In which dashing Donners offers a lunch-time delight ...

Oh dear, so many bi's in the world, is it any wonder that dashing Donners is in a frenzy? Or at least a lovely puce frock of outrage?

The pond was away for only a few days, but it seemed like an eternity, with each new day of the Donald promising a fresh disaster ...

And it seems that each new day the indefatigable, delightfully dashing Donners has a new piece somewhere in the press getting agitated in his ineffably Catholic (and catholic) way ...

Now the pond can't quite work out why Donners gets so agitated about purple. After all, there's a long and proud love of purple amongst the tykes ...

By golly, they love a good frock, and so does the pond, and any irony or agony that the pond feels about poor old tykes being bigots must be counter-balanced by the way that the tykes for centuries managed to label assorted heretics as witches, faggots, dykes and poofters and consign them to an eternity of hellfire - though frequently giving them a taste of hellfire and torture here on earth before sending them on their way to meet up with Satan ...

It's typical of dashing Donners that he should be startled at the notion that homosexuality and bisexuality are normal conditions/situations/states of mind and/or body that have been around for yonks, long before the ancient Roman graffiti which read ...

Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity! (here for much more).

And speaking of bisexuality ...

The trouble is, Catholics need to get out and about a bit more and enjoy life and the various forms of sexuality on offer ... in the middle ages, they never had much trouble and loved to grind their pestles in all kinds of mortars, at least if Boccaccio can be taken as a reliable guide ...

Get the purple off the statues ...

... and get that purple out on the street, or risk sounding like a fuddy duddy Donners ...

Frankly there's not a single sign that Donners has the first clue about artistic achievements ...and for that the pond must rewind the clock and go into the back catalogue it missed during the great modem mayhem ...

But first, a cartoon, because the pond has a backlog which should be run, even if there's no direct relevance to the matter at hand ...

Ah that's better, now it's on with Donners ...

Yes, Donners was also out and about in Fairfax last week, though why he should keep on wanting to tell us the bleeding obvious - gays? He's agin 'em - is something of a mystery ...

It seems to be an almost unhealthy obsession, a deep fixation, almost - if one happened to be Freudian - anal retentive ...

On and on he went, shocked by the heathens and the philistines in his midst...

To put it bluntly, Donners is barking mad, and that talk of lesbians being physically incapable of procreation generated a huge number of hits and comments for the Fairfaxians, which was the main point of the exercise, though, to the pond, it had the same cruel charm as putting monkeys in a cage at the zoo, and then inviting other monkeys along to hurl peanuts at the gibbering idiot ...

Look at that wicked woman slumped on her chair ...

Now the pond can testify that living in a family full of rampant alcoholism and the odd bit of domestic violence is no reason to take things out on gays or to blame them for the woeful state of the Catholic church or to encourage them to forsake their god-given sexuality for the hate and hurt and briars on their desires that the non-Blakeian Donners of the world seek to inflict ...

But then in the final rant came yet another sticking point for the pond...

Forget all the rest of the gibberish for a moment, why on earth does Donners keep quoting T. S. Eliot on the family?

Like the pond, Eliot was one of those types who liked marriage so much he tried it several times. Those doing a Greg Hunt will find his review of his first marriage here ...

In a private paper written in his sixties, Eliot confessed: "I came to persuade myself that I was in love with Vivienne simply because I wanted to burn my boats and commit myself to staying in England. And she persuaded herself (also under the influence of [Ezra] Pound) that she would save the poet by keeping him in England. To her, the marriage brought no happiness. To me, it brought the state of mind out of which came The Waste Land."

Uh huh. Well let's not go into the state of mind on view in The Waste Land, let's just say it was a tad gloomy - let's just say it wasn't quite the state of mind or condition of marital bliss that Donners seems to be blathering about ...

And as for that second marriage?

On 10 January 1957, at the age of 68, Eliot married Esmé Valerie Fletcher, who was 30. In contrast to his first marriage, Eliot knew Fletcher well, as she had been his secretary at Faber and Faber since August 1949. They kept their wedding secret; the ceremony was held in a church at 6:15 am with virtually no one in attendance other than his wife's parents. Eliot had no children with either of his wives.

Oh dear, no children? That must explain why the gays are so rampant and difficult, seeing as how it seems the family failed to play its part, and so as expected, the culture continued to deteriorate ...

That's if you believe dashing Donners infallible confection of bigotry and disdain ...

And now to use up a few more of those cartoons in the back catalogue, with perhaps the only relevant connection to Donners his desire for strong male leadership...

Take it away Steve, show us your manly capacity for leadership...