Thursday, August 24, 2017

In which the bromancer explains everything to the pond ...


The reptiles attracted attention this day with their photo of Australia fist-pumping away with a psycho killer ...

The reptiles so liked the image that they made it a feature of their digital edition too ...



It seemed vaguely disturbing, bopping along with a thuggish sociopath, and Warner had the eerie look of someone who had just emerged from the corn field celebrated in It's a Good Life ...

The pond has seen many examples of brazen lickspittle, forelock tugging, servile fellow-travelling, but this seemed exceptional ...up there with other examples that litter history ...


The pond knew that once again it had got the wrong end of the stick, and needed to be booked into a facility for correctional rehabilitation. But who would reform the pond's deluded moralism?



Well yes, there's every good reason for Warner to visit the Philippines, but did he have to get snapped doing a fist bump with a sociopath?


Indeed, indeed. No doubt the pond is a little slow this morning, and there's every good reason for Warner to visit the Philippines, and no doubt he's a fine and worthy chap, impeccably born and bred of genuine merino stock, and there's no doubt bribery is the diplomacy for the future, but did he have to get snapped doing a fist bump with a sociopath?


Say what? The two fist pose wasn't his idea? So who put his fists in that pose? Was he drugged, was he hypnotised? Was he deluded, was he a fool, or was all that merino breeding a dastardly form of in-breeding?

Oh wait, it's all in the nation's service ... so that makes it fine and dandy ...


I't's all in the nation's service ...

Meanwhile on another planet, where the media sees there's more to being a journalist than joining in the servile, lickspittle forelock tugging ...


More optimistic Rowe here, with the pond feeling the need for a short break, because this day the reptiles, and so the pond, have been doubly blessed by a second visitation from the bromancer ... and sure enough the Donald is featured ...



Naturally the thought that the bromancer was confessing to insanity instantly had the pond intrigued ...

We all know that's his natural condition, but it's always a beautiful thing when the crazy embrace the crazy, as the pond does every day ...


Okay chief let's get through the window with the bromancer ...



Of course Green was speaking before the recent Phoenix speech stirred all the usual possums and Morning Joe was getting hysterical about the nukes and the codes, and the minutes it would take to trigger an attack, and so was James Clapper in "Ex-intelligence chief: Trump's access to nucleaer codes is 'pretty damn scary.'

But it seems all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds, and there's an important contribution to be made in terms of ideas and analysis.

Like if you don't get your way, stomp around and act like a bully in a creepy way, and threaten to shut down everything, as in the NY Times' Trump to Congress: Fund the Wall or I'll Shut the Government ...

On a lighter note, the Donald is now going the full Lenny ...


There's more at WaPo here, but the pond couldn't resist a further gobbet ...


Well the funny thing is that the Murdochians, via Fox News, did their level best to help get the Donald into power, and now they're busy explaining how the Donald can be subverted or walked around, and how everything is looking rosy for Australia and the world ...

For that we don't need talk of Lenny, and a comedian on his last legs, we need the bromancer ...


Good news for us?

There's a failing Lenny Bruce wannabe in the White House and it's good news for us?

Well at least the Pope has caught on to the idea of a missile-led recovery. with more advanced papal military planning here ...



In which the pond has a light breakfast with Donners and the IPA, thanks to the lizards of Oz ...


Where would the pond be without the Terrorists? It's impossible to imagine.

Speaking of imagination, the pond was recently browsing the local throwaway Murdochian rag, the Inner West Courier and came across a letter from one D Johnston of Enmore, railing against "evangelical atheism" and crediting it to the greenies because - and this is where the sharp Alexander Pope wit entered the picture - "they are the watermelon party - green on the outside but Red inside - whose leaders are nostalgic for communism, which turned churches into tractor factories."

Strange, the pond thought the filthy Commie swine turned churches into henhouses and pigsties ...


(Terri Favro - Sputnik's Children, easily googled for more information)

Never mind, D Johnston of Enmore finished off with "Christians believe in humanism that, although faulted, we and this Earth are the centre of the universe. Nothing else in all the universes is as wonderful as the human imagination."

The pond's first thought was what a complete and colossal lack of imagination. 

Wasn't She Herself and Her ineluctable mysteries, such as transgendered transubstantiation, supposed to be beyond the humble human imagination? Was there nothing out there more wonderful than the human imagination, which seemed to involve a bunch of blondes?

The pond's second thought was that perhaps D Johnston was actually a covert evangelical atheist taking the mickey, and mocking She believers by elevating the human imagination above the Xian and other deities ..

The pond simply didn't have the imagination to arrive at a solution, but then the pond routinely finds reality unimaginable. The Donald? Who could have imagined? The lizards of Oz? Who could imagine?

It was in this spirit that the pond turned to a light breakfast at reptile HQ.



