In which the pond defies common sense to celebrate the bromancer celebrating the milksop in search of Mother ...

The pond makes absolutely no apology for digging deep into the reptile archives to continue the bromancer's coverage of the GOP platform ...

The reptiles have, of course, seized the occasion to run a number of clips, featuring a number of ads, in the hope of boosting their failing business model, but the pond has safely disarmed this feature by way of screen caps, so that it can admire the bromancer's work, unhindered by coarse, unseemly reptile propaganda ...

A recent portrait of the bromancer at work happened to come the pond's way, and the pond is happy to share it, as an explanation of why it remains a bromancer devotee ...

Is there a better boot- or arse-licker at the lizard Oz than the bromancer?

It gets particularly rich and savory, when the subject of the arse-licking is a milksop in search of Mother ...

Hmm, given the reptiles' tendency to use videos, perhaps it's time for the pond to include its own video, one that celebrates the Jerry Falwell Jr. streak in your average hypocritical Xian ...

By golly, the pond loves Lincoln Project ads - Democrats could never manage this sort of show - and what a celebration of a loon celebrating his work with a serial adulterer, not least a fuck with a porn star while his third wife was pregnant.

How the pond loves the hypocrisy of evangelicals, and that's why the pond was especially pleased to excise the reptile video offering a chance to meet Mike Pence, since who really wants to bunk down with a serial hypocrite?

Ah yes, good old Mike. Never mind that there's been no platform, never mind that there was no mention of cops killing blacks, the milksop knows how to roll out an image ...

Won't someone remember to sweep the floors ...

And to the final gobbet, because it's likely that even the bromancer can only stand so much arse-licking in a day, or a column, and duty has been done, and space created for videos which create space for ads ...

 

Ah yes, law and order ...

 

But things are bound to get better ...

And so to a real apology. For some inexplicable reason, the pond couldn't discover the reformed, recovering feminist, the Oreo, who seemed to have secured a new slot in the Friday lizard Oz.

Who knows what happened, or where she went, or if the reptiles have simply buried her, so that she can be revealed in all her recovered, reformed, sugary glory later in the day, still yearning for Trumpism and proper feminist pussy-groping ...

But meanwhile, that left the pond with a choice of the war on China or our hole in the bucket man, and with great reluctance, the pond had to go with Henry ...

The reason for the pond's reluctance? We've heard it all before, a hundred times, and all the pond can hope is that at some point the virus runs rampant through Surry Hills ...

Let us begin with an example of Henry's billy goat buttism ...

First a rabbiting on about a United Nations document, when as any reader of Dame Slap knows, the UN is a fiendish agency designed to use climate science as a way to establish world government by Xmas (though it's running a bit late, as this was supposed to happen many Xmases ago).

Then the classic out: "To say that is not to suggest that the Morrison government's decision to renew the overseas travel restrictions is necessarily incorrect."

Yes,  it's just mealy-mouthed, meaningless futtockry of the classic our Henry kind, and so the pond is sorry for inflicting it on stray readers incapable of understanding the joys of munching on desiccated coconut straight from the bag ...

Yes, yes, this is not 1963, and possibly this is not your beautiful house or your beautiful wife, and no, it doesn't get any better ...

You know, any other day of the week, the reptiles would be outraged at needless endless government inquiries, and Dame Slap would be raging at lawyers' picnics, and legal eagles dining out, and so on and so forth, but our Henry loves endless expenditure. Perhaps he sees a gig in it, since times must be getting tough for the old codger, not having the Caterist expertise to set up an institute to secure cash in the paw from the government ...

The obvious invitation for the pond to make is for our Henry to go off and die, as proof that freedom is more important than death ... but he's such a stupid man, he might well decide to do it, and then the pond would be left with a case of the guilts ... though on second thoughts, clearly our Henry doesn't think much of the deaths that have rolled out in the second wave, so why should the pond give a flying fuck if the virus cleaned out News Corp? Would it be any worse than a meteor giving the dinosaurs a show?

Oh it's all too deep for the pond, and luckily, there's only one gobbet to go, though no doubt Killer Creighton is gasping in admiration at Henry's willingness to show old farts prefer freedom and death, perhaps by way of getting on public transport without a mask, a very fashionable lifestyle in Sydney ...

Um, dear hole in the bucket man, death isn't a freedom that the pond much cherishes, but feel free to embrace it ...

Now what could put the pond in a better humour, and forget all this talk of death?

Why surely it has to be the infallible Pope, celebrating the pond's eternal favourite, the onion muncher, off to bludge in the mother country ...

A promotion to chairman Rupert's cabin boy!? Long overdue, and why did the pond suddenly start thinking of The Simpsons?

And finally, since the pond had a couple left over from the bromancer, and more is never enough when in search of a good mood, here's a few more ...

Please, won't someone emancipate the pond! Why does it always feel like a fifteen year old trapped with odious parents, always telling the pond to eat its spinach and read the reptiles ...