Trapped in a world where George Lucas is the greatest artist of our time ...

(Above: more on this moth-eaten tribe below).

Sometimes when the pond wakes up of a morning to the fast moving world, it's impossible to know what will provoke a response.

But the long absent lord always provides, and not just at the bizarre sight of Republicans and Richard Mourdock doubling down, and claiming voters are flocking to the man after his jibber jabber about rape babies being a gift of god (here).

Some times it's the little things.

Take for example Fairfax and its opinion pages. What's Maureen Dowd doing in them with It's difficult to tell who's the real Mitt?

Didn't this turn up the day before in the New York Times under the header My Mitt Fantasy, attracting some 658 comments?

Is Fairfax so convinced Sydney-siders are so parochial that they think they can serve up seconds from New York and no one will notice or care? Shouldn't they be developing their own Maureen Dowds for the future? Second thoughts, be careful what you wish for ...

But what is that fine flurry of social media at the top of the Fairfax re-print? Tweet, recommend, share pin it? When you've already had a chance the day before on the originating site to facebook, twitter, google+, email and otherwise share it?

And what's Dowd got to offer? Aimless meandering speculation about the prospect Mittster and Obama scoring a historic tie.

The pond should get out of bed for this?

Sheesh, punters would be better off watching the intellectual decline and fall of Camille Paglia, who amazingly concluded in The Chronicle of Higher Education under the header George Lucas's Force that George Lucas is the greatest artist of our time ...

Paglia reaches some kind of apocalyptic gibbering when she reaches the point of saying about the utterly tedious, running out of steam end of Lucas's vision:

Lucas's stature as an artist, as well as his relentlessness as an admitted "micromanager," is demonstrated by the tremendous climax of Revenge of the Sith, which he directed.

Oh wait, it actually gets worse:

... all these horrors are transcended in the serene ending of Revenge of the Sith. The violent red river of primitive emotion is forgotten as the separated twins are delivered to their adoptive parents, at peace against idyllic open landscapes of mountains and desert across the galaxy. The exquisite tenderness with which strong men handle babies here surely reflects Lucas's own experience as a single parent who retired for two years to raise the first of his three adopted children. "Expand our universe!" Lucas commands his artists and technicians. He is a man of machines yet a lover of nature, his wily persona of genial blandness masking one of the most powerful and tenacious minds in contemporary culture.

Make it so George! Expand our universe.

To which, if we may borrow and paraphrase an internet meme by Harrison Ford, George, you can type this shit, but you sure as hell can't say it, (or words to that effect) should surely now become Camille, you can type this shit, but you sure as hell can't expect anyone to believe it.

Hang on, how did we jump from the Dowdy Fairfax corner of the galaxy to the Paglia Lucas sector, when loon hunting is the order of the day?

How about listening the mining industry whinge and moan about the onerous burden of conforming to a fiendish tax which has to date delivered ... sweet bugger all ...

How about a tour of the rabid right wing pundits peddling their usual miasma of Paglia-like nonsense?

Why there's Miranda the Devine concluding with infinite wisdom that women are people too, conclusively disproving the popular misconception that women are pandas, or perhaps when driven mad, crocodiles. Yes, you can plough through the entirety of Lesson for Gillard: Women are just people, and reach this epic conclusion:

In the end, women are just people.

Lesson for the Devine? In the end, some columnists are just stupid.

Or what about Piers "Akker Dakker" Akerman, still banding on endlessly about ancient history in Slush funds silence may prove PM's Watergate?

Not that Akerman has any fresh information, but you have to marvel at his willingness to till the soil, a willingness he displays each week, and today arrives at this stunning insight as his capper:

... is it that in this world of Macquarie Dictionary's convenient sexist redefinition, there are different lines men and women cross?

Will Akker Dakker ever catch up with the news that the Oxford and other dictionaries expanded their definition a decade ago? Of course not, not when we're living in a parallel universe where George Lucas is the greatest artist of our time ...

