Permission to engage, General, suh ...

(Above: thank the long absent lord for the Pope. Get your share of Popery from the genuine Pope here).


Today the pond announces a brand new strategy, titled with infinite subtlety and nuance, Operation Turn Back The Politicians.

Now already there have been a few petulant, petty objections from small-minded people. People experienced in operational matters hastened to remind the pond that Operations were never given explicit political names. If embarking on Operation Ned Kelly, why not call it Operation Iron Bark?

If the pond didn't look out, it would end up sounding as silly as Tony Abbott posturing before Operation Sovereign Borders ...

Next thing you know, Neil James was front and centre, asking the pond about the chain of command. Naturally the pond had a direct line to the Minister of Waffle, who in turn had a direct line to the Prime Monster.

But what, James wanted to know, about the theoretical notion that there was someone else who was theoretically in charge of the pond?

How would they feel about being by-passed? He thought he could see some of the same flaws that bedevilled the Coalition's proposal, which within twenty four hours had seen sundry geese completely contradict themselves and the operational chart that had been dropped on the full to overflowing intertubes (Neil James questions Coalition's border policy).

Oh and there were others, wondering what the three star general - the pond had proposed six stars, like the very best Dubai and James Packer hotels - would add to the work six three star generals were already doing, and how this might be anything more than changing the nature of arrangements in Camperdown and Canberra ...

Oh there was talk of incrementalism of a bureaucratic kind, and politicising the military, and shuffling the deck chairs, and talk of civil law enforcement tasks rather than a war on refugees, and why pay the military to do add another layer of scrambled eggs to the mix ...

Well the pond decided to take a leaf out of Tony Abbott's book, and just ignore these soul-destroying pedants with their willingness to point out the bleeding obvious. After all, if you shoot from the hip, the whole point is to shoot anything remotely within range ...

And after all, there was important work to be done ... turning back the politicians.

It is, for example, the pond's misfortune, to be represented by Albo, the minister for useless reports, and now the minister for silly walks and statements.

This might be of no significance or interest to people who don't understand that Sydney is contending with Tamworth for the title "centre of the known universe", but Sydney has a standing riff, a long-running joke, called the "second airport" which goes back to long before the Whitlam years.

Dust it off, and it's always guaranteed for a laugh, and a headline:

So why is it pure comedy gold?

Well Albo's dusted off and trotted out the second airport, without daring to nominate an actual location.

"It needs to happen - everyone knows it needs to happen, except for maybe (Sydney Airport chief executive) Max (Moore-Wilton)." 
Mr Albanese said he hoped to select a site next year but still would not commit to one.

Incidentally that's a News+-∛∑ story locked firmly behind the News paywall, except that it's freely available at Last call for Mr Albanese - ALP vows second airport but won't say where. It's a hard call to say which is dumber, Albo or the News paywall ...

By the time Fairfax's story hit the digital edition, it was so far down the taxi and landing queue that if you blinked, you'd miss it, which is just as well, because the pond is feeling the pinch in terms of allowable Fairfax hits this late in the month.

Meanwhile, over at the reptiles beavering away at the lizard Oz, the raptors thought Tony Abbott's military manoeuvres were such a wonderful solution, they naturally put it top of the digital page:

Oh hang on, there seems to be some kind of technical hitch. New Zealund subbie, where's that header Glorious leader guarantees glorious military-led success. Can we show stray pond readers the real deal in the tree killer edition?

Oops.

Oh perhaps they're right, better to bung on about the Ruddster's many failings than put the blow torch to Abbott's stab at a policy initiative, in the way that retired Admiral Chris Barrie did on RN this very morning (it should turn up here in due course). He sounded like a good and thoughtful man. What a pity he's retired ...

Never mind, there must be some parrot who can take on the burden of making it sound good and right.

