Saturday, July 02, 2016

Day 103 of MUC and day 56 of MOC, and enough already with the counting ...



Whither the noble sausage sizzle? Wherefore the wondrous patty cake? How now sponge delight, with jam interleaving?

All going the way of the ancient lost dinosaur, it would seem, thanks to the unendurable, unimaginable, seemingly endless, somewhat infinite 103 days of unofficial campaigning and 56 days of official campaigning imposed by Malware (the pond acknowledges and honours the influence of News 24 presenters on all grammatical usage).

Why not vote early, then scarper? Why not flee the copper ponce, an eastern suburbs snob with no interest in the ritual of the sausage?

The pond is made of sterner stuff, and has hung around, if only to put an end to this damned interminable counting, this ticking off of day after day ...

But then realised it was in urgent need of a distraction, which not even a sausage or a patty cake might provide ... which explains why this day we've gone and dug out prattling Polonius.

It's a sorry and sordid tale. The powers that be at the lizard Oz have determined that prattling Polonius is no longer a contender for listing on the front digital page. Oh sure he might bob up later, but the tedious old bugger clearly isn't scoring the clicks and so he's been banished from the Saturday morning front digital page line up ...

This might help explain why the pond's own business model is failing ...

And yet, dear old Polonius once more shows what a devoted viewer of the ABC he is. How valiantly he rails against the unwashed horde, how diligently he peruses and berates them ...


Well it's easy enough to see why the prattler has been deemed unreadable. All that blather about the BBC so that a tweet might be declared a thought crime ...


Oh dear, the tedious old bugger, no wonder he's dropped off the front page. Forget the usual tedious repetitions about the ABC and conservatives and gay marriage, invoking Macbeth's injunction that, stepped in blood and tedious Polonius verbiage, should the pond wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er, strange things I have in head that will to hand, which must be acted ere they may be scanned ...

No, none of that. 

There he goes again, banging on about plebiscites in the first world war, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that he might troop off to the National Archive and read fact sheet 161 about the conscription referendums of 1916 and 1917 ...

It all goes back to the senile one's exchanges with the Flanagans, and Can you bear it? The confusion of Gerard Henderson ... 

The Graudian's weekly beast even supplied this lovely period snap here ...


Yet the pedant in the prattler is so strong, he'd rather die than use the word 'referendum' ...

As for the rest, well it's just another standard rant by the prattler in the cause of letting the bigots out of the cupboard to give the gays a good pounding, speaking of which, look who's hidden cheek by jowl with the prattler on the lesser, hidden digital pages ...


No wonder the pedant is unhappy. 

To be reduced, hidden behind the digital arras, and coupled with the lesser Shanahan ... there should be a referendum about this sort of maltreatment ... even if these two peas sound like they belong in the same pod ...

Yes, there's nothing like conspiracy theories and sinister alternative worlds to get the pond going ... if nothing else, then at least in search of a decent sausage sizzle ...


Get the picture? 

Is that code for 'get the nausea'? 

Now the pond fancies itself as having a passing interest in the cinemah, the pictures that moved, wot wot, and all that, and to judge Barners' ad as well-acted, funny, and at the same time, downright ridiculous, suggests the pond, when reading the lesser Shanahan, isn't in the company of André Bazin or even Pauline Kael ...

If this is what passes for wit in the world of Shanahan, then the pond is right to suspect we might be dealing with a half-wit.

Hey nonny no, on we go ... and what's the bet that having laughed uproariously at the wit, the astonishing wit, the lesser Shanahan would suddenly become mortally offended and deeply wounded ...


Yep, it's yet another tedious example of the ScoMo school of persecuted, long-suffering Xian ...

There'll be a lot more of this in the days to come, the faux outrage, and the deeply felt homophobia ...




We don't really need people making fun of Mardi Gras when we can find people willing to link homosexuality to the rise of Hitler and the Nazis ...

Never mind, never mind, and speaking of pink triangles and gulags, and more Moir here ...



And so, for those outside the gulag, a chance to head off to a sausage sizzle ...



Friday, July 01, 2016

Day 102 of MUC and day 55 of MOC, and the pond is blessed by Moorice turning up for a Friday tea and paranoid scone ...


Relax, of course the pond wasn't going to ignore Moorice ...

Sure there's been splendid news elsewhere, what with Boris falling - Michael made an odd assassin - but then Boris was a strange Caesar  ...