What about the Bolter? Well it seems in this funny old topsy turvy world, when you read the Bolter, it's merely a way of reading Rich Lowry, scribbling  Obama's pathetic picture book.

There's a lavish quoting of text by the Bolter - so much easier than actually writing stuff yourself, along with a link to get you out of a charge of plagiarism - but the trouble is, in the small introductory screed, the two lines the Bolter actually has to compose, the Bolter blames Frank Lowry:

Even the pond knows that Richard A. and Frank are two different people, but in a world where George Lucas is the greatest artist of our time, is it surprising that the Bolter is the greatest living twit?

It's always in the details, and the Bolter is so prolific in his bile, he never gets the details right ...

What's interesting to see is how the moderation of comments - or the absence - continues to play a role in the presentation of the Bolter's thoughts, with the numbers way down. Oh for the good old days when the Empire could despatch its storm troopers to all corners of the universe, and use a death star to destroy a planet ...

Jason Wilson, a lecturer in digital communications at the University of Wollongong, described being “Bolted” in early August 2009 after he criticised Bolt’s performance on Insiders. Bolt’s post the next day featured a photograph of Wilson and an inaccurate description of him as working for GetUp!, and it accused him of using the Pravda model of journalism. For the next week Wilson was subject to abusive emails, many of which contained Bolt’s post cut-and-pasted into the message. One was even c.c.’d to Bolt, like a dog bringing a stick back to its master. Some of the emails threatened violence although most simply offered abuse, calling Wilson “a prick”, “an insignificant, parasitic socialist wally”, “a smug little shit” and a “leftoid, as in haemorrhoid, as in a continual pain in the arse …” (Anne Summers here)

There you go Frank, good to see you're helping the Bolter elevate the tone of the discourse. Not that we blame you for you having your name taken in vain.

So is there any good news this frantic Friday?

Well it seems under the care and tuition Lachlan Murdoch and Georgina Rinehart (and let's give credit to Brian Long, Siobhan McKenna and the rest of the pack here) network Ten is going to take the moth-eaten, bedraggled, so run down it should be put down show The Simpsons from its multi-channel Eleven, and run it at six on weekdays on the main channel. (Ten turns to The Simpsons as saviour, paywall affected)

Why that's even more tragic than turning to Maureen Dowd for your columns.

And how it must gall Georgina. The pond's favourite anecdote happens to be James Chessell's favourite Gina Rinehart story:

My favourite Gina Rinehart story is the one about Lachlan Murdoch and The Simpsons. 
 It was in early 2011 and Australia’s richest person had only been a director of Ten Network Holdings for a month or so. After one board meeting she took it upon herself to explain to Murdoch that the long-running series was not suitable viewing for families. It soon became clear Rinehart did not know (or did not care) that The Simpsons is one of the most significant shows News Corp has ever produced. The cartoon also happens to be loved by Murdoch’s father, Rupert, who has played himself a couple of times, once delivering the memorable line: “I’m Rupert Murdoch, the billionaire tyrant, and this is my skybox”. 
 Whether or not Rinehart knows about the economic and cultural importance of The Simpsons to News Corp is not important. But the ridiculousness of her suggestion that Ten drop one of its most important programs is a reminder that the mining magnate can get a little blinkered when standing on her own particular skybox. (here)

And now like a dog returning to the programming vomit it relied on in the 1990s, Ten is returning to a show that's not suitable for viewing by families, or so Georgina once allegedly told Lachy, failing to understand that the show actually jumped the fridge and nuked the fridge around the tenth season.

Blinkered?! What an astute person to have at the helm of a media company. Watch out Fairfax, Georgina is sure to know that Maureen Dowd isn't suitable reading for families.

Moral? The weekend's upon us, and you've got to laugh along with Georgina, The Simpsons, Camille, the Bolter, the Devine, Akker Dakker and the whole crazy bunch of eccentrics who offer such entertaining nonsense, just so we could get through the week ...

(Below: cultural knowledge quiz. Who helped to bring this movie in to the world, and remind us we're all trapped in a world we never made? Such a man would surely be the greatest artist of our time. Answer here).