In which the pond, as the easter bunny rises and the chocolate flows like syrah, gets parochial with dog consorter Chris Kenny...

(Above: found at Antony Green's profile of the seat of Newtown here).

Behold, the easter bunny has risen, and rejoice, for chocolate flows like syrah ...

Or should that be, rejoice, for the spawn of the Bolter has taken to the streets and the noise of ignorant armies clashing by night is pleasing to the master's ears?

Yes, the professional defamer loves the freedom of speech to be bigoted:

Of course the Bolter might just as well have noted "no room for tolerance with bigoted rightwing ratbags", but what an unfortunate tone that would have set for the bigoted spawn of the reptiles' chosen one ...

Meanwhile, on another planet, the pond was pleased to read Bob's first out of the gate response to Judith Ireland's The private struggle with public street harassment, which started off with a story about a woman being rescued from the attentions of men in the street by the nick-of-time arrival of her partner.

The pond is grateful to be able to publish it in full:

Public street harassment?? Really!! Is this the best you can do Judith? Another 1st world problem to waste our energy on.

To which the pond joyously responds, fuck you Bob. No really, wholeheartedly, from the bottom of the pond's heart ...

May a couple of men drag you off the street, take you somewhere and fuck you in ways that you find most unpleasant, and then murder you in a gratuitously and unnecessarily violent way, and then we can sit down and have another chat about 1st world problems... via a medium perhaps ...

But where does Bob get his attitudes from?

Well look no further than Miranda the Devine in today's terror ...

The Devine leads off her examination of domestic violence with a routine invocation ...

The domestic violence bandwagon has been taken up with such gusto by the professionally virtuous that it is becoming meaningless. 
The chattering classes have latched on to it as their feminist cause célèbre, with the dangers of knee-jerk reactions from authorities ensuring ­future miscarriages of justice.

Yep, when you've got women doing damage to women as part of their professionally virtuous life slumming it for Chairman Rupert, no wonder the Bobs of the world feel empowered ...

In the usual way of using one crime to lessen another, the Devine explains how men are also bashed, as if the bashing of men somehow excuses or diminishes the bashing of women, or no one cares about the bashing of men, and then wheels in the children, Helen Lovejoy style, and then comes out with this hoppy toad comparison ...

... unlike adult women abusive relationships, the children have no choice ...

Which is to say that women have the choice to leave, be stalked by an abusive partner, be ignored or be unable to be helped by the legal system, and end up brutalised again, and possibly murdered, which is a fine choice any child would envy ...

If you're a woman try on this story of being stalked at news.com.au, the benign side of Chairman Rupert's world, and see if it doesn't evoke a memory, the ABS having prepared statistics that claim some one in five Australian women are stalked in their lifetime. And that's the psychological violence, before we get on to the physical violence ...

But enough of conservative Catholic women sounding like Taliban jihadists when it comes to the rights of women, because the pond is still catching up on its easter treats, and what a pleasure it was to be reminded that the dog lover is still scribbling for the lizard Oz.

Kenny's piece is about the wonders of Newtown and the dangers of greenies, but being local, the pond immediately sensed that Kenny was an Adelaide blow-in without much of a clue (whereas the pond wakes up at night tortured by memories of the aunts on the verandah sniffing at the wisteria):

This inner-city seat takes in the University of Sydney, the Carriageworks contemporary arts centre, Brett Whiteley’s studio turned gallery and the street where Coldplay shot the video clip for A Sky Full of Stars last year. 
Just across Parramatta Road is the ABC’s Ultimo headquarters. 

Well no, stop right there. The dog consorter, in a desperate desire to drag the ABC into the story, commits a grave error in that sentence.

The ABC isn't off Parramatta Road, it's off Broadway - you see, Parramatta Road, in a way not reserved to Sydney (how else to explain Flinders turning into Franklin, Grote into Wakefield and so on and on) mysteriously turns into Broadway long before it reaches the ABC, which sits on Harris street in Ultimo,.

By ab equally mysterious allocation by the NSW Electoral Commission, much of Surry Hills is in the seat of Sydney and the ABC's Ultimo eyrie sits on Harris street, which is bifurcated between the basket weavers of Balmain on one side, and the bears of Sydney of the other, with the cardigan wearers on the side of the bears ...

Now Kenny might find this a poignant divide, but please, no association of the hipsters of Newtown with the lickspittle running dogs of basket weaving Balmain or the bears of downtown Sydney...

There are other signs that Kenny, a well known doofus, is also a non-observant dullard. Now the pond routinely makes fun of the tattooed, toilet bearded hipsters that stroll the streets of Newtown, but this sort of observation is fatuous and stupid:

Locals queue for gelato, wear black, get ink done, hate Howard, love refugees, despise Abbott, admire Tim Flannery and vote Greens. This is where people openly deride “cashed-up bogans” and argue tough border protection measures appease xenophobic masses living in “western Sydney” and elsewhere.

Well no, locals don't wear black. They do that in Melbourne, but in Newtown, black is no match for retro fifties faster pussycat faster fashions, which are blossoming faster than repeated viewings of Mad Men:

There you go, and no, that isn't the pond. The pond is young in spirit only, and also lacks the tatts...

Oh sure, the odd goth in black can still be spotted every so often, but it's very yesterday, with the heart of the goth movement torn out when the undertaker with the splendid period horse-drawn hearse folded and moved out of the area ...

Now we could go on, with this sort of monstrous and meaningless stupidity typical of the dog fucker's understanding:

Newtown voters earn 40 per cent above the national average, indulging post-material concerns from a comfortable material base.

Now hang on, hang on. According to the stats. here (you have to scroll to get them), the median income in the seat is $1653, while the state average is $1316, and you can do the percentage math.

But instead of blathering about the national average, how about we compare humble Newtown to the seat of Baulkham in the north-west of Sydney, which takes in those fine Hillsongy suburbs of Kellyville and Castle Hill, a safe Liberal area where the media income is $2028, against the state average of $1316?

As for the notion that people can only attend to post-material concerns with benefit of materialism, how sad to see, on this easter bunny day above all - oh let the choccie flow like syrah - Kenny embracing the sordid notion of the prosperity gospel that Christ was first of all concerned with everyone making a quick buck and buying a McMansion in Kellyville ...

Did Christ suggest a comfortable material base was necessary before indulging in post-material concerns?

Meanwhile, the dog fondler is so keen to get himself into Newtown that he scribbles this ...

Many talk of Murdoch media conspiracies as they adopt Bob Brown’s “hate media” tag but — in a quaint paradox — I scribble this from NewsCorp’s Surry Hills headquarters, squarely within Newtown’s boundaries.

Well no, actually. Thanks to the NSW electoral commission, Holt street is now on the very fringe of the seat of Newtown, a remote, isolated outpost far removed from hipster central. The natural hipster home for Holt street is the even more hip and gay Surry Hills ...

And the hatred of News Corp doesn't just reside in Newtown. It extends around the world, on a grand, quite cosmic scale ...

In fact, the verging on senility Chairman has created a monster he clearly doesn't know what to do with ...

Like this tweet ...

Sad? It was on Fox that Cook was maligned, as recorded in Fox Business Network apologizes after a commentator called Apple CEO Tim Cook a 'bigot'. 

And while Fox was walking the talk, everybody else was piling in, suggesting that Apple should get out of Saudi Arabia, which is kind of funny when you realise that the United States should now get out of the United States ... what with  the USA adopting sound wahhabist legislation in the south, and Chairman Rupert amongst many others cosying up to the fundamentalist Wahhabists for many a decade.

Not to mention all the other repressive regimes the United States and/or Chairman Rupert have supported and/or continue to support around the world ...

But then stupidity and principle seem closely aligned in the world of the fundie Christian Republican crazies determined to adopt the Taliban agenda when it comes to women and gays ...

Sorry, we've drifted from the dog fornicator and his wondrous insights, including this one:

Ours is a middle-class, egalitarian, suburban and aspirational nation where compulsory voting, a largely benign history and benevolent circumstances muster politics to the centre.


Is this a confession, an acknowledgment that the Murdochians, Kenny and the Bolter are actually on the fringes, and that while everyone musters to the centre, they stay on the rabid extreme right?

Sorry, it's an important part of the Kenny delusion that somehow he imagines he's in the centre, and that others are on the fringe:


Labor leaders and strategists who stand on Newtown’s King Street — watching Chris Martin pass by followed by a bass drum and a film crew — and wonder how to reclaim this turf from the Greens need to snap out of it. 
Many Labor staff and their media friends live in these areas and need to open their eyes — Toto, I have a feeling Newtown is not mainstream any more.

And there you have it, because Kenny and the reptiles are mainstream, but locals voting on local issues - don't under-estimate the way the attempt to destroy the suburb with a motorway and other local issues affected voting - are "different" and "the other", to be mocked and maligned for their "post-material concerns".

Hand Kenny a rock so he can get into the business of stoning Jesus ...

In the same way that the prophet tore into the money lenders in the temple, it seems those who voted to take a dim view on CSG are outside the mainstream, alienated outsiders who must be spurned by those eager to tear up and degut the countryside to make a quick buck so they can afford to buy a McMansion ... and perhaps then indulge in post-material concerns ...

Now let's cut to the chase, and see what advice Kenny has for zinger Bill ...

To be on the right side of this struggle, Shorten should look at Newtown, then turn his back on it.

What a stupid man.

What's the worst of it? Well somehow Kenny and others are determined to keep associating Newtown with the cliche that is Coldplay, long after that band's best years are behind it, and the band took to King street in a desperate attempt to revitalise its image. A dance track that was big in Wallonia (go on Greg Hunt it here).

Now the pond has nothing against Wallonia and its companion fellow-travelling, Coldplay-loving countries, but it's typical of the Murdochian hacks that they'd seize on an image from the music video to illustrate Kenny's piece:

Uh huh. Now before the pond presents the rest of Kenny, see if you can recognise some of the same smug condescension and hysteria about the state of the village as might be found in this sort of publication bemoaning gentrification ...

Oh yes, the evils of gentrification.

Take it away, Mr Kenny, join with the anarchists in bemoaning the gentrification of the suburb:

Uh. No doubt he scribbles with a quill, and then he uses an app to convert it into typeface. So greenie ... now speak to us about the fringe as if the rabid right wing isn't a fringe ...

And then right at the end of the read, the pond began to wonder: just who is that Toto whereof the dog lover speaks?

Is it Toto, lost in the African wilds of Newtown?

Or is it Tonto, faithful guide to Kenny, lost in the wilds of Newtown?

Ah indeed, Toto, what is it all about? Can you tell us? Is it heaps of wampum? You know the wampum everyone in reptile la la land says we all must have, but as soon as you get wampum, why then you're just a gentrifier ruining the landscape ...

Is that what's called get you coming and going Toto?

Meanwhile, see if you can spot the greenies in these photos, lurking like the spores of the black plague that could once might have been found beneath the pond's home ...