Friday, August 28, 2015

Greetings from an exotic part of the world, bearing the glad tidings of reptiles brooding about Heydongate ...

The pond was browsing through its reading list the other day, and saw all sorts of addresses ... including Foxtel, the ABC, Fairfaxians, assorted universities, and a generous dollop of bureaucrats using their lunchtime to browse the intertubes, while faithfully keeping their noses to the grindstone during working hours ... and if you believe that, have we got a job for you in Canberra promoting the atheist cause in the Census!


And why shouldn't atheists get the donkey vote? The donkey lovers have had a free run for too long ...

There were assorted state libraries, though whether staff or clients who's to say, and a faithful repeat visitor from Longmont Colorado, though whether human or robot or VPN, who can say. Curiously there's no Murdochians. Perhaps they use Dodo.

The pond hopes the Longmont visitor is a CIA robot. Otherwise it must be truly, awesomely dull in Longmont, Colorado if the reptiles of Oz are what passes for entertainment. Still, it's amazing what you can learn if you do a Greg Hunt about far flung corners of the world ...

Well if you're out there, don't be lurkers, though there's nothing wrong with lurking, it's just that the pond would love to hear more from strange lands featuring unutterable thoughts.

There must be more to life than the reptiles of Oz. If there isn't, what are we doing here, what does it all mean?

But enough of the international jet setting lifestyle, because it's time to bore some good citizen using the services of Longmont, Colorado with more tales of reptile woe.

Today we have had a special visitation from Dame Slap, who's feeling so passionate she's turned up on a Friday to do the hard yards. But what set her off?


Uh oh.

There's the problem, right there, what with all the delays and the obfuscations and the confusions, how can a reptile make a solid defence?

How can reptiles agree, and live in harmony?

Oh dear, it seems that the Dame is in something of a terminal state, frothing and foaming and stamping feet. Let's get closer to see - careful, reptiles have sharp claws and are known to bite, and granny's tale of a goanna up her skirt still lives deep in the pond's memory bank:


Now by about this point, it becomes clear that Dame Slap actually doesn't have much to contribute, beyond unions and Labor and two legs bad, Heydon and four legs good.

So what's left? Well it turns out that all that remains is petulance and indignant foot-stamping:


There is of course a middle way. Voters might also remember a clearly politicised hatchet job designed to take down Julia Gillard and drag Shorten through the mud, and the man in charge was so indifferent to the sensitivities involved that he lectured Shorten in a patrician way, but overlooked some crucial details which suggested he needed to look a little further than the pince-nez on his nose.

Oh okay, they're not really Roosevelt's glasses, but you catch the drift.

Now the pond has no dog in this fight - in fact, it's the pond's proud boast, repeated interminably, to have been declared black by a union early in its working life, and the pond is startled by union corruption. But that includes matters alleged to have involved Kathy Jackson as much as others, and when talking of corruption, let's not forget the naked corruption at the big end of town, especially in the financial services and property development sector. You need to bung on a really big wedding for anyone to notice in Sydney town these days ...

The notion that this federal government would produce a Royal Commission on corruption in these sectors is laughable, and that's why all the blather about lynching Heydon is just rhetoric of the Dame "the UN is using climate science to introduce a world government" Slap kind ...

In the end, there's a sense that Dame Slap realises what these interminable delays are pointing to, on the Monday coming, which is why she has to call, old testament prophet style, on the voters to cast a final judgment.

A recent artist's impression of Dame Slap:



She clearly had such high hopes - a chance to destroy the unions and the Billistas - and now all she can do is fling her hands high in the air, and invoke the avenging voter.

With the polls running 46-54, good luck with that form of vengeance.

But it suggests why things are heating up in reptile la la land, and why they're in such disarray.

You see, even Merritt the Oz reptile legal meteor has been forced to point out the bleeding obvious to his fellow reptiles:


Indeed, indeed. If he tries to stay, he loses. If he goes, something might be retrieved from the mess. Not much, but something. But the endless delays and the obfuscations don't do any good for him or the politicians who set the train wreck in motion.

Merritt spends a long time noting the bleeding obvious, while doing a marvellous dance around the point:


Actually, only lawyers can be bothered with this sort of intricacy, up there with the original Watergate and all the other arcane carry-ons that turn up when a hanging judge finds himself in trouble ...

