Sunday, December 06, 2015

Ignore the distractions, focus on the Abbott corollary factor thingie ...

(Above: and you can wait and savour Rowe in proper format here).

Usually Sunday is a time for meditative reflection, a time when familiar harpies harp away in a familiar way ...

Triumphantly dancing towards a future which will produce ...

... well who knows what, strangely, as one of the world's greatest climate scientists, Akker Dakker himself frequently sounds like a custard pie ...

But apropos of Rowe's cartoon, Akker Dakker reveals a tendency ...

The draft calls for developed countries to provide “at least 1 per cent of gross domestic product per year from 2020 and additional funds ­during the pre-2020 period to the GCF,” which would act as the “main operating entity of the Financial Mechanism” under the new treaty, according to the draft. Forget it. Taxpayers should demand that Turnbull call Paris and tell the Australian delegation to get out to Charles de Gaulle airport tout suite and fly home. 
Unfortunately, he has yet to show any spine when it comes to confronting the Left. It is not in his nature. Disappointingly, his wife, Lucy, the newly appointed chairman of the Greater Sydney Commission, is also ­displaying the same tendencies. She is on the board of the Leftist think tank the Grattan Institute. Little wonder that Liberals are concerned about the direction their party is taking under Turnbull’s leadership.

Because, it goes without saying, climate science is a leftist conspiracy ... or perhaps a fiendish UN plan to introduce world government.

Now it's easy to get distracted from this tendency, this concern, this sense of disappointment, this worry about spine - please don't worry about Akker Dakker's spine, remember his sterling service in 'Nam - and the implications for what the pond likes to think of as the Abbott corollary factor ...

There are plenty of distractions this Sunday especially with promises of things to come ...

Eek, he's in black and white, he must be guilty of something ...

Of course 60 Minutes has form when arguing with the Pellists - just google the two names to be reminded - but the simplest way is to wait until other journalists write down the work of other journalists in a few key points and put them on Twitter ...

But back to the tendency, and the Abbott corollary factor, and let us remember that the Pellists were as thick as thieves with the man, with the Pellist as Abbott's furtive confessor and counsellor:

And so it soon becomes clear that all the distractions this Sunday are intricately linked, a spider's web all interconnected, and connected back to that forgetful man ... at last, a genuine pond conspiracy!

So the distractions aren't distractions at all. They're central to the conspiracy, as familiar figures do the familiar rorting thing and the rorting finally emerges into the hot, stale summer air ... (how's climate science working for you this day croweaters? Sssh, don't mention the weather):

Yes, there's more of that here, but it's a minor rort, the main benefit being the way it points to Abbott's friends, such as Nimrod Resources - yes he was loved by more than just Gina ...

But speaking of that fabulous man love leads the pond back to the corollary thingie, which is to say, a statement that follows readily from a previous statement, which is to say, the infallible law that a love of Tony leads naturally to a hate of Malware ...

It's not just Akker Dakker that's troubled, worried, disturbed and apprehensive about the spine thingie ...

The reptiles, to fill their Sunday void, elevated a Louis Nowra book review high on their digital front page, and made it free for all to see:

...Turnbull’s beginnings, as Manning describes well, were inauspicious. His mother, Carol Lansbury, was an actress and radio dramatist who married her godfather, who was 40 years older. Her husband was to die six months after the wedding and she soon hooked up with Bruce Turnbull, a Bondi lifesaver, sportsman and budding hotel broker. Their son was born in 1954 and was a handful, or as his mother said, ‘‘a bundle of demonic energy’’. The marriage was unhappy and when Malcolm was nine, Carol took up with an academic and followed him to New Zealand, not before taking all the furniture and even the cat. 
Malcolm lived with his father in dreary flats surrounded by pensioners and elderly widows. Later he was sent to Sydney Grammar as a boarder. He had few friends and seemed almost like an orphan. He was intelligent, a brilliant debater, a narcissist of the higher order, arrogant and disliked by his fellow students. There was little that was boyish about him and many people, including his principal, thought he was ‘‘born middle-aged’’. 
Manning offers many examples of Turnbull’s condescending attitudes and yet it’s tempting to speculate that his incredible self-belief was rooted in his early awareness that he could depend on no one but himself to survive and prosper. It’s no wonder he has always found it hard to be a team player and that, since his school days, a common criticism is that everything he’s done has been to be to advance his own cause.

And so on. There's a lot more than a little anxiety about spine there.

