In which the pond is entranced yet again by Moorice's ancient mariner impression ...

Each time the ancient mariner stoppeth the pond, a particular thrill runs down the spine ...by thy glittering eye, wherefore stopp'st thou me, unhand me grey-beard loon, etc etc ...

In the good old days, the world's leading climate scientist would have rushed into print to explain how record events were just part of the natural order, but these days, the glittering eye frequently turns its baleful glare towards Malware, while shedding a tear for the onion muncher, and the pond shivers and quivers with delight ...

Of course it's necessary first to get over the ancient mariner's strange, abnormal fixation - none dare call it manly love - for the onion muncher ...

The google splash - oh wicked American stealer of reptile glory - gets it a little more right - there's also a goodly fear of Comrade Bill ...

It wasn't just the ancient mariner, of course, out and about this morning. Many other reptiles were eager to explain to the caretaker PM just how rocky was his winter road ...

And the Xians were revolting ...

500! By golly that's 200 more than Cory and his pecs need ...

And once again the cooee for coal had rung out across the land ...

And the calm, reasoned, rational debate Malware said the country was capable of - he understands copper and multi-nodal wisdom, he must know the truth - got off to a jolly good start ...

Oh the omens were right for the return of the Ancient Mariner ...

Now before proceeding on, the pond would like to pause a moment to admire the stunning artwork by Lobbecke ...

The pond doesn't have a clue what it means. Is it some kind of cryptic clue, some mystical connection to winter?

Skid row for Malware? As the pond cruises Central Park in winter humming ...

The harbour's misty in the morning love, oh, how I miss December 
The frangipani opens up to kiss the salty air 
I know you're gettin' ready for the office 
I suppose the onion muncher's still there with you, sharing our morning sun 
Winter in America is cold and I just keep growing older 
I wish I could have known enough of Malware to leave Malware enough alone

Sorry, what does this have to do with the ancient mariner's message?

Not much, but such is the ancient mariner's transfixing gaze that the pond's attention is likely to wander down all sorts of strange alley ways ...

Now everybody will have their favourite Moorice line.

Many will love the plea in the penultimate par's opaque plea to drive down wages, and persecute the poor, while calling it a 'mobile society' - code for 'you too can live in a double wide like they do in America' ...

And herein lies the problem. There is no longer a widely accepted narrative that champions a free, more prosperous and socially mobile society. Rather than self-reliance and wealth creation, conventional wisdom favours wealth redistribution and state dependence. With households running on empty, this message has appeal.

And why are they running on empty? Well Moorice can never accumulate enough, and nor can the rest of them ...

But the pond must set this contender aside, because the pond is in to litanies, to a listing of grievances and complaints, of a wailing, and ashes in the reptile mouth, so who could deny this par a prime place in the moaning, whining sun?

...the Human Rights Commission remains firmly in place and section 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act is unchanged. A well-funded ABC continues to act as a dependable propaganda outlet for fashionably left causes. Identity politics flourish and, on occasions, are encouraged. Thought leadership on same-sex marriage has fallen to Labor.

Surely that's not true. Surely Moorice is the thought leader of the ages ... and just as surely, in the comments section, the profound literary references ran wild ...

Exactly!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell 

To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! 

He prayeth well, who loveth well

The onion-munching beast. 

He prayeth best, who loveth best 

His budgie smuggler smalls; 

For the dear God who loveth us, 

He made and loveth loonish calls. 

The Mariner, whose eye is bright, 

Whose beard with age is hoar, 

Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest 

Turned to the onion muncher's door. 

He (or she) went like one that hath been stunned, 

And is of sense forlorn: 

A sadder and a wiser man (or woman), 

(S)he suddenly understood the Gaultian norm. (or some such thing here).

And if that isn't enough art, take a squiz at Rowe, celebrating yet another Malware triumph, with more squizzical Rowe here.