In which the pond does a trifecta of Monday terrors … as the haunting continues ...

It might be December but the reptiles press on, juxtaposing "radical agenda" with an EXCLUSIVE from that bastion of a radical agenda, the Institute of Public Affairs …

But perhaps even more poignant, look, see that news of a poll slump cruelly juxtaposed with the Oreo dreaming of the speaker in tongues regaining his ScoMomentum …

And then a little while later the reptiles did a shuffle of the deck chairs and there came this poignant juxtaposition …

Not Malware again! Not another reassessment! Not the Major!? 

But yep, the Major was the latest victim of the Malware ghost.

It seems this gaunt, miserable spectre, this horrible terror, was still stalking Surry Hills, and the Major was still feeling the need to get out the garlic, the crucifix, the wooden stake or perhaps even the silver bullet …there being no reflection in the mirror (remember the Major's rule, never reflect, never look into the mirror).

What's interesting about that history lesson? Why there's nary a thought about the onion muncher, or the actions of the axed Abbott, or anything at all that's remotely to do with the ratbaggery of the far right that infested the reptile corridors and brought mayhem to federal politics … including but not limited most recently to the preservation of the likes of the lesser Kelly, a dud whom everybody knows is a dud, including his colleagues, but who survives in much the same way that superbug staph lurks in hospitals around the land …

And now to the Major's duty for the day. It requires he momentarily and temporarily abandon his quest for the long missing Order of Lenin medal, but the naming of names, and the identifying of lick spittle forelock fellow travellers, spiritualists interested in keeping the ghost in the premises, must be named and shamed ...

Yes, somehow a benign and quite reasonable proposition by the cawing Crowe - that the haunting will continue - gets him into the Major's shame file, even as the Major himself demonstrates that the ghost is alive and well, and making him quiver and quake and flinch and worry.

Such is the Major's anxiety that he even dragoons notorious leftists like Jennifer Hewett (who knew?) into his list ...

Indeed, indeed, by Major consensus, the Liberal party doesn't have a 'women problem' …

(Here)

But of course Julie Bishop is a dangerously radicalised extreme leftist (apart from her splendid work in the field of asbestos), and so can't be trusted by the Major …even as the pond was enjoying the biggest laugh in the Major outing …"The Australian did no more than advocate for a better Turnbull government."

The Major's capacity for delusion is infinite and wondrous … but whatever the pathology, the pond fervently hopes that the ghost keeps haunting the reptiles, in the same way that the reptiles laid out the welcome mat for that other miserable ghost, the onion muncher …

What else? Well that last line contained a real delight, a bit like the icing sugar coated pink stuff you can get from the Saray on Emore Road … "the way Rudd still  uses the Nine papers."

The Nine papers? Oh no, it simply doesn't have the ring of "Fairfax" about it. There's no hint of the wickedness of the Fairfaxians, the salivating sound of which could send the reptiles into a feeding frenzy. 

The Nine papers? What, the same Nine as sprang from the noble lineage of Kerry and Frank Packer? The fabulous family that once owned the Daily Terror and did battle with the wicked Fairfaxians? 

By golly it's hard to keep up with all the subtleties and nuances, but it's going to be tough work for the reptiles to assail "the Nine papers" in the same way that they assaulted the Fairfaxians …

Not to worry, in the end, when it comes to the executives in both camps, the pond feels certain that the eastern suburbs will remain hallowed turf for the reptiles as well as their rivals …

And speaking of ponces up themselves and living the life of Riley, how could the pond overlook the Caterist?

The pond was relieved to hear this, because it sometimes wondered if it's fear of indigent Poms coming over here to whine and moan and live off the taxpayer dime might pass for some form of xenophobia …

Never mind, the Caterist has been blessed by the Lobbecke of the day, and so assumes cult status ...

It seems unfair of the reptiles and the Caterists not to provide a link to the actual survey, which can be found here …

As for politicians addressing sundry matters, including the foaming of fear in a lathering of race hatred, did the Caterist wonder whether the reptiles might do a little house-cleaning themselves?

