In which the pond puts on a hard hit for a visit to the bromancer and Dame Slap ...

The pond's life is being utterly ruined by the comedy stylings emanating from the United States ...so many riches, so little time ...and yet so mysterious and deeply inexplicable ...

How did a family of gangsters score the keys? Why does the cheer squad keep cheering?

Luckily the lizards of Oz have a dynamic expert on hand to guide the pond to a deeper understanding ... the bromancer ...

Now to follow the bromancer involves considerable sacrifice. The pond will never know what Kev said when he stamped his foot this day ...

Oh dear, perhaps he should talk to the government currently in power... or what about little Johnny?

Oh wait that doesn't compute ... it must be comrade Bill's fault.

And maybe the pond's not missing so much when gives up on the black-capped gnatcatcher to feed its abiding joy in the bromancer ...

Now curiously, thanks to the logarithms destroying the pond's life, that story came with an ironic juxtaposition on google ...

The pond knew immediately what it had to do.

Who could forget Dame Slap taking to the street to celebrate the elevation of the Donald; how would it compare to the glories that have unfolded over the past six months and reached something of a fever pitch in the past few weeks, with lying lawyers and lying Donald rampant; and what would the bromancer say about it all?

It was time to get out the patented Burroughs' cut and paste scissors  ...

This is a classic bromancer opening gambit. Deplore the Donald, worry about entropy, and bare-knuckle brutality, and then issue a clarion call to get behind the bone-headed knucklehead ...

How poignant a contrast it makes to the glory days of Dame Slap out on the street for the Donald ...

Does Dame Slap ever return to her earlier scribbles like a Tamworth dog after a feast of grass heading off to vomit?

Never mind, here we come to the nub of the arguments, and the bromancer, despite the disadvantages of the current Trumpian situation, does his best to find some hope in the bigly mess ... though it seems like something of a hugely task ...

Hmm, that seems to be on a downward spiral to gloom, and navel and fluff-gazing introspection.

What we need for a lift is a happy Rowe cartoon, and a burst of Dame Slap ...

Oh dear, a faux cartoon, peddling fake news ...

Dame Slap is not going to wear any of that, but she will keep wearing her cap ...

By golly, there's nothing like reading Dame Slap predicting the future ...just like there's nothing quite like a Rowe portrait of her hero ...

But now perforce the pond must reach the 'final words' stage of proceedings. 

It will be recalled that the bromancer started off determined to explain to us how important the US alliance was, and how we must swing in behind the Trumpists, or face a brutal world ...

Hmm, that didn't work out too well, with everyone left to wonder and ponder and worry and grow old and grey and try to solve perplexing conundrums ...

Luckily, the pond knows the way a decent three act structure works, with a final act sending the audience tumbling out into the street, smiling and laughing with glee at the up ending ...

Come on down Dame Slap, give us the lift we all urgently need ...

Does Dame Slap ever return to her scribbling like a Tamworth dog to its vomit, even as it bakes in the sunshine of a noonday Donald sun?

Who knows, because it's time for a last Rowe cartoon, though as always, there's much more Rowe here ...

And so to end with a patriotic flourish.

Those who, like the pond, last night were sitting down on the couch watching Morning Joe go on an epic rant about Trumpian lying - while remembering how Morning Joe had at one time fawned all over the Donald in a very Dame Slap way - would have been startled by the sight of Haim, and even worse, the sisters had kind words for some of Morning Joe's truly terrible music (a bit like watching Colbert trying to sing).

But the pond doesn't hold grudges, and this triple j Like A Version has the precise lyrics needed to deal with the Trumpian Murdochian collusion ...

Okay, you've got a car, a cock, small hands, weird orange hair, and a sun tan to match? That don't impress the pond much ... and nor did Shania Twain until her song's relevance to, and political commentary on the Donald became clear ...