Wednesday, August 23, 2017

In which the pond has a portmanteau day, with a splash of Devine, a ride on the Canavan caravan, and a neo-Nazi moment with Dame Slap ...


The pond realised it had been a long time - too long - since it'd quoted a little genuine surrealism, as opposed to the reptile surrealism on daily parade, if only to explain why it had embarked on a lunchtime portmanteau of reptilian works ...

It means sensible folk can just skip to reading Carroll's Through the Looking Glass here, thanks to the good folk at the Uni of Adelaide, leaving only the most pain-addicted masochists to carry on ...

It's safe to say that once anyone has heard Miranda the Devine outgribing, somewhere between a bitching and a bellowing, they'll be quite content, or quite uncontent, or in a state of discontent, but one way or another they'll know they're far from mome, and have lost their way ...



Yes, it's saucy doubts and fears day at reptile bunker HQ, and who better to lead off than the bilious Devine, gyring and gimbling in her inimitable corkscrew way ...


Ah the poor suffering persecuted Xians. The pond almost wept at the suffering. Damn it, and all they want to do is consign gays to hellfire for all eternity, and perhaps help them on their way ...


What fun, what persecution the camel, sheep and goat herders devised, with more at the Skeptics' Bible here ...

But the pond can already sense that stuffing this port (that's what we call them up Tamworth way) is going to get harder by the minute, so it's on with more of the Devine ...


Now here the pond should pause to note that the reptiles decided to illustrate this point with a photo of the demonic one ...


But we can all recognise a doofus at ten paces, and so scaled the scaly one down so we could get on with the Devine still outgribing away ... because we can never get enough of Xian suffering ...


Ah, the old blank cheque, and Vicki in the comments section knew exactly what that meant ...


Dogs not just humping legs, but humping children ... where would it all end? Would cats lie down with dogs? Would the loon who wanders King street with a ferret want to marry the feral ferret?

And now, for those hardy souls who feel up to it, as a reward for making it this far, splash on a little essence of the Devine ...


Feeling nicely slithy and slimey and vitriolic?

Well it's time to join the Canavan caravan, enjoined as an honorary reptile this day ...



Now in polite company, the pond would probably say that it thinks the Canavan is a right royal doofus ... but this is a free-ranging blog, so it can call Canavan, in the most genial and respectful way possible, a right royal twit and epic fuckwit ...

Right from the get go, there's nothing to discuss. Marriage isn't always about the children, some marriages don't involve children at all ...

There's nothing in most marriage vows (link for Greg Hunters) that mentions children ... and to suggest otherwise is to do dirt on those people who have married and for one reason or another (choice or circumstance) don't have children ...

To invoke the Lovejoy defence in this context is not just pathetic, it's insulting ...



Is there anything more irritating than a fuckwit attempting a history lesson, when his real point is pure Lovejoy?


What's even more weird and perverted is that the Canavan reckons that it's all about deadbeat dads, in which case what a fucked up and failed institution and idea marriage is ...and then the loon, in epic agrarian socialist manage gets to talking about horse studs.

You can't - well the pond certainly couldn't - make this sort of myopic shit up ...


How about 'all you need is hate', in lower case, for dimwitted, fuckwitted Queensland senators, always willing to dress up homophobia and bigotry with dissembling arguments ... as if there's something wrong with love ...

It's possible to imagine Christ's reaction to that sniggering snide Canavan line about "all you need is love" ...

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. (here)

Why is it that the pond always has to go Christian on these noisy, useless Xians?

But enough of that clanging, noisy, profoundly irritating doofus cymbal, because there's one final member of the band needing attention this day ...



As a result of the last great modem crisis - the next is shortly to come in the form of the copper-clad NBN - the pond missed Dame Slap's last outing.

In her absence, and with the Charlottesville crisis at its peak, the pond began a fantasy about degrees of separation.

You see, there's Steve Bannon at one with the white supremacists and nationalists and KKKers and neo-Nazis, and there was the Donald on board with Steve until he wasn't, but still on board with the nice guys who walked the Tiki-lit streets with Nazi symbols and flags, chanting anti-Semitic slogans ...

And there was Dame Slap, donning her Donald cap, and so surely no more than one degree of separation from the neo-Nazis ...

Bear with the pond on this one as we begin our Dame Slap reading for the day ...




Now for those who've heard all this sort of stuff before ... children must be children, at least until my child takes a fall in the park and I can sue the shit out of the local council - didn't Dame Slap once qualify at law and work as a commercial solicitor at Freehills, home to the worst of the breed? (the pond speaks from personal experience) ... can the pond just revert to that other bit of speculation?