But this is where it gets poignant, because Dame Slap can't see any problem at all. Who cares if a royal commissioner, she scribbles, accepted, then declined, to give a legal lecture to a group of Liberal lawyers. And perhaps in the process kicked over the till for a noble cause …

Everyone knows what it's all about, and to see why she's so insouciant about the notion of bias and apprehension of bias, we only have to revert to what the Captain himself said as to the intent and purpose and nature of the Royal Commission:


Indeed, indeed. Talk about Captain foot in mouth. An important part of cleaning up the Labor Party.

Is it possible to imagine a more naked statement of bias and political intent?

Now imagine the Labor party appointing a Royal Commission to clean up the Liberal party and its corporate backers ...

Yes, the pond has always wondered about that Pauline Hanson fund and the uses made of it by captain courageous ...

 But the cries of lynch mob and witch hunt would resound up and down the land ...

No wonder the reptiles are bewildered and confused. Things are heating up as the Canning can reaches the point where it can't be kicked much further down the road ...

Which perhaps explains why, good citizens of Colorado, other fronts are on the move (and please check out the Fairfax cartoonists here):




In which the pond turns over some News Corp square eggs and worries about the super coach and the team captain ...

Given it's a Friday, it's a big day at the pond.

Yes Virginia if you keep on putting things off and off, people will speculate, think bad thoughts, wonder, feel bemused, and contemplate the fluff in their navel.

Speaking of fluff, the pond was delighted by this little set-to:


Seems serious enough and a good basis for a story:


Yes, it was all over the intertubes, but not for the reason that might have been expected, and quickly enough came a retraction, a rebuttal:


And if you went looking for the original story, you came across this bit of whimsy:


Well the pond didn't look under the couch, but we did look at the Twitter account of the man who got dudded:


So that's what a goose looks like, a real live, keyboard-pounding goose, and still in the employ of the HUN. Why, he's the sort of square egg man who might turn up in a Carl Barks' comic:


The HUN, home of square eggs and the Bolter ...

And yesterday afternoon, the pond broke a rule and read Jack the Insider, and was rewarded with the most remarkable bit of hagiography imaginable. See if you can make sense of this desperate sequence of thought bubbles:

The pessimists would point to the fact that the Abbott government has not won a Newspoll for 16 months. The closest it has come is 49-51 in the wake of the federal budget in May. Most recently, the polling across an average of the major polling companies is 46-54. That shift indicates that the people are still listening. They may not like what they hear — but they are still listening.

Now Jack likes to imagine that he doesn't drink the News Corp kool aid, that he's a sensible, rational observer, but to see hope and a listening audience from a shift to 46-54 is beyond the valley of the bizarre.

But like everyone at News Corp, Jack has turned football coach as the end of the season approaches.

It's looking grim for the club most likely to end up as wooden spooners:

There is no plan, no narrative, no policy framework or architecture and, worse, no one with the willingness to communicate squarely to the people. 
It is like watching the worst excesses of the Rudd government. Indeed it would not surprise me to hear Abbott was working on his own children’s book. 
The Abbott government went into the 2013 election with a second-term agenda, deferring big-ticket reform items like tax and industrial relations reforms beyond its first term of government. That second-term agenda is now lost without a trace. If you find it, give the Prime Minister’s office a call. To add to the government’s woes there is no prospect of an early election with the polling as bad as it is — and that means a third budget. The headline figure will reveal a deficit more than double that when Labor was hurled out in 2013. Spending has increased, revenues are plummeting. Budget management rather than an emergency is real but the government’s handling of it suggests a confected crisis. 
One of Abbott’s worst verbal clunkers was his statement that good government started on February 8 — the day of his ‘near death’ experience. Plainly it didn’t but, to paraphrase Mark Twain, talk of the government’s death remains an exaggeration.

Don't worry. That's the sort of rousing oration coaches apparently give at half time. You know, you're all a bunch of loser girlies. If you don't pull up your socks, and take the ball up the guts, we'd be better off having a quota for girlies. Not that a quota would be justified. You losers and dropkicks have been selected on your merits, and look where that's got us ...

