And now it's all day rant o'clock time at the pond ...

(Above: ah memories. Bob Carr with his T-shirts and below that with Michael Costa. You can find more here at the  helpfully tagged National Library of Australia, which is slowly turning itself into an essential Australian digital treasure and resource).


It seems like it's the season, or perhaps it's merely the fashion, for apologies.

The latest to line up and bow in a Japanese way is the NSW Left of the Labor party, in the matter of Ian McDonald, currently embroiled and hopefully soon to be broiled:

Bows of apology tend to be deeper and last longer than other types of bow. They tend to occur with frequency during the apology, generally at about 45 degrees with the head lowered and lasting for at least the count of three, sometimes longer. The depth, frequency and duration of the bow increases with the sincerity of the apology and the severity of the offense. Occasionally, in the case of apology and begging, people crouch down like Sujud to show one's absolute submission or extreme regret. (wiki more here).

Unhappily, the pond is inclined to think that only a bit of Yubitsume, or finger shortening will do, since when dealing with gangsters, only a gangster apology will suffice.

But for what it's worth you can read the "formal apology" of the Left in Labor Left apologises over Macdonald.

It left the pond dissatisfied, because the apology only addresses Macdonald (known to the world as Sir Lunchalot), who was expelled from the faction in 2009, mainly on the basis that he'd betrayed the left by siding with the dominant right. Only now have they got around to apologising for his selection as a candidate.

In short, it's just another bout of navel-gazing regret.

How about a few more deep bows?

How about an apology for leaving NSW infrastructure in a complete mess?

How about an apology for a wasted decade of failed policy initiatives?

How about an apology for staging a panem et circenses Olympics while physically disadvantaged people had to waste the lifetime of the pond for access to Newtown railway station, presumably on the basis that such people didn't exist in Newtown, or that the lumping of a wheelchair up and down the steps would be jolly good for them? A sort of mini-Olympics ...

How about an apology for the leaders elevated and quickly dumped in the desperate fear and loathing designed to stay in power? (Oh yes there's a wiki to remind us of Bob Carr, Morris Iemma, Nathan Rees, and perhaps the most pathetic of all, Kristina Keneally).

How about an apology for issuing an apology in the name of the Left, while deploring factionalism and demanding change, when surely an indication of change would have been to sit down with the Right and devise a joint apology, which might have taken up the matter of Eddie Obeid?

How about announcing in the same joint apology that factionalism, and branch stacking and such like rorting of the Labor party were things of the past, and that this would be the last talk of Left and Right, and henceforth there'd only be talk of the NSW Labor party?

What, the factions still aren't talking and instead of acting in a united way, are still sulking,  and so one side issues an apology and the other doesn't?

Okay, how about an apology for the way the abysmal behaviour of the NSW Labor party now sees ensconced in power a deluded Premier who believes - and thus far hasn't recanted on his delusional belief - that the second airport for Sydney should be in Canberra, connected by a very fast train?

And because of the wayward ways of the NSW Labor party, this delusional man - who sounds like he's right up there with King George III - is able to serve at his leisure, while all factions of NSW Labor can do is run about indulging in breast-beating, donning sackcloth and ashes and still sounding like right royal cackling geese.

Phew, who on earth knows where that came from, but remember this is a blog designed purely for therapy, and when contemplating the NSW Labor party, the pond is in need of constant expensive therapy.

Okay, Sydney has been this way since the Rum rebellion, and issuing an apology might be perceived as a start, but when you can't even get the left and the right to issue an apology together, well oi vey is all the pond can say in very best Zero Mostel Fiddler on the Roof accent ...

Happily, this little ouburst leaves little time to deal with the commentariat, which is just as well, because the pond immediately regretted mentioning His Statistical Saltiness Bernard Salt a few days ago, and don't you know it, right on cue HSS has delivered an astonishing pile of empty-headed waffle and posturing for the lizard Oz, under the header In brave new world, latte line cuts the ideological divide (behind the paywall so you never have to worry about it).

In it, HSS reveals the breathtaking insight that Toowomba is different to Hobart in relation to some demographic and other matters, and if you want more profound revelations like that for your business, why don't you hand over a wheelbarrow of cash to KPMG?

It all builds to this remarkable conclusion:

One of the most powerful forces shaping where we live and perhaps even how we vote is the way young people see the world and their future.

Fancy that. And here the pond was, thinking that it was the meek or the gentle or the geek who will inherit the earth.

Somehow HSS manages to get this insight tangled up with blather about a latte line, a bit like Darwin souls yabbering about the Berrimah Line, and it reminded the pond that you need to order a double shot to get a half-way decent coffee, even in New York, which is more useful information than you will find in a double shot of His Statistical Saltiness.

And now enough, it's time for a little political humour by that great comedy stylist, that happy hearted hoofer, that pugilistic punter, that bumbling bumpkin banterer, the one and only Barnaby Joyce, or Barn door barmy Barners, as he's known to his barnyard chums.

It got First Dog involved in an angry rant o'clock, much like the pond's rant o'clock, which usually rings like a Chinese alarm clock all day long:

Yep, it got the twitterati going:

And so First Dog wrapped it up thusly:

Now the pond has only one caveat, and that's First Dog's insistence that Barners should be portrayed as a non-gender specific pumpkin scone.

As everyone knows, pumpkin scones are a fiendish Queensland stupidity - think Flo and Jo - and while Barners has shifted north, at heart he's a stout Tamworth lad, and so he should be portrayed as a non-gender specific choko scone (or at a stretch a butternut squash scone, with a few pumpkin seeds thrown in for a truly nutty flavour).

Never heard of them? Stay ignorant and wise. Hopefully you know even less about NSW Labor.

More First Dog here, and never mind the Walkley, still the best reason to get behind the Crikey paywall (which is more than can be said for paying to read His Statistical Saltiness).