You know, Charlottesville, the MAGA camp, the Donald, the neo-Nazis and the whole damned thing...



Uh huh ... and so to Charlottesville with the proper gear to hand ...


Oh okay, if Godwin hadn't given his personal permission to the world, the pond might not be so cheeky, but then all this Dame Slap jibber jabber about the children brings out the worst in the pond ...



You see, in its youth, the pond read Mein Kampf and copped a heap of this crap about children being strong and tough and never giving an inch, usually associated with the notion that the pond should worship at the shrine of the local Tamworthian boofhead thugby league boneheads ...

Carry it to its logical conclusion, and you end up with this ...


Or with Ayn Rand, at least until she ended up on government welfare, or Dame Slap wandering off into harden the fuck up, didn't we have a wonderful time as children la la land ...


Uh huh, so donning a Donald cap and heading off to Charlottesville or scaring your teenage daughter with Monckton's tall tales of a vast UN conspiracy to use climate science to introduce world government is the way to push kids in the right direction?


Eek, won't someone make the playground a little safer? For fear that someone will dash their brains out on the concrete, or on Dame Slap's words?

And now for those who made it through that epic portmanteau trek, there's a Pope, on topic as usual, with more papal insights here ...


The pond knows that dance. It's all here thanks to the good folk at the Uni of Adelaide ...


In which the pond enjoys another of the many moods of the bromancer ...


The pond loves it when others share its passion for reptile observation and arcana ... with that quote above coming from Sam Roggeveen at the Lowy Institute back in November 2008 - here for the active links and click on his name for more Sam ...

In that spirit, the pond noted that today the bromancer was active again on the matter of Afghanistan ...


... and decided to hop into the DeLorean DMC-12 and pick up a copy of the tree killer edition to read ...


Cherry pick how you like - we can leave in six months and there will be trouble when we go, or we can leave in two years and there'll be trouble, and the military strategy is futile and almost certain to fail, and so on and so forth ...

Back into the DeLorean, to return to today's lizard Oz to read ...


Now there were two radical alternatives on offer to the bromancer.

One was to remember what he'd written, which would have implications for his attempts to make some sense of the Donald and Afghanistan ...

The other was to forget what he'd written so he could try to put the Donald and Afghanistan in the best 'realist' light possible ...

Guess which way he jumped ...


Hmm, and there was the pond thinking that we can leave in six months and there will be trouble when we go, or we can leave in two years and there'll be trouble, and the military strategy is futile and almost certain to fail, and Afghanistan is now a client state dependent on the world's, and in particular the United States',  addiction to opiods, and what an unholy mess the United States has created, impossible to fix, and now we'll be linked to the ongoing folly, with fresh demands for more troops, and the Donald didn't help the situation in his campaign mode with his brazen and appalling lying, and now his double-dealing and flip-flopping, while the reptiles stood by and cheered him on, or came brazenly to do a Donald and talk of 'reality', and so on and so forth ... 

But instead why not just revert in the usual way to a Rowe cartoon, with more always reliable Rowe here ...




Tuesday, August 22, 2017

In which the pond drops in on nattering "Ned", only to go gibbering with Gibbon ...


The thing that's charming about the reptiles is the way they never get off their hot rocks, or leave their Surry Hills bunker, or otherwise stay in touch with the world.

Put hands over ears, hum 'la la' loudly, and all's well and there's no need to read stories such as Homophobic anti-marriage equality material surfaces in postal survey campaign ...

Yes, wretched cut and paster, it's not a postal plebiscite, it's an extraordinarily expensive postal survey, and there's a plague of homophobes out there, and being of the Xian persuasion, they know a lot about how to hate ...

The trouble of course is that if you print the material to demonstrate the bigotry visible on the surface of Australia, you just further the cause of the bigots (which is why the pond will leave the pictures to the Graudian).

Twitter tags like #auspol routinely, because unmoderated, contain vile material, particularly from one cesspit known as Redeeming Rainbow ... a haven of vile bigotry and malicious distortions and ugly associations of the SSM=gays=paedophilia kind ...

The pond refuses to run examples - why encourage the bigots? - and it makes many places on Twitter not worth a visit or a link, though that tag is a handy way to get a link to funny stories such as The Murdochs wanting media reform seems to have stopped media reform ... on just how tawdry, grubby and pathetic Malware can get when pandering to the Murdochians by selling his soul to the Hansonites ...

But back to the story at hand, with the reptiles determined to put on a cheerful face ...