They were calling this an EXCLUSIVE and yet dashing Donners, the most prolific ideologue in recent history, was the featured photo?

It's not enough that they publish him every second day of the week? Now they have to interview him and call it an EXCLUSIVE when his views are about as common as two dollar milk, but a tad less useful if wanting porridge for breakfast?

Yet again the pond's limited imagination failed ...

Look, the pond knows that Stefanie Balogh is just making a living as best she can, but if talking to the Donners is an exclusive, why then imagination is dead, and there are no such things as unicorns and dragons...

Joe Kelly is also beyond the pond's imagination. Judging by his carefully cultivated beard in his mug shot, he's a hipster and when not roaming Manuka in search of essence of political coffee, might easily pass in Surry Hills without offending a barista ... (is he a Wahl man, or perhaps a Braun?)

Never mind, just because the pond lacks the imagination doesn't mean it can't be so, and so the pond turned to the EXCLUSIVE, no doubt to read about the education system being turned into tractor factories wherein might be mass produced black armbands...


The pond always loves it when a rogue ideologue, who captured the system for a nanosecond thanks to the onion muncher but then was shuffled back into a Catholic university, rails at the system being captured by ideologues ...

But the pond is fair, and feels the need to heap tremendous praise on Stefanie Balogh and Joe Kelly for the tremendous investigative work involved in this EXCLUSIVE.

How arduous it must have been to have rung up a couple of silly old buggers railing at clouds. How tremendous that the reptiles of Oz felt the need to assign two diligent reporters to do the job.

Now the pond's life would be complete only if they also managed to talk to someone at the Institute of Public Affairs, since when talking of things being captured by ideologues, why not involve someone with practical daily experience performing that feat?


Actually Bella d'Abrera, the pond wasn't an indigenous child, but it certainly remembers vividly what it was like to be abused by nuns, physically and verbally, and in forms quite remarkably cruel ...

Looking back it's easy to see why they were so unhappy. Dressed in full habit, coif, guimpe and black regalia in the Tamworth noon day sun mustn't have been fun, and there was no air conditioning in those days, as they swished up and down the aisle, ruler in hand to rap unwary knuckles ...

The pond suspects they were even more unhappy than their wards, because the children at least had youth and energy and a sense that there was something else out there than being trapped in a stuffy classroom with a bunch of unruly urchins ...

While in the Catholic system the pond never met an Aboriginal child, but then, when it became clear that the pond, lacking imagination, had absolutely no interest in the Catholic system, and transferred across to a state school, the pond again rarely met any Aboriginal children ...

They were siphoned off, herded away into a portable across the oval, in much the same way as their parents were herded off into Coledale ...

It was beyond the pond's control, and yet the pond still felt a little guilt about the way that Aboriginal people were treated then, had been treated before that, and have been treated subsequently ... while complacent, smug, self-regarding whites thought everything was hunky dory and in its place and all was well with the world ... as you do when blessed with an extravagant imagination.

What a relief then that smug, complacent, self-regarding and self-important Donners doesn't give a flying fuck about any of it, and feels absolutely no guilt for the pain and damage inflicted by Catholicism or the pain and damage done to the indigenous population of Australia ...

But at least the pond now knows why it lacks an imagination. Who could have imagined this short, steaming pile of predictable poo could have been labelled an EXCLUSIVE?

Speaking of education, naturally the pond spent the evening watching the reaction to the Donald's Arizona outing, and considered other important lessons that children must learn these days ...



Oh and today is the last day to enrol for a survey.

Who could possibly imagine that? Enrolling for a survey ...




Wednesday, August 23, 2017

In which the pond has a portmanteau day, with a splash of Devine, a ride on the Canavan caravan, and a neo-Nazi moment with Dame Slap ...


The pond realised it had been a long time - too long - since it'd quoted a little genuine surrealism, as opposed to the reptile surrealism on daily parade, if only to explain why it had embarked on a lunchtime portmanteau of reptilian works ...

It means sensible folk can just skip to reading Carroll's Through the Looking Glass here, thanks to the good folk at the Uni of Adelaide, leaving only the most pain-addicted masochists to carry on ...

It's safe to say that once anyone has heard Miranda the Devine outgribing, somewhere between a bitching and a bellowing, they'll be quite content, or quite uncontent, or in a state of discontent, but one way or another they'll know they're far from mome, and have lost their way ...



Yes, it's saucy doubts and fears day at reptile bunker HQ, and who better to lead off than the bilious Devine, gyring and gimbling in her inimitable corkscrew way ...


Ah the poor suffering persecuted Xians. The pond almost wept at the suffering. Damn it, and all they want to do is consign gays to hellfire for all eternity, and perhaps help them on their way ...


