Saturday, January 20, 2018

In which the pond bypasses petty distractions for a decent dose of dog bothering ...

 

The pond is pleased to report that the lizards of Oz have continued to lather up an Oz day frenzy ...

And as a measure of the great sacrifices the pond always makes, the pond must tiptoe past them all, and also past Dame Slap, though the reptiles do seem to have been exceptionally cruel in their juxtaposition of stories ...



Who needs a man, when women have Dame Slap?

And there seemed to be a mixed message lost somewhere between poor old Peggy, back in the 1950s with Doris Day, Rock Hudson and Douglas Sirk movies, and later shows by Harvey ... 



But all this had to go, like Dimmeys had to leave Richmond (hey, they still have a franchise in Goulburn), because the reptiles kept on delivering top of the page major assessments of how well the Donald is doing ...


But forget the lap dog Cameron Stewart. 

This ceremonial occasion needs a pundit of exceptional gravitas, and who better than the man that did so much to help the stocking man and the war in Iraq ...


Oh okay, the only reason to go with the dog botherer is because it gives the pond a chance to catch up on some recent cartoons ...


After that there doesn't seem much point in attempting a longer assessment, but the dog botherer is a trier and he will try very hard to appear trying ...


Thank the long absent lord that the Donald introduced gravitas into political discourse, so that the pond might remark on what a fuckwitted dickhead thing it is to do to read the dog botherer, let alone actually be the dog botherer ...

And it seems, not just an average fuckwit, but a fuckwit without a sensa huma ...



Now how long before the dog botherer dissembles and says the Donald isn't his cup of tea, and then proceeds on to discover that actually the Donald is a very tasty sip of the finest Lapsang souchong ...


It's remarkable, not just the way that the Donald keeps brooding about Clinton and the campaign, but so does the dog botherer ... 

But it would be wrong to consider the dog botherer in a superficial way, as a brash, egocentric, abusive and petty commentator. Please allow the pond to plunge into a few more cartoons, before heading off to the deep end of the pool to contemplate  the depths of the dog botherer's fuckwittedness ...




Ah, that's better, and now the pond is fully charged, and ready for a penultimate gobbet of gibbering dob botherer ...

Indeed, indeed, exactly what the pond would expect a shithead to say, seeking as he does to always elevate the discourse ...





And so to the final gobbet, and the pond is exceptionally grateful to the dog botherer for offering a format conducive to running a whole bunch of cartoons ...




And so to the ultimate denial by a man who has astutely managed all forms of denialism, including but not limited to climate science denialism ...


Meanwhile, on another planet ...


Damn you 'leets, it's all your fault ...

And fnally the pond deeply regrets that it will have to mark the dog botherer down. That last sentence was verbose and convoluted, and included this phrase ...

"As a means of expressing their own virtue" 

Say what? That's simply pompous, circumlocutory and feeble.

What happened to "virtue signalling"

Doesn't the dog botherer know how to Greg Hunt? Is he unaware of the latest in reptile speak?

Let's face it, the Donald has only about ten words to his arguments, and the dog botherer has no reason to hare off and try and confuse the pond and the average punter when there's an all-purpose cliché to hand ...

And what the fuck is 'setting a pretty low bar' supposed to mean? Is he suggesting that the Donald is a shithouse president and everything scribbled before that last sentence should be taken as the silly defensive doodling of a shithead?

Could it be that the dog botherer, scribbling furiously in defence of the Donald, is himself setting a pretty low bar?

It's beyond the pond of course. Give the pond a smell of cheese and a Rowe cartoon, with more Rowe here, and the pond is happy ...



In which toxic waste mingles with a familiar Polonius ...


The pond was startled, shocked, to see it lying there, in a Newtown street ...

Luckily the pond's long, rigorous training immediately kicked in. Just as some are trained to deal with asbestos removal, so the pond knows how to deal with toxic sludge.

Even so, it was a narrow squeak. What if some innocent child of hippies had strayed by, picked up the sludge and taken it home? The physical and mental damage might have lasted a lifetime, and without any magic water to hand to redeem the situation ...

Now some will suggest the pond is being unnecessarily alarmist, but the fact is this sort of contaminated bile is much prized in certain parts of the world, just as terrorists yearn for a lump of uranium ...



Don't worry, those suppliers also had a spare harbour bridge available for your bidding ... and if you looked elsewhere, it's actually as cheap as chips, or even free ...

The pond immediately began decontamination procedures. 

Even though it was ancient, circa 2003, and its originator had retired to senile silence - the last forlorn tweet sighted back in August 2017 - it was still well within an active half-life, and extreme care had to be taken with the contents.