You'd think the reptiles would be trying to ride the result home, because if it fails, it will be a gigantic fuck-up for Malware, with enormous consequences ...of the same kind as currently playing out in the United States. (Where once respectable folk would flee a Nazi flag, and anti-Semitic chanting and jackboots, now it seems you can stay respectable while joining a torch-light mob of fascists on parade).

But instead the reptiles stay on the path of keeping saucy doubts and fears alive, with the Terror in its usual state of hysterical anxiety ...


None are more expert at the saucy doubts and fears job than nattering "Ned",  while the lizard Oz is also busy ensuring fundamentalist Xians have a platform, and there were a couple of examples this day ...

First "Ned" ...



But there was something half-hearted about "Ned's" effort this day.

Perhaps the silly old bugger has spluttered himself out, perhaps he thinks he's on the losing side.

Who knows, but the result was tragically, comically short. Where "Ned" would usually produce an ocean of turgid words, this felt like a trip to the wading pool, with the water barely above the ankle ...


Tragic really, though "Ned" did his best to amplify the saucy doubts and fears of the tykes - what else could be expected of the Catholic Boys' Daily? - and with an  abundance of hand-wringing about how the sky might fall down, or at least result in the fall of western civilisation in much the same way as the Roman Empire collapsed - though a fair reading of Gibbon would suggest that was all the fault of the bloody Xians:

We shall conclude this chapter by a melancholy truth which obtrudes itself on the reluctant mind; that, even admitting, without hesitation or inquiry, all that history has recorded, or devotion has feigned, on the subject of martyrdoms, it must still be acknowledged that the Christians, in the course of their intestine dissensions, have inflicted far greater severities on each other than they had experienced from the zeal of infidels. During the ages of ignorance which followed the subversion of the Roman empire in the West, the bishops of the Imperial city extended their dominion over the laity as well as clergy of the Latin church. The fabric of superstition which they had erected, and which might long have defied the feeble efforts of reason, was at length assaulted by a crowd of daring fanatics, who, from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, assumed the popular character of reformers. The church of Rome defended by violence the empire which she had acquired by fraud; a system of peace and benevolence was soon disgraced by the proscriptions, wars, massacres, and the institution of the holy office. And as the reformers were animated by the love of civil as well as of religious freedom, the Catholic princes connected their own interest with that of the clergy, and enforced by fire and the sword the terrors of spiritual censures. In the Netherlands alone more than one hundred thousand of the subjects of Charles V. are said to have suffered by the hand of the executioner; and this extraordinary number is attested by Grotius, a man of genius and learning, who preserved his moderation amidst the fury of contending sects, and who composed the annals of his own age and country at a time when the invention of printing had facilitated the means of intelligence and increased the danger of detection. If we are obliged to submit our belief to the authority of Grotius, it must be allowed that the number of Protestants who were executed in a single province and a single reign, far exceeded that of the primitive martyrs in the space of three centuries, and of the Roman empire. But if the improbability of the fact itself should prevail over the weight of evidence; if Grotius should be convicted of exaggerating the merit and sufferings of the reformers; we shall be naturally led to inquire what confidence can be placed in the doubtful and imperfect monuments of ancient credulity; what degree of credit can be assigned to a courtly bishop and a passionate declaimer, who, under the protection of Constantine, enjoyed the exclusive privilege of recording the persecutions inflicted on the Christians by the vanquished rivals or disregarded predecessors of their gracious sovereign. (here, with links for the whole thing).

Yes, once again, the pond has become bored and wandered off, but duty must be done, and so the pond returned to the fundamentalist plantation for a visit to the Catholic Boys' Daily by a Presbyterian.

The Terrorists might be worried that homophobia can't make it to the letter box, but never fear, it can always get a run in the lizard Ox ...






It seems the poor thing is crying out in pain, "will I have the right to remain a homophobe and a bigot?", and the pond is pleased to reassure him that there will be no difficulty.

The brightest legal minds have reassured us all that we have the right to be bigots ...so please, carry on ...


Now it took an enormous act of will (indeed a triumph of the Trumpian will) for the pond not to wander off down the young earth/creationist path that infests Presbyterianism, thanks to the likes of the hasty Pastie, his works here ...

Oh heck, one morsel from the creationists can't hurt, though the full insufferable degustation of bigotry can be found here ...

...the Gospel proclaims liberation from the bondage of sin, including homosexual sin, whereas the ‘liberals’ tell the homosexual that they cannot help it, and they can’t help them either, so they will accept them as they are! However, many a person has been gloriously rescued from the bondage of homosexual sin (and other sin) by the power of the Holy Spirit, but only Bible-believing Christians can offer such hope.
As with all moral issues, our beliefs about our origin determine our attitude. If we believe that we arose from slime by a combination of random chance events and the struggle for survival, it is understandable to say that there is no higher authority and we can make our own rules. However, if there is a loving God who planned us and gave commands for us to follow, then we must do so. God has set forth His standards in the Bible, beginning with the foundational teaching in the book of Genesis.

