city like Adelaide? (Actually, add them to the list of footy teams as well.) There's a decent list of bands whose "junk" status ought to appear on their album covers. (Savage Garden, come on down.) There are even entire record labels that ought to be re-branded so it is clear to all that they are purveyors of "junk". It works for beverages, too; if you're a fan of Victoria Bitter, don't let the change of name worry you. Drinking "junk" isn't illegal; it's just stupid! The name change is for pimarily for folk who know what schaden freude is, and to a lesser extent, for people who can count to ten without falling over. Do you feel where I'm coming from?

Classifications like "junk" are to make people who enjoy feeling superior feel even better about themselves. You can fool some people that they're warnings, but you can't fool me. The "junk" label is really the equivalent of sign-posting cemeteries with the Jolly Roger. Still, if making sure that those who suck are not only aware of it, but that they are humiliated, then bring on the junking. After all, the possibilities are endless! And you can't be too careful. I mean, historically, the Greeks aren't that bright. Having no food or money may not be enough for them, or the countries from which they've begged for food and money, to be fully aware that they have no food and money. Solution? Call them names. Brilliant! And a bottomless well (or pit) of transformed joy. (The joy is recycled misery - this garbage riff is a kicker.)

The only hassle I can see is if we try to fully implement this system of classification to accurately identify the merits of our politicians. A correctly-labelled Canberra would seem like the best organised recycling depot and sewage-treatment plant this side of Adelaide, which, still trading on its "Adelaide: the five cents you get for your bottles is the best thing about our town, and sorry about the smell" motto, is yet to crack the tourist market. Still, the expression "up shit creek" could attain nuanced heights of meaning that were previously undreamt.

I think it's a system worth investigating. But to save on confusion, there will need to be some minor re-branding: in future, if someone says to you that for their dinner, they had Greek, you will know that they went to McDonalds. I can live with it if you can. If you can't, the ouzo's on me.