And a lashing of dark chocolate for all ...

The pond is taking a break for Easter …

Apparently the custom involves pagan rituals featuring fornicating bunnies, and eggs, and heaps of Freudian stuff that decent Xians can enjoy without a skerrick of fear regarding their eternal souls …

The pond takes a different view. If rabbits are sighted, there's only one thing to do with them … or maybe two … thanks to good old Margaret Fulton, a long forgotten bible for bunny lovers, from a time when an ounce was still cited as a measure, and butter was a tasty way to clog the arteries …

Just throw in a koala, and all will be well …

And now the pond understands that the holyday season calls for expressions of good will and a hope for an ascension to bliss, and what better way to do it than with Rowe's cartoon of the week, possibly of the year, though the pond will treasure it for decades, with more treasurable Rowe here ...

Oh sheesh, wait a tic, hang on a mo, he just kept the Easter theme running… how could the pond resist? 

There was a crucifixion …

And there was even more hope for the faithful of another rising from the dead ...

Reptiles willing, the pond will return after the break, blessed by the thought that between times, there will be lashings of pagan dark chocolate for all, and remember the 30th measure is the sweetest and richest rabbit of them all …

Whatever it takes … onions or sandpaper and mockers included ...

The pond has only taken an interest in The Mocker since it realised that it's probably the dog botherer in disguise … and this day provided all the evidence that the pond needs … though it involved the tedious business of the cheats on parade at a time when the pond is long over it ...

It just feels so dog botherer … the furtive love of cheating. 

Well that's what it sounds like. Anyone who parades talk of ethics - usually grist to the conservative mill is up for a good hammering - though only if they're defined as luvvies ...

Here's the dog botherer himself in tweeting action …

Look at that, a clown carrying on about toxic cultures and the trashing of ethics, and with him playing such a glorious part in the glorious way in Iraw …

Says it all, really, with the parrot and the arm-breaker all wittering away, and here's The Mocker doing his own epic witter …

The dog botherer was himself quick to howl at the moon and bay at the passing crowd …

Oh Milly, Milly …he was just adding hyperbole to high dudgeon ...

What's curious is the strange selectivity of the dog botherer, née Mocker …it seems only Fairfaxians, the ABC and the usual suspects outrage him …

This is rich, given that the dog botherer himself is a daily crass sledged extraordinaire, glass houses and all that, wot wot, and what's Colebatch's pile of drivel, selected by the Polonial mob, got to do with cricket.

Nothing much, but it's all the more surprising that the Mocker née dog botherer can't seem to spot the stench of sanctimony closer to home …

But that's the trouble when you try to have it both ways, and to use a reaction to a scandal as a way of smiting and smoting enemies, while simultaneously trying to have it both ways with liars and cheats...with the result sounding like you mightn't actually mind a bit of cheating yourself …if it's done by the right people for the right reasons ...

Yep, why start dragging in all sorts of pay-backs and pay-offs, while screeching from behind a mask that puts you in the gutter class of a low-rent blogger of the pond kind?

Is it truly pathetic, or extraordinarily pathetic?

Even Dame Slap was moved to tears at the situation and the reptile scribblings ...

What's the Mocker got to offer?

Not a realist's perspective so much as the perspective of a cynic. They all do it, and anyone who bungs on a do is just a noisy wailer and a holy roller… until it comes time to write the next screed about the tragic fate awaiting the ethically high minded white Xian protectors of western civilisation … done down by the fiendish South Africans ...

Yep if mud is being flung about, make sure you fling the mud back, and do it with interest.

Then you can compete for the title of the most admired Australian mud slinger …

The end result? Well the pond still has no interest in the cricket saga, but reckons it's a dead cert that the Mocker is a gutless dog botherer in disguise …

At least the pond has the excuse of job anxieties … what's the excuse for the Mocker supplying this weirdly conflicted pile of poo advice on life training?

Never mind, there's more life training from Wilcox in the much improved Fairfax galleries here.

In which the pond turns to the infallible bromancer for sage foreign affairs advice ...

In part two of the pond's foreign affairs this day, the pond decided to drop in on the bromancer to see how the love affair with the Donald was going … and what a relief, it was as strong and as passionate as ever ...

Yes, everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds, and it's all to the credit of the Donald, and his friends …

It's all good and it's all part of an incredibly potent Donald approach to the world …

How fortunate the pond is to have the heretical bromancer to hand to answer that question ...

Yes, it might all be a miasma and a fog of uncertainty, doubt and fear, but what a triumph it is, and how pleasing that the pond relies on the bromancer for all its foreign affairs insights …

May the good weather keep on keeping on …

A long shaggy dog tale of reptiles and Ruskis ...

