Greetings from electronic graffiti land ...

(Above: some samples of electronic graffiti).

The pond is furious, alienated, disturbed, unhappy, melancholy ...

This year there was a simple plan. Drop in occasionally on the merry mirth-making of the Abbott government, laugh a little at conservative commentators, mention the occasional actual issue like climate science, and celebrate the ongoing presence of Tony the Rabbit, fearless leader and remorseless clod hopper.

Instead what happens?

Cruel stories about the impending demise of the hapless Abbott.

Oh fickle pundits. What of the pond? Whither its future? What of the cartoonists? What will they do? Bill "zinger" Shorten is remorselessly dull. Isn't the ruination of the Australian health and higher education system - and perhaps the planet thanks to climate change - a small price to pay for the daily sending in of the clowns to perform pratfalls and slapstick gags of the first water?

Even worse, what's the point of the pond trying to say something about this political Punch when there are all sorts of conservative Judys lining up to give the doofus a sharp knock on the noggin?

Is the pond just going to become a reprint machine, recycling petty abuse like the Oz editorialist, who seems to have forgotten to take the daily dose of the kool aid:

Tone deaf, high handed? They've only just realised?

And shame on shame, there was the chief worshipper in the temple, the forelock tugger supreme, the class abaser of the class, forsaking and foreswearing his idol:

But it didn't end there. The reptiles were in a kind of collective uproar, a raging of bison and buffalo:

Perhaps even worse was the way that the artless Abbott had denigrated social media.

You see, many of the reptiles are addicted to this sordid, secret, furtive, wicked vice, and they weren't happy.

Yes, the wretches had been indulging in a fine flurry of tweets and twitterings and the re-tweeting of twittish tweets:

Say what?

Et tu Chris Kenny?

Of course Kenny had to spend an equal amount of time berating knobs and lefties for agreeing with him, but who can stand in the way of a man who would have been in court every second day with Charlie Hebdo trying to score some cheap defamation dollars ...?

Anyway, by this time, the pond had given up. Everybody was doing it:

They all seemed to congregate under the hashtag joke knighthood.

And then there were the cartoonists.

What's that you say?

Today there are serious hypocrisies to be considered, as exemplified in Cathy Wilcox's cartoon?

What's that you say?

Today the CSIRO released a report containing news in relation to climate science?

The first update since 2007?

Noted in Fairfax here, but just a drop in a warming ocean up against the flood of reports about antsy Abbott's knightmare.

Oh sure you can head off to the CSIRO here to get updates, or you can head off to BOM here.

But what would be the point?

There's a climate denialist in charge of the government and the best he can do is hand out gongs to the likes of Phil the Greek, as rara an avis  example of distinguished Australianus as might be found, while that prime futtock Greg Hunt goes about hunting for walri and facts on Wikipedia.

Who knows what's happening in Queensland? Who cares? Just google it.

After all, we're all entranced by the doofus.

Ah well, you know where to find the cartoonists. At least they're still having fun, while the pond is reduced to being a recycling bin for angry, outraged members of the commentariat, as weird a turning as a flock of starlings trying out for a role in The Shining.

David Rowe is here, and the Fairfax mob are all here.

What's left, but to join in? Recycle the jokes, add to the electronic graffiti ...