Day 17, and the pond moves amongst the sandgropers while groping with the bromancer ...

The pond rarely moves amongst the sandgropers of the west - the tyranny of racist distance or history or whatever Blainey you will - but when it does, it wonders what they drink ...

They're worried about the Xians?

Now they're worried about the Xians?

Is there a creationist in the house?

Never mind, the pond reluctantly has to turn to the recent behaviour of the treacherous turncoat traitor, the bromancer himself ...

Now please, before we start, note the header ...

Surely it doesn't get richer than this. 

"It is widely accepted now that gay couples have children."

Because only last year me and the wall puncher found it hard to accept?

With these observational skills, the pond can't wait until the bromancer gets on to climate science and the CSIRO shake-up.

And of course it's equally wondrous at the way the argument must devolve into a Helen Lovejoy 'won't someone think of the children' sideshow - as if adults without children are somehow a lesser tribe providing an insufficient reason for action.

That's how deep the ponzi scheme of getting the children early runs within the Catholic psyche.

But okay, the pond will accept that Sheridan has undergone a transformation, a heightened understanding ... and it's all thanks to Tony Abbott deciding to hold a plebiscite ...

And if you believe that sort of logic, why the pond has got a holy ghost and a tooth fairy to sell you ...

Of course back in the day, before the dawning, the pair were unreconstructed and grumpy ...

(the rest here).

You know, because it's okay to determine how gays are treated, but bloody outrageous when the upstarts try to make a point about it.

But now the bromancer has seen the light, so let's see how he dances at length on the head of the pin ...

And it's an opportunity for others to fashion as good as life as they might ...

Knowing that they're going to roast in hellfire for all eternity for their filthy, vile perversions ...

Why, even in a moment of clarity, must Sheridan serve it up with the cold dish condescension about "the others."

"You people".

You distant, exotic, alien people, outside the fold of stapled minds ...

Never mind, the fact that Sheridan could take comfort from Joseph being cuckolded by a spirit - sort of a variant on what Barbara Hershey experienced in Sidney J. Furie's creepy The Entity - has made the pond's day ...

Along with the rest of the mumbo jumbo that the bromancer felt the need to lard into the piece in a brave bid to keep himself on side with the rest of the flock ...

The question now is what will happen when the wall-puncher learns that the bromancer has felt the earth move ... will the picture get any clearer?

Or is it still the bloody remote?