Hey, man! What's up? How's your day going? Remember that coping mechanism you've developed to deal with 2017-levels of absurdity? Like how you've sort of inadvertently developed a risky level of detachment from reality in order to just, how do I put this... "survive"? Because if you don't you will absolutely, unequivocally have a mental breakdown? Right. That thing. Well, I'm glad you did, because it's really gonna come in handy right now.
Some kids are throwing a party in Narre Warren to commemorate the 10 years since Corey Worthington's small gathering. There's a Facebook event for this anniversary party. And, um, at this stage there are 17,000 people interested in attending. And it's four fucking months away. The event page says Operator Please and Sam Sparro are playing and I honestly can't tell if that's a joke or not, but either way I quite like it.
Now, look—even my mum knows that typically only 30-50 percent of the people "attending" or "interested" in an event on Facebook will actually attend. But there is an exception to that rule. And that is parties you know are going to be litty. Those parties actually draw a crowd of probably 500 percent the "interested in attending" list. Ever been to a Brunswick house party? Those things are, I will say, at the risk of sounding 48, like the actual apocalypse. End of the world stuff. These pill-munching kids (you, my audience) are unstoppable. Absolute nihilists. Your insatiable need to party is what makes me fear you. I've seen you lot at Listen Out—friendless and using a tree to hoist you up from your guerning spot as the sun sets like some I Am Legend shit. I know what you're capable of, and it is truly terrifying.
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Actually, now that I think about it, Corey Worthington may well have been the genesis of this, this post-empathy-ass "party" "culture" swallowing Melbourne one back-fence collapse at a time. Wow, what poetic justice.
Anyway. If my maths is any good then what we are looking at is a very casual, very chill 85,000 people attending this party. These 85,000 people are going to, no question, take a drug. Well, not Tracy Grimshaw and her camera person, both of who made the gravely misguided decision to "cover" the "story". They're stone cold sober and terrified because the body count is, like, bagel dense, and they're trapped and cannot get out.
But there's 84,998 people on one. "On one" in the DJ Khaled way. Going hard. Trying to recreate the best and most relatable news story of their youth, and fucking succeeding. Succeeding to such a degree that they've turned what will always be remembered in our minds as a kind of teen-led suburban apocalypse, into the actually actual apocalypse.
What I'm saying is, we need to start thinking now about military crisis responses to this issue. Before it's too late. Like, I don't know, having the resources to quarantine the entire area off literally forever like in The Dark Knight Rises. Blowing up all highways and overpasses that lead to Narre Warren. Or cutting that one bit of Earth out with a giant laser beam on the moon and letting it just slowly break off and spin away into space.
Or, fuck, I don't know, just cutting our goddamn losses and admitting the youth will eventually win and engulf us all one way or another so shall we just be brave about it and send a little missile into the middle of this God-forsaken planet like they did in Deep Impact and say "Thanks for the good times. It was fun while it lasted. We did our best. I mean, not our best best, but we did okay. We did something. Goodnight universe. Thanks for having us." And that be it?
I mean, what other choice do we have? Who do we turn to? Turnbull??
May God help us all.
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