Tuesday, December 11, 2018

In which one dons a T-shirt because one wants to show one's sense of style ...



What a foolish squirrel the pond is … it should have stored some lizard Oz nuts from yesterday because today there's very slim pickings. 

Oh sure, the reptiles are agitated about Brexit, and Labor (the apocalypse is nigh), and asylum seekers, and apparently the new security act will be put to use before Xmas, but without any of the tools to hand, so the tech heads assure the pond, but any reptile delusion in a wedge storm …

On the upside, it seems the miserable ghost has left the building for the hols, and so have the reptile heavy hitters.

Poor Malware is now reduced to a trend …


… but that's his only presence on the front digital page of the lizard Oz …

Apparently no-one at the 'leet reptile HQ in inner city Surry Hills, near the best baristas in the world, has noticed that "Turnbull leadership" is no longer a thing, and talking about it is as useful as discussing  "leadership while learning how to munch onions"…

The warning signs of the holiday season approaching were there, with Troy dragging out a hoary old standby …


Oh there was rich comedy to be found, with Matt Canavan determined to prove he was a rocket scientist and a reptile loyalist ...


And what about try-hard Tudge? Good old Tudgy, but he might have overplayed his hand by artfully mixing crime novels with Dostoevsky. 

Still, the pond is hardly one to criticise, with its usual mix of science fiction, medieval fantasy novels, Wittgenstein, and of course Infinite Jest … with the pond having studied hard on the best ways to read it, thanks to Claire Friedman at The New Yorker ...


There's more here, outside the paywall at time of writing, but the pond, spoiler alert, must just include the punchline:


Oh Claire, Claire, if only Troy had thought to interview you …

Sadly, we don't do comedy down under. Oh wait, yes we do …


Meanwhile, Dame Groan was earning her handsome client denialist stipend …


$357k a year for climate science denialism 101? 

Why the pond could do it for a tenth the price, and with just as many scientific qualifications as the Dame …

The pond decided it would just do a spoiler, and show off the Dame's final par …


Yes, all's well with climate science denialism at the lizard Oz, tipping points have come and gone, but clean dinky di dinkum Oz true blue coal loving reptiles stay the course, and why not? 

With 357k a year, it's possible that the Dame is a keen prepper, with plenty of money to equip a lavish bug out …

But the pond realised that the reptile holiday mood had struck too soon, and knew it was time to get serious …


Hmm, Prof Peter Doherty tweeting, and then there was that mention of history … and hadn't Troy concluded his study of the hols reading habits of pollies with this wise advice …

“Study history,” Winston Churchill counselled. “In history lie all the secrets of statecraft.”

Indeed, if you looked at the Gallipoli campaign, you'd be certain to avoid the fall of Singapore …

And so the pond's bacon was saved, two birds were killed with one stone, and the pond entered PETA's hall of shame with a Greg Melleuish flourish …


Actually the reptiles had a better splash for Greg over the fold …



A deadly T-shirt? Ideologically motivated persecution of our Greg? Shocking stuff, and titillating too ...

Good old Greg, he used to be a reptile - and so a pond - favourite, but now, it seems, he only turns up in the hols to say something silly, before heading back to academic nowheresville …


The IPA did a sterling job? The IPA does sterling jobs, as opposed to carrying out Gina's mindless agenda? Well there's some news just for starters in the first par ...

But it must have sounded a bit fruity even for an academic of Greg's standing, so he hastily suggested a few amendments, before getting on to that deadly T-shirt ...


May he give an example? May the pond join the dance?

Of course there's a better reason not to wear the T-shirt. Greg would look utterly stupid, and so his daughter would have achieved her ultimate revenge … or perhaps the pond got that wrong, and it's the daughter that didn't fall far from the original oak tree …

The pond did hope that it was a T-shirt with a fine sense of irony …



Yes, "science", as Greg Hunters would know ...


