In which the pond, thanks to the reptiles, indulges in a Sunday meditation with the poodle...

The pond has decided to spend this meditative Sunday brooding with the maligned lizards of the reptile Oz.

We've already noted their generosity in freeing the bromancer from the paywall, and so it seems only fair to put the words of a paid servant of the public behind the barrier, so that any Australian wanting to find out what their political masters think should pay a tithe to Chairman Rupert.

So it was in medieval days when the church was strong, and so it is today when the kool aid still lingers ...

And then to an agonising decision.

Should the poodle be featured as a statesman in the hallowed halls of power?

Or should the shameless use of children for political, 'humanising' purposes be allowed?

How thoughtful of the reptiles to allow both.

But before we go on to the text of the day, the pond must have a few more cavils and complaints.

How did the reptiles not allow this gem into their sample?

On his first memory of politics 
(I) was watching Adventure Island on the television on 11 November 1975, with my mother ironing behind me, when the show was stopped for the announcement of the dismissal of the Whitlam Government. As an eight-year-old boy I was disappointed that Adventure Island was cut off, but my mother stopped her ironing and shed a tear and I thought, That’s very strange. It was only Adventure Island, after all! As it turned out, they weren’t tears of distress. Mum said, “Everything is going to be all right now because that terrible Mr Hayden and Mr Whitlam will be gone.’’

That explains more about the poodle than the pond ever needed to know ...

And what about this gem?

On when he first decided to become a politician 
In Year 10 [at St Ignatius College], learning about the statesmen of Ancient Rome and Greece and reading The Making of the President, 1960, [a book about Kennedy gifted by cranio-facial surgery pioneer Dr David David] I was sure that public service was what I should do with my life. Sitting in class I made a plan, written in the back page of my Ancient History exercise book. I would be the federal member for Sturt ... when I was 25.

And how about this one?

On Bronwyn Bishop 
The first person I saw in my entire political career in the House of Representatives was Bronwyn Bishop. There were a lot of people who were very unhappy about me replacing my distinguished predecessor Ian Wilson as Member for Sturt. Bronwyn Bishop was one of them. As she glided towards me, impeccably dressed as usual, I thought, “Oh no, it’s Bronwyn. This is not a good start.” But Bronwyn smiled, so I tentatively smiled back and said, “Hello, Bronwyn.’’ She grabbed my forearms, pulled me in close to her, kissed me on both cheeks and said, “We are going to become great friends!" (All here, may be paywall affected).

Never mind, the pond accepts the reptile offer to wail and gnash their teeth, and don sackcloth and ashes for the day for their sins of omission, and on we go with the reading.

It should be remembered that the point of all endurance tests is simply to get to the end. There is no other purpose, no useful information, no insights, just endurance. And with endurance, perhaps there might also come enlightenment:

Oh dear. The pond can already feel a detritus overload coming on, and soon enough will probably start blathering about sins of commission and omission with its own child.

But let us proceed, because surely enlightenment will come if there's enough endurance:

How are you holding up? Is that a sweat of rage, or a cold sweat, or simply the sweat of a good hard slog?

Oh dear, those couple of references to Dawn Fraser, silly old chook, are a bit dated now, unless of course we should join the poodle in telling people that they should go back to where they come from. With a little loose talk, the silly old chook ruined her one great achievement, stealing that flag in Tokyo (the pond doesn't rate the collection of sporting trinkets and tinkling medals that highly). 

But let's plough on:

Uh huh. So the poodle was wrong about John Howard - but you see, if he can't spot a Lazarus, perhaps it helps explain why he's pretty much wrong about everything else.

And so at long last to the end of the journey, but what do we find there?

Ah, all that blather and the parade of cute children stories - up there with LOLcats really - and much humanity on display, and all the wags can do is make cynical jokes ...

Too cruel really, even if a 100k is a lot for a uni degree, and you'd think the poodle would have better things to do - like fucking up the Australian education system - as opposed to dragging his family, his children and his memories into the public eye ... and then publishing the result, and hopefully pocketing a little payment for the pleasure ...

It's the children the pond feels sorry for - no doubt to be haunted in later life the way the poodle sounds haunted and driven - but at least now the pond understands why the reptiles were so discreet. Better to stick it behind the paywall, keep it locked up, and save innocents the pain of stumbling across it ...

Thirty three bucks, Random House wants for the book, which means the pond has saved a good thirty three bucks.

That'll have to do for enlightenment, especially as it's enough for a serving of chicken tandoor from the immortal 100% Halal Faheem Fast Food ...

Please don't tell them to go back to where they come from, because it's likely the pond would starve.

And now for a cleansing Cathy Wilcox cartoon about how 'it's all about me', and more Wilcox here ...