In which the pond mounts a horse with no name to fight the thing with no name ...

(Above: and more of the Papish revolutionary spirit here).

Fellow Australians, comrades if you will, we must fight.

Who must we fight, fearless leader?

We must fight the fearless fight against the thing with no name.

But what is the name of the thing with no name?

Ah, for operational reasons, I cannot disclose the name. But we should make ready to fight the thing with no name, possibly even traversing deserts on a horse with no name in our quest ...

Is the thing with no name the name of the thing named by the Americans, who have offered a handsome reward for the capture or death of this thing with a name? I mean, ten million smackeroos usually guarantees the pond's attention....

That I cannot say, for operational reasons. There are many things with many no names and to name one name would be most problematic.

Can the pond name the thing with no name? It is after all widely known ... there is much mirth in the land and many newspaper reports of the wretched kind, like Defence Minister Kevin Andrews unable to name Islamic State leader. (with forced video)

Why the vile, cardigan-wearing inner Ultimo elite even went further than Fairfax in their header,  Defence Minister Kevin Andrews declines to name Islamic State head Abu Bakr whatever he's called, citing 'operational reasons'.

Sorry, you can only name the thing with no name .... if you want to be disloyal, treasonous and support the enemy, and jeopardise operational matters ... whatever you do, don't tell the troops of the thing with no name. It's much more fun if they think they're hunting for the Snark.

And so on, and the pond was wondering when the prize doofus Andrews would show off the keen, incisive mind of the man who's allegedly supervising the acquisition of a hugely expensive set of submarines ...

And what of the reptiles of lizard Oz when it comes to reporting this sort of Monty Python comedy?

Well at this moment, not a jot or a whisper of Kevin Andrews appears on the front digital page. Stand by for that movie called The Disappearing ...

Meanwhile, can anyone add to Andrews' comedy stylings?

Yes but let's not scare them by mentioning the thing with no name ...

And speaking of disappearing, there's more high comedy in the state v. state cage match, where it seems that the referee has decided to decamp for an unknown location, with unknown consequences, at least if you read Tony Abbott goes missing in action on GST.

Yes, as people and states fight for a share of the shrinking pie, the fearless leader disappears in a funk, and where are the reptiles in this?

Why they're still in the Elvis Costello land of endless pie, and tax breaks and superannuation breaks and all the other goodies of the Howard years.

But there's good news of fresh munificence. Sling the 'gropers a half a billion and all will be well:

Of course it isn't an EXCLUSIVE - there have been a number of reports of Abbott and Hockey wanting to take the easy way out - but it keeps the reptiles happy and feeling important. And please, no idle chatter about a dire budget emergency or the country being broke or big spenders being rewarded for their big-spending ways ...

Meanwhile, the reptiles with the Elvis Costello styling at the Daily Terror think they've hit on a stunning plan:

Billions, and billions, battlers, the Terror tells ya so, and where's the harm?

Oh sure those on low fixed incomes will find getting fresh food on the plate even more onerous and burdensome, but truth to tell, that won't matter. 

You see their current weekly culinary highlight, tins of dog and cat food, already attract the GST ... and it's full of healthy protein for their pensioner coats and crunchy bones for their single parent teeth ...

But enough of hard-hitting policy discussions, because there's a cornucopia of high flying commentariat follies today.

The Devine is in full flight, railing at the many injustices in earth and high heaven:

The Devine is outrage,d outraged the pond tells ya, it's all those feminists indulging in new age feminism, and infantilising universities, and the thought police controlling the campus, and nanny leftists, and a mood of intellectual oppression and the persecution of the innocent.

The pond was grooving along, clucking and murmuring, but suddenly was almost moved to tears as the Devine revived the long forgotten matter of Barry Spurr and the cruel injustice he suffered:

It’s one thing to protest, it’s quite another thing to shut down a lecture. But Sydney University’s craven capitulation to campus totalitarians was even more egregious in the case of poetry professor Barry Spurr. Someone hacked into Spurr’s private email account and leaked private correspondence in which he used politically incorrect slang to describe Muslims, Asians and women. Spurr said the comments were just part of a part of a “whimsical linguistic game” with a friend. But, when published in leftist webzine New Matilda, the private emails were judged racist, sexist, misogynistic and Islamophobic. 