With talk of sandpaper all the go, and Micallef alone asking the only sensible question - why are Australians so inept when they cheat? - the pond decided to spend quality time with the reptiles brooding about the Ruskis …

This has been going on for some time - the Dictionary of Sydney celebrated colonial perils here, and what do you know, a truly terrible book on the notion, W. H. Walker's 1877 The Invasion has been uploaded here and garnered a spectacular 288 views.

The reptiles have been flung in to some confusion over the Ruskis, what with the Donald's obvious love of Vlad, and the bromancer's painful teenage infatuation with the Donald …

Should they love the friend of a friend, or should they maintain the old hate, baked into the Fort Denison genes?

Happily the love flourishes and endures and in consequence over the last few days, there has been an epic amount of coverage, and it behoves the pond to endure the coverage, in much the same way that some people like to spend five days watching grass grow in a game of cricket ...

On the one side, there was scepticism about the kiwis, and their outrageous stance …

No spies? Silly kiwis ...

Fortunately the Ruskis were up to their usual tricks on local turf … and the reptiles were utterly beguiled and charmed … and filled the digital ether to overflowing with their love of Logvinov …

So the pond's instincts were right! This is a scandal bigger even than the Australian cricket scandal … and worse, it was fake news ...

It was an epic performance, and the reptiles were entranced ...

And just to keep things bubbling along, it was time to drag in the Bishop and other matters, perhaps even the unnecessary cost of installing guns in Fort Denison...

Indeed, it's a bit like the conspiracy to do down the Donald in a deep state way, Vlad having absolutely no connection to any sort of deep state, not even a sensory deprivation tank ...

Oh no, not mocking the lizard Oz coverage, that will never do, there will be revenge in due course, but not until the pond gets into the fourth day of play ...

But all good things must end … though unlike the Australian team, Loginov got into the fifth day ...

The reptiles thought it was all so funny that Loggie deserved the full Jimbo treatment as a bit of high comedy ...

The reptiles kept exuding the love, as Jimbo recycled Loggie's greatest hits ...

And then it was Paulie's turn to recycle Loggie … because once the reptiles get a taste for it, they can't stop biting ...

Paulie did a sort of satirical piece, a natural cross-over for a national security editor, but he felt for Loggie, he truly did ...

Was there no-one in reptile land who after this extensive coverage - and the pond has only extracted the highlights - who would stand tall alongside the Ruskis and Loggie and Vlad, and throw in as a bonus, a deep love of the Chinese dictatorship?

The pond is so glad that someone in the stalls shouted out that question, because there's just time to unleash the Sexton ...

And there you have it … "supposed attempts to interfere in the domestic politics of other countries", as if the Ruskis aren't doing it, and the United States isn't doing it, and the Chinese aren't doing it, and in our very own humble way, occasionally Australia tries to get out the sandpaper …

But never mind, no complaining, it's all good, and those Ukrainians had it coming, because who wouldn't rather live under Vlad or perhaps Xi.

The pond is inclined to take it personally, since a harmless blog like this might led to a knock on the door in certain countries, but it's all good for the Sexton ...

Sober reflection? So that's what they call pandering and forelock-tugging these days?

So there it was, a bit like Robert Mitchum, with "love" engraved on one set of fingers, and "hate" on the other hand ...

By the end of it all, the pond felt the need for a cartoon or three …

In which Dame Slap Dame Slap celebrates leadership and values (sssh, don't mention the Donald) ...

Not understanding cricket - such an interminable, tedious bore - the pond is already over the wailing, the sackcloth and the ashes, and the wringing of hands, and so had to mark down Dame Slap and send her to the late evening slot.

The only redeeming feature was sure to be the chance for the pond to slip in a joke about the sublime hypocrisy that Dame Slap displays on a regular basis …

But first there needed to be a lot of righteous blather before the pay-off ...

It's a slow build, but that blather about a less chivalrous age gave the pond good cheer, strong hopes and an optimistic heart, especially as it was followed by blather about leadership. How long before the pond could the pond hold on, how long before the pond felt the need to play its hand, and throw its cards on the table with a cry of 'now there's a lay-down misère'?

Oh that's just a chivalrous tease … and now it's back to the set-up …

Oh heck, Dame Slap hasn't finished, and yet the pond can't resist. All that talk of decisive leadership and a dearth of role models, and oh how the pond had ached to remind Dame Slap of her love of the Donald ...

Misère!

Talk about role models! Talk about decisive, gracious, graceful leadership …

There's more Dame Slap rabbiting on in a righteous way, but there, it's done. 

Sure, Dame Slap might add a little cream to the coffee by citing a flabby, feeble anti-Trumpian of the quivering David Brooks kind ...

… but by then the pond was spent.

Humility, courage and respect?

What, bone spurs and a MAGA cap made in China?

What a hoot ...

The notion that Dame Slap had the first clue about leadership and values spoke volumes to the pond …and with a last cartoon it was done, and despite Dame Slap rabbiting on in a righteous way, still a lot quicker than a test cricket match ...