Footnotes and more for Greg Hunters here

So what has the pond learned thus far? 

Either that Greg's daughter hates her father and wants him to look silly, or she's just as silly as her father, and he's silly enough to think there are only two genders, "Science", and therefore is agitated because he can't parade his rampant bigotry, albeit disguised as worthy stupidity, up and down the halls and corridors and quads of the University of Wollongong …

Here the pond must state a preference. When wandering around campus, the pond formed an instant dislike for anyone wearing any form of T-shirt with any kind of political message, whether left or right. 

If the pond wants to look at a bill board with a message, it'll get in a car and drive out to see how many can be found fucking up the view on a country drive …

Whatever happened to a Pythonish awareness of the inanity of T-shirts as the first form of tweeting?

Sheesh, there's a reason the pond gave up the academic life ...


It is of course intolerable and shameful …fancy branding and trying to manage a large university in a way that is reasonably efficient, and thereby, our Greg is prevented from making a fool of himself by wearing a fancy T-shirt …

 

The pond's favourite is the one for dummies, where the two genders have to be named, lest the dummies forget the point …


Uh huh, spell it out muchly and bigly, what …? There are only two kinds of people: fuckwits in T-shirts with messages, and people who laugh at them, and people who wear clever T-shirts in the way that the pond does ...

Oh wait, that's at least three kinds of people. Come on down Python ...


Meanwhile, in another country with crypto-fascist tendencies …



And so back to our Greg for a final gobbet. Now the pond will concede that our Greg can, at the best of times, sound a little ponderous, and by golly, one fears this will be a last ponder of ponderous proportions  ...


Please, let's be fair. 

In a world where our Greg can scribble "One fears that this culture is dying," one is completely reassured that one is right not to panic about our Greg being denied the chance to wear a silly T-shirt because of one's fear of persecution, and the decline and fall of ossified academic culture still imagining Queen Victoria is on the throne … 

One knows the culture isn't dying, one knows it lives, it endures, in the fossilised form of our Greg …

Meanwhile, out in the real world, one is watching the mutton Dutton go about his work, designed to undermine completely useless parliaments that just get in the way of creating a secure state down there with the Chinese government …

And so to the Rowe of the day, and as somebody mentioned the guillotine, it seems to fit, and might even make a good T-shirt, and even if it doesn't, heck, it's a Rowe, so burn, baby burn … with more flammable Rowe here



One has only one complaint. One must wonder why there is no mention of Malware's naked culpability in this shameless affair? After all, he sheltered the mutton Dutton, and the spirit of the Dutton is abroad throughout the world, and soon enough Soros, the Rothschilds and the Windsors will feel the wrath of the lizard king, and not just because there's a feud about the hired help in the palace …


Monday, December 10, 2018

In which the pond does a trifecta of Monday terrors … as the haunting continues ...


It might be December but the reptiles press on, juxtaposing "radical agenda" with an EXCLUSIVE from that bastion of a radical agenda, the Institute of Public Affairs …

But perhaps even more poignant, look, see that news of a poll slump cruelly juxtaposed with the Oreo dreaming of the speaker in tongues regaining his ScoMomentum …

And then a little while later the reptiles did a shuffle of the deck chairs and there came this poignant juxtaposition …


Not Malware again! Not another reassessment! Not the Major!? 

But yep, the Major was the latest victim of the Malware ghost.

It seems this gaunt, miserable spectre, this horrible terror, was still stalking Surry Hills, and the Major was still feeling the need to get out the garlic, the crucifix, the wooden stake or perhaps even the silver bullet …there being no reflection in the mirror (remember the Major's rule, never reflect, never look into the mirror).


