In which the pond catches up with the very latest in advanced climate scientist thinking thanks to the Bolter...

The pond has been starved of good climate science for weeks, months ... oh Moorice, Moorice, what a heartbreaker you are ...

But luckily the Bolter continues on in top form, so we just had to do a dinnertime delight...

No doubt there are some doubters out there, who wondered how the Bolter arrived at the the news that "sceptics now outnumber warmists", but before the doubters try to blind the pond and the Bolter with science, it's simple.

The Bolter did a survey of News Corp journalists and commentators, and writers for The Spectator and Quadrant, and for good measure, took in the views of the staff of the IPA and Lord Monckton.

And there you go, QED and another scientific insight added to the world. No wonder the Bolter felt the need to contrast this rigorous methodology with the devious tricksters fiddling with the figures ...

Naturally the pond just had to read on ...

What's this? One of the world's foremost climate scientists locked away, unable to provide balance and reassurance to the masses? Surely this should be free to google ...

Yes, things are in a sorry state, especially when the Bolter himself slavishly copies down the thoughts of others and flings them together and calls it a blog, providing inspiration for the pond and bloggers everywhere ...

Now the pond knows that there are some wretches out there who've been taken in by the UN world government conspiracy, dressed up as faux climate science ...

In the usual way, the Fairfaxians were at it again today, with that dreadful Peter Hannam scribbling Polar heatwaves have ice in retreat at both ends of the planet (forced video), and quoting tweets ...

Now there's a lot more by way of  meaningless graphics here, but it's time to get down and dirty with some real science, flung together by the Bolter, who observes all that's happening in the world from his Melbourne eerie ...

Look at that, water, water everywhere, and every drop to drink ...

Damn you Climate Institute with your fake statistics and ruinous data ...

The rest of that survey is at the ABC here, but that's exactly the sort of place where you'd expect to find this sort of alarmist nonsense,...

Naturally the Bolter did his own analysis of the nonsense, and came up with the statistical truth ...

Now the important thing about any decent statistician is to ignore any suggestions or calculations contrary to the true believer's thesis, and with that matter settled, we can move on to other matters ...

Indeed, indeed. And exactly the same thing is going on this very day at the gullible Fairfaxian rags ...

publishing this sort of tosh, when they might be showing desal ruins ...

Anyone can put a fancy pants bit of red on a map - the British did it for centuries. 

What we need is a snap of beautiful, flowing, bounteous water ...please, HUNsters, do your thing ...

Oh the rogues, the charlatans, the wanton betrayers of truth ... look at how they keep spinning their web of lies and deceit ...

Now there might be some silly people who head off to read the detailed reports on the state of the climate 2016, but as always the pond will leave the final word to the world's greatest climate scientist, a title hard won through years of hands-on field experience in Melbourne which has led to first hand study of the two poles, glaciers and any number of other observations ...

Indeed, indeed, and the Bolter is well placed to spot a con ... the pond always believed in the old saw of getting a poacher to be game keeper, and a con artist to spot a con ...

But before we go, can we leave you with a last image of bounteous waters, which is about as meaningful as a shot of endless desert, but which in its own way, summarises the Bolter's understanding of the scientific method ...

Of course they won't say they're sorry. Saying sorry is only the sort of thing the Bolter routinely says when he gets caught out in an error, which fortunately never happens because he's never, ever, ever wrong.

He's always right, and that's why the pond relies on him for its climate science ...the moment anyone admits to doubts, uncertainties, the need for clarification or more data, the pond realises its in the company of fraudulent fools without a centime of sense or understanding.

Absolute certainty that everything is for the best in the best of worlds is the way forward ... so let us continue on our merry way while we can ...

In which the Oreo makes for a magical case study in paranoia in a Monday surprise ...

The pond has every hope that its readers have been trained, Pavlov's dog style, to salivate at the sound of a bell or the sight of an Oreo ...

Dear sweet long absent lord, that looks so ... American ...

And the Oreo looks so ... Oreo. And whenever the pond is surprised by a Monday Oreo delight, the bell rings loudly ...

Supranational rule, UN, black helicopters, quick, don the tin foil hat, open borders, stoke xenophobia, world edging towards a precipice, hysteria, fear, loathing, Muslims, internationalism, eek, shriek, quick, hide under the bed, it's never been this way before ...