What's not to love when Tories turn on each other, and like ravaging hounds on the moors draw blood and bile so deep, so bitter, that a Hammer horror film would wilt and avert its humble eyes ...

Of course this has meant the central banks have had to come rushing to bail out the Tories and the markets ... but let others have their fun, for when Moorice whistles, the pond always comes to heel ...

There's always a succulent feast of paranoia and fear, and clever explanations of how you can't trust left-leaning academics. Much better to trust Lehman Brothers ...


Indeed, indeed. It just so happens that Deutsche Bank is in the news right at the moment ...


Well there's more of that assessment here, and those who can't get enough of arcana might google the WSJ (the paywall sometimes affects direct linking)...


Strange that Moorice didn't think any of this was worth mentioning, and so the pond returned to the financial guru for further insights ...


The pond yearns for the day that it might scribble the immortal line "We may never see or hear the likes of the Moorice again", but thanks to the reptiles,  the tin-foil hat wearing one will keep bobbing up, scribbling about the ruling 'leets and the infinite wisdom of the Little Englanders who thought that Boris was some sort of white knight, as opposed to a flannelled fool paid handsomely to scribble nonsense for the UK version of the Daily Terror ...

When it came to the crunch, he was revealed as a rank and mortal amateur who shuffled off into the distance in his pads ... Boris's career undone by a Poundland Lord and Lady MacGove ... and the banks that Moorice so deplores trundled into the square to lend a helping hand ...

Such an indecent amount of fun ...


But let's face it, while the Tories might come and go, and sacrifice the country, Europe and the world for their squabbling, petty ambitions, where would the pond be without the reliable, routine, weekly inanity of Moorice on parade blathering about the 'leets and Little Englanders?

As if the Borises, the Goves and the Sarah MacVines of the world have three fifths of fuck all to do with Little Englanders ...

And so to the final sleep, and who knows what horrors might lurk in the basement, thanks to Rowe, and more Rowe here ...




Day 102 of MUC and day 55 of MOC, and the bromancer strikes again, as only a sleek pink panther can ...


It is traditional, at this time in proceedings, for people to pay money to the Fairfaxians, and worse, the Murdochians, so that they can be told what to think, and how to vote.

There'll be none of that nonsense at the pond. People will think and vote how they like, and all the pond will confess to is a desire to make someone pay for eight weeks of utter tedium and ennui, and a reliable desire to put all bigoted, homophobic, religion-affiliated parties last ...

Fortunately this day the reptiles have decided that the Grand Mufti provides an excellent distraction, and a chance to smite Malware for refusing to be anti-Islamic enough ...

 

Now this is shocking and outrageous stuff, a bloody Islamic with the cheek to go lecturing Jews and Christians, and naturally the pond reverted to its favourite source, the sceptic's bible, to put the heathen in his place ...



Oops, that didn't go well, did it, and there are a lot more examples of the homophobic, bigoted nature of goat and camel herders, and working links, here ...

On and on the infidel heretic went, and mightily indignant did the reptiles sound ...


Now the pond having failed in its allotted task, of defeating religious fundamentalism, it fell to the bromancer to step up to the plate ...and explain how Jesuitical, disingenuous apologetics really worked ...



Oh mighty warrior, oh worthy crusader, tell it like it is ...


Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, so this is what it's come to ...


Yes, it's the good old Catholic catechism, available here, and all the pond can do is urge that the objectively disordered bromancer embrace a life of chastity. 

Who knows, the virtue of self-mastery might teach him an inner freedom, and prevent him from publicly wanking in commentaries for the reptiles ...

Perhaps he could do this with disinterested friendship and gradually and resolutely approach Xian perfection, or perhaps he could just fuck off ...

Yep, you guessed it, he had even more nonsense to spout ...


Never mind, a pox on all their houses, but it reminds the pond of the stench, the vile stench of hypocrisy, that surrounds the lizard Oz, and the strenuous efforts these past few months for them to demonise the Safe Schools program in a way that fundamentalist Christians and Islamics and Cory Bernardi might approve ...

It put them in some really classy company ...


That story is here, and it reminded the pond of the reality behind the mealy mouthed apologetics of the wretched bromancer ...

Month after month, the reptiles raged about Safe Schools, doing the work of Fred Nile and fundamentalist Islamics ...

There was only one upside to the nausea.

It reminded the pond of its arduous duty this weekend ... to have fun with the new Senate voting method, seemingly designed for the thinking voter to make mayhem, and in the process to ensure yet again that fundamentalist Christians and their fundamentalist parties are put last ... let them jostle with fundamentalist Islamics at the back of the queue ...

And so to a few flashbacks featuring Fred ...this clipping, the clippee said, was in the Daily Terror on the 18th November 1993


And this was Fred doing a grand mufti in 1999 at the Mardi Gras ...



Well might god forgive the objectively disordered Greg Sheridan, because the pond will find it a little harder ...


Thursday, June 30, 2016

Day 101 of MUC and day 54 of MOC, and the bromancer draws ineffable conclusions in a way only a bromancer can ...


The pond still has a taste for rustic humour, Tamworth style, and thanks to the relative who thought this should set the tone for the pond this day ... and it's true that the Northern Daily Bleeder is putting the very best case forward for Barners ...


But there's a simple fix. 

Give Tamworth copper and all will be well, and besides, the pond is an internationalist site with an internationalist vision. 

No petty parish pump politics for the pond, which is why the pond was instantly attracted to the bromancer.


Only two sleeps to go and the agony in an eight week fit will be at an end! But will there ever be an end to nattering about 'leets?

Now the pond is aware that the bromancer channels the onion muncher of the northern reaches, and so to read the bromancer is to get inside the wall puncher's mind. 

How pleasing to learn that the Irish, the Scots and the entirety of London constitute an inner-city elite, and how wondrous to discover that Greggie - well if Dave's Dave then surely Greggie's Greggie - is so astutely positioned to advise on inner city leets from the reptiles' Surry Hills bunker ...


Ah yes, there it is, thanks to Tony Abbott... 

Oh and remember, don't go to war with your base. Your base of course is Tony and George and Cory and so on and so forth ...

And please ignore that little walk back ..."I think the decision by Britain to leave the EU is sound so long as the next delicate phase is handled well ..."

Because it's all been handled so terribly well to date ...

So long, it's been good to know ya ...

Now that we've got it sorted how the tail should dance to the rump's crack of the whip, please, let us carry on ...


Well let it be said that the bromancer has never once looked impressive, and much of the chaos currently going down has been started by his mischief-maker-in-chief master ... who left these gnomic utterances amongst his last tweets before he fell to rutting ...


There's your genuine 'leet speak, and there is your chief threat to trade ... as can be read in Donald Trump dumps on free trade's 'rape of our country' (with Fairfax forced video).

How has the world descended into this madness? 

Well once there was an onion muncher and a bromancer and a Rupert and ever since the pond has felt like it's living in the middle of knighted Alice in Wonderland down the wabbit hole, or perhaps the benighted world envisioned by a Rowe cartoon, and more Rowe here ...




Steady as she goes? Until the rump cracks the whip and they break out the pork barrels ...





Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Day 100 of MUC and day 53 of MOC and the pond gives the dangerous fickle 'leets a good Johnsing ...



The pond couldn't resist another dose of bashing the 'leets. And what better way to get it than from a man who was once a federal minister, now a poverty-stricken pensioner who knows the dangers of meddlesome political 'leets.

No doubt Johnsie would give the dangerous young 'leets a serious hosing down.

As everyone knows, the young - those who could bother to drag themselves away from a pint of fish and chips and warm baked beans - were the least likely to vote to leave (Young people are so bad at voting) and so they almost ruined it for everyone with their dangerous Eurocentrism and 'leetism.

Thank the long absent lord these 'leet meddlers mostly stayed at home so that angry old white men and Johnsie could shout at clouds and Europe and climate science:



Indeed, indeed, and perhaps Rowson summarised the state of play with a cartoon (and more Graudian cartoons here ...)


But back to the shouting at clouds and 'leets and Islamics and dammit a Norwegian judge, because it really sticks in the craw, the way they administer justice in Norway, and dammit, that's all the fault of the EU.

What's that you say? Norway's not in the EU? Dammit, if that doesn't prove Johnsie's point to a T, what on earth will? They run everything, even when they don't run everything! Next thing you know people will want to let the UN treaties take effect, and next thing you know, black bloody helicopters!


By golly, the pond's gut has been gnawed to the bone.

Lauran Orda.

Elites beware. Glocks talk.

Froth and foam.

Re-set wash cycle to extended suds.

Never mind, there have been some real tragedies and the pond feels them deeply.

Where will Steve Bell be without David Cameron to draw as some kind of effete, elongated condom?

Why hasn't he heard of former federal government minister Gary Johns and blessed him with a drawing? Pressing, pertinent issues at the fading of the light.

Get on board young people, and remember old raging people upset at the dying of the light rulez ...(And more Graudian cartoons here ...)




Day 100 of MUC and day 53 of MOC, and the pond leaves no Stone unturned ...


The pond was delighted to see the reptiles disinter an ancient mariner, so long in the tooth that the pond had almost entirely forgotten he existed ...

The mariner stoppeth one of three this day to teach them an urgent lesson ...


Of course "Throw No" Stone has been throwing stones routinely at The Spectator, but the pond rarely goes there ... what would be the point?

All that could be done is simply regurgitate the entire magazine as a sublime example of extreme loonishness.

Besides the cartoons are terrible, looking as if they've been scraped from a 1950s edition of Punch magazine or perhaps a Readers' Digest someone purloined from their dentist's rooms ...

But if you ventured into that turf, you could have found a thunderous Stone laying down the rules about what to do about that cad Turnbull, who is definitively not a Liberal and in no way deserving of anything, except perhaps a stoning. Certainly not a voting...


Indeed, indeed, but back to the casting of Stone in the lizard Oz ...


But sadly this ancient relic stops short when it comes to explaining how to administer a sharp lesson, and so the pond had to revert to The Spectator ...


Indeed, indeed. Who can imagine anyone better than Bob Day to stand up for proper business practices - Bob Day defends Huxley Homes record as customers demand action - and what better way to strike a blow against Satan with the backing of Anti-gay marriage group Adelaide Arise ...

And so on and so forth, but the pond's real objection remains.

What is it about these ancient relics that they've retained no sense of humour?

These are the cartoons designed to make them laugh at The Spectator ...


Dear sweet long absent lord, pass the Rowe and the Pope and the Moir, please ... and waiter don't forget the pond likes its balsamic vinegar shaken, but not stirred ...








Day 100 of MUC and day 53 of MOC, and Dame Slap smotes the 'leets righteously ...



A hundred days of Malware's unofficial campaign, but hold the bells and whistles, there's only three more sleeps to the end of MOC!

Contemplating the miracle that we have made it this far, the pond was torn in the usual way, between a former 'leet federal minister lecturing the 'leets, and Dame Slap, 'leet member of the Oz reptile commentariat, who no doubt would mention the 'leets in her column.

Was there any other member of the 'leets worth noticing? Perhaps a vulgarian former commodities broker who looted his time as a member of the European parliament?


Dreadful cad? Oh say old chap that's a bit strong.

But as always, the pond resolved its dilemma in the traditional, conservative way. If there are lessons to be learned, then the pond must sit at the feet of the mistress of all, Dame Slap, and learn the hard way ...


The Dame didn't disappoint. It took until the fifth par, but there they were, the pesky 'leets who will say anything to get power and to keep it.

These wretches treat voters as stupid and insult their intelligence, and by golly, let's have no slurs against Britain's proud history and its future. Did it need the help of the United States and the Russians in the second world war? Of course not, the proud British lion stood up against the Nazi hordes and gave them a jolly good thrashing ...

Much the same as it won the first world war and gave those damned Egyptians a what for over Suez ...

Of course in later years, as John Oliver joked, many have spent their time leaving the British and their empire, rather than endeavouring to join it ...

But let us not ponder proud British history and its proud future as an island rump adjacent to a Europe frequently cut off by fogs, for we must learn the rest of Dame Slap's hard lesson ...


Splendid stuff, leading off again with another reference to snooty and clueless elites, and what a splendid lesson to learn in relation to Australia.

It seems that there are no 'leets here.

Instead, discerning voters will turn out for a filthy rich multi-millionaire toff busy restoring copper communications to the land and organising a plebiscite that no one dares say how they will respond to ...



Thank the long absent lord there are no pesky 'leets in this wonderful country; thank the long absent lord that there are no 'leets scribbling away at the lizard Oz in aid of a bunch of Tory 'leetists wanting to keep on rorting and refusing to answer in the usual way ...

Thank the long absent lord there's no point giving these absent 'leets a little ginger and chilli at the ballot box.

And thank the long absent lord there are no pesky 'leets using simple-minded, half-arsed rhetoric about elites from their ivory-towered space where they're paid generous, some might say handsome sums of money, to blather on for Chairman Rupert ...

And thank the long absent lord things will get even better after the election, as David Pope, that dangerous 'leetist predicted in his 'leet cartoon - warning, more 'leet Pope cartoons here ...


Mmm, is there a 'leet joker in that pack?