Money. That ruiner of all things good and pure……

NOW COMING TO A HOTTEST 100 NEAR YOU.

I read this morning about betting on the revered annual broadcast. I spat coffee all over my desk. My uni assignment worthy collateral damage…whoops.

But What The Actual Fuck? What a molestation of art. Is nothing sacred?

To sweeten temptation, up for grabs: 1 Golden Ticket. To Willy Wonky’s Poor Morals Factory.

I tried to temper disgust, I tried to see this from the other perspective…… then I opened my laptop lid and all hell broke loose.

Am I missing something here? Is gambling on the big things the ‘Australian way’ – ala Melbourne Cup?

Personally, I am adamant that monetising art through gambling is on par with politicians utilising public tragedy for their own self-seeking purposes.

Me and my soapbox are going back to my coffee and my headphones. Laterz bitches.