What's interesting about that history lesson? Why there's nary a thought about the onion muncher, or the actions of the axed Abbott, or anything at all that's remotely to do with the ratbaggery of the far right that infested the reptile corridors and brought mayhem to federal politics … including but not limited most recently to the preservation of the likes of the lesser Kelly, a dud whom everybody knows is a dud, including his colleagues, but who survives in much the same way that superbug staph lurks in hospitals around the land …

And now to the Major's duty for the day. It requires he momentarily and temporarily abandon his quest for the long missing Order of Lenin medal, but the naming of names, and the identifying of lick spittle forelock fellow travellers, spiritualists interested in keeping the ghost in the premises, must be named and shamed ...


Yes, somehow a benign and quite reasonable proposition by the cawing Crowe - that the haunting will continue - gets him into the Major's shame file, even as the Major himself demonstrates that the ghost is alive and well, and making him quiver and quake and flinch and worry.

Such is the Major's anxiety that he even dragoons notorious leftists like Jennifer Hewett (who knew?) into his list ...


Indeed, indeed, by Major consensus, the Liberal party doesn't have a 'women problem' …


(Here)

But of course Julie Bishop is a dangerously radicalised extreme leftist (apart from her splendid work in the field of asbestos), and so can't be trusted by the Major …even as the pond was enjoying the biggest laugh in the Major outing …"The Australian did no more than advocate for a better Turnbull government."

The Major's capacity for delusion is infinite and wondrous … but whatever the pathology, the pond fervently hopes that the ghost keeps haunting the reptiles, in the same way that the reptiles laid out the welcome mat for that other miserable ghost, the onion muncher …

What else? Well that last line contained a real delight, a bit like the icing sugar coated pink stuff you can get from the Saray on Emore Road … "the way Rudd still  uses the Nine papers."

The Nine papers? Oh no, it simply doesn't have the ring of "Fairfax" about it. There's no hint of the wickedness of the Fairfaxians, the salivating sound of which could send the reptiles into a feeding frenzy. 

The Nine papers? What, the same Nine as sprang from the noble lineage of Kerry and Frank Packer? The fabulous family that once owned the Daily Terror and did battle with the wicked Fairfaxians? 

By golly it's hard to keep up with all the subtleties and nuances, but it's going to be tough work for the reptiles to assail "the Nine papers" in the same way that they assaulted the Fairfaxians …

Not to worry, in the end, when it comes to the executives in both camps, the pond feels certain that the eastern suburbs will remain hallowed turf for the reptiles as well as their rivals …

And speaking of ponces up themselves and living the life of Riley, how could the pond overlook the Caterist?


The pond was relieved to hear this, because it sometimes wondered if it's fear of indigent Poms coming over here to whine and moan and live off the taxpayer dime might pass for some form of xenophobia …

Never mind, the Caterist has been blessed by the Lobbecke of the day, and so assumes cult status ...


It seems unfair of the reptiles and the Caterists not to provide a link to the actual survey, which can be found here

As for politicians addressing sundry matters, including the foaming of fear in a lathering of race hatred, did the Caterist wonder whether the reptiles might do a little house-cleaning themselves?

   

And so on and so forth … and it's a miracle that despite it all, Victorians were content to be called the Massachusetts of Australia by little Johnny, which is why the pond will be shortly heading south for Xmas ...

Of course it's actually nothing like Massachusetts, but whenever has the pond, little Johnny or the reptiles been in need of reality? And when have the Caterists?


But Pauline Hanson is a xenophobe. That doesn't have to be linked to some desire to let immigration rip. It's simply that Pauline Hanson is a xenophobe, as simple as saying that there's very few better than the parrot and the Caterist when it comes to explaining the movement of flood waters in Queensland …

The master stroke of the Caterist however, is the ageist way he abuses the under 35s as quinoa salad-eating graduates. 

Poor thing, he must be feeling a tad old, but what would an under 35 say about an imported Pom who's constantly whining and shouting at clouds, while having his paw in the Department of Finance till?


