Saturday, May 15, 2021

In which the pond insists on cramming three reptiles into a good old-fashioned Tamworth port ...

 

 

To think, just a week ago, the pond embarked on an unseemly, wretched festival of reptiles, as if there was something to celebrate in the reading of reptiles. Why, a festival of endless Tarkovsky films would have had more appeal.

Well this weekend, there'll be none of that nonsense. Each day a flock of reptiles will be packed in a suitcase (or as we say in the north west, a port) and shipped out, and heaven help any stray unfortunate who stumbles across the bulging monstrosity, and attempts to unlock it and read the contemptible contents.

Familiarity breeds contempt they say, and one guaranteed product of reptile scribbling is a flurry of contempt, and that's why the pond starts this Humpty Dumpty unfestival day with the dog botherer ...


 

It is of course a risible, paranoid header, but it does give a fair indication of what is to follow. There will be mentions of woke and virtue signalling, and beneath it all, the familiar bout of climate science denialism, though with coal no longer so woke in the world of the dog botherer, the new woke will have to be gas ...

Read it all before? Of course you have, but the art of moronic repetition is the one skill that the dog botherer has mastered ...


 

Ah, the danger within ... the pond hasn't heard that sort of hysterical rhetoric since the good old days of Uncle Joe, and red-baiting Joe ...



 

Of course these days it's the woke, virtue-signalling menace, which is vastly different to being menaced by an orange-headed fake-tanned gibbering twittering loon ... but on the upside, we no longer have to worry about generations of debt, now we have new reasons for paranoia ...



Perhaps the dog botherer could just eat a little more 'roo himself? Why didn't he do something useful and publish a 'roo recipe? The pond is partial to a 'roo stir fry, but it seems that the main meal the dog botherer wants to serve up is hysteria ... 

Strange then, that he didn't mention the poor old ugg boot patent matter - the United States is as skilled in such intellectual property matters as China - but never mind, on we go with the paranoia ... and sure enough, suddenly, instead of 'roo, we'll be doing the climate science denialist strut with a mourning for coal and a yearning for gas ...



This is the trouble of course. The reptiles do much navel-gazing and fluff-gathering, and contort themselves so that they can look up each other's sphincter, and so we have the dog botherer reading Dame Slap interviewing David Murray and finding the result illuminating, which is to say self-confirming, self-affirming, and self-righteous ...


 

Of all the words the dog botherer could use to illuminate his mad uncle down from the attic routine, surely "and her ilk" is the best ...

The Old English pronoun ilca is the predecessor of the modern noun ilk, but by way of a pronoun ilk that does not exist in most dialects of modern English. That ilk is synonymous with same, and persists in Scots where it's used in the phrase of that ilk,meaning "of the same place, territorial designation, or name." It is used chiefly in reference to the names of land-owning families and their eponymous estates, as in "the Guthries of that ilk," which means "the Guthries of Guthrie." Centuries ago a misunderstanding arose concerning the Scots phrase: it was interpreted as meaning "of that kind or sort," a usage that found its way into modern English. Ilk has been established in English with its current meaning and part of speech since the late 18th century. (Thanks Merriam-Webster).

Why stray off with the Guthries? 

Well the pond is so tired of talk of virtue signalling, and woke and all that cultural warfare bullshit, when a simple, old-fashioned, honest decent bout of climate science denialism is no longer available to the dog botherer, and he must resort to dog whistle words of that ilk ... but at least we've reached the end of the journey ...



Oh just fuck off with the climate science denialism, and take the AWU with you, and by the way, your refusal to embrace the war with China will be noted down, and used in further reptile proceedings ...

And so to a different front, this one opened up by Dame Slap ...



Tony Bleagh? Well the pond knew where this was going too, right from the get go. There'd be some tranny bashing, some Rowling worship, some culture wars stuff, and not a mention of why Tony Bleagh is such a contemptible, odious, failed and irrelevant wretch, routinely screeching away in search of relevance ...

And as Dame Slap won't mention it, let the pond begin by noting a few items, not least ...



 

Oh yes indeed, he makes poor old David Cameron look like a bumbling amateur lobbyist ...

By the way that quote came from a 2015 piece entitled Blair's eight years as Middle East peace envoy wasted?

Yes, they really did have a question mark at the end of the header, though current events surely make that question mark a really silly thing.

