<<<Tim Ferguson Articles>>>
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Tim Ferguson 24/7/2000, The Age By the time we retire, we may regret out example of selfishness When the moon is in the Seventh House And Jupiter aligns with Mars Peace will guide the planets and Love will steer the stars Bollocks. The baby boomers believed it at the time, but look what happened. Sure, in the 60's they pranced around in loose clothing, preaching peace, love and tolerance (of themselves if nothing else). They regarded society as a bleak conspiracy of warmongers, carnivores and Tony Bennett fans. The time has come to reject possessions and adopt spiritualism. The new generation was rebellious, creative, full of hope and self-certainty. They held a sexual, musical, social revolution simply because they could. They took the Gandhi doctrine of non-violent protest to new heights and helped stop an ugly war. Which is where it all fell over. When Vietnam came to its grisly end, the boomers lost their raison d'etre. The clever ones became barristers. The stupid ones became, uh, barristers. The creative ones made a bundle in advertising. The ugly ones competed in game shows and the pretty ones hosted them. The rich ones took up daddy's seat on the board and the poor ones polished it for him. The needy ones joined the Labor Party, the greedy ones joined the Liberals. The ones with no fashion sense joined the Country Party. The whole gang began rebelling against itself, building nest-eggs that would allow an early retirement and a return to that simple life they cherished in their youth: a vegie garden, a futon and a guitar collection, all housed in an eight-bedroom, architect-designed shack on 20 uncleared hectares. The '80s was the golden hour of the boomers, their turn at the reins of power. It would be unfair to say they betrayed everything they had stood for in their youth, but lets say it anyway. Greed was good, the bomb was gooder and Lionel Richie was the singer o choice. The demands of survival in a capitalist economy overruled any lingering longing for a non-materialist paradise. Hell, reasoned the boomers, we might as well get a piece of the action before our children want some too. The thing the boomers forgot was that, while this was happening, their children, Gen-X, were watching. We learnt that whatever you say as a teenager can be discarded in later life without qualms or consequence. So we said a whole bunch of stuff about nuclear bombs and Wall Street and trees, knowing one day we'd be selling uranium shares from Daintree apartment blocks. We confidently proclaimed there was No Future, safe in the knowledge we'd be repeating the past shortly. We bonked in the hallways at parties knowing that it was just sex and not a revolutionary tool. We could say society was screwed, knowing that it would soon be our turn to screw it. No illusions about changing the world clouded our sleeping ambition. We had learnt well. When the Gulf War got under way, Gen-X tut-tutted at the cynicism of the slaughter but figured the boomers would finish it quickly, squeamish as they are. And we were right. "Do it, just do it quick" was their command to Bush. Bang! went the boomers and 100,000 Iraqi fathers and sons fell down dead. The war was over before it had time to weigh upon the ex-hippie conscience. It was declared a success. No one is still quite sure why. From 1990, Gen-X galloped into the workplace. Men and women working side by side, rarely looked up from the trough to ask if there was, well, something else to life. Like children for example. The Gen-X slogan is Make Love, Not Babies. And if you have babies, get someone else (preferably a government-sanctioned child-care outfit) to raise them. And now Australia is confronted with statistics showing that as more of us work, fewer of us breed. As the economy grows, so will it shrink from lack of taxpayers. The inherited ethic of selfishness is soon to reap its ghastly harvest. In 25 years, say the statisticians, ours will be a land of old people. So intent are boomers and Gen-X on e-careers that they have postponed breeding until an age when they require medical assistance to do it. In 2025, if we keep going as we are, the Land of Oz will be a flat plain strewn with retirement villages. Pensions will be a forgotten dream and those without super will be getting letters of invitation to the annual Soylent Green Sausage Sizzle. When asked if they remember the war, the old timers will say, "Yes I had CNN." They'll sit by the piano singing feeble versions of Purple Haze while exuberant ladies in track suits urge them to clap along, dears, clap along. And on Sundays, no-one will visit. At the risk of sounding naïve, there must be something more to life than career and money. Slow down. Have some children. If you're gay, adopt some. Raise some taxpayers of the future and be an example of non-materialistic humanity to them. It's OK, you can do it selfishly. Think of it as a retirement plan. If we don't teach the next generation well, their greed may well be good. But their apathy will be murder.
In the hot seat: Tim Ferguson
If there’s one thing charismatic comedian Tim Ferguson likes, it’s a career challenge. He’s played Frank’N’Furter in The New Rocky Horror show, hosted the off-the-wall Don’t Forget your toothbrush and now fronts Network Ten’s outragous Unreal TV! But this funky funnyman says he likes to push the boundaries. We found how much by putting Tim in the hot seat…
TVW: How did Unreal TV come about for you? TIM: They called me and said they were putting together a show with bizzare clips from around the world. It was going to be Japanese people torturing each other, Swedish people baring their body parts and newsreaders getting it wrong. All I do is sit on a couch and make a fool of myself!
TVW: What draws you to outrageous projects? TIM: The challenge! You’ve got to do stuff that’s difficult and puts your head on the chopping block. So long as your worried, terrified, and tossing and turning at night, what you’re doing is probably good.
TVW: Is that your secret to good television? TIM: Yeah! You should scare yourself every once and awhile and push those boundaries.
TVW: What is your favourite TV comedy? TIM: The Simpsons, Newhart and The Mary Tyler Moore Show- I just love Ted Baxter [Ted Knight]. I base my life on his teachings.
TVW: Who is the funniest person on TV? TIM: It’s a toss up between Paul McDermott, Glenn Robbins and Mikey Robins – and Kate Langbroek makes me laugh.
TVW: What was it like reuniting with Doug Anthony Allstars member Paul McDermott on Good News Week? TIM: Its always nice to get together with Paul to see if the old chemistry still fails- and it does every time.
TVW: What is the wackiest thing you’ve done for the cameras? TIM: I once made a short Dutch erotic film. It wasn’t a comedy, but I was young, in Amsterdam and I needed the money…
TVW: What else are you doing? TIM: I’m working on a one-man show and writing a novel about Australian casino culture. It’ll probably get me killed!
What Christmas means to me:
Tim Ferguson "The Christmas is a great time for TV. When else can you see marathons of Skippy and all those US sitcoms that never went to series? Unreal!"
Sun Herald, Nov 19, 2000
INSIDER TRADING When the news spread of former Doug Anthony All Stars Tim Fergson's new comedy/drama set in the world of cash for comment radio, he found himself deluged with cals from informants eager to share inside stories. As a result he was able to make the 13 part series Shock Jock, which he wrote, co produced and play sin, dangerously close to reality. "People would get on the phone to tell us what was happening. They'd say, 'I'll tell you a story.' Somer where just so good." As well as stirring up the world of commercial radio, the series is a landmark in the history of Australian TV industry being the first fully funded long run series to air on pay television. There have been plenty of home grown entertainment shows and even short series but nothing long run has been done without a free to air network sharking the costs. "It shows how willing we are to invest in Australian drama" said Selena Crowley director of programming at TV1. "We don't have the budgets of free to air but with this we loved the concept and then loved the script. We are certainly talking about another series." Ferguson is thrilled to be working with pay TV - traditionally a medium far more prepared to take risks than free to air networks. "It's getting harder and harder to take risks in tv" said Ferguson who cut his teeth with the Dough Anthony All Stars before being lured to commercial television. "It's always hard to take risks on someone else's money. But I certainly think cable is prepared to take more risks than free to air where ratings is such an important factor - and I do love a challenge." Sun Herald, 1/4/01
The Force will be with the Jedi faithful By TIM FERGUSON The universe is a living entity where all things have a connection and affinity with each other. Following a path of peace, altruism, devotion and moderation is good. Giving yourself over to violence, genocide and hatred is evil. Peaceful cohabitation is better than totalitarianism. Sublimating ourselves to the higher power of universal love is the path to true happiness. Am I describing the Christian faith? Buddhist? Islam? Scientology? Hare Krishna? No, the sentiments listed above are those of the Jedi faith, as outlined in the Star Wars saga. If the recent New Zealand census results are anything to go by, thousands of Australians will be following the suggestion of a widely distributed e-mail