Forgive the pond, every mass must have its rituals, and the pond's honouring of the Caterist's yearly hypocrisy in rifling the taxpayer till is a bit like turning wine into working person's blood …


And so, marvel at how the adept Caterist manages to avoid any charge of racism by talking of "ethnic crime gangs" making honest parrot listeners "fearful that their kids will be able to afford to leave home…"

Of course he actually means difficult blacks, in a racist way, but it would fly against everything he's blathered to this point. And what about "be able to afford to leave home"? Isn't it a bit rich to blame ethnic, nee black gangs for young people not being able to afford rent for new digs?

Perhaps a course in remedial English might help the Caterist. Perhaps he meant to say, "scared shitless by the Herald Sun, the good folks of Melbourne remain locked in their houses, not daring to step outside and get the precious Vitamin D they need from the actual sun …"

Yet strangely the good folk of the Massachusetts haven't fallen for the fear, and the pond will be joining them, waling the streets and eating out, even if the pond can barely afford to leave home to pick up a sushi roll in Swanston street because of the criminal gangs roaming the streets…

And now, there are possibly a few hard core Oreo devotees who suspect by this point the pond has dudded them, and did a bait and switch, putting the Oreo and her delusions at the top, and then delivering the Major and the Caterist …

Have no fear … the Oreo's delusions are extremely precious to the pond …

 

Now it goes without saying that the Oreo is completely clueless about the recent bill. There are simple explanations to hand - while out and about the pond caught a repeat one Download this show which mentioned a few implications arising from the mutton Dutton's endless stupidity …

But the pond is tired, what with the tech heads who have been shouting at it for the past few days, and must move on from one moronic gobbet of paranoia and hysteria to another gobbet of xenophobia … (border security, invaders, they're coming to get us, who?, the nameless they, them, out there, in the ether, the ghosts, the haunting, oh the horror, oh the fear, and so forth and so on, and when the needle hits the edge, reposition and play again) ...


She really is a complete and utter tool, isn't she? Who but the Oreo, former radical feminist, could scribble a line "they have not earned the democratic right to determine who enters our country" as if somehow officials on duty at airports and ports dotted around the land have been elected by the people ….

The endless stupidity is mindlessly pleasing, but sadly the pond always must come to the last gobbet of the day …but will be there a word about the pretty pickling "the authoritarian plod from the deep north, the mutton Dutton" has managed to produce with his paranoid technology vinegar? Of course not ...

Identity politics? Elected PC elites are undemocratic? 

By golly, could the 'running of the tweet' become as sacred a ritual as the running of the bulls, the Latin mass, and the celebrating of the 'cash in the paw' Caterist eucharist?


But wait, there are others out there who can't get enough of the Oreo. See how they tweet their delight and their adoration ...



Of course the Oreo was too discreet to mention that George Soros was a Jewish socialist billionaire, and runs the world's banking system in league with the Rothschilds and the Windsors, but stay, there's another tweet of adoration to hand ...


Ruled by emotions?

Possibly in much the same spirit as "elect them at your peril", "run for the hills, George Soros is coming", and "unelected officials are policing our borders" …

And with all the hard work done, and Xmas coming, why not a Rowe and an imported cartoon, as a reminder where following the Oreo's voting preferences might get Australia, in the same way that it got the United States … (with more Rowe here).




Sunday, December 09, 2018

In which the pond joins the dog botherer and Polonius for a meditative Sunday ...



Amazing, startling, dazzling! An update on the haunting, and from an unexpected source with an unexpected twist. 

The ghost haunting the battlements has emerged to strut his stuff again, just so he provide Terry McCrann with an astonishingly brilliant idea. 

Whip up a federal budget, trot it out say in January when all the punters are still on holidays, February at the latest, then bung on a do, either February or March, whatever, just beat Gladys to the punch, and romp home a winner…


Indeed, indeed, and with our Gladys scheduled to let voters celebrate her ability at tram building and stadium demolition on 23rd March 2019, there can be no delay in delivering a budget …

Thanks battlement ghost, the pond knew that talk of a May budget was delusional. Please keep up the haunting …the reptiles might fear you, but they can recognise a man capable of wrecking the NBN can also have the odd brilliant thought ...