Back in 2015, Robert Fisk was more to the point with Blundering Tony Blair quits as Middle Pace envoy - only Israel will miss him ...

And now, as the middle east erupts, and the pond hasn't even noted the blunderer blundering into the Iraq war, and monumentally fucking up a country, what sort of shit do we get as a distraction?


 

Seeringly precise? Scorching? What a foolish fuckwitted fop ... and only someone as sublimely culture wars stupid as Dame Slap could swallow the bait ... but now, the pond mentioned that there'd likely be some tranny bashing, and Rowling worship, and here we go ...



Great literature? Here the pond should confess that long ago, long before Rowling turned tranny basher, the pond had a go at reading Rowling, and decided, in the manner of most airport literature, that she was unreadable. Infatuated young people around the pond urged the pond on, and the pond had a go, and even watched a few of the movies, but in the end, stumbled and came to a dead halt.

Successful yes, wildly so, but unreadable. Whenever the pond returns to the books circulating in its youth, it's reminded of similar phenomenons. Frank Richards turned out reams of words about Billy Bunter et al, and yet while he was remarkably successful at selling his product, and much as the pond loved him and his cast, only a devotee could wade through his words these days. 

Boys could never get enough of Captain W. E. Johns, and Spitties and all that stuff, and yet he's a terribly stilted writer.  Richmal Crompton's Just William books for a time held the pond, after a teacher, who fancied himself in musicals and G and S, did a reading, and yet ...  and as for girlie books, don't get the pond started on the mawkish My Friend Flicka ...

And to take a step up, the pond still loves the idea of Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, and Toad of Toad Hall and poop-poop and all that, and yet as a stylist, Grahame veered between the execrable, the ponderous and the supremely British class conscious conservative ...

All of which is by way of predicting that at some time in the future people will put down their Rowlings and wonder what the fuck it was that charmed them ... because it sure ain't the way with words ...

Never mind, on we go ...


 

Yes, yes, the pond was expecting the usual bout of tranny bashing ... because that's what you turn to when wanting to make sure that "Tony Blair" and "middle east peace envoy" don't get used in the same sentence right now ... and right now is where our Dame Slap really nukes the fridge for the pond by scribbling about J. K. Rowling's "beautifully crafted words." No, they aren't, she churned them out, much as the pond was once made to do with milk in the butter churn, and as airport scribbles are wont to do, with a certain facility and flair, and the cash generated in turn generating a certain level of justification (if Coke sells, it must be good, rather than just a bunch of sugar bubbles) ...


 

Did anyone notice how Dame Slap jumped the Rowling shark? Rowling, Shriver, and then suddenly we're conflating and confusing them with Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dickens and Nabokov, and all so we won't mention "Tony Bleagh" and "Middle East peace envoy" in the same sentence, but instead must endure Bleagh blathering on about wokeness and political correctness ...

Meanwhile, if you happen to be a civilian in the middle east right now, keeping your head down is about the only strategy available to you ...


 

What a contemptible man. And naturally he's celebrated by the contemptible chairman of the IPA ...

And so to the inevitable concluding pond challenge. 

As a result of stuffing all the reptiles into portmanteau (that's why we speak of ports in Tamworth, and not a place for ships), there's always a bit of cramming, and one last Herculean feat required, and that's to make it all the way through a nattering "Ned" ...



My, my, that's an impressive photo ...with a credit to Gary Ramage

Did anyone else read The Weekly Beast news?

The last of the News Corp Australia staff photographers – who once numbered over 100 when print was king – are on their way out.
Sources say around eight newspaper photographers who work for the Geelong Advertiser, the NT News, the Hobart Mercury and regional Queensland mastheads the Townsville Bulletin, the Gold Coast Bulletin and the Cairns Post were called in to meetings with management this week and told their positions were being made redundant. They will be replaced by freelancers but they can buy their staff photography equipment at discounted prices and come back to work as outsourced labour.
The company has been moving towards a freelance model for photography for several years and last June let go its multiple Walkley-award winning chief photographer Gary Ramage. Ramage was the company’s only remaining staff photographer in Canberra after the departure of veteran photographer Ray Strange. In November, News Corp lost 16 photography positions as part of a round of 25 job cuts.
The move follows the merger of dozens of Rupert Murdoch’s regional newspapers with the state mastheads in the past 12 months. “This completes our rollout of the freelance model for our photography and the way it’s commissioned,” a News Corp spokesperson said.

