In which Dame Slap shows the ferret how to jelly-wrestle ...

The Terror has slipped another notch down the road to childish irrelevance with the arrival of the ferret ...

Now it's probably not wise for the pond to mock anonymous scribes, what with the real Dorothy Parker whirling 24/7 in her grave, but this is just a humble blog ... and yet the reptiles feel the need to step down into that particular gutter, and never no mind that they tread on the ancient and sacred ghost of the days when there were journalists who were lean and nosy like a ferret ... and knew how to attract attention via shameless attention seeking (the rag also went broke, but that's another story) ...

There you go feckless foolish ferret, that's how real ferrets did it ...

There have been a number of attempts to get things going in a gutter way, by both Fairfaxians and the lizards of Oz ...

 

But they should stop it, before they go blind ...

The most recent ferret folly is to produce angles like this ...

She mentioned piss and wind? Did she say poo and bum and fiddlesticks too? Would that have set the pulse racing?

Never mind, it seems ferrets aren't what they used to be, and the poor old Terrorgraph is even more fucked and irrelevant than usual ...

Once upon a time, while it never availed itself of the hotel's services, if anyone wanted a bit of jelly-wrestling, the pond could recommend the Oxford Taven down the road for a squiz at the seamy side of life ...

Ah what an institution it was, or so they tell the pond. These days if the pond wants to see or recommend a little jelly-wrestling, it just heads off to the lizard Oz, to watch Dame Slap in action.

When not jetting in from her planet to teach school in the land above the Faraway Tree, the Dame is always on hand for a putdown in the Oz ...

She seems to be the referee, or the umpire, or whatever they have for jelly-wrestling - the pond has never studied the rules of the game - but the pond reckons that even as a ref, Dame Slap couldn't resist inserting herself into the action, and slipping in a few sly jabs and pokes in the eye ...

What a ripper opening. There's Dame Slap bemoaning tribalism while sipping the kool aid and scribbling for the biggest bunch of tribalists down under - even bigger, it has to be said, than the Terror team, and that's saying something ...

This is a scribbler who in her day has talked with other tribalists of the UN conspiracy to use climate science as a way to establish world government (better hurry, Xmas is getting closer), and who donned a MAGA cap and slipped out into the NY streets so that she might get a thrill up her spine meeting and greeting other tribalists.

The pond could have stopped right then and there, satiated by the glut of irony overload, a bit like the irony overload that's been happening elsewhere, including the Huff ...

But it's not news to note that there are pots and kettles everywhere, or as Seth Myer suggested, that sexual harassment belongs to left and right as well as Hollywood,  and joked that it's seriously disturbing that the Vice President of the United States can't be trusted to be alone in a room with a woman ... possibly because he might be so overcome with lust, he might be inspired to ravage her ...

Oh there's irony everywhere, but Dame Slap is an irony specialist, and the pond just knew that the next gobbet was going to be just as rich ... and this time it wouldn't just be the PC mob and the progressives who would cop it, but petulant Peta herself ...

Could she be infected with the leftist, progressive mind virus, a seriously debilitating condition which sees one set of tribalists forced to impose a quarantine to prevent the condition spreading amongst the tribe of the pure and the just and the righteous and Julie Bishop?

Marvellous stuff, as everybody competes not to be labelled a feminist, and so can be said to belong to the tribe of the "not feminists".

Even better is the asbestos woman going on record to explain that Kelly O'Dwyer is an idiot inclined to come up with idiotic ideas ... allowing Dame Slap to confirm that she has in fact done many idiotic things ...

It's tough work, sorting out the idiot tribe from the tribe of "not-idiots", and assigning Kelly and petulant Peta and Kelly and others to the idiot tribe, while Dame Slap and the asbestos woman cluster in the tribe of the "not feminist" ...

But to focus on the description and allocation of idiocy is to obscure the most important display of artistic skill by Dame Slap, which is to retrofit all the absurdities on to leftists, progressives and feminists ... as one-eyed tribalists are wont to do.

The art is to smote tribalists mightily while carrying out all the functions and duties of a perfectly performing tribalist, attacking onion munching tribalists and explaining how that tribe can't be distinguished from the wicked progressive tribe ...

We return to the notion of a gangrenous poison infesting the tribe, perhaps at some point requiring some kind of surgery to keep the tribe safe ...

Indeed, indeed, what a potent line about the messy game of tribal politics getting untethered from the search for truth.

What a potent cry for intellectual honesty.

Why at that moment the pond might find itself reading a scribbler who who in her day has talked with other tribalists of the UN conspiracy to use climate science as a way to establish world government (better hurry, Xmas is getting closer), and who donned a MAGA cap and slipped out into the NY streets so that she might get a thrill up her spine meeting and greeting other tribalists...

Never mind, the search for truth will go on, though likely outside the ramblings of the ferret and the lizards of Oz ...

And now for some strange reason the Donald scored a mention in this irony fest, so why not end with a Rowe, with more Rowe here ...