And you'll notice there at the end that Jack began the subtle switch to positive coaching which is required once you've delivered the spray and the dressing down ...

,,,to paraphrase Mark Twain, talk of the government’s death remains an exaggeration.
There is still hope but it must be joined by conviction. 
There is no better time for a cabinet reshuffle. Place the government’s best performers into major portfolios where they will be front and centre in the public eye. Scott Morrison to the Treasury, Josh Frydenberg to Immigration, Mathias Cormann to Employment, Sussan Ley to Defence, Christian Porter to Finance, Bruce Billson to Employment. Let those who have tried and failed tell their stories walking. Shake it up. 

Poor Jack. The pond understands that the Tigers, apparently a thugby league team languishing at the bottom of the table and likely wooden spooners, have just told their captain to hit the road.

But not Jack. No, the captain still gets to stay and make his picks, and incidentally, as a pond reader noted, lie to his colleagues.

Yes, how funny was that and the poodle so indignant and prim and proper:

“Well I haven’t talked about the private dinner with the prime minister and there were only three people at the dinner and I remember who the other two were because it wasn’t that long ago and I’m not going to talk about that dinner or any other private discussions I have had with the prime minister because that would make it hard for us to have a trusting relationship, so, no, I don’t do that,” Pyne said.

And so on and so forth, and you can Graudian it here.

And who were the three at the dinner? Well if you believe this reptile photo ...


So would Jack get rid of a notorious leaker and liar, who's bad for team morale?

Nope, instead we get the usual folly about how the team can be pulled together because of the superior powers of the coach, making solid steel out of malleable clay:

Be bold. Dust off that second-term agenda and take tax reform — not a summit on one, not a promise to think about it, but hard policy — to the people that includes tax benefits to low- and middle-income earners. 
Whatever changes need be made must be made quickly. The prevailing view that the same methods that weren’t working in the past might work in the future is just plain dumb. 
If Tony Abbott continues with that approach, there will come a time when people really will have stopped listening and then someone is going to have to come along and blast him out of his chair.

And what do you know, this very day the diligent team shows they've imbibed the kool aid and are having a go ...


Have a go tax cuts?

It's a joke, right, Jack?

You see, the pond was listening back when they were talking about an apocalyptic budget emergency of an astonishing dimension, up there with that San Andreas movie ...

How did the coach deal with that one? That's right:

Budget management rather than an emergency is real but the government’s handling of it suggests a confected crisis. 

Gobbledegook! Make that man a News Corp super coach!

Now they're talking about everyone getting a tax break and everything, China meltdown and likely recession, will be hunky dory?

Sorry, Jack, you're a loser coach of a loser team, and your failure to sack the captain is a big reason you're such a loser.

Better get into the kool aid in a big way, because you're going to need it. You forgot to tell your team to stay focussed ... and if it is such a dire budget emergency, then surely that needs attention, rather than pandering to voters as if they were a bunch of sucker johns ...

If it's a confected crisis, who did the confecting?A confectionary company?

And finally the pond was pleased to see big Mal out and about, doing what is know known at the pond as doing a Jack, which is to say defending the indefensible:

Which naturally led the pond to get out an old Pope:


Still as true as the day it was first published ...

And that naturally led to another Pope, published this day, and you can find more Pope here:


Cruel but more than fair Mr Pope, and the pond thinks much less of Ms Gillard for it ...

Thursday, August 27, 2015

In which the reptiles get confused, and everyone knows a confused dog botherer will turn incredibly hulkish ..


It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Liberal parliamentarian can pay attention to no more than one issue at a time - checking that the opposable thumb works is sufficiently demanding of the skill set that nothing else should be attempted while giving the thumb its work out.

It is also a truth universally acknowledged that a treasurer, reminding the public that they have a man for a PM who did all he could to tear down a republic and break a nation's heart, and trying to make up for it by inviting universal ridicule by knighting the Queen's consort, will find no good fortune amongst the reptile observers of life.

These universal truths have now provoked such consternation, such a crisis - far bigger than any mere petty budget emergency - that it has forced Chris Kenny to forsake his usual column about the ABC and deal with the upstart.


This is how serious the crisis has become!

Jolly Joe should know that more than one message is simply too much for the average antediluvian reptile brain to handle.

It simply fried the dog botherer's brain and so he was mightily indignant.