Selling back the gear at discounted prices? How generous can you get?

Ubering right along with the Deliveroo model, how long before there's a freelance model for nattering "Ned"?

 

 

The pond should probably cut to the chase, because it's going to be a long bout of nattering from "Ned", and yet at heart it will all be about reconciling decades of blather with this ...



The pond doesn't purport to be an expert - it found that graph and much accompanying blather here - and now we must admire how "Ned" weaves a silk purse from a sow in debt up to its ears ... and it'll be a long-winded and tedious business ...


 

A unique experiment? Well that's one word for it, though Keynes and FDR and Joe Biden might have others ...


 

Yes, never mind where Josh and SloMo are heading, focus on Labor. It's the good old Dame Slap/Tony Bleagh/don't mention the Middle East strategy, and it means that "Ned" can spend a lot of time nattering about Labor and not so much about debt, deficit and graphs, though eventually he has to go there ...


 

Indeed, indeed, if we're going to match the GOP and really run up a stupendous deficit, we need those tax cuts ... and yet right at that moment, some bird dropped a worm in the ear of worrywart "Ned", and so the hang wringing and the Chicken Little clucking and circling began ... and yet strangely, the emphasis isn't on those ordaining the tax cuts, but on the Labor party, even though poor old Albo doesn't happen to be in government ...


 

See how easy, see how effortless it is, to turn on a dime? All those years whining about Swannie and the $52 billion stimulus and all that jazz, and now it's the essence of philosophical change ...

Naturally the embittered former chairman was on the case with a graph ...




Water off a duck's back to "Ned", blathering away about "strong economic logic" ...


 

Ah yes, audacious and easy... and all is forgiven and forgotten, much like talk of "Tony Bleagh ... Middle East peace envoy" can be erased,  by "Ned",  Dame Slap and the dog botherer, and others of that ilk ...



Poor old worrywart, he couldn't resist one last worry, as if he hadn't already erased the past enough, and yet the pond is ready for the rollercoaster that the immortal Rowe has offered up for a ride, with more rides here ...




Friday, May 14, 2021

In which the pond spends its usual Friday time with Henry, and then eek, a blogger ...

 

 

The pond slept in today, which was just as well, because it needed the strength when greeted with this sight at the top of the digital page ...

 


 

Not the old SM gear treatment ... reinforcing prejudices about those who enjoy the SM lifestyle! 

Albo can look after himself, and at least he didn't cop the Nazi outfit treatment usually preferred by the Murdochians ... but still, is there a cheaper or a lower laugh than this, including the old silent slapstick banana routine?

And lo, there next to the SM gear was a picture of the baleful, dolorous Henry, no doubt still wondering how to fix so many holes in so many  buckets. 

Let us then grasp the absurd, clich├ęd notion of history whole, objectively and subjectively free of today's dogma, a monstrous stupidity which sinks the enterprise from the get go ...

Let us cast off the SM drag, and begin by wallowing in our Henry's words ...


 

Fuck the pond dead, and do it in SM style. First let it be noted that our Henry swims in the seas of today's dogma, as we all do, and then as to the restoration of Napoleon's glory, fuck Napoleon and fuck the perfidious French.

Sure he fucked over Paris to provide a fine set of boulevards, and he set up a bureaucracy that has been the ruination of France ever since, but mainly he fucked over Europe for a considerable period, and all for his own sociopathic sense of self-importance ... thereby helping explain why the French kept setting off nukes in the Pacific long after it was seemly or polite to even think about doing it ...

What next? A lesson on Adolf's soaring achievements - he did after all restore the country's economic fortunes after a troubled time, introduce autobahns and the people's wagon and so on and so forth, before mentioning the odd appalling error?

Why Ming the Merciless himself thought Adolf a notable leader ...

 


 

Yes, one of the great men of the century, and now back to one of the great lizard Oz scribblers ...


 

Actually, the pond spent far too many years studying history, to what avail, and the pond feels perfectly free to judge the past as it chooses, that's what you're allowed to do if you happen to believe in freedom of thought, and it isn't contingent on having wasted years of your life in a university history department. If you see a sociopath in action marching all over Europe and looting it so that the Louvre might have a fine collection, then you can call it for what it is.