Talk of a list of crimes: pompous prose style, nickname the Ayatollah, media-savvy and cocksure, bad habits, never giving credit where due, ungracious to those who helped him, litigious to a pathological degree, little empathy for those less fortunate, under pressure lashing out at those around him, especially his inferiors, his ubiquitous presence in the 1999 referendum a factor in its defeat, obnoxious and Machiavellian in his dealings with Nelson, soon made a Gretchian fool of himself, as a result of his eagerness to gain power, his refusal to listen to others, and his arrogance and inability to read human beings, a fiasco, and  .... Manning describes in forensic detail, Turnbull’s five years overseeing the NBN were a disaster. It was slow, hideously expensive and obsolete. Despite this he still had dreams of becoming PM and this time, with uncharacteristic patience, he stalked the bumbling Abbott and achieved his goal late this year.

And so to the closer ...

Manning doesn’t speculate too much on Turnbull’s psychology, but believes he has mellowed and learned from his failures. Yet if Turnbull has to fear anyone, it is himself. Despite hints of a new-found humility, the spectre of hubris still haunts him. (and the rest in full currently outside the paywall here).

With the greatest respect, if Turnbull has to fear anyone, it is the Murdochians, nursing their wounds, considering the ways to deliver payback and karma, deeply afflicted by the corollary factor ...

Consider the Bolter.

The corollary of the Bolter's deep love for Tony is his undying, festering, fear and loathing for Malware.

The hatred breaks out at least once a day in the Bolter's acid accumulation of the hatred and bile of others ...

Naturally the by-election result last night in Sydney was a god send to the festering, stewing Bolter ...

The Bolter lined up the ABC, Samantha Maiden, Fairfax's Mark Kenny and did a compare and contrast of the coverage of Canning with North Sydney. Oh it was so unkind to his loved one, so unfair, and yet so favourable to the filthy, vile Malware ...

But that was nothing up against the previous day's epic collation of ranting:

There was Laurie Oakes, and Turnbull losing his temper instead of placating a prominent critic, and that great centrist moderate Cory Bernardi crossing the floor, and proving no stone should stay unturned ...

A friend of the highest integrity?

So that's what they call very strange people these days ...

And so on. Turnbull seems to have learned nothing, first mistake repudiating Frydenberg - oh how the Bolter rooster crowed, and then briefing journalists about it - and now?

And now I hear that Macfarlane approached Turnbull for a ministry as a price for not defecting to the Nationals. 
Turnbull refused, but he now faces having to give the Nationals one extra Cabinet position in line with their extra numbers. Macfarlane, a good friend of Treasurer Scott Morrison, wants Frydenberg’s job. If Frydenberg is demoted in any way - from his job or from Cabinet - I suspect the Liberals will be torn apart. This will be seen as a hostile act to someone more conservative than the Turnbull camp. 
Stand by.

Of course you don't have to stand by.

Each day the Bolter will deliver venomous notes of hate to Malware ... and he simply won't countenance any alternatives, such as the rough Brough standing aside and creating a space in the Ministry ...

Like others who love to pick the wings off flies, the Bolter actually seems to want the Liberals to be torn apart.

And he seems determined to play an active part in the tearing ... as do a number of other Murdochians of the far right, life members in the school of hysterical journalism and epic denunciation, which would once have promised them a position in Mao's Red Guard ... though you'll be waiting a long time for an apology ...

And so they're actively aiding and abetting, and giving Bill Shorten life and hope ... having backed the dud Abbott to the point where the Liberal party was on the ropes without Shorten having had to lift a finger or deliver one funny zinger ...

Strange days indeed ...

Speaking of strange days, and so to a last distraction - let us not forget Tony knelt in the IPA organised court of the sun King...

...  does it get any weirder or stranger or more delusional than this latest offering from the Chairman?

And speaking of Americans in America, the pond has developed a taste for Daily News front pages ... oh sure the NYT might make a front page editorial but the pond has been trained in the school of tabloids ...

... which naturally provides a good throw to Rowe's effort in this area, link as above here  for more Rowe


  1. The Daily Telegraph reported last week:

    FRAUD Squad detectives have reopened the investigation into cartoonist Larry Pickering and his involvement in a sports trading company called Cohen Strachan Investments that collapsed owing millions.

    Queensland Police are going back over the original files and are understood to have quizzed the 72-year-old political satirist at his Gold Coast home last week.

    Pickering helped set up CSI, a sports arbitrage company selling software to punters guaranteeing big returns from supposedly sure bets.

    The company went bust leaving more than 100 investors without their life savings, valued at millions of dollars.