Yep, the trap of attempting to talk about more than one thing at once...

It's shocking, disturbing and outrageous ... especially when Jolly Joe's doing such a fine job dealing with the batters that count:

 But back to the indignant dog botherer:


Bigger issues on their minds?

Well there's a classic assumption about the meaning of minds.  It's well known that Tony Abbott simply can't handle more than issue at a time, and after putting together his next suggestions about whom he'll knight - hmm, could Prince Chuck do with another gong, or perhaps his consort, she's suffered so much? - he can't be expected to waste quality time on trivial issues like a republic.

But back to the outraged dog botherer getting seriously upset by bandanna wearers:


And there we have it straight from the dog botherer's keyboard.

It's simply too much to bear. What we need is a government which will tackle one issue boldly and bravely one step at a time, because that's all the reptiles can cope with!

You know, like talking tax cuts for the rich and an increase in regressive tax for everyone as a way to sort out that budget emergency ...

Now that your average reptile can understand, though it took long hours of kool aid drinking to get there.

Of course you could look at it another way and cite the dog botherer in your footnotes as your source:


But there's hope - this image reminds us of what's afoot:


And the pond is also indebted to the twitterati for this reminder of the substantial ethical and moral attitudes of the tabloid Terrorists, who set the recent gay hate shock horror bandwagon rolling, before, apparently, a single parental protest reaching the school involved:


Yes, everything is proceeding as it should in reptile la la land ...

In which the pond plumps for a headline and cartoon-led recovery ...


Well it'd be funny if it wasn't true, and more social realism from David Pope here.

By the way, Pope is doing a little fund-raising, details at Twitter here for anyone who wants a little social realism on their walls, up there with van Gogh's portraits of potato eaters.


Well that mouth looks a bit like a potato, so the pond rests its case ...

Speaking of budgie smuggler patriotism, this also caught the pond's eye:


And that, Virginia, is how you move from a rogue terrorist state into a valuable ally in a nanosecond, and Australia gets on board with the Shia as part of the civil war raging in the region. Guaranteed to sort things out ...

What else? Well it's a headline sort of day:



What indeed?

He's such a splendid visionary (and more Moir here):


Perhaps the most plaintive of the delusional visionaries at the 2015 summit - only five more years Virginia and you can join in the 2020 summit - was that cockroach of the airwaves Kate Carnell doing her bit for futurism:

So what do small businesses need? ...
They need adequate broadband speeds to market and sell their goods and services globally. We know digitally engaged companies grow faster and employ more staff. Just look at Birdsnest, the fashion business featuring on the front of The Australian, which is doing great things online. Technology, even disruptive technology, must be facilitated.

Could there be a deeper, profounder irony?


Yes, the company, the man, and the newspapers that have campaigned relentlessly against decent broadband - and have scored their expensive, confused conflation of copper-based multiple technologies - are still busy posing as the home of reform, and the embracers of disruptive technology.

And their facilitators lurk in the shadows, at least if you believe Rowe, and more Rowe here:


Ah well at least it'll be a republican back alley ... by 2050 ...

Meanwhile, roll on 2020 in the land of copper-engaged, satellite-lagging, HFC-wired, multi-useless technology companies, and here's to a cartoon-led recovery ...

As part of that recovery, we should just note that Moir also had a few images to say about the budgie warrior, that campaigner for coal, and his warrior plans:


Meanwhile, the pond was pleased to see that Freedom Boy was out and about wringing his hands, and moping:


In the very same tabloid, the result of its fearless campaigning was also plastered at the top of the digital page:


Freedom boy's plea for the rights of the heterosexual majority almost brought a tear to the eyes of the pond, but he stepped across the line when he suggested attention should be paid to minorities.

Crikey had it right:

 

And speaking of bigotry, the pond was mightily impressed by this never-ending story:


Could there be a better example of a barking mad obsessive who just can't let things go and move on, as the rest of the world has done?

Is there a solitary person left in Australia who doesn't understand the Bolter is obsessed by race, and riven by his relentless fixation with Adam Goodes?

Hmm, news a bit slow today, must dust off Adam Goodes and give him another shake ...

It's all the usual stuff about hypocrisy and Goodes, Goodes, Goodes, and that's how the race game works and so on and so tediously and endlessly forth ...