Much had to be discarded, like the defence of Dame Slap, and the discussion of Fox News ...but luckily there was a little that might be redeemed and put to good use, in much the same way as some atoms do good ...

You see, clearly the magic water man had an intense dislike of prattling Polonius, and the pond found the toxic sludge just in time for Polonius's Saturday outing. 

Might it not be good fun to hurl a little on his finery? Might it not be fun to see what was said about Polonius and his spouse?


Oh indeed, indeed ... and now like Captain Atom on a radioactive high, it's off to the Polonius of the day ...


Uh huh. The pond knows how this will run. There'll be cluck-clucking and tut-tutting and a wringing of hands, and a search for other villains - no doubt pesky difficult blacks will be given a going over - and then it will be mentioned in passing how everyone unfairly singled out the Catholic Church ...


Now there's much in the toxic sludge and at one point or another, the pond will get around to other gobbets, detailing sponsors, wondering what the Sydney Institute's board actually does, sycophantic hero worship of prattling Polonius, and much more ...but for the moment, this is just the tip of the Adler iceberg ...


But the pond must do its duty, and pay due and proper heed to Polonius's prattle of the day ...


Uh huh, well that pretty much went to form, though there's something intrinsically perverse using the suffering of Aboriginal children as a distraction from the suffering of children at the hands of the Catholic church ... but then Polonius has a diligent history of celebrating sponsors' causes, and staying silent when it comes to other matters ... as noted in this page-turner ...



And so to the predicted mention of the Catholic church ... and remember, whatever it takes, Polonius is there to do what must be done ...


Yep, that's pretty much Polonius at his most predictable ... it's all the fault of the cops and the pesky difficult blacks, and once again, the Catholic church has been unfairly blamed, and once again it has been downgraded or even exonerated by no less authority than the magisterial Polonius ...


And so to another note ...

You see, while Lloydie scribbled furiously about climate alarmism, other reptiles were discovering that the weather had turned a tad warm ...


They even put it on the front page of the tree-killer edition ...


You see, it's nothing to do with climate change. 

We just need more power. Where's the coal when that's what the world needs? 

More coal ... coal, coal, coal, oi, oi, oi ... which just happens to set up the Pope of the day, with more papery here ...



Friday, January 19, 2018

In which the pond chews on cricket pads, or is that dashing Donners and the onion muncher?



Speaking of getting out a couple of old cricket pads so that the dogs could have at them in a frenzy, the pond would love to do it, if only it had some slight connection to cricket or dogs ...

Instead the pond has to rely on the Ruperters to tear into the Oz day debate for its fun, and must leave the carping to others ...

You see, whenever it's Donners day, the pond hangs out the bunting, and orders up a brass band, though some might prefer it to spring for a pipe band ... ah, the pipes, the pipes are calling ...


Now forget that little header down on the far right, that's just Sinclair Davidson, senior fellow at the Institute of Public Affairs, doing what an IPA chappie must do ... you probably weren't aware that tobacco is perfectly safe and much maligned, you precious snowflakes ...

No, the cry goes out, where's Donners and his lesson in history ...


Virtue signalling!

You see, how could you doubt, and once again the pond is reminded that virtue-signalling should either be the word or the phrase of the year ... 'political correctness' having already passed into the hall of fame, where it might be retrieved at any time by mindless automatons wanting to chant it in unison, in a robotic voice designed to recall Robby and the joys of being lost in space with Kev ...

Why is it that the pond, whenever it dips into our Kev, is reminded of mindless automatons, robotic squawking parrots, and the slightly thick?


Well, well, the pond could immediately sense Kev's hackles rising, the spleen engorged, the eyes turned a maddened red, and a country shackled and torn down by an unseemly dose of Catholic guilt, the Catholic church having devised the very best way to use guilt to keep their victims close (an E-meter? Not in the race) ...


Indeed, indeed, let the controversy thrive, so that the dogs might munch on those old cricket pads.

The pond knows for a certainty that the pesky, difficult blacks were extremely lucky, and lived and thrived and flourished in abundance, so much so that they became like a flock of 'roos in plague proportions in a drought, and so had to be culled in the most humane way possible ...

Dammit, the pesky, difficult blacks brought it all on themselves, and bugger it, it's kill or be killed, and who are we to judge a little harmless slaughtering here and there ...


By golly, the pond is grateful for that picture, which is a tremendously good substitute for having the first fucking clue about what happened in the early days of Australian history.

Speaking of which, can the dashing Donners please update the pond on that Myall Creek affair ...


