Moomba

Due to the high amount of Vine videos all over Facebook and due to every teenager owning a device that connects them to the social media granting them the misconception that they too can be famous by attempting to be funny, I have lost interest in funny things in the world. 

Do not get me wrong, I still have the ability myself to be a tear jerker just by speaking in front of a large group of people which is probably why I should have chased the dream of a comedian. At least being overweight would be funnier then than it is now. But that is besides the point. The point that I am attempting to come across is this: that universities, all while being boring places to spend sleep-deprived mornings, can prove to be quite interesting comedic recreation centres whilst being educational settings depending on your lecturer. I am proud to say that my current lecturer is far better than any stand up comedian I have seen, and I expect that because I pay him far more. 

Regardless, each class of his is of a high amount of hilarity. I have never learnt and laughed at the same time in amounts as such before. I cannot control my laughter as my mind attempts to take in the information that comes straight after and my hand struggles to write neatly so I end up looking like a victim of an epileptic fit. A happy victim of an epileptic fit. It is quite the sight to see. And there indeed is nothing that beats the strength of the engagement of humour in the classroom, in the lecture theatre or anywhere for that matter. In one of these lectures, though I heard something that is so profoundly funny, it still makes me laugh every time I think about it. 

The city of Melbourne lacked a festival with an indigenous punch back in the old days. So, the mayor at a time when I was not yet conceived had decided to ask an Aboriginal man, Bill Onus, what Aboriginal word they can name this Melbourne festival that would entice attendees to attend simply because of the respect given to these original settlers by naming a happy event after a word of their choice, rather the choice of one. "Momba", he replied, and Moomba it became, Moomba it was and Moomba it still is. 

What most citizens of Melbourne do not realise, though, is what the word Moomba means when it is translated into the Aboriginal language. In actual fact, Moomba means 'big asshole' or 'up your bum' or 'in your buttocks' depending on what sounds funnier to you. So while citizens of Melbourne go out to spend their day and night every year for sixty years celebrating a festival, they have been celebrating 'big asshole' day. 

I will forever laugh at how poorly researched this name was and at how it is still in use today. This just goes to show that people of the government can really learn a thing or two about critical thinking.