Bah, Costello ...

(Above: back in the old days, Geoff Pryor having some fun, though these days, it's not a foreign-owned beer, it's the Emirates Melbourne cup, which makes it as Melbourne as Toorak. Sic bloody transit gloria)


It goes without saying that the pond is dedicated to the weird.

Naturally this means the thoughts of Peter Costello, purchased by the Murdochians at vast expense, snatched away from the Fairfaxians to help bolster the opinion pages and save the empire from digital depredation.

And Costello delivers an epic bout of logic in Cup treat is no fake trick, such that the pond can guarantee it will delight children of all ages ...

Now follow this if you will, and if you can.

Halloween is a terrible American idea, which involves confectionery, and it can't be foisted on people.

Easter is a terrible chocolate-driven idea, and what with Halloween, it's helping turn young people in to chocolate-guzzling zombies.

Unlike the delights of cracker night, when in the name of Empire, you could blow off a finger or a thumb, or perhaps put out an eye - both eyes if you were skilled or lucky - or roll around in the bonfire all night, with only a few burns and permanent scars to show off in the morning ...

Now it seems Costello was recently bedevilled and tortured by children extorting lollies. They were all over the place:

A few nights ago there were all sorts of witches and ghouls and zombies walking the streets of our neighbourhood ringing doorbells and trying to extort lollies from the local residents.

Shocking.

Yep, you can't make or unmake popular celebrations. Except of course you can ban cracker night, and drive it underground, so that only the truly eccentric can indulge in it, or remember it.

And you can't confect an event like Halloween candy night extortion, and import foreign US-inspired mumbo jumbo.

Except, except, in Costello's street, it sounds like it was a raging success, and the confectioners and the children have won.

On the other hand, this never happened, because there's no way evil manufacturers will be able to turn children on to pumpkins and lolly extortion:

So commercial interests are willing to team up with young children to put Halloween on to the Australian calendar? I don't think it will trouble the national consciousness - not in the way our most sacred day, Anzac Day, does. It is not a patch on the frenzy and excitement of grand final day. It will never match our obsession with the horse race that will be run at 3pm today.

Yep, it happened, but it will never happen, and it certainly will never happen in the same way that we can celebrate either (a) an epic defeat or (b) epic war-mongering (tick according to how you feel about joining another war venture soon), or thugby leaguers and aerial ping pongers beating the manly shit out of each other ...

Or a horse race designed quintessentially for gambling ...

Costello goes all misty eyed, tears forming ready to trickle down the cheek.

You can't manufacture sentiment. Not the way you can make lollies. Our deepest rituals and observances strike a chord because they connect deeply with the way we see ourselves and those around us. They grow with shared experiences.

A bloody horse race. Up there with Anzac Day and grand finals, because you know, racing horses is just like heading out into the killing fields ...

Naturally Costello also takes a swipe at Earth Hour, and who can argue with that, but what's a delight is the way he presents a bloody horse race as a triumph of the popular consciousness, while delivering this little aside ...

Today the 153rd Melbourne Cup will be run. There are powerful commercial interests that promote it...

You don't say. And then there's Peter Costello doing his bit for the newspapers that still cater to the horse-racing crowd, oh poop and joy tabloid bliss ...

What's even more remarkable is the self-loathing that Costello parades as part of the puffery, as he ravages royalty and political leaders and captains of industry for daring to turn up to a people's event:

The race was not created by political leaders and it grew without them. Like all the great days of the Australian calendar it was built from the bottom up by genuine public support. The people, not the political class, created it.

Uh huh. Maybe Victorians should demand the return of the $1.2 million the State Government and City West Water tipped into the $1.8 million spent on water bores at Flemington, and that's just the one of the boondoggles. But do go on:

Which should stand as a lesson. Public opinion will decide the days of great national celebration. If people prefer to celebrate a horse race rather than observe Earth Hour, there is not much that crusading activists can do about it. Confectionery can be manufactured; public opinion is much harder to confect.

The pond had an immediate urge to hand a child a bag of lollies, and now bitterly regrets heading off to the symphony instead of tending to Halloween duties. Next year the pond promises to dole out sweets and rot teeth all night ...

If crusading children want their choccie fix, who is the pond to stand in their way? And who is Costello to deem it unworthy? When he thinks a bloody horse race is up there with dying in a war zone.

If on Halloween children want to go American, and irritate and alarm Xians with talk of witches and ghouls (in the way that they turn Easter into a choccie fest and Santa Claus into happy holidays and materialist stockings) who can argue? Hardly Normal needs all the consumerist help it can get.

But wait, it's already happened. Halloween is on the march, Costello has been tortured by lolly hunters, and Easter and Santa Claus are done deals...

Okay. So here's the next trick.

Moments before the race begins, make sure you're out in the streets.

You'll see the world going on, perhaps a tad quieter, but not by much, as people drive around the streets, hunt through the shops, and otherwise enjoy life, and pay not the slightest heed to the crazed mugs who celebrate a bloody horse race as a key to the national character, up there with Anzac Day ...

Now buy yourself some lollies and munch on them, instead of pissing your money against the wall on a horse race. You'll save enough to pay for the dentist ...

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!'' cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew..." 
"Bah!'' said Scrooge, "Humbug!'' 
"Christmas a humbug, uncle!'' said Scrooge's nephew. "You don't mean that, I am sure…'' 
 Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, "Bah!'' again; and followed it up with "Humbug".

Henceforth, instead of "Bah humbug", for the pond "Bah, Costello" will do ...

And no, the pond doesn't have a tip for the cup. Talk to Petie boy swilling on the egalitarian non-elitist full alcohol champagne while deploring the lolly culture...

(Below: Leunig captures life in Toorak and South Yarra. Or is it another day in the life of the pond. See you at the incinerator)