In which the pond has the sexiness of M and Ms to worry about, as well as worrying about the Major and the Oreo, saved only by a claim to bragging rights ...

 

 

The pond has always considered itself broadminded, or at least inclined to be tolerant and understanding of the kinks of others. At a stretch, the pond can go with furries, if not in practice, then at least in the love of furs and a furry feel. 

And who  can’t understand cosplay? Who hasn’t enjoyed a little cross dressing every now and then? Is there a rugby league player in the land who hasn't felt the urge to dress up in a frock?

And as for SM, the pond isn't all that into pain, whether giving or taking, but at least the pond can share the pleasure of the smell of leather, up there with the smell of a new bit of tech kit or money (when it was printed on paper). This will be a problem with vegans, but the pond has on occasion dismissed its omnivore attitudes for the pleasures of a salad, or the crunchy delight of a raw carrot (oh wait, is there a Freud still in the house?).

All that said the news that Tucker Carlson wanted to fuck a chocolate lolly came right out
of far right field. The pond knows that some think that such kinks come from a childhood moment … perhaps Tucker had his first erection not in association with the usuals, plastic or rubber or nappies, but when smeared with chocolate?

Who knew that Fox’s best known entertainer gazed on M and M's with lustful eyes and rated which were the most fuckable, and was agitated that the latest crop had fallen short on his fuckability rankings?

It struck the pond as downright weird, but a fitting way to begin the week, and so the pond turned to the local reptiles to see what sort of kinks were on display …and what do you know, the Major has returned and he's scribbling about porn.

The Major's theme is that he doesn't mind fucking anything, and don't you worry about that …

Of course it was a relief to know that the pond should be relieved and not worry about Tucker's choccie fetish, though it did strike the pond that Tucker was one of those deeply agitated Murdochians who get worried about almost anything ...

 

 

Talk about a worry to worry about, but now it's on with the unworried Major, though he seems strangely worried about almost anything that isn't far right ... way out there with that missing Order of Lenin medal that once caused him to worry deeply ...

Indeed, indeed, and all that talk of a coup ... wait a tick, hang on a 'mo, not just talk, but actual valiant efforts, sadly undone because the crusaders were a bunch of inept loons of the Guiliani kind ...

Not to worry, here's something to worry about ...

 

But back to the imperturbable Major doing his very best Alfred E. Neuman impression ...

 

 

 

Perhaps the pond isn't taking the return of the Major with fitting solemnity, but his tranquility is remarkable ...

Meanwhile, the pond should note that the reptiles are, in their news section, as relentlessly sanguine as the Major is absolutely, totally uniquely unworried...

 

 

Yes, we're all on rocket fuel here, ready for lift off, and we have absolutely no worries ... all except a few of us ...

Trying to get a booster shot, but can't find one? No worries! Want to get a RAT test to see if you're ratty, and someone's trying to gouge you fifty bucks? No worries! Luxuriate with the Major in a worry free life ...

 

Climate science? No flucking worries. No wucking flurries here ... it's all a nonsense. Got an old British Paints can handy? Good, give it a good thumping, Rolf Harris style, and say trust the Major, sure can ...

 

The pond came away with absolutely no worries at all, except perhaps for one niggling doubt ... why is everybody in News Corp downright weird?

 

 

 

And now in a sea of chocolate tranquility, the pond turned to the Oreo of the day ... because if M and Ms aren't your thing, perhaps you get turned on by the thought of munching on an Oreo ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Given the subject matter,  some stray readers might be inclined to worry, what with the suggestion in the header that the West is doomed, but please, be reassured that this is coming to you from one of the best and brightest minds in the known universe ...

 

 

 

 

 

 Please, no worries here, here no worries ...

 

 

 

 

 

The slippery slope begins, it goes without saying, at the first word the Oreo scribbles, but the pond has been vastly reassured of late to discover that there's no need to worry ... your average Oreo can be had gluten-free, which will give you the astonishing tennis-playing ability of a Djoker ...

 

 

 

 

 

But why is the pond recycling all its old djokes?

Dare the pond suggest, in a worry free way, that it couldn't give a rat's arse about all this Oreo worrying? And should it ever come to pass, the pond might welcome another way out than rotting in a bed in an alien and alienating home?

 

 

What suitable punishment might the pond propose for the Oreo? 

 

Would it be cruel, amidst this endless blather about slippery slopes, to propose that later in life the Oreo develop an incurable illness and that, towards the end, she realises she's about to become a comatose vegetable, but she sternly advises anyone within earshot that she'd prefer to remain a comatose vegetable for as long as possible? 

 

What's that, she's already a comatose vegetable, but as a reformed, recovering feminist, she's yet to realise it? Oh well, never mind then, keep her plugged in to all the gear, and make sure she's given regular squirts of morphine ...

 

And with that done, another mind puzzle to worry about.

 

Just what would a reformed, recovering feminist make of a man who wants to fuck a chocolate lolly? Well for your Monday morning pleasure ...

 

 

 

 

No really. And so to the bonus, because the pond wanted some bragging rights ...

 

Usually Australia Day would be reserved for some other controversy, but they seem to have come early this year ... you know, something about the bloody Poms or that bloody JJJ ...

 

Now the pond usually doesn't bother with Australia Day controversies, or for that matter, politicians getting behind the Murdochian paywall so that a taxpayer might have to fork over some shekels to Chairman Rupert to find out what they're thinking ... but the pond has made another exception, this time purely for the bragging rights of a first dibs look at the Braggster's bragging ...

 

 

Now the pond has already had its ears boxed about 1st January, but please, pay attention to the nuanced way that the Braggster promotes his deep sensitivity ... and his book ...

Yes, you too can show your deep sensitivity towards uppity, difficult black folk and your new understanding of history, what with the astonishing discovery of the Black Line and attempts at genocide suddenly news in 2022, and at the same time, humbly promote your astonishingly sensitive book, in which you sensitively explain to difficult, uppity blacks that you're a truth teller, and they should listen to your mansplaining truths ... because you alone have devised the perfect solution. 

A holiday for whities and a holiday for blacks, and soon enough, with even more sensitivity, we might have water bubblers in parks labelled for black and white usage ...

 

Yes, yes, a blacks only day, perhaps celebrated on blacks only parks ...

 

 

Now don't you worry about an actual day which might become "another day". We'll leave that for endless argumentation, so that in the Australian way, nothing much will be done for a century or two ... remembering that the referendum to establish that black people were human and could be counted didn't arrive until 1967 ...

And now for a final triumphant flogging of the book ...

 

What a fine bragging ... though by the end of it, the pond had pretty much lost all respect, confidence or sense of honesty ... just a sense of the Braggster bragging and flogging a book ...

 

Perhaps that's why the pond was reminded of that haunting Kudelka image from the weekend of a beached whale ... but at least it stopped the pond thinking about the sexiness of M and Ms ...