No really? They judged them that way? Why the fiendish cads ...

Surely it was just idle whimsical banter, a jolly jape amongst chums:

Ah the good old Atelier, sadly missed, what a place it was to have a decent degustation, and so cheap too, and  incidentally keep the silly sluts and rabble at a distance, or shove something in their mouths and stitch them up ...

Of course there's more at New Matilda here, all the Mussie and chinky poo and Abo and minx jokes, and naturally the Devine is shocked, shocked the pond tells ya:

 Mobs of campus Trotskyists screamed through megaphones outside Fisher Library that Spurr was “racist filth” and a “vile bigot”. They demanded his resignation, descended on his office and daubed graffiti on the door. He was suspended, banned from campus and forced to resign in December. When I defended Spurr on Radio National recently I was told by David Hetherington, executive director of progressive think tank Per Capita, that the university could not tolerate professors who held improper thoughts: “In position of social and organisational leadership people are not expected to hold discriminatory personal opinions.”

Except of course if you scribble for News Corp where vile abuse is all in a good day's work.

Never mind, what really got to the pond wasn't the abuse. The pond has met many women-hating, migrant-abusing, Abo-loathing people in its time (along with homophobic and TG haters).

After all in Tamworth in the early days, it was a standard polite form of conversation, except when the feral tykes had a go at the Proddies ... and things might turn ugly at Maguires ...

It was the risible, pathetic defence that was offered, that it was a "whimsical linguistic game". That showed the depth of the intellectual dishonesty at play, and no amount of belated Devine defence can wash that stain away ...

And now look, over at the lizard Oz, see there and marvel, as Dame Slap treads a very familiar path:

Now the pond has already marvelled, at great length, and any number of times, at the way the sparrows manage to whirl in the air, turning in unison and farting at the same time.

Yesterday it was the Caterists rabbiting on endlessly about the joys of Peter Walsh.

Today it's Dame Slap's turn to do her sparrow fart in unison, and it's all the same stuff, as the good Dame uses Peter Walsh to beat Dame Slap's pet hates soundly:

"Speak roughly to your little blue collar boy, 
And beat him when he sneezes;
He only does it to annoy, 
Because he knows it teases."
CHORUS (in which the pond and the baby joined): -"Wow! wow! wow!"
While Dame Slap sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that the pond could hardly hear the words: -
"I speak severely to my blue collar boy, 
I beat him when he sneezes; 
For he can thoroughly enjoy 
The pepper when he pleases!" 
CHORUS"Wow! wow! wow!"

But enough of high art, it's on to the never-ending, always-running commentariat Peter Walsh, with obligatory nod to Fergie, show:

Now you might marvel at that hypocrisy, and the Daily Terror suddenly discovering the joy of GST, as Dame Slap patiently explains that consumption taxes hit the poor harder than the rich because the proportion of income the poor spend on clothes, footwear and food is much higher than for those on higher income brackets.

But that's the joy of travelling into Murdoch la la land. Nothing is as it seems ...

But let's not get distracted by Dali, Porky and the dodo, there's more fun to be had:

So is there any final irony?

Well yes, it's the sight of a woman who trained as a lawyer and now gets a handsome stipend to scribble nonsense, worshipping at the feet of the blue collar workers, and the way workers - the long absent lord bless their cotton socks - prefer to sit in their lavish secure bunkers, while the unemployed get screwed ...

There's the brotherhood of man for you, put that in your peace pipe and smoke it, and let's not have any talk of the cynicism abroad in la la chairman Rupert lawyer land ...

And finally, the pond has indeed taken a look at the new season of Silicon Valley, and its high fashion bit coin T-shirt.

But wait, there are many other shows that are worth downloading, provided you have a VPN, and here's some of them, thanks to First Dog. The pond's really looking forward to Carry On Up the Fossil. Though that thing about the nameless thing might also have its thingie charms ...

So reptile, so Oz.

(Below: you'll get the rest of the shows here).