Actually there was a time in Australia when white folk were embarrassed to reveal that they had a convict in the past, until they realised how fucked the British justice system was at the time, but the pond is pleased that dashing Donners raised the matter of Myall Creek, because it's a classic example of the myopia with which the past is viewed.

It was Bill Bryson, scribbling a travel book, who took a look through the other end of the binoculars ... and put that blather about Europeans being hanged in to the proper perspective.

He headed up Bingara way and dropped in for a chat with Paulette Smith of the Bingara Advocate, and the talk turned to the massacre, and the town never talking about it, and the Myall Creek station not being keen on trespassers.

'So there's never been any kind of archaeological dig or anything? You don't get academics poking around?'

Now read on ...


The pond warmed to Paulette Smith ...

Myall Creek's not famous for what happened to the blacks here, but for what happened to the whites ...

And now back to a final gobbet from dashing Donners ...


Is there something rich about a Catholic talking of a guilt industry?

Is there something wondrous about the celebration of Wagga Wagga? What happened to the Aborigines of the area, apart from having their words for "the place of many crows" appropriated?

The continuing encroachment by Europeans on Wiradjuri lands made conflict inevitable. Aboriginal groups attempted to drive off the squatters' stock and attacked shepherds and hutkeepers. The white residents retaliated, at first in relation to specific grievances, later fighting became more general. The ruthlessness of the settlers, combined with the effect of diseases such as tuberculosis, smallpox and influenza eventually defeated the Wiradjuri, who while retaining much of their culture lost their land and lifestyle. (Greg Hunt it here).

Here the pond should note that the family once owned property in Wagga Wagga. But at least we had the first clue who was there first ...

Now the pond appreciates that dashing Donners is too modest to make the visual comparison, but how kind of the Terror to offer those two photos ...



And now as a bonus for hard core Australia Day controversialists, the pond is pleased to return to the cricket pads for another outing ...

You see, the pond has already reprimanded the onion muncher and instructed him to lift his game in the matter of maintaining the rage, with crusading Cory having taken the lead in the race ... with this offering from the onion muncher simply not up to scratch ...


The pond will concede that the onion muncher managed to attract the usual suspects with a fine flurry of google links ...



But the pond is forensic, and when the pond consulted the reptiles of Oz, it became obvious it was a feeble thrust, barely worth the attention it had scored ...



Indeed, indeed, and the onion muncher shows the joys of making enemies on your own side, as he rails from the sidelines on 2GB, and it's undoubtedly true that we have enough public holidays, though what shifting a public holiday from one day to another has to do with this must remain a mystery ... because here's the rub.

After that little outburst about loving the Poms passing by until the day he dies, the onion muncher ran out of steam, and the reptiles had to move on to other controversies to pad it out and achieve a respectable length ...

Come on down Comrade Bill ...



Anyone scouring that for a contribution from the onion muncher would have come up short. It turns out that the onion muncher was just a stage prop, a necessary prologue ... we've all seen that sort of prop in one form or another ...



On and on the reptiles went, trying to whip up some kind of foamy controversy ... but it was just more Malware v. Comrade Bill ... with a few others dragged in for some minor fisticuffs ...



Indeed, indeed, and as for those pesky, difficult blacks, they can just like it or lump it. They've had to lump it for a couple of centuries, so why not a couple more, Dr Freelander said ... while the onion muncher was nowhere to be found ...



And there you have it, the onion muncher marked down, and with a final warning from the pond, and even the humble dashing Donners showing the onion muncher how it should be done ...

The onion muncher could have written a piece, instead of talking on the wireless, and the lizards of Oz would gladly have run a piece reminding the world how great Australia was in the 1950s ... and all would be well as the cricket pads got a decent chewing over ... 

The base would have celebrated and remembered the glorious days of knighthoods and rushed to and fro, talking of political correctness and virtue signalling, virtue being a filthy vile thing, the sort of ruse designed so that Catholic guilt might take hold, with the last thing anyone needs being virtue, with "virtuous" about as base an insult as anyone could muster...

Take it directly from the horse's mouth ... dashing Donners is the last person who would want to claim virtue, and he thrives on being anything but virtuous ... it's the Catholic way. 

Virtue? I spit on thee ...go, act like a slut or a brigand, and truly you can be righteous ...

And now to a most problematic Pope, who has entirely ignored the cricket pads and the reptiles and hared off into the bush. 

Sometimes a love of the Pope can be extremely testing, but for those who want to chew on something other than reptiles and dashing Donners and onions and Oz day, there's more Pope here ...