Come on down, Greg Sherdian, parrot without peer, a reptile of splendid lizard proportions, and scribble an adulatory Work or fail, at least Coalition stepping up. (behind the paywall to preserve your sanity).

Yes, never mind if the doofus proposal actually works or fails, all you have to do is step up.

And suddenly it struck like a bolt of lighting. Sheridan, or perhaps Tony Abbott, are seeking to be captain coach of the Australian cricket team:

The sand of the desert is sodden red, -- 
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; -- 
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead, 
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. 
The river of death has brimmed his banks, 
And Australia's far, and Honour a name, 
But the voice of a Sheridan rallies the ranks: 
'Step up! step up! and play the game!'  (apologies to Sir Henry Newbolt, original here)

But how, you ask, do you know we're in the company of a parrot, perhaps driven to a heightened sense of ecstasy by the cherry blossoms now in bloom?

How about this for an opening line?

Tony Abbott has crafted a credible plan to approach what he rightly regards as the national emergency of illegal arrivals by boat to Australia.

If it's not the cherry blossoms, it's certainly the kool aid. And if you want a completely fatuous conclusion, how about this one?

It may or may not work, but it's a useful step forward.

Actually, if it doesn't work, and it shows no signs of working, being merely window-dressing and scrambled eggs shuffling, it's totally bloody useless ...

You know, once upon a time, it was the business of journalists to point out when either side of the aisle was wearing the emperor's clothes, or perhaps a fig leaf, but not in Murdoch la la land ...

Now perhaps you can see why the pond persists with its strategy of Operation turn back the politicians and the lizard Oz commentariat ...

But this left the pond short of something to celebrate, it being Friday and all, and TGIF and all ...

Well a keen eye would have noticed that the reptiles at the lizard Oz have continued to crusade against poor old hapless billionaire buffoon Clive Palmer.

Sheesh what's the man got to do?

He's already building a Titanic replica, and just yesterday came news that he was building the biggest and best dinosaur park in all the whole wide world, with 160 fake dinosaurs and a truly exciting vintage car museum, because, well because dinos and cars go together like a horse and carriage (as you can read in Clive Palmer's dinosaur park approved). Oh the Sunshine Coast is in a state of wild-eyed slavering excitement ...

So what's poor old Hedley Thomas do for a splash and an EXCLUSIVE?

Why he heads back to a press release issued by Prof Clive Palmer back on December 18th last year, and writes it up in How Clive Palmer engineered entry to the ranks of world leaders. (behind the paywall to keep you calm).

The pond didn't think there could be anyone who could match the Prof at tawdry nonsense, but Hedley, your obsessive compulsive slip is showing in your bizarre Clive fixation.

Now Hedley suggests that the Prof might have made some donations to smooth the way to a meaningless title in a meaningless organisation, but surely the bigger point is that if you keep taking the Prof's political aspirations seriously - as opposed to an ongoing set of comedy routines - then others might too.

The Prof has already got form in this area - in no little way thanks to the geese in the NSW branch of the National Trust making him a national living treasure.

What's that you say? Hedley had a nibble at that six days ago, in Refined votes made Clive Palmer a national living treasure? (behind the paywall at the lizard Oz to keep you sane).

Six days ago?

That nonsense was covered and done and dusted back in March 2012 as you can read in Fairfax in National living treasure uproar.

The pond has no time for the billionaire buffoon, but what's more interesting is what this war against the Prof reveals.

When the reptiles at the lizard Oz embark on a crusade, they're relentless. It's a rag that thrives on hate, and when it gets a fixation, there's no end to the pursuit of the fixation.

Is it good journalism? Sometimes, perhaps, but when all we're being told over and over again that Clive Palmer is a billionaire buffoon, it quickly becomes stale and starts to sound like a cracked record ... a cracked record that simply doesn't know how to cope when confronted with a three star general absurdity ...

(Below: how to get the reptiles at the lizard Oz agitated. Flaunt your friendship with their cousins shamelessly in front of them).