It's best to start off with a laugh - the Pope gets more surreal day by day, but he has a good excuse with Canberra - because the weekend is where it all happens for the pond.
There's a huge gathering of reptiles, a convocation of class, as the reptiles cheekily saunter about on promenade, or bask and relish the sun, or settle for a show on their hot rock, and there's so much for the pond to see and do...
While wretched genteel reader are off reading wretched publications ...
Gather other PM? We have another?
... and so are forced to click to discover what the lesser reptiles meant to say on the digital front page was Storm clouds gathering over Tony Abbott's leadership (and here's a forced video as a bonus), and all that's on view is Peter Hartcher, recycling the thoughts of others, and still not accepting responsibility for his shameless behaviour during the ascent of Abbott ...
Or perhaps they're taking in Tony Abbott: Boy or man - or maybe just wired differently, as if it was news that we have an aggro, boofhead, onion-munching, budgie wearing, teeny with too much testosterone running the country ...
Or perhaps they're enjoying Lenore Taylor's great opening line here:
Perhaps due to the repeated deployment of blunt-force political hyperbole, the government appears to have developed an almost complete immunity to facts.
Enough of talk of facts. The reptiles have a paper to run, and trees to kill:
Silly Lenore. Of course the reptiles know the facts don't matter, not when hysteria about activists is there to be cultivated on the front page.
Then there was the matter of Heydon. Naturally some reptiles were still busy doing their best:
But lo, there on the front page, a hint of uncertainty and ambivalence. No, not the top story, but the one below:
Where's the kool aid boy when he's most needed? Who let that water cooler run so low?
Never mind, there are competitions to be won, and Darren Davidson really does deserve a year's free supply of kool aid for his continuing efforts in the "servile forelock-tugging servant of Chairman Rupert's business interests" monthly competition:
Well played Darren, and remember to stop by the front desk to collect your winnings. Remember, sip in moderation and gamble on the footy wisely!
And there were other long forgotten reptiles out and about, basking in the sun, including this lover of queens:
Sadly the late-arriving lover of queens remains a rank amateur, as Prattling Polonius served up a scintillating master stroke:
Talk about a gob smacker. Yes, we'd have no idea, not the first clue about how the man who tried to ban the Communist Party would go about the business of SSM.
It was hugely tempting for the pond to stop right there, and admire the diligent reptiles at work and play.
But lo, other reptiles were equally busy.
There was the dog botherer, in his frill-necked prime:
And then there were the drums of Mer, or at least, the drums of Canning, still tolling their fatal, fateful rhythm, their deadly beat:
With such rich pickings, such sumptuous offerings, so many reptiles in their glittering finery, it seemed almost perverse of the pond to pause and admire this drab outing:
But what's this? Are there hidden riches, handsome pickings, beneath that banal shell of pinko, pervert reddish orange?
Is there a gab fest in the offering, a gathering of pooh bah reptiles of the finest water? A showy display of angry old albino reptiles ready to sort out the world's problems?
Indeed there is, and never has a more bizarre, clunky, awkwardly phrased header appeared at the top of a reptile editorial:
The pond still can't get past the undiluted, essence of gibberish in that header.
But please, look past it to admire the condescension, the patrician smartarseness of it all ... an electorate conditioned to instant gratification.
Yep, once again, it's the people who are the problem. It reminded the pond of that old saw about how hotels run much better when there's no one in the rooms. For the patrician, democracy runs much better without the people, or at least, a dysfunctional electorate.
As for the AFR and the reptiles of Oz joining forces, it wasn't long before the reptiles were nipping their alarmist companion sheep in the forelock for their apocalyptic folly:
A thought leader!
Oh dear, the pond hasn't heard that term since we were last amongst those gatherings of dunces at PWC, KPMG, and all the other spruikers of gibberish and nonsense.
Why it reminded the pond of the hapless David Brooks thinking he was sending up the Clintons, when it seems he was sending up the reptiles:
Little boys and girls in ancient Athens grew up wanting to be philosophers. In Renaissance Florence they dreamed of becoming Humanists. But now a new phrase and a new intellectual paragon has emerged to command our admiration: The Thought Leader.
The Thought Leader is sort of a highflying, good-doing yacht-to-yacht concept peddler. Each year, he gets to speak at the Clinton Global Initiative, where successful people gather to express compassion for those not invited. Month after month, he gets to be a discussion facilitator at think tank dinners where guests talk about what it’s like to live in poverty while the wait staff glides through the room thinking bitter thoughts. (and the rest, for aspiring thought leaders, is here).
Yes, it was worth reading that reptile editorial just for that phrase.
Sure, the pond had to get to it by reading all the usual talk about "lower taxes for the rich", but there's always a price to pay for the reptile admirer ... how they love to nip fingers!
And then, as the reptiles bickered, and the AFR yearned for a cataclysmic reckoning, and the reptiles of Oz saw a rosy future for the tax-free rich, it occurred to the pond that we'd already been there and done this kind of gab fest.
No, not the pigs dining with the farmers, though that's never far from the pond's mind.
Could it be? Could there have been others that peddled cheap talk of earning our way in the world, extending the fair go, and sharing the bounty of reform, and all the other blather about a new, just and noble future?
Yes, there were other hucksters and hustlers, born and bred to the art, and they too had their blather in shape for the blather fest:
Yes, it's just another movie from a rival studio, or should that be two rival studios, joined together for an awkward co-production which will likely result in a new flop, up there with Disney and Paramount's collaboration on Popeye:
Let's hope that at least they can take home fond memories of their time together, because like as not, the results going to be like spit on a hot griddle: