The picture of the bogan that we here have painted for all y’all over the past three years could be described in various ways. The bogan is a multi-faceted beast, hard to easily pigeonhole, which is why such a task requires an exhaustive categorisation of over 250 different things that it likes. But if one were challenged to boil it all down to a single adjective, surely one that would sit near the top of any list is ‘angry’.
The bogan is constantly slighted against. It is always having its free speech restrained. It’s furious at moochers who receive unemployment benefits. It is mad as hell when the government considers reducing the first homeowners’ grant or baby bonus. It can’t believe that our Prime Minister would lie to them about introducing a carbon tax on everything. It can’t believe that our Prime Minister would lie to them about introducing a mining tax before watering it down to basically nothing.
The bogan is angry. But this anger is inchoate, ill-directed and convulsive. What the bogan needs is a rage vector. Something through which it can channel all of this pent-up fury and unleash it in a flaming burst of irate sanctimony.
Enter the idiot Muslim protester.
Ever since our diggers gave them a proper pantsing at Gallipoli, the Muslim has been an appropriate target for the bogan’s rage and self-inflated superiority. Most of the time, though, it’s simply the latest in a line of whichever minority group the bogan media sees fit to target with claims of laziness, criminality or general evil.
But when a bunch of fundie dickheads decide to trot around the Sydney CBD requesting that a person they can’t identify should be divorced from his head, the bogan outrage machine kicks into overdrive. Every politician seeking the bogan vote gets a free kick, indicating how un-Australian it is to stage a violent protest based on religious grounds.
Shock Jocks get a free kick, stoking the bogan flame, insisting that these people (to wit, all Mussies) have no place in the country and should leave unless they adopt Australian (to wit, bogan) values. Karl Stefanovic continues to say stupid things. Strangely, Scott Morrison has been quiet.
The bogan can now sit back in its Gainsville chair, watching its Harvey Norman plasma, and bask in the magnificence of being Australian. It furiously condemns a religion of a billion people based on the antics of some fools from Sydney’s south west. It furiously yells in agreement with Ray Hadley on the radio. It furiously cracks open a Mexican beer and furiously slams it down.
It then goes to its room to furiously perform the stranger on itself in celebration of its Australian self-satisfaction.