Day 45, and the pond goes holy roller with the Bolter and class warfare with the reptiles of Oz ...

Of course they could have run exactly the same front page if Ted Cruz had won ... now there's a win-win scenario ...

Meanwhile, speaking of the delusional, and the desperate, and the indulgence of the reptiles on the front page ...

Well it's only a ten year reich and not a more ambitious one hundred or one thousand year reich, but the notion that all will be well, that China will stay in shape, that the United States won't implode, that there won't be another fiscal meltdown, makes this front page a keeper ... to be trotted out when in due course and in some way or another, the shit hits the fan ...

And the reptiles mangled the reich with a goodly dose of class war ...

Actually bouffant one, if the pond may be so bold, this is what class warfare sounds like ...

If the pond may be so bold and loosely translate the meaning: "Fuck you Jack and Jill and your useless spawn, me and my spawn are doing fucking fine."

(And more toffy Moir here)

Class warfare is much on the reptiles mind of late, which reminded the pond of a reading ...

Somehow it seemed as though the farm had grown richer without making the animals themselves any richer - except, of course, for the pigs and the dogs. Perhaps this was partly because there were so many pigs and so many dogs. It was not that these creatures did not work, after their fashion. There was, as Squealer was never tired of explaining, endless work in the supervision and organisation of the farm. Much of this work was of a kind that the other animals were too ignorant to understand. For example, Squealer told them that the pigs had to expend enormous labours every day upon mysterious things called “newspapers,” “front pages,” “digital editions,” and “clicks per view”. These were large sheets of bytes - some antiquarians still preferred paper to keep the farm free of trees - which had to be closely covered with writing, and as soon as they were so covered, they were burnt in the furnace or used to wrap fish and chips or to fill to overflowing the vast wasteland of the intertubes. This was of the highest importance for the welfare of the farm, Squealer said. 
But still, neither pigs nor dogs produced any food by their own labour; and there were very many of them, and their appetites were always good... (the original here).

Which brings the pond to the sanctimonious, righteous reptile of the day, and what do you know, but the Bolter has gone holy roller and bible thumper ...

Here we go, here we go ...

Yes sir, keep that fist with the "love" scrawled on it in close up, and hide the other one a little further down the railing ...

Envy! So what's funnier - the sight of the Bolter preaching 'accept your lot' or the Bolter suddenly turning the other cheek to Malware?

Hey ho, on we go ...

Oh this is getting hard. Perhaps we can pause for a cartoon, thanks to Pope, and more Pope here.

Phew, that feels better, now back to the sermon and the preacher all in black ...

Astonishing stuff ... right up there with one of the pond's favourite films ...

And if that's not enough holy roller hallelujah baby to last a year, there's even more ...

Being content? A man so full of anger, rage, bitterness and bile is giving a sermon about being content?

And being handsomely paid for the privilege, while throwing in a bit of his standard bilious bigotry about the furriners ...

It can't get any richer than that, but the pond must acknowledge the effort of the reptile editorialist.

This brave scribbler tries to sail the same boat, between agile innovation driven by greed and the desperate desire that the punters be content and allow the reptile masters to get on with the business of looting ... and once more class warfare is trotted out ...

Now it's easy to see how this works.

He's shovelling money down the throats of the well off... how dare you talk of class warfare.

He's telling punters to fund their spawn because it isn't his problem ... how dare you talk of class warfare. Who gives a toss about the renters?

Ah yes, the renters ...

One of my classics was to suggest that "you can always tell the rented house on the street", made towards the end of a very long speech to the Housing Industry Association in 1992. The line, originally written by my then press secretary, Tony Abbott, was moved in and out of the speech by various advisers before being finally reinstated and was only noticed by one journalist at the time. But that was enough. The media bushfire was ignited. I was very soon flat out back-pedalling. (here)

Hoorah, hooray, even then the onion muncher was delivering comedy gold ...

But now it's on with the reptiles and class warfare ...

What to say?

The pond has seen this movie before ...

Uh huh, but isn't it obvious which is the rental home in the street?

Not the pond's problem, nor Malware's ... go fund a home for your spawn if you want them off the street and away from the cockroaches ...

Uh huh.

Well surely the solution's simple.

Go out and keep working until you drop to set up your spawn in an affordable house somewhere west of the black stump.

And if you still can't afford it, just go away, loser ...

And yet ... was it not so long ago that the reptiles were raging and railing at that other populist who strode in and then screwed a bunch of workers, that Titanic dinosaur relic brought up in the Joh years?

Well Rowe about sums up his and the reptiles' philosophical approach, and more Rowe here ...

Yes, always leave them wanting less. You wouldn't want them to be devoured by envy, would you?