In which the pond does its best to console Moorice, the world's greatest climate scientist and stout-hearted representative of the lumpenproletariat...

Oh dear, there was the wicked ABC cardigan wearers talking of extreme weather events again - it seems there was a little hail in Melbourne and now Sydney is about to burn ... and Fairfax were at it too ...

Yet over in reptile land, valiant Lloydie was briefly top of the page, ma ... top of the page ...

Actually a new study suggests that anyone wanting to create dissembling confusion should send their study to Lloydie, provided that the study allows good old studious Lloydie to expand his cloud of doubt, uncertainty and fear about climate science ...

But mention climate science, and there's always relief at hand ... because today by the sheerest good luck at the lizard Oz is Moorice day, long celebrated as one of the world's tippy top climate scientists ...

Good old Morry, always ready to flail away at Canberra ... what a valiant, diligent battler for the workers he is.

Why, when he turned up every so often to pocket a handsome stipend as chair of the ABC, his first thought was always for the lumpenproletariat ... he was certainly no Canberra insider enjoying the fruits of collaborating in quisling style with those fiendish, deplorable politicians he so despises on behalf of suffering punters everywhere ...

Any passing innocent who read all this might imagine that Moorice is down to his last crust, living on struggle street, close kissing cousin to Charlie Chaplin's tramp - though to be fair to Chaplin, his tramp always had a winsome smile and enjoyed a bit of slapstick ...

But then Moorice has always been an outsider, a man who disdained politicians and the political process, a man of unimpeachable integrity who never once used politicians to enhance his own prestige or position or wealth in the world.

It's true some impressionable folk might gain the notion that Moorice's late-breaking bitterness about politics, politicians and Canberrans could derive from sundry controversies in Moorice's past ...

Yes, once upon a time Moorice himself was part of the Canberra 'leet, heading off to help the onion muncher run the country, and liking the job so well he found it very hard to give it up, and was startled to discover he really had been moved along ...

Some thought Moorice's unwillingness to admit he'd been let go was a sign of deep delusion, but the pond merely thought it was yet another manifestation of his deep devotion to the lumpenproletariat, and what a sad day for Canberra and the nation when it transpired he really had been shafted ...

Oh always with the UN world government and black helicopters, as if Moorice's rigorous climate science hadn't led him to discover the truth.

The pond must insist that Moorice was always an outsider, never accepted, unable to score a break, as recorded by Fairfax here ...

Newman fitted right in to Bain, which was then one of the most innovative brokerages in Australia - the first to sell its research to clients, and the first to advertise on TV. Newman spearheaded the firm's push into Asia, and he also began courting Canberra, often taking Jim Bain with him. "We'd call on the PM's department and Treasury, seeing the public servants, getting to know them," Bain says. "That's one reason Maurice got all the jobs later." 
Schmoozing is second nature to Newman. "Every cocktail party, every dinner, every lunch, he's there, handing out his card," says a Liberal power broker. In 1987, he attended a $200-a-head Labor Party fundraiser at the Wentworth Ballroom, where he had himself seated next to the then Treasurer, Paul Keating. Later he would host Keating in Bain's office in Tokyo for a luncheon speech to Japanese investors. With Newman as executive chairman, Bain became a money-making machine, with record profits and $100,000 bonuses. Newspapers took to drawing him with dollar signs in his eyes. 

And so on, leading some to ask Maurice Newman: mad, bad or sad?

But what an excellent position from which to lecture everyone else about hypocrisy ...

Ah, the Donald and draining the swamp and a careerist bemoaning careerists ...

If that isn't a reason for Xmas cheer, the pond can't imagine one ...

And so to a little fuss in the deep north ...

Not rambling spew man?

The pond was immediately intrigued. There's nothing like a theological dispute and accusations of heresy to hook the pond ...

It's an Xmas cleansing ... everything must go ...

While the pond is at it, here's an angle for the NT News ...

But wait, the hunt for heretics isn't quite finished ...

Is there a rich irony in all this?

There's the reptiles always blathering about 18C and freedom of speech and the right to be free and forthright being blocked by wicked secularists or teh gaze, and what do you know, if you sign on to the LNP you're forbidden to say boo to a goose ... or in the case of the rambling spew man, of a goose now unable to say boo for the lizard Oz ...

Physician, heal thy censorious self ...

Never mind, it seems that even at Xmas time, the comedy never ends, while the mouse in the house can dine on the crumbs of a failing, flailing empire still spreading fake news to the world ...