Elsewhere in the piece, there's a link urging death for homosexuals, perhaps by a jolly good stoning ...

It sets the mood for a last gobbet from Wilson ...


Yes, get out your stones for a jolly good stoning, or the next thing you know, no one will be able to talk about putting the wretches to death for their abominable abominations ...

Well as always, at this moment, the pond turns for light relief to the likes of Rowe, who in a scarifying image manages to say what it would take the pond or Gibbon or nattering "Ned", when he's feeling himself, some six volumes to say, with more pithy Rowe to hand here ... 

Talk about a ball, talk about a chain, talk about the baleful eye of bigots ...





In which, pending an entertaining attack by birds, the pond must make do with an attack of silly bugger Caterism ...



The thing the pond loves about the Caterists is the lack of irony, as if age has got anything to do with being a silly bugger. 

Silly buggers come in all shapes and sizes, including the Caterist and others who generally go without mention on the pond ...


Okay, no need to break a taxi-driver's arm today, but before we proceed with the Caterist, perhaps we should get the pond ritual out of the way, a bit like Hitchcock, who liked to turn up early in his films ...especially with an attack by birds pending ...


And so to the pond's ritual mention of the Caterist government sponsorship ...


Ah that feels better. 

Not as funny as a couple of cute pooches, but it gets the ritual out of the way so we can get on with serious silly bugger Caterist business ...


Actually, can the pond stop right there ...because funnily enough the pond remembers it playing out a little differently, thanks to a silly old bugger by the name of John Stone and assorted other silly old bugger Liberals ... (click to enlarge)


Inevitably that led to the inevitable ...


Inevitably it was all the fault of the ABC ... yes, even in those days, it was all the fault of the ABC ...



Commentators commented, and while the pond has included it, and it can be clicked on to enlarge to read, those into nostalgia can also find it in more readable form at the invaluable Trove here ... (and just why has the Turnbull government done its best to fuck Trove? Never mind, that's another tragic story of a government incapable of understanding digital wealth).


It came to haunt Hawke in much the same way as the laughable notion that no child would live in poverty, and Tony Wright returned to have another go in The Canberra Times on 23rd June 1990:


And here we are in 2017 and the Caterists are still talking about it, and thinking it a good thing, when in reality it was just another little bit of ammunition tucked under the cap by Paul Keating, as he got ready to take the silly old bugger down ...

Oh okay, it's as clear as day that the pond is deeply bored with the Caterists and wanted to break the mood, there being no chance of an attack by birds this day ...

Hey nonny no, on we go ... and sure enough, what do you know, these days John Stone and the Liberal party work for the ABC, because it's still all the fault of the ABC.

Why is the pond surprised?

It's always the fault of the ABC ...


The pond isn't sure what calendar age serves as the point in which the "old" kicks in so that anyone can earn the sobriquet "silly old bugger", but the pond reckons that when it comes to a Caterist, you can be any age and still qualify as a "silly fuckwitted bugger" ...

Well there are small mercies - no mention of putting squashed avocado on toast with a dash of lemon and a hint of pepper as we used to do way back when - but right at the moment, the pond is begging for it to end ...


There's an enormous stupidity at work here, not least the assumption that age provides the best reason to favour one or another side in politics.

It's condescending to not just the young, but also to the old, and it's a pathetic attempt to distract from issues ... like why the federak government gives cash in the paw to the MRC.

But that's what you have to expect from a silly Caterist bugger, no doubt in urgent need of something to distract from the current parade of policy cock-ups, the latest involving the Orwellian persecution of people living in the west in Sydney, but with others ensuring that Malware is richly on the nose. Oh there goes the pond again, off down the NBN copper-clad rabbit hole...

Even more bizarrely, the tenor of what the Caterist is saying seems to be that the Liberal party should be beware of the wrath of the silly old buggers, because they're no longer rusted on ...but apparently without the first clue about how to get them back. Try helping an old bugger with Centrelink for an hour and you might want to scream at the Malware robots ...

So there you go, it's about what you'd expect as analysis from a silly bugger who picks up a tidy amount of cash in the paw from the government. That's what socialised Pravda style commentary will get you ...

And so, as if the silly Caterist bugger hasn't already provided enough light relief, here's a dose of papal infallibility on the matter of the 'bots, with more Pope here ...


And now with thanks to DW for the suggestion ...