“Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders”
—Kirsten Dunst quoting Nietzche in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
THE CENTRAL IDEA of a 1983 paper in the Journal of Emergency Medical Services on trauma recovery is that people who survive a painful event should express their feelings soon after so the memory isn’t “sealed over” and repressed, which could lead to post-traumatic stress disorder.
But as a treatment it misinterprets how memory works. It suggests that the way to get rid of a bad memory is to talk it out. After writing numerous People’s Elbow articles in the wake of harrowing Carlton performances this year, I can confirm this does not work.
But far from making that error alone, this mistaken notion has been around for thousands of years. Plato compared our recollections to impressions in a wax tablet, and helped establish the idea that once a memory is formed, it will stay the same. This is why we trust our recollections.
Turns out Plato was full of shit.
Recently, scientists have come to realise that our memories are not passive packets of data and they don’t remain constant.
Neuroscientists have discovered that when the brain wants to retain something, it relies on just a handful of chemicals. Even more astounding, an equally small number of compounds could turn out to be an eraser of history – and these chemicals could form the basis of a pill you could take whenever you wanted to forget anything.
Researchers have found one of these compounds, as has the Carlton Football Club.
The difference being neuroscientists are on the verge of creating a pill to make you forget painful memories, whereas the Carlton Football Club is already capable of producing performances that make you forget pleasant ones.
A bitter pill
By half-time on Friday night, I have little recollection of what happened the week before as Carlton was showing the reverse-killer instinct we’ve come to know over the past two months.
Yes, there was a half of football to go. But, putting aside last week – and I could barely remember a minute of it – anyone who’s watched Carlton over the past two months knows this: the 2012 Carlton overcomes adversity like Mama Cass overcame hunger pangs.
Expecting Brett Ratten to make the appropriate halftime adjustments is no less reckless than having the cast of The Shire do your taxes.
The only adjustment so far had been to swap Jamison and Henderson on Petrie – who has already kicked five1.
So long as Ratten’s was awake, somebody should have let him know that Jamison couldn’t run… or jump… or make good decisions.
My suggestion was that Jamison and Henderson2 rename themselves Jasmine and Cinnamon and find a job across the road at a King Street tittybar for all the good they were doing.
And where in the name of Kenny Hunter was Nick Duigan?!
Full forward?!
Christ on a fucking bike?!3
I cannot say too much more about our backline setup as I’m in need of a new thesaurus to find fresh adjectives. One that has ‘dogshit’ in it.
The Carlton backline is not what Tom Wills had in mind.
The lights go out
Flickers of last Friday’s game came back when Judd kicked two in three minutes.
Earlier, his ‘chicken wing grapple’ resurrected memories of that awful, awful final in Brisbane three years ago and the ‘Stevel Seagal pressure points’ incident4.
But a Lindsay Thomas 50-metre inside-out torp from the boundary defied physics for a goal and the lights went out on this Friday night, last Friday night… and on 2012.
A postscript and a pill
The only upside is that the rest of the year becomes a little more acceptable.
As Dylan said: “When you ain’t got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.”
What I wouldn’t give for a pill to make this go away…5
1. With all due respect to Petrie, two or three of these were gifted by Justin Schmitt, who seemed to have woken from a wet dream threesome with Glenn Archer and the Kangaroo mascot.
2. I don’t think Henderson is fit, and all things being equal, would not have been picked. But this is what happens when you have a man coaching for his future week by week.
3. The one thing I do remember from last week is a fear that Ratten would get sucked in by Duigan’s three goals and play him up forward again.
4. “Pressure point! Pressure Point!” All of a sudden repressed memories of Brendan Fevola at the 2009 Brownlow come flooding back. Behind me I hear, sotto voce, “who’s that guy rocking in the foetal position in Row E?”
5. Or a procedure from Dr. Mierzwiak in the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which would also include a romp on the bed with a scantily-clad Kirsten Dunsta
a. I stumbled across Kirsten Dunst in Greenwich Village one early morning while holidaying in New York. When I turned round to confirm it was her, she was doing the same. So, in summary, I got a second-look from Kirsten Dunst… or at least that is what my memory tells me.
About Craig Little
My heroes are all dead white males, mostly because that seems really attainable for me.
why’d you disappear without saying goodbye during the third term?
Judd has no where to hide this time and neither do the members of the AFL tribunal.
Perhaps a fitting punishment would be to have a few people jump on Judd and then let someone rip his shoulder back. (Jamison looks like he has the right skills for the first bit)
He may have been a great player but now, through the weight of undeniable evidence, he undoubtedly has been pushed down into the Leigh Matthews cesspit of physically borderline play.