You're allowed to say what you think, including what you might think of old-fashioned luddites and fogeys of the 'our Henry school of sublime nonsense' ... but do go on ...


 

Oh sweet long absent lord, here we go again, but will there be a mention of the price that SloMo's mob has put on a history-laden degree?  Probably not ...


 

Indeed, but then the development of Australian society cannot be sensibly explained without giving considerable weight to the impact of unions and the Labor party and socialist thinking or unthinking capitalism, or the way we now end up with the leader of the opposition portrayed in SM gear ... because that's what fuckwitted Murdochians do ... but please, finish off this saga ....


 

Not the old Orwellian newspeak! But here's a thought. Who would you rather be stuck in a desert with? Napoleon, Henry, or an Aboriginal person with knowledge of traditional ways of survival?

As for ending with a quote from Napoleon, please allow the pond to match our Henry ... "But I shall not shrink from war with Britain if it is necessary. Where Napoleon failed, I shall succeed. Today there is no such thing as an island. I shall land on the shores of Britain ..."

Off to Elba with the lot of you, and take Henry and some buckets, for fixing what ails ya, with you ...

And now please, a drum roll, as we have a final word from the infallible Pope on education ...



And so to the rest of the day's offerings, and what a dismal feast it was ...



 

There was Shanners and simplistic Simon doing what they do best, and the war on covid pronounced over (that must be big news in India and Brazil), and the meretricious Merritt doing his usual attack dog work on watchdogs ...

The pond thought of heading back up to the top to see what Killer Creighton had to say ...



Oh woe unto the pond, Killer had turned reporter. Sure it was a grave and uncertain time, a message which sang to the heart of our Killer, but still ... a mere reporter of the sage thoughts of a pollie?


 

Lauded by a turtle? On social media, that tool of Satan, that place of devil worship. worse than the basement of a pizza shop? It was painful to read, but at least the reptiles kept "just the facts ma'am" Killer on a short leash ...




They sent the Killer to the US for this? Clearly the Murdochians still have more money than sense ...

Then for a bonus the pond noted another item ...


 
 
The pond will confess it knew nothing of this dazzling Dazza, and had to google his name ...
 
Daryl McCann writes regularly for Quadrant magazine, Quadrant Online and the British magazine Salisbury Review. He runs his blog, Daryl McCann Online. 
 
Yes, back when The Drum was an online thing at the ABC, he scribbled there, but of late he's been boasting about scribbling for the local Speccie mob ...

A fucking blogger ... but the pond has been trained by the reptiles over the years to hate, loathe, fear and despise bloggers! Never mind, on with the fear and loathing ...



Funny to read all this, having just finished Killer evoking Marise evoking all sorts of saucy doubts and fears ... but while at that game, why not celebrate with the immortal Rowe, as here ...



 

Yes, that feels decidedly better, that feels really up ... and now back to the blogger ...


 

Oh indeed, indeed, there's absolutely no upside at all for SloMo banging the drums of war, which is why he and his mob have been so subtle and nuanced in their diplomacy, while the bromancer has been advising them of the kit they'll need for the big one that's soon to follow ... the ultimate crusade that will culminate in the rapture, because Napoleon wasn't the only one with warrior delusions of grandeur ... not when there's a mutton Dutton standing ready for war!



A bloody blogger at the lizard Oz! Oh how the mighty reptiles have fallen, and fallen so low ... and worse, one given to absurd thoughts, along the lines of "To elevate the idea of looming war, contraire Kevin Rudd, is more likely to diminish the risk of World War III than provoke it."

In the spirit of our Henry, tell that to Winston Churchill, the pond says ...has our blogger forgotten our Winnie, always elevating the idea of looming war, and sure enough, around it came ... and a fun, Napoleonic time was had by all ...

And so to a Rowe the pond missed, capturing the essence of the impending winter of despair ...






Thursday, May 13, 2021

In which the pond observes assorted reptile transits ...

 

 

Before getting down to reptile business today, which alas and alack, still concerns the budget, the pond would like to celebrate Marina Hyde's opening gambit ...

 


 

The rest of it, including the hot links, is here, but it put the pond in a good mood all day yesterday, what with the pond fancying it was a peerless formula one driver, and tearing up the streets of Sydney ...

But uppers must be followed by downers, and so to the savvy Savva of the day ...


 
 
The reptiles really do have to do something about their illustrations. As a hardened professional reptile watcher, the pond can cope with insufferable smirks. It routinely makes its breakfasts out of smirkers, but no ordinary human bean should be forced to suffer the sight, and it seems it must have induced a strong feeling of nausea in the savvy Savva, because she wasn't happy, weighed down by portents of future doom ...
 


Indeed, indeed, and here the pond must get in early with a defining Rowe, which explains all the anguish that is to follow, with more definitional Rowe always to hand here ...




Look, there's that smirk again, and Joe Hockey's memorial bench, and a fragrant cigar still smoking, and off in the distance those dear old dotards, debt and deficit, admiring the glow of the sinking sun ...

How hard it must be to be a reptile, and reconcile all this ... yesterday there was "Ned", wringing his hands and worrying what it all means, and today the jaundiced Savva cultivates her usual saucy doubts and fears ...



Oh dear, another election, as we clap happy towards the rapture ... and the best that the reptiles can offer by way of an illustration? A Scooby Doo cartoon ...



Dear sweet long absent lord, the pond can feel Colin Wilson's mind parasites beavering away in its head, but at least there's only one gobbet to go ...


 

Well that was one take on this extravagant Labor budget, but the pond was beguiled by another ...



It takes an extraordinary amount of gumption or stupidity to turn a 'spend, spend, spend' budget into an ideological war, but the pond thought that the bouffant one's attempt was wholly admirable ...


 

Yes, it's a remarkable feat to get from talk of there being no ideological constraints to there being an ideological war, but that's how things are at lizard Oz HQ these days ...

Perhaps most poignant of all was the lizard Oz editorialist, exhibiting what might be called 'phantom limb' syndrome ... a vague memory of once having talked of debt and deficit and balanced budgets and such like, and still feeling the compulsion to talk about them again ...



Poor lizard Oz editorialist. So much talk of little Johnny, so much talk of Ming the Merciless, and yet deep in their hearts, they know that decades of reptile budget blather have gone with the wind ...


 

See how they struggle on, grasping at straws, celebrating the cash splash, and never mind the dark side, the side that would have once induced paroxysms of fear and endless raging at the likes of former Chairman Rudd and his cash-splashing minions ...


 

And yet at the end that phantom limb returned, the nerve ends still twitching, a reflex jerking about productivity-boosting reform, but the horse already out of the gate, and long gone, faraway over the hills, and the infallible Pope ready to pounce ...


 

Now there's an Escher the pond can get behind ... and so to the bromancer and the war with China ... because budget or no, the war still picks up pace ... and the bromancer has a different gripe ...


 
 
Yes, the bromance remains on a war footing ... because peace is his profession ...
 


The pond is all in favour of the solution proposed by M. David, with more solutions routinely noted here ...



Back to the bromancer, still in an agony of eight fits ...


 

Oh dear, it seems that all that's left is to wave the white flag, or settle for a last gobbet ... and yet the pond has fastidiously followed the reptiles down sundry rabbit holes, to return with excellent news ...




Good one Killer, what's a few lives if it means being free of masks, and now for a killer blow from the bouffant one ...



Of course on another planet, speaking of planetary wars, you might read the Graudian's The 2021 federal budget was light on climate and environment measures. But here's what you should know, or you might even take in a First Dog cartoon, in full form here ...

 

 



But no, tanks is the game ... tanks for the memory ... tanks for fighting the last war yet again ...

And so, though the pond has already run well over length, to a bonus, a leftover from yesterday, reheated in the microwave and served as a tasty dish ...


 
 
The pond had a choice of a leftover Babones or a lukewarm Luke, and settled for Luke because of just one line ...


 

Uh huh ... and from there it gets quite demented and weird ... and fully deserves its place in the pond annals ...



Did anyone else notice that sensitive flourish in the last par? You know, when speaking of the invasion, the light-hearted celebration of the killing, in a manner of speaking, progressive and conservative birds, or dare one say it, uppity difficult blacks, getting in the way of exciting visions of Regency architecture, poems, and grecian urns ...

It's hard to complain however, moving as we have this day from the transit of deficit and debits to the transit of tanks to the transit of Venus ... and perhaps, finally, the transit of Wilcox ...