In which the pond enjoys the sweet, succulent taste of an onion on a Saturday ...

Perhaps it's time for the pond to explain its editorial choices.

There are loons, and then there are tryhard loser loons, and the pond does its level best to try to weed out the wannabe dropkicks ...

There is, for example, no way that the pond would ever feature a character like Peter Rogers, and his story that a dog wrote his blog, while presumably also eating his homework.

For that, punters can shuffle off to the ABC here to get gems such as:

The blog also made mention of the 1996 Port Arthur massacre. "The greatest social changes that happen in Australia are founded on total lies and a fabricated incident. Look at Port Arthur," it read.

As soon as the pond read the fatal words, "far north Queensland One Nation candidate", the pond knew that Rogers would never darken the pond's doors ... and his appearance at the top of the page is merely to illustrate the rigour with which the pond exercises its editorial choices ...

You see, it's possible to spend a lifetime following loons into the darkest recesses of their conspiracy theory minds - the pond uses the word 'mind' loosely - but the real pleasure is to watch professional loons go about their business, as in today's reptile digital rag.

Look at this poignant, piquant juxtaposition, separated only - but judiciously - by a story about Airbnb, thanks to a thoughtful, kindly reptile sub wanting to set up an obvious conflict ...but not too obvious puh-lease:

There's blathering Malware, deep in the thickets and fog of junketing pollies rorting like pigs at an Orwellian dinner, attempting to sound statesman and Prime Ministerial and Japan-friendly-like, and there's the onion muncher, saying he's wrong, wrong, wrong ...

The google splash pertinently makes it even more personal than "PM wrong ..."

Yes, that's better, that's to the point: "Turnbull wrong ..."

Wrong, wrong, wrong...

And there's nothing hapless Malware can do about it, as the gadfly (a fly that bites livestock, especially a horsefly, a warble fly, botfly or onion muncher fly) or the sandfly (a colloquial name for any species or genus of flying, biting blood-sucking onion-munching dipteran encountered in sandy areas) - choose the fly you most love - buzzes about, biting at will and quite ruining any Malware déjeuner sur l'herbe avec le PM Japonais ...

Like all the canny flies doing the picnic rounds, the onion munching gadfly seizes on the imminent arrival of the Trumpists as the feeble excuse for yet another round of ostentatious narcissist parading of self, and demonisation and destabilising of the vapid upstart coup leader ...

The actual contents of the onion muncher's scribbling is almost beside the point, but it's best absorbed on full stomach, so troops, freshen up the breath ...

And on we go ...

The pond always fancied itself as top notch in semiotics, a capable reader of signs and meaning. 

Of course the deeper meaning here has nothing to do with the superficial understandings that are presented.

The deeper meaning is "look at moi, look at moi", aren't I a statesman, aren't I an experienced, agile politician ready to cope with all that might go wrong in a Trumpian world ...and isn't he isn't, that dreadful man, that total failure, wrong, wrong, wrong. Sad.

When will people wake up that it's time for a recall ... look how the perfidious upstart, the coup leader, the treacherous betrayer of all that was good and wise in humanity, has abandoned the tax reform and federation reform processes that were well under way under my government. And besides, who else had the foresight, wisdom and agility to bring back knighthoods?

Now to do this sort of meta-analysis requires some energy-generating food, preferably laden with vitamins, so everyone bite hard, bite deep ... fill the mouth with acrid onion ...

Oh yes, so good, so rich and sustaining, and now for the final gobbet ...

It is of course important in this sort of screed never to mention climate change or perhaps a mechanism for pricing carbon. After all, the onion muncher himself has blown hot and cold, like a wind turbine, on whether climate change is happening and involves humanity, and whether there should be a price on carbon.

Some days yes, some days no, some days four seasons in a day ...

The important thing here is to get a couple of decent dog whistles - renewable energy, higher prices, yadda yadda - and blather on, while the meta-text can infiltrate the brain ...

Here I am, remember me, I'm ready to return to another tour or duty, Trump is possibly a menace or possibly not, but whether he succeeds or fails, Trump is likely to make us more exposed, so the sooner we bring me back to the leadership and make me PM, the more we will be doing to protect ourselves, and all the better and so on and so forth ...

After reading this sort of self-serving stuff, the pond likes to imagine itself in the same room as the onion muncher, as he leans back from the key board with a smirk on his face, exuding a self-satisfied air.

Another job done, another parade cleverly disguised as policy insights, coat-tailed on the back of the arrival of the Trumpists and oh yes, the old boy's still got it, the old boy can still deliver the policy onions. How sweet they taste, how sweet they read ... take that Malware, take it and munch on it long and hard ...

Meanwhile, where's poor old Malware and his team?

Well Rowe spotted some of them off attending a crucifixion with the pigs, and there's more pious Rowe here ...