to list Jedi as their religion on their census forms. The Australian Bureau of Statistics has chucked a wobbly over the prospect, threatening fines and prosecution for those who dare to raise their lightsabres in defiance of the upcoming information bonanza. Bollocks to them. The ABS is all bark and no bite. Here's why. The Christian churches that will dominate in the census numbers base their faith on a book. A Good Book, sure, but just one book. The Jedi faith, however, is based on more than a hundred books, four films and countless story cassettes, music albums, pillowcases, money boxes, toys, stationery and a vast variety of fashion accessories. If we're comparing Christianity with the Path of the Jedi in terms of source material, Yoda and his brothers win three-fingered hands down. Your average Jedi follower could recite word-for-word the sayings of Yoda with greater accuracy than most Christians could recite Bible passages. The Path of the Jedi is known to countless millions. Its teachings do not incite violence or dissent. (No one ever blew up a Belfast school bus in the name of Darth Vader. If they had, the telltale scorch marks of a Deathstar ray would give them away.) The Jedi do not discriminate on the basis of race, sex, religion or even species, unlike some. The Jedi Path is user friendly, modern and free of ethnic rivalries and ancient hatreds. You could argue it's a better religion than most. So, when the ABS threatens to fine us $1000 for nominating Jedi as our chosen faith, don't believe them. How would a cross examination of the supposed Jedi unfold? Q. You claim to believe in The Force. What is that exactly? A. You might call it God, Allah or L.Ron. Q. But this "faith" is simply the invention of one man's imagination. A. Sorry, are you talking about Jesus, Mohammed or Buddha? Q. Aren't the teachings you claim to follow just part of a cynical money-making exercise? A. I'm Jedi, not Catholic. Q. And what about the ludicrous beliefs of your faith - that humans came from other planets, that they whizzed about in spaceships and conversed with aliens races? A. Uh, sorry, that's the government-recognised, non-tax-paying Church of Scientology you're talking about there. Talk about wacky. Besides, Star Wars is a fiction where spaceships don't whiz - they zoom and whoosh. And so on. The lawyers advising the ABS to make such silly threats must be laughing all the way to the spaceport. A magistrate must, by law, pre-sume that a defendant who's nomi-nated Jedi as their religion on their census form is telling the truth, until the ABS can prove otherwise. Given the attributes of the Jedi Path, one could safely argue it is a religion. Any prosecution must be based upon the presumption that the defendant does not believe in the Jedi Path. Good luck with that one. I should come out and say that, as a slightly embarrassed Star Wars fan and duster, hugger and plastic bag-wrapper of reportedly the largest Star Wars toy collection in Victoria, I will not be nominating my faith as Jedi. While I have a vested financial interest in seeing my anal-retentive treasures transformed into religious artefacts, I find the idea of religious faith a bit square. (As for you other lonely, friendless geeks out there, don't bother robbing me, the toys were hidden a long time ago in a warehouse far, far away.) But there is a deeper issue here, one which will surface in the build-up to census day. As the Jedi shenanigans have shown, the infor-mation age is rife with possibilities for dissent and mischief. It is also a time when private information about all Australians is a source of intense auctioning between market-ing companies. The information to be gathered by the ABS will be worth millions if it falls into the wrong hands. If you are satisfied that every single one of the people working for the ABS is honest, fine. I am sure they are. If you believe in your heart that your private details, even something as deeply held and precious as your religious faith, are the government's business, terrific. And if the mishaps of the last census collection (hun-dreds of forms lost, stolen or found floating in street drains) does not concern you, that's just great. Fill in your form with all the details of your life, content in the belief the infor-mation will not be misused, mis-placed or e-mailed to countless millions. If you are not so sure, you may wish to make other arrangements and risk prosecution. May the Force be with you. The age, 24/4/01
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