Sydney traffic: 11.
Sydney airport: 11.
Blog productivity: Absolute zero K, or if you will, -273.15°C.
But hey ho, on the pond belatedly goes, with absolute relief at the way the reptiles have seized on an important issue and made it top of the page, in the tree killer edition, and in the digital splash:
Indeed, indeed. Shameful, shocking, appalling these double standards.
Now football to the pond is roughly the same as a sauna might be to a polar bear, but there were a few important points to be made, and Chip knew just the right man to talk to about them:
Ah the Bolter, the Bolter.
Let's see what the Bolter thinks, or at least as much as the pond can be bothered showing:
Hmm, that's an interesting choice of words: "the white crowd".
Presumably there were no blacks in the crowd, or any other sort of racially coloured taint. After all, who wants uppity blacks or Asians or any of the other differently coloured to turn up to the footy?
White crowd it must be!
Not that we're interested in dividing the country into black and white. We're with the Bolter all the way ... we're all white here, and sooner or later the blacks will wake up to it, and forget the colour of their skin and go whitey ... and everything will be hunky dory ...
Meanwhile, Chip was just starting to warm up:
Hmm, some racial connotations to it? Hmm, heckling in social media ... would that be blogs? Does the Bolter run a blog? Oh come on, did Goebbels know how to use radio ... (t'ching, take that Godwin's Law swear jar).
Yes such is life, all this chat inevitably brings us back to the Bolter.
Now the pond isn't the first to note it, nor the last, but the Bolter has a fixation on Adam Goodes, a deep fear and loathing which only a shrink could fully understand.
It goes really deep, and it regularly pops to the surface like a hoppy toad.
In a trice, the pond googled up the names Bolter and Goodes and the hate mail came flooding in:
And so on and on, and tediously on ... there are plenty more examples out there, but sometimes rifling through a sewer can just get too hard on the nostrils ...
Which makes the reptiles of Oz talk of a shameful double standard quite peculiar.
Are they talking about the way they let the Bolter parade his bigotry on a daily basis, while wondering at the crowds doing their "kill the Goodes" chant?
Do they understand that there's not so much double standards at work in Murdoch la la land, as absolutely no standards at all?
Do they begin to comprehend the hatred and the division they routinely foster as they clutch the populist viper to their bosom?
Some say they hear the chanting of the crowd. Strangely, the pond just hears the chanting of the Murdochian tribe ... and nothing Chip can say or do will soften the sound ...
Reading the first comment below, the pond was reminded of an uncle, who on the rare occasions he came across someone of a different colour, would flinch and start, and try to disguise the fear ... but when nicely liquored up, would begin a dreary mantra about lazy blacks and welfare blacks and no good and useless blacks and for variation, endless tales of long-suffering whites ... always prefaced by "I'm no racist but ..." when everyone in the family knew he was deeply, profoundly racist ...
So it seems it might be with the Bolter and his readers. They harp on and about about Goodes, but it's the obsession that's revealing, as it was with the pond's uncle ...
Phew, after that, no time to brood about poker machine rorts - you see the Labor party gets rorting funding too, and that makes everything hunky dory, or so says the fearless leader.
And so to a Pope cartoon, tidily skewering a couple of other matters, and more Pope here.
And finally for those anxious about the faithful unable to eat pig or beef or shellfish or wear mixed fabrics or drink alcohol together, or otherwise agree and settle their tribal cult differences, a pond correspondent reminded the pond of another solution, one currently in vogue in Japan.
Let them eat eel!
Oh because that's what Tony Abbott pays for and that's what conservative politicians want?
Say no more, a nod's as good as a wink to the pond, and no doubt to cultists, and cash in the paw is even better ...