And that's just the splashes. Already the pond was ducking for cover ...

Yes the Ruskis have been learning to duck and cover in recent times - LA Times here,  and elsewhere - but luckily, the Donald will do a deal with Vlad the impaler, South Korea will nuke North Korea, and all will be well, and we can keep on reading the Oreo in peace ...or pieces ...

Pshaw, that's not a scare ... this is a scare ...

         

  

Phew, that's better, a good genuine 1950s red under the bed Joe McCarthy scare.

But it's remarkable how the barking mad paranoid mind always works its magic.

The Oreo, in her opening gambit, showed exactly how its done. There's the talk of a "scholarly account", and then soon enough you're off into talk of supranational elitism, the sound of black helicopters, persecuted free thinkers, much mumbo jumbo, and then in tandem, along comes Wikileaks exposing the Jews for causing all the trouble ...

Damn you Jews, damn you international bankers, the pond hasn't got the time to go back and assemble a decent array of 1930s illustrations for its celebration of that era of paranoia, fear and loathing ...

Instead we must press on with the current, up to date, paranoid fear and loathing of the Oreo ... who imagines that what she is writing isn't xenophobia, or by decrying others for mentioning thought crimes, this will somehow how her allow to use her Monopoly 'get out of xenophobic jail free' card ...

Yes, it's full-on barking mad irrational stuff, and the way it works is to blather on about "the activist press" and "shameless propagandists for PC ideology" and all the rest, and without the slightest hint of irony - surrealism demands no shame - while juxtaposing talk of shocking violence up against talk of wicked demonising campaigns ...

But then the average Satanist thinks demonising others is all in a day's work ...

If the Oreo didn't exist, the pond would have to invent her. 

This sort of sociopathy is worthy of an episode of Huff, a television series that was a blip on the Showtime radar, but which featured a shrink with weird clients suffering all sorts of LA disorders ...

Oh the pond can recognise that condition.

And so to the final gobbet of Oreo ...

Rabid. Pure and unadulterated rabidity, and the pond is delighted to present this clinical case study for anyone interested in pursuing a career in this area ... and look, we haven't mentioned Andrew Robb as one of the most shameless members of the supranational elites currently doing the rounds ...

Now usually the pond would offer an Oreo biscuit to anyone who made it to the end, but this time the impeccable Rowe - always available here - has presented another admirable case study of paranoia in action ...

For some strange reason, he entitled the piece "Door Wedge" ... and that's enough of a treat for the pond ...

In which the pond spends its Monday with the major Mitchell's fantastic Order of Lenin plumage ...

First the pond must issue a genuine, deeply felt apology ...

Time and space at the pond is simply not up to the job of keeping up with the commentariat ...and besides, there was the unnerving sense on the weekend of being caught in a time warp ...

Yes, it's a couple of lazybones bludgers scribbling about wicked bludgers for the Terror ... an art from the reptiles have perfected over the generations.

What to say, except by way of a cartoon?

Indeed, indeed, and when the pond read Peta and the fat owl at the car wash this weekend - give up newspapers and you can afford the indulgence - it was reminded why it never bothered paying for papers designed merely to outrage ...

But the pond can't tarry and indulge in welfare bashing - surely a simple solution to the fruit-picking problem would be to get Peta and Akker Dakker out in the field to show us all how it's done - because today is major Mitchell day and the bird's plumage is looking grand ...

Now it just so happens that the major Mitchell is one of the world's great reporters and even greater editors.

Lesser types than the pond would hesitate to call the major Mitchell Napoleonic, but he cuts a grand, majestic figure ...

For a few latecomers, there might be some wonder why the pond is in the habit of awarding the major Mitchell an Order of Lenin each week for his tremendous columns. This isn't some obscure little tin-pot award, it's serious stuff ...

And the major Mitchell, being such a tremendous reporter and editor, really nailed the treasonous treacherous traitor who donned the gong ...

You can read the judgement here on his fine work, but for those too lazy to click, please allow the pond to indulge ...

Now this canard kept popping up thereafter - witness Jeff Sparrow trying to whack the mole in Crikey in December 2008 here ...

As Tim Lambert notes at Deltoid, back in 1996, Oz editor Chris Mitchell, then at the Courier-Mail, scooped the world with revelations that Manning Clark had received an Order of Lenin from the Soviet Union, a story the paper adorned with a digitally altered photo of a sneering Clark got up in a Russian peasant smock. 
 “Clark was indeed a Communist,” the Courier-Mail explained. “No, more than that, he was, until today, an undiscovered member of the Communist world’s elite, a man who would come to be covertly honoured with the highest award the Soviet Union had to bestow, the Order of Lenin.”

If you follow that link, and then follow another, you'll get this comical note from Paul Norton:

What to make of the persistence of Kelly and Mitchell? Apart from stubbornness and stiff-necked pride, perhaps there is also an element of Australian anti-communism's uneasy awareness of its own essential triviality in the great struggle against Soviet totalitarianism, and that its main contribution was not to contribute anything of substance to the aid of the plucky Sakharovs, Walesas, Havels and Co., but to provide aid and comfort for anti-communist anti-democrats closer to home, such as Bjelke-Petersen in Queensland, Suharto in Indonesia and occupied East Timor, the apartheid regime in South Africa, and anti-feminists, anti-unionists, anti-anti-racists and authoritarian obscurantists of all stripes throughout Australia. Perhaps the escalation of a Culture War adversary such as Clark into a "secret member of the communist world's elite" was and is a kack-handed way for the Australian Right to stake a claim that its own role in the Cold War amounted to something more meaningful than throwing cream puffs at the Lubyanka prison.

Frankly, the pond could spend all day admiring the folly, which always reminds the pond of Mr Dick and his fixation on King Charles' head, which keeps intruding into Mr Dick's memorial:

"Did he say anything to you about Manning Clark's Order of Lenin, child?" 
"Yes, aunt." "Ah!" said my aunt, rubbing her nose as if she were a little vexed. 
"That's his allegorical way of expressing it. He connects his illness with great disturbance and agitation, naturally, and that's the figure, or the simile, or whatever it's called, which he chooses to use."

And so on, but around this point, the pond realised it hadn't even run the first bit of the Order of Lenin hunter's magnificent Monday column urging good, solid reporting on all...

Can the pond ignore the result of that appeal for the moment, and turn to the scribble, thought at least now the piece can be refracted through an awareness of the major Mitchell's own wondrous Order of Lenin example ...

Indeed, indeed, let's just forget the enormous stupidity of someone thinking a $22 saving on avocados will see them right on the path to a $1.5 million mortgage.

What's needed right now is a little screed along the lines of "fuck you gen Y trendy hipster Jacks, I'm alright."

Yes, everybody loves the bright plumage of the major Mitchell ... 

Now let's sock it to those ne'er do well hipsters, who likely as not are bludgers who refuse to go fruit-picking and so earn the deposit for their $2 million city home, it being well-known that fruit pickers live a life of inner-city avocados on toast indulgence ...

So there you go. The crimes of the daughter - daring to publish a book not in keeping with the reptile world view - are visited on the father, and somehow Gleeson is responsible for what another person said at a book launch.

Because that's how it goes with thought crimes in the world of the major Mitchell ...

And there's your Mr Dick in perfect conflating, paranoid, breathtaking action ...

The pond feels so guilty at promoting this sort of nonsense that the least it can do is provide a plug for the book ...

Oh and as promised, about that appeal ...

It will report fully on its findings?

If you google, you'll see the Currish Snail still peddling lies, innuendoes, smears and sinister implications, without a shred of hard evidence ...

This sort of idle crap, smearing all the toilet bowl bearded hipsters of inner Sydney as nascent Leninists ...

That piece of prime horseshit, in the absence of any actual hard evidence, concluded on this mysterious note ...

Moot? Fucking moot? Courageous, you snivelling lickspittle? Might have scooped? With what?

Too many unanswered questions, you shameless hack?

The real unanswered question, Des Houghton, is why you keep on peddling this sort of horseshit without any actual hard evidence ... of the kind that might be obtained by scoring a result in the Soviet archives (except they couldn't find any).

Why do you keep pandering to the major Mitchell's kite-flying?

And is it any wonder that the pond is unnerved by the resemblance of the major Mitchell to the kite-flying, Charles the First head obsessed Mr. Dick?