Disgraceful.
Its fair enough because players lying face down with someone sitting on them are in an excellent position to fire out a handball. But it has been interesting watching North Melbourne squirming with the ‘players code of silence’ they have been defending all week.
Dont be too hard on Jasmin and Cinnamon – they are doing an excellent job of keeping Freo’s finals hope alive.
Now now Phantom.
Your increasing tide of self righteousness wouldn’t have anything to do with the decreasing trend of the Cats’ fortunes would it?
Litza, these rants are always entertaining, even when the joke is increasingly on us.
But, having stood amongst increasingly frustrated and ‘entitled’ crowds of Carlton supporters as this season has progressed, I can’t help concluding that many of the sentiments expressed here form part of the problem rather than any part of the solution.
BTW, well played North.
“Turns out Plato was full of shit – Discuss”
That could be the greatest exam question ever asked.
Bring in some of our young big forwards, might as well see whether they can play after being on the list for a few years already.
Yes, Carlton have had a bad run with injuries.
But, as alluded to by Litza, the club has a number of blokes on the list who have not played too many games, if any at all.
Good to see you up and about JB.
You draw a long bow regarding the Cats current position. I was ok with last night. We are building and there are some good signs from the young Cats who are far from full strength against a hot shot side.
I just have an aversion to dirty snipers and what we saw from No 5 on Friday night was pretty poor. I wonder what would happen if some one took the stanley knife to his card board shoulder: all hell would break loose I would expect.
It’s almost worth watching my own team descending to rabble status just for the chance to experience so many “entitled” Carlton supporters doing it so hard this season. For those of us without victories to celebrate, this is about as sweet as it gets. Throw in a few surprise Collingwood defeats on end & it’s just about the ultimate season!
Litza – so you can forget Brett Ratten & remember Kirsten Dunst??? Sounds like the best trade Carlton has made for years.
As for movie quotes: CJudd “he’s not the Messiah he’s just a naughty boy.” (Terry Jones in the role of Brian’s mum; MPython).
In my memory Leigh Matthews was always a bit of a thug, as well as a champion. My earliest footy memories are of a triple Magarey Medallist and total ball player, Lindsay Head, going the elbow and the backhander at the end of his career after copping it for 300 games.
I imagined him thinking “why have I wasted my career on these hopeless jokes???” (my team West Torrens).
I put Judd in the same category as a ball player and a champion “why have I wasted the end of my career on these hopeless jokes for $800K pa + non-taxable, non-disclosable retirement ‘benefits’???”
We feel your pain Chris. In view of the mitigating circumstances – 5 weeks.
I see your point JB, but in the exhausting list of Carlton’s problems, the views of entitled supporters is closer to the bottom than the top.
Re Judd, I’m more annoyed of his venture into nightclub ownership than the ‘chicken wing thing’. If our season hadn’t flatlined just before three-quarter time on Friday night I might feel a bit different.
Oh, and can someone tell me who I speak to about returning Bryce Gibbs?
Litza, re Gibbs, I’d try Freo.
Google “Moses in the bull rushes” Graig.
Re Judd incident: for mine hardly any force was applied by the Juddster – as bizarre as the incident appears, I think this is the issue that everyone is missing. One week suspension maximum.
“Hardly any force was applied”. Very funny, that. The player’s shoulder was dislocated. 4 weeks.
Remembering that this is not the first time that Visy’s greatest piece of recycling has done something utterly despicable to a player already tied up and unable to defend themselves. “Pressure points”, anybody? Or what was the one before that: I gouge?
Basically, Chris Judd sullies the good name of snipers everywhere.
Litza
Today, I started a new job and have been at a loss find things etc; Carlton have had that job for years and they couldn’t find a f***ing beer in a brewery. A game best summarised by the following scenerio. North players turned to their opponent on Friday night and told them how they had violated their mother the night before. The Carlton player’s replied. That’s disppointing as I didnt know Mum was in town.
Dislocated? Didn’t Adams come back on and play the game out?
I can’t help but think if it’s
Josh Hunt that applies that tackle, it’s largely ignored by the media and he takes one week with an early plea.
Wait, what…?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy5PTFWXEdI
That’s right, he gets off.
Tony, that summary is apt…
You had me a titty bar……
You had me at titty bar……
It seems he really did have you at tittybar.
I have said for ages that Freo supporters were canaries in the Captain Cardboard coalmine. We were bravely booing this filthbag back when the rest of the football world were batting their eyelids at him and metaphorically taping up their tits and squeezing into dresses made of string.
Listen to us. We know.