Meanwhile, the pond was forced to choose between the holy trinity of the dog botherer, prattling Polonius and the bromancer for its Sunday meditation. 

In the end, the pond had to drop the bromancer. It's true that Brexit and May and Tory fools are dear to the pond's heart at the moment - how the pond loved to see the meerkats jump up and down in the standing room only Commons until spirits flagged and the great debate could barely muster a couple of dozen half-hearted stooges rabbiting on …

But a man who concludes a column "What a mess" isn't providing that much of an insight, especially as he cheered on the making of the mess whenever he wrote his patented brand of tosh.

Truly a devoted Brexiter of the Boris and Nigel kind, the bromancer frequently managed to sound an even bigger fool than Boris. It's a singular achievement, but that's no more than every day of the week bit of scribbling for the bromancer …

So the pond passed on the Bromancer, and it was on with the dog botherer in the usual way …


The pond knew at once that the dog botherer would deliver a splendid rant on climate science denialism, perhaps alerting the lizard Oz readership to the insidious textbooks Colbert discovered lurking in school libraries …

 

Yes, the time was right for the dog botherer to set emotion aside and deliver an hysterical rant at naive schoolkids ...


Now there's nothing like self-abuse and railing at Newspoll and the media zeitgeist of the reptiles at the lizard Oz to make the pond's day - the dog botherer is an expert in that sort of fluff gathering - but the pond for a moment began to fear that the dog botherer had forgotten his primary mission - displaying his world famous climate science credentials and ranting at schoolkids in a calm, reasoned way …


Even worse, what if a photo of the ghost of Liberal Xmases past should turn up in the text? How distracting would that haunting be?


Ah well, that's to be predicted, and meanwhile, Comrade Bill has folded, and the pond has to endure rants from tech heads about the enormous stupidity and dangers inherent in the idiotically flawed security bill that was rushed through before Xmas - ostensibly to prevent anything happening over Xmas, but without a single thing in it capable of being implemented before Xmas - and after Xmas, with the ability to become one of the great pieces of train-wreck legislation …not that anyone will know about it because of the draconian provisions of the act, which will see anyone writing about it cop five years … in much the same way that exposing one of the most shameful acts in Australian history in the East Timor matter now sees a couple of people being persecuted in what is as close to a Star Chamber as the original one that ran up to the seventeenth century ...

But enough of that, it's back to the dog botherer getting extremely emotional, all in the name of reason and rationality (why do fuckwits always plead they're being rational when ranting to schoolkids that they alone know the truth?)


Actually the Victorian opposition in 2018, not so long ago, did everything to warn the voters of the dangers of pesky, difficult blacks in their midst, of crime waves, of the need to look under the bed every night, and where did it get them? 

Well it got them stacked branches full of Xian fundies, and the astonishing discovery that the world had moved on …

But not the dog botherer … he's still back fighting election campaigns, and possibly even the Iraq war, in which his valiant work as a minor war criminal still remains under-appreciated …

But now it feels about right to get on to that difficult subject of climate science ...


Indeed, indeed. The dog botherer himself has moved on from simple climate science denialism to "sure it might be happening", but nothing we can't live with, or can't be fixed with a few technology gimmicks, so let's do absolutely nothing …" … a most remarkable evolution, and an example of distilled essence of emotionalism to any passing school kid ...


In particular, the dog botherer has now arrived at the position that Australia should show the world how it's done by resolutely abandoning any pretence that it should or can do anything …

Perhaps instead we should join the Donald in a show of defiance …


And with those distractions over, it's on to the final gobbet ...


Yes, there's nothing like a climate science denialist advocating that there's nothing to be done, and no need to do it, to offer children the hope of a better planet in which to live …

What's that kiddies, you're a little agitated about your futures? Don't worry, the dog botherer and the pond will be spinning in our graves by the time the shit hits the fan ...

And so to prattling Polonius and what a relief, because he offered something more suited to a meditative Sunday ...


Jerusalem isn't out of reach? It was prattling Polonius in distilled essence of Crusader mode …


1099, and Jerusalem was within reach, as Greg Hunters know from heading here …and it's within reach once again ...

Here at last was genuine rationality and sanity, as Polonius seized the chance to show his oneness with the speaker in tongues and the Donald ...


Ah Polonius, what a wondrous mathematician he is …and how inherently silly, because (a) it was a wretched attempt to pitch to the Jewish vote (see the AFR here), and (b) the 12.5% - 18,214 people -who stated their religion as Jewish in the 2016 Census (13.6% didn't state an affiliation) represented a juicy target in a seat that, in a TCP tally, involved just 1,850 votes (here).

Shouldn't there at least be room for a little honest mendacity in Polonius's crusader world? Nope ...


Uh huh, so here's the rub. If anybody says they're motivated by the Donald's decisiveness, they're likely as delusional as the Donald. And that might explain why they refuse to acknowledge that the Donald is driven by an inane desire to pander to evangelicals, no matter that a more unevangelical President could be imagined.

What's more, in a speaker in tongues world, if you're a true believer, all of your actions are supposed to be driven by your relationship to the long absent Lord  … and …


Here for the links, but if you click on the one about the 'doctrinal basis',  you'll end up with many delights, including these ...


Divine healing? Creationism? The imminent coming? The millennial reign? Perhaps even the rapture?

Who knows if the speaker in tongues is genuine in his faith, but if he is, perhaps it's his clap-happy millennial creationism that explains his love of dinkum clean true blue Oz coal, oi, oi, oi … and the recognition of Jerusalem as a precondition for the second coming as the final solution for climate scientists …

But for the moment it's back to Polonius for a final prattle …


A degree of reality? The speaker in tongues and the Donald?

That reminded the pond of what it had wanted to talk about with Polonius, a review of a recent book about Pius IX in the NYRB which is sadly inside the paywall

Never mind, here's a few lines …

Pius adopted the faithful Catholic people as his true church. The liberals and radicals were a small flock in contrast to the vast crowds who came to Rome to celebrate the various new holidays and ceremonies that the pope introduced. Pilgrimages and cults of saints rejuvenated the church. In the 1850s new Catholic mass organizations refreshed traditional piety, and Catholic political parties emerged in Germany, Switzerland and France.
Pius IX renewd the cult of the Virgin Mary. In the Ineffabilis Deus of December 1854, he declared that the Blessed Virgin Mary “in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin.” The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception was now an article of faith and was celebrated with large devotional exercised and mass gatherings of the faithful.
Pius IX became the true “suffering servant of Christ.” He mingled with the crowd and blessed them. He became in effect the “people’s pope.” The humble, approachable priest (with a will of iron) was a beloved figure. He lived simply and dressed humbly but behind his modesty was a new vision of the Catholic Church, with a different kind of political and spiritual influence, and a flexible modern amalgam of humility and doctrine.
On June 29, 1868, Pius IX called a Vatican Council, the first of its kind in the modern era. In Session IV of July 18, 1870, the First Dogmatic Constitution on the Church of Christ was promulgated. Chapter 4 was called “On the infallible teaching authority of the Roman pontiff.” The reason to the new doctrine was violent both inside and outside the Roman Church. Many Catholics were simply unable to accept papal infallibility as a binding article of faith. They split from Rome and founded the “Old Catholic Church.” The Old Catholics have more or less disappeared …

Greg Hunters wanting to know about the old Catholic church can head off here, but now, it seems,  we're left with the new Catholics of the Polonial crusader kind, finding some sort of infallibility in the speaker in tongues and the Donald …

Well there's reality, and then there's reality ...


And for those with a sense of humour about the international economy, here's a couple more …