Meanwhile, the pond was startled, shocked, dismayed, to see the warrior coal man seemingly encouraging actual indigenous dances with a warrior tinge...



Shouldn't he be flinching in fear at this aggressive assault on his sensibilities?

Why it's likely the Bolter would have fallen to the ground in a dead faint, and only been revived by an aria and the sniff of a good red ...

You can find the coal lover giving it a good go here, but oh dear, where's the Bolter when he's needed?

Perhaps someone in News Corp will belatedly realise that when the Bolter scribbles about Goodes and race, he shows all the signs of a demented, obsessed, obsessive compulsive racist, and perhaps someone should just reach out and tap him on the shoulder and say, no, Andrew, not again, not today, give it a rest, give the world a break, leave it alone, go away ...

Enough already. The pond is feeling seriously fatigued, so for a closing snifter - as the pond's Tamworth uncle used to say when deep in a schooner of sweet sherry - we decided to drop in on the Chairman.

It's deeply perplexing to the pond that the Chairman still tweets. He's routinely trolled, and respondents rarely have a kind word.

Take that nonsense about the reef. That resulted in an extensive trolling:


And then after his initial gambit on the NBN, as noted above, he tried to roll it back a little, with a more recent tweet.

But at least that brings the pond back in the third act to that bleating Kate Carnell and the chairman seeded earlier in the piece - the pond is Godardian, and likes a tidy dramatic structure, with a beginning, a middle and an end, and in that order. 

So let's watch the pernicious fraud line up for another trolling:


It reminds the pond of the chairman's other attempts to get the digital world.

What a pity none of the tweeters at the top of the page mentioned Myspace, purchased for US$580 million, driven into the ground, and sold in 2012 for US$35 million.

Now there's a company that really understands the intertubiethingie visionary thing ... and that's why it's coal, coal, coal for Australia and the woorrld, and bombs for Syria, and Iran's our new bestest ally, and that headline and cartoon-led recovery seems to be receding ...

Well at least, Virginia until Heydongate turns up tomorrow, and we all get to kick that Canning can a little further down the road ...

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Sssh, A---l business is afoot at the pond, as is the Chairman ...

Meanwhile, how weird is it getting in reptile land?


Did you notice?

That's right, that rabid ratbag Panahi, as recycled by the Bolter,   seems to be unable to bring herself to type out 'Anal'.

We're back in the days of Mother Grundy.

The pond couldn't believe it, that a word would have so much potency, so many dark magical powers,.

So we rushed off to check the original. And there it was again:


Beyond the valley of the bizarre.

'A --- l'?!?

It's all the more poignant, or piquant, as noted by the pond, that in recent days the commentariat has been lathering up into a fine old frenzy of indignation and frothing foam about Mark Latham being persecuted for speaking of fucks and cunts.

Now the sweet old things are whipping themselves up into a storm about 'A --- l', which somehow assaults their eyeballs so much that they can't bear to type a simple word ... Anal.

There's something deeply anal about that.

Could it get any funnier?

Well if you read Miranda the Devine it might:


Mmm, surely she can't be saying that Panahi is a fainting couch feminist?

But look, that tortured model caressing her fevered brow has a certain 'a---l' feel to her ...

The hoo ha is infinitely richer than the Fairfax typo that enriched the pond's lunchtime reading:


Perhaps Panahi has been caught up in a time warp parradox and imagines herself scribbling for a Victorian newspaper. Oh you know what the pond means, not a Victorian newspaper, but a newspaper of Victorian times and outlook. Oh wait, is there a difference as the HUN spirals back into the past?

Meanwhile the pond also dropped in on the Chairman for some important updates:


Indeed, indeed. To the naked ear, the silly old goose is sounding more and more senile.

Only a doofus of the first water could assert Netflix being streamed over good broadband would be great for Foxtel - lordy, lordy have they stuffed up in their attempts to muscle up - and only an exceptional goose could ask who's in charge, and then, apparently not knowing the answer, tell the world that it's a happy warrior and a clever fighter.

The contortions and the gymnastics are truly admirable.

But it explains to the naked eye of the pond why climate science is a UN conspiracy, and why the horizon remains determinedly flat: