And speaking of boat people, no need to fear that you will be left loonless.
Why you only have to head over to the squawking of Paul Sheehan, who in his header assumes a god-like omniscience and potent presumption about everything in Migration: the true story.
Nothing so modest as Migration, the Paul Sheehan view.
No, it's the true story, and so begins the first bold bare-faced lie. I guess after Miranda the Devine's runaway hit with so many comments about keeping cyclists off the road because they terrify motorists, especially those driving Hummers, that Sheehan just had to keep stirring the pot by poking a stick at the boat people. Why it's the end of western civilization as we know it, and by Friday at the latest.
What a fine display of xenophobia is on view, and if that's not enough to slake your thirst for loonacy, why not head off to tired, hapless, wretched David Burchell banging the same drum in Middle-class angst a luxury we can't afford.
So many loons, so little time.
And tomorrow, Melbourne cup day, likely as not you'll have the latest results for the regular Gerard Henderson tipping competition, with the odds being that he's certain to celebrate a horse race by musing just how good it was in the old John Howard days.
Can life get any sweeter or better?
Meantime, loon pond will resume its regular dance with the squawking loons when a swift varnish of heartland credibility has been applied as a veneer to the cheap chardonnay sipping half inch chipboard within.
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