   

And so on and so forth … and it's a miracle that despite it all, Victorians were content to be called the Massachusetts of Australia by little Johnny, which is why the pond will be shortly heading south for Xmas ...

Of course it's actually nothing like Massachusetts, but whenever has the pond, little Johnny or the reptiles been in need of reality? And when have the Caterists?

But Pauline Hanson is a xenophobe. That doesn't have to be linked to some desire to let immigration rip. It's simply that Pauline Hanson is a xenophobe, as simple as saying that there's very few better than the parrot and the Caterist when it comes to explaining the movement of flood waters in Queensland …

The master stroke of the Caterist however, is the ageist way he abuses the under 35s as quinoa salad-eating graduates. 

Poor thing, he must be feeling a tad old, but what would an under 35 say about an imported Pom who's constantly whining and shouting at clouds, while having his paw in the Department of Finance till?

Forgive the pond, every mass must have its rituals, and the pond's honouring of the Caterist's yearly hypocrisy in rifling the taxpayer till is a bit like turning wine into working person's blood …

And so, marvel at how the adept Caterist manages to avoid any charge of racism by talking of "ethnic crime gangs" making honest parrot listeners "fearful that their kids will be able to afford to leave home…"

Of course he actually means difficult blacks, in a racist way, but it would fly against everything he's blathered to this point. And what about "be able to afford to leave home"? Isn't it a bit rich to blame ethnic, nee black gangs for young people not being able to afford rent for new digs?

Perhaps a course in remedial English might help the Caterist. Perhaps he meant to say, "scared shitless by the Herald Sun, the good folks of Melbourne remain locked in their houses, not daring to step outside and get the precious Vitamin D they need from the actual sun …"

Yet strangely the good folk of the Massachusetts haven't fallen for the fear, and the pond will be joining them, waling the streets and eating out, even if the pond can barely afford to leave home to pick up a sushi roll in Swanston street because of the criminal gangs roaming the streets…

And now, there are possibly a few hard core Oreo devotees who suspect by this point the pond has dudded them, and did a bait and switch, putting the Oreo and her delusions at the top, and then delivering the Major and the Caterist …

Have no fear … the Oreo's delusions are extremely precious to the pond …

 

Now it goes without saying that the Oreo is completely clueless about the recent bill. There are simple explanations to hand - while out and about the pond caught a repeat one Download this show which mentioned a few implications arising from the mutton Dutton's endless stupidity …

But the pond is tired, what with the tech heads who have been shouting at it for the past few days, and must move on from one moronic gobbet of paranoia and hysteria to another gobbet of xenophobia … (border security, invaders, they're coming to get us, who?, the nameless they, them, out there, in the ether, the ghosts, the haunting, oh the horror, oh the fear, and so forth and so on, and when the needle hits the edge, reposition and play again) ...

She really is a complete and utter tool, isn't she? Who but the Oreo, former radical feminist, could scribble a line "they have not earned the democratic right to determine who enters our country" as if somehow officials on duty at airports and ports dotted around the land have been elected by the people ….

The endless stupidity is mindlessly pleasing, but sadly the pond always must come to the last gobbet of the day …but will be there a word about the pretty pickling "the authoritarian plod from the deep north, the mutton Dutton" has managed to produce with his paranoid technology vinegar? Of course not ...

Identity politics? Elected PC elites are undemocratic? 

By golly, could the 'running of the tweet' become as sacred a ritual as the running of the bulls, the Latin mass, and the celebrating of the 'cash in the paw' Caterist eucharist?

But wait, there are others out there who can't get enough of the Oreo. See how they tweet their delight and their adoration ...

Of course the Oreo was too discreet to mention that George Soros was a Jewish socialist billionaire, and runs the world's banking system in league with the Rothschilds and the Windsors, but stay, there's another tweet of adoration to hand ...

Ruled by emotions?

Possibly in much the same spirit as "elect them at your peril", "run for the hills, George Soros is coming", and "unelected officials are policing our borders" …

And with all the hard work done, and Xmas coming, why not a Rowe and an imported cartoon, as a reminder where following the Oreo's voting preferences might get Australia, in the same way that it got the United States … (with more Rowe here).