In which the pond meditates with Polonius and Mark " Fowler and a feral Folau ...

The pond knew at once there would be hell to play.

This juxtaposition of prattling Polonius next to a boastful Malware would be simply too much for Polonius to bear … especially as the foppish prat who fucked the NBN completely, comprehensively, with a priapic fucking even Henry Miller might envy, continued under the delusion that he was inside the comfort zone on technology …

Sure enough, having despatched the ABC to the boundary for the zillionth time on Friday, came Malware's comeuppance on the Saturday … nestled in amongst the abundance of choice for which the reptiles are famous in their own lunchtimes …

Of course if there was a headline to write about Polonius, surely it would read "Prattling Polonius just can't let the ABC go", and in turn the pond simply can't get enough of Polonius when he prattles … especially if he's going to stick it to the man who comprehensively fucked the NBN …

Indeed, indeed, but who could compare with the way that the onion muncher has coped with his grief and loss of relevance? In every way imaginable, he's been the sole of discretion, and done nothing to wear out his shoes as he searches for the spotlight...

  

 

 

But enough of the onion muncher, and his mighty deeds, or the pond might completely forget its celebrating Polonius pissing on Malware from a great height …

Indeed, indeed, and there was so much to be positive about, what with the NBN a resounding success, and the onion muncher never for a minute indulging in sniping, white-anting, back-biting, and undermining … apparently a proud tradition continued to this very day by Polonius himself, as snide and as bitchy as anything the onion muncher might manage …

Indeed, indeed, SloMo was just your ordinary middle class speaker in tongues who thinks the rapture might arrive by Xmas, and who has a deep love for the best the country has to offer …

Oh quick, another gobbet before the pond is moved to tears by the reverent way he's handling that dearly beloved  Cet obscur objet du désir … and please, if it can be arranged, the pond would be ever so grateful if it might begin by proposing that the mutton Dutton is capable of "an at times witty address", since the notion of the mutton Dutton being witty is almost as weird as prime Angus beef having the first clue about energy ...

Yes, it's all going swimmingly well, though not for the pond, because it just knew it would have to repeat a few Rowe cartoons, with more here …

 

And now, this being Sunday, and already too much space taken up, the pond had to make a choice between the Angelic one, and Mark " Fowler … and decided that " Fowler should have the floor …because the tykes aren't happy, and the Christian in the government is almost certainly going to cop it from them ...

Hang on, hang on, where would that leave the famous Folau, who startled the reptiles early in the week, and even shocked the parrot?

Outrageous, fancy trying to paraphrase a sermon full of righteousness and insights ...

Indeed, indeed, it's true, no one can know the mind of God …and lordy lordy, all the busybodies were busy telling him to button up ...

Still, on a passing inspection here, in another reptile rag, it did seem that Folau had a passing knowledge of the mind of God, for She can be a real bitch backstabber sometimes …a bit like the onion muncher in his prime ...

But where were all the other reptiles, routinely shouting at the greenies? 

At least Bob Katter, barking mad in his usual way, stood up for another barking mad member of religious fundamentalism … but in all this fuss, the pond has almost completely forgotten that Mark " Fowler has still been rambling on ...

Indeed, indeed, granting the cult of Scientology the status of a tax-avoiding cult has been one of the great triumphs of Australian law …and yet, come to think about it, even your average Thetan-believing volcanic cultist might sound as rational as a Folau in full rhetorical flight …

Oh dear, how lucky it's a screen cap, and so no one can play a minute of the parrot, given that a nanosecond would be too much for many to bear …

But how strange that such a tempting stream of logical thinking,  and biblical interpretation should get the parrots and the reptiles in a lather.

Even worse, the feral Folau is getting in the way of the piquant insights of Mark " Fowler blathering about constructed irreality, when everyone knows that bush fires are the work of gay marriage, abortion, crustaceans, the mixing of fibres, cloven-hoofed beasts, unclean porcine vermin, and such like …and so to Mark " Fowler on the Folau matter, apparently unaware that things have moved on a little since the days when it was just about the gays to the days when the gays provoked a righteous God into playing with matches, She apparently not understanding that the country is a little dry at the moment thanks to Her gay-inspired drought ...

Ah, but what about his claim about bush fires? That was still burning up the reptiles …and so once again the pond had to leave Mark " Fowler to the question of Folau fowling the reptile chicken coop ...

Yes, that'd be a message that rugby union would be pleased to associate itself with, as a warning against too much bum-sniffing in the rucking, and the mauling, and the scrimmaging and the scrumming …oh you filthy bum-sniffing preverts ...

What a pleasure it is to see a rampant bigot in action ...

Meanwhile, despite these many interruptions, Mark " Fowler is simply trying to finish his plea to allow the ongoing bashing of minorities by religious fundamentalists …and woe betide the government if they think they can stop sex discrimination or discrimination in the work force, or otherwise make the bigots toe the line, because She will given them a right royal shellacking, it being well-known that eating crustaceans can also produce a drought, not to mention the mixing of fibres ...

Indeed, indeed, and what a sad day for all if bush fires can't be blamed on the gays and witches …oh, those devious, apple-toting witches …those wretched complimentary women who have lured many an angry Sydney Anglican astray …

And now at journey's end, how bitter is the pond, knowing it used up a most relevant Rowe cartoon in earlier times, carefree and without a thought for the latest fundamentalist follies, with more Rowe here?

Never mind, if you've made it this far, have a few fresher cartoons, some of which mention good old-time religion …