  2. "...please don't worry about Akker Dakker's spine"

    I read in the Hair-oiled Scum today that there's 50,000 hospital admissions per annum in Australia for sporting related injuries, and apparently a significant component is older guys (middle aged and older) trying to "recapture" their (imagined) younger sporting prowess to show off for the kids. Well, Ack Dack is about the right age (65) and he has two kids, so, in the matter of worrying about his spine, we can hope, can't we.

    [Psst. I wonder if there'll be a campaign to charge sports players (50,000 hospital admissions per annum !) extra for their health insurance, just like they want to charge us 'obese' folks.]

    1. Akker Dakket rhymes with Clacker
      He really is a fucking whacker.

  3. Credlin's insensitive bawling at indigeneous leaders.

    "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

    And is the wall puncher still in a ménage à trois with Madame Lash and 'he's just a naughty boy' Brian?

  4. Just discovering Chandler - the novels, not the films. God his pithy short descriptions are good and have spawned a myriad copy-cats.

    "He was as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a wedding cake."
    "The voice was dragged out of her throat like a sick man getting out of bed."
    "A couple of frayed lamps with once gaudy shades that were now as gay as superannuated streetwalkers"
    "Suspicion crawled all over her face like a kitten, but not so playfully".

    He's good. Corny but good.

    1. Well I do like nothing better than an invitation to crawl all over the backside of the topic, so here's my tuppence worth:

      When a lot younger, I, along with the rest of the Matric class (yes, it was that long ago), was invited to deeply consider a 6 line effort by a certain Alfred Lord Tennyson, to wit: "The Eagle"

      He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
      Close to the sun in lonely lands,
      Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

      The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
      He watches from his mountain walls,
      And like a thunderbolt he falls.

      So ok, Anony, tell me how Raymond the Chandler compares with Tennyson: does corny compete ?

    2. GB- I'm not really trying to compare Chandler with the likes of Tennyson, but poetic language will out. And originality and gripping dialogue along with plot twists and a tortured hero make for good story telling. OK it's not classic literature, but Chandler was an educated man and a clever writer and admired by the likes of Auden, Waugh and Fleming.

      For my pennysworth, a great composer knows when to use a great melody, and a great writer knows how to use a riveting plot. Of course that's not all there is too it. Even the greatest sometimes produce crap. Case in point Wordsworth's The Thorn which contains the immortal lines...

      "I've measured it from side to side,
      'Tis four feet tall and three feet wide."

      WW - the McGonagle of the Lake district!

      Sometimes corny is good fun (eg. The Knight's Tale which stars Chaucer losing all his clothes at gambling, and the jousting crowd singing 'we are the champions.' Shakespeare did corny (eg. Polonius, Bottom etc)

      But I think Chandler is better than corny, he transcends this to produce some great writing.

    3. Everyone should have some Chandler in their life at some stage Anon. Each time the pond landed in LA, his line "A city with all the personality of a paper cup" came to mind.

      Also, if you haven't already, give Horace McCoy a go, and in a different vein Nathanael West ...

    4. Oh no, not you too, DP. "The personality of a paper clip" ? Oh dear, how ... ordinary.

      And all I was really trying to do was to show that, well, 'corny' is everywhere, and everywhere it is most eminently forgettable. I'll bet neither you, nor Anony, had ever made approving comments about 'The Eagle'. And why is that ?

      Now, try a little genuinely amusing corn from somebody you'd know very well, DP:

      Some primal termite knocked on wood
      And tasted it, and found it good!
      And that is why your Cousin May
      Fell through the parlor floor today.

      But then, for Nathanael West, I can forgive you much. :-)

    5. PS : Anony, I did enjoy your WW reference greatly; it's about on a par with (and could even have been part of) The Annual General Meeting of the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things.

      Absurdity always seriously outdoes corn, doesn't it.

  5. This is great. Some Dutch pranksters disguised the Bible with the covers of the Koran and read out some of the bloodthirsty passages from the Old Testament and asked people what they thought - with predictable results. Bashing babies heads against rocks, murdering whole races for their beliefs, cutting up prostitutes into bits, destroying a city because of some homosexuals after the one good man had offered them his daughters to rape - just some of the passages of loving Christianity you will find in the good book.

    As you will already know if you read the Sceptic's Bible or the Evil Bible.

    Charming bunch these God botherers..

    1. :)³ That yarn is a pure delight...

    2. As Anon says, the responses were predictable - just what you'd expect in the current climate (sorry, I forgot momentarily that Islamophobia doesn't exist; The Oz says so). Such a fab concept this was.
      I'm seeing peeps on social media tonight expressing their horror and disbelief that the bible actually contains such passages :)


Comments older than two days are moderated and there will be a delay in publishing them.