Day 57 of MUC and day 10 of MUC, and there's not enough grants to power the wind turbines, and there's certainly not enough fear to get the bromancer spinning ...

(Above: The Canberra Times, 10th June 1967)

First an apology.

The pond's main beat is the reptiles of Oz, with an occasional foray into the lesser Murdochian tabloids.

This leads to a narrowness, a scribbling about the Caterists with their paws stuck out for their next hit of cash in the paw, when, as correspondents rightly point out, the shrieks of outrage and the howls of pain from other bludgers in search of a crossing of the palm are something to see ...

And so the pond failed to point out Keith Windschuttle's sobbing in Australia Council's Revenge ... 

...since its founding in 1956, Quadrant has consistently defended high culture, freedom of speech, liberal democracy and the Western Judeo-Christian tradition.

High culture. Who is that fancy pants? Who is that damned snob? Not some member of the chattering 'leets that drive the suburbs into the ground?

And let's not forget the consistent defence of the right to receive CIA funding, as another correspondent noted. Oh and grants, grants, grants, and never you mind that, thanks to gorgeous George, many have been stiffed of their grants ...

Well there's a little right wing magazine at the counter of the grants shop
He's been waiting down there, waiting half the day
They never ever see him from the top, not like the leftie magazines
He gets pushed around, knocked to the ground
He gets to his feet and he says
What about me, it isn't fair
I've had enough, now I want my share of grants
Can't you see I wanna publish stories abusing people for taking grants
The filthy bludgers, the damned sundowners,
But you just take away the grants 
and stop me giving you these stories of grant abuse
How is that fair?

Or some such Caterist rag. But then the pond misses out on so much by concentrating on the reptiles of Oz...

What about the bizarre sight of David Lipson hitting the road with Josh Frydenberg and singing a little ditty while at the wheel?

Who thought that was a good idea? A story that both demeans the politician and makes the reporter seem like a lickspittle fellow traveller?

We take you on a front seat view of the election campaign in our first 'Poll Position'?

No, you took the pond on a ride to nausea and despair ... and now you're promising more of them?

The pond blames GoPro which it thought wonderful when first sighted at a trade fair. Now they have cameras stuck up the noses of politicians and reporters and we're supposed to admire the nasal hair, or the tummy fluff, or the ear wax, or the delightful ditties sung by two ...

It's therefore something of a come-down for the pond to have to turn to the bromancer, beating the ominous drums of war ...

Now "barking properly" is reptile code for 'generating fear,' a proven speciality and special delight of the reptiles of Oz ...

Happily the plea for proper barking came at just the right time for Peter Hartcher to show how he can deliver bulk anxiety and fear for the Fairfaxians ...

It was a fine example of hand-wringing and worrying, and there was more here, with forced video ...

But the bromancer wasn't interested in hand-wringing of the 'what if' kind.

He wanted nameless fears and amorphous speculations. You know, beware the undertoad, and all that stuff, and more, much more of the same old, same old ... the blustering and bullying from the days of the onion-muncher ...

That'd be the core strength of fear-mongering, hysteria-generation, wall-punching and onion-munching ...

Now the pond proposes that watching the bromancer in action, laying out all his neuroses, all his yearnings for the signature of the Abbott, is a more subtle pleasure than listening to the groaning and the wailing of that wind turbine Windschuttle ... or the sighing of a Hartcher ...

Forget all this talk of teh Donald. We can still build the ships, we can put up that wall around Australia, build the wall, build the wall ... and remember, a boondoggle is only a boondoggle if someone celebrates the pork barreling ...

What's the point of doing the doggle if you hide it in the dark?

Yes, it's passing strange that there's not enough fear in the land.

Please, start quivering and wobbling like a jelly having a bromancer anxiety attack ...

And if in doubt, punch fire alarm and hope the onion muncher arrives quickly ... because it worked out so well last time around ...

Well that's enough of the subtle hints by the bromancer of the need to shout fear and panic from the rooftops ...

... but the pond does concede there are other passing pleasures ... for example, this story, in full with links here ...

Talk about passing strange ... It matters what the people of Indi say?

But didn't the good people of Indi already have their say once?

Well the pond is ready to mourn her passing yet again, hollow immitation of genuine grief that it might be ...