What fun, what persecution the camel, sheep and goat herders devised, with more at the Skeptics' Bible here ...

But the pond can already sense that stuffing this port (that's what we call them up Tamworth way) is going to get harder by the minute, so it's on with more of the Devine ...


Now here the pond should pause to note that the reptiles decided to illustrate this point with a photo of the demonic one ...


But we can all recognise a doofus at ten paces, and so scaled the scaly one down so we could get on with the Devine still outgribing away ... because we can never get enough of Xian suffering ...


Ah, the old blank cheque, and Vicki in the comments section knew exactly what that meant ...


Dogs not just humping legs, but humping children ... where would it all end? Would cats lie down with dogs? Would the loon who wanders King street with a ferret want to marry the feral ferret?

And now, for those hardy souls who feel up to it, as a reward for making it this far, splash on a little essence of the Devine ...


Feeling nicely slithy and slimey and vitriolic?

Well it's time to join the Canavan caravan, enjoined as an honorary reptile this day ...



Now in polite company, the pond would probably say that it thinks the Canavan is a right royal doofus ... but this is a free-ranging blog, so it can call Canavan, in the most genial and respectful way possible, a right royal twit and epic fuckwit ...

Right from the get go, there's nothing to discuss. Marriage isn't always about the children, some marriages don't involve children at all ...

There's nothing in most marriage vows (link for Greg Hunters) that mentions children ... and to suggest otherwise is to do dirt on those people who have married and for one reason or another (choice or circumstance) don't have children ...

To invoke the Lovejoy defence in this context is not just pathetic, it's insulting ...



Is there anything more irritating than a fuckwit attempting a history lesson, when his real point is pure Lovejoy?


What's even more weird and perverted is that the Canavan reckons that it's all about deadbeat dads, in which case what a fucked up and failed institution and idea marriage is ...and then the loon, in epic agrarian socialist manage gets to talking about horse studs.

You can't - well the pond certainly couldn't - make this sort of myopic shit up ...


How about 'all you need is hate', in lower case, for dimwitted, fuckwitted Queensland senators, always willing to dress up homophobia and bigotry with dissembling arguments ... as if there's something wrong with love ...

It's possible to imagine Christ's reaction to that sniggering snide Canavan line about "all you need is love" ...

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. (here)

Why is it that the pond always has to go Christian on these noisy, useless Xians?

But enough of that clanging, noisy, profoundly irritating doofus cymbal, because there's one final member of the band needing attention this day ...



As a result of the last great modem crisis - the next is shortly to come in the form of the copper-clad NBN - the pond missed Dame Slap's last outing.

In her absence, and with the Charlottesville crisis at its peak, the pond began a fantasy about degrees of separation.

You see, there's Steve Bannon at one with the white supremacists and nationalists and KKKers and neo-Nazis, and there was the Donald on board with Steve until he wasn't, but still on board with the nice guys who walked the Tiki-lit streets with Nazi symbols and flags, chanting anti-Semitic slogans ...

And there was Dame Slap, donning her Donald cap, and so surely no more than one degree of separation from the neo-Nazis ...

Bear with the pond on this one as we begin our Dame Slap reading for the day ...




Now for those who've heard all this sort of stuff before ... children must be children, at least until my child takes a fall in the park and I can sue the shit out of the local council - didn't Dame Slap once qualify at law and work as a commercial solicitor at Freehills, home to the worst of the breed? (the pond speaks from personal experience) ... can the pond just revert to that other bit of speculation?

You know, Charlottesville, the MAGA camp, the Donald, the neo-Nazis and the whole damned thing...



Uh huh ... and so to Charlottesville with the proper gear to hand ...


Oh okay, if Godwin hadn't given his personal permission to the world, the pond might not be so cheeky, but then all this Dame Slap jibber jabber about the children brings out the worst in the pond ...



You see, in its youth, the pond read Mein Kampf and copped a heap of this crap about children being strong and tough and never giving an inch, usually associated with the notion that the pond should worship at the shrine of the local Tamworthian boofhead thugby league boneheads ...

Carry it to its logical conclusion, and you end up with this ...


Or with Ayn Rand, at least until she ended up on government welfare, or Dame Slap wandering off into harden the fuck up, didn't we have a wonderful time as children la la land ...


Uh huh, so donning a Donald cap and heading off to Charlottesville or scaring your teenage daughter with Monckton's tall tales of a vast UN conspiracy to use climate science to introduce world government is the way to push kids in the right direction?


Eek, won't someone make the playground a little safer? For fear that someone will dash their brains out on the concrete, or on Dame Slap's words?

And now for those who made it through that epic portmanteau trek, there's a Pope, on topic as usual, with more papal insights here ...


The pond knows that dance. It's all here thanks to the good folk at the Uni of Adelaide ...