The pond swore that today was the Sunday it would give up its addiction to the Sydney Anglicans site, helped along by the way that, once again, the full to overflowing intertubes are as slow as a wet wick, thanks be unto Optus and big Mal and sealing wax fibre to string connected to the tin can ...
Oh how hooking up to the totally useless verdigris copper outside the pond's home is going to fix things.
But then the 'cuffs came out. Yes, once again, the angry Sydney Anglicans do little to hide their addiction to bondage and sexual imagery of the kinky kind ...
Oh they just love their kinks, they do, and the pond is all in favour of it.
Remember that great story, Joyce McKinney and the Manacled Mormon, which managed to mix religion and kink in Errol Morris's Tabloid?
The tabloids have dined out on it for years:
Steady, steady, heel, get around behind Bluey, the pond doesn't want to be trampled by a flock of wildly excited Anglicans.
Happily reading Phillip Jensen's actual piece, Who's the Addict? What's the Addiction? was like taking a very cold shower standing on the snow amongst penguins in Antarctica ...
... though the pond couldn't help noticing that the Anglican graphics artist was still so wildly excited that he got out the 'cuffs again at the top of the page:
It was all the more appropriate because the Jensenists were lathering themselves into a hot sweaty glow about enslaving others, and truth to tell, you can never get enough 'cuffing.
As for the rest, it was just another typical Calvinist exercise, guilt, addict, addiction, guilt, sin, sinners, addict, denial, guilt, vice, corruption, fear and loathing, guilt, repeat wash cycle until completely dirty ...
All the more the pity then that the angry Anglicans gave up on Catholic devices:
Get around behind Bluey, watch out for the stampeding herd of intoxicated, infatuated Anglicans ...
The good old cilice. You can Greg Hunt it here.
Yes, the Catholics didn't bother sublimating tendencies with shots of 'cuffs or headless kneeling women or women in 1950s kitchens even Norman Rockwell would find quaint.
But back to the Jensenists. The only line that caught the pond's eye was this one:
Unfortunately the chief guardian of our society—the government—has been corrupted.
The government is the chief guardian of society?
Put it another way. Tony Abbott is the chief guardian of the pond?
What about this then?
And he saith unto them, Whose is this image and superscription? They say unto him, Caesar's.
Then saith he unto them, Render unto God the things that are God's, and unto Tony as little as bloody well possible as you bloody well can ...
When they had heard these words, they marvelled, and left him, and went their way.
The pond has heard that biblical saying shortened even further by the Packers, into giving Tony sweet fuck all.
Never mind, the pond has the perfect gift in mind for the angry Sydney Anglicans, currently available courtesy Faster Pussycat stores in Sydney and Melbourne:
What a nice cushion. Just what an Anglican man needs.
As for the rest, whenever the pond reads the Jensenists, the pond is always reminded of a favourite film, wherein Elmer Gantry railed at every vice, while proving singularly adept and interested in same, including the demon drink and the lustful siren song of the flesh.
Sinclair Lewis's 1927 book is available at Project Gutenberg here, but the pond has a particular soft spot for Richard Brooks' 1960 film starring Burt Lancaster, Jean Simmons and Shirley Jones, and judging by recent correspondence, others share the taste. It's especially relevant to those who still think the Garden of Eden and the story of Adam and Eve is literally true, and Darwin's a load of nonsense.
So instead of wasting more time on the angry Sydney Anglicans and the lure of the 'cuff, here's a few stills from the show, suggesting how we all have our addictions, monkeys on our backs, not least the pond's shameful addiction to the work of the Sydney Anglicans' graphic artist.
And then by Grabthar's hammer, by the sons of Worvan, the pond will give up its addiction, and possibly even be avenged and live to tell the tale, at least if Galaxy Quest is a guide to the real world, but just not this weekend. Not when there's fun to be had: