In which the pond wheels out a couple of reptile heavyweights for a showdown with the Monday reptile mob ...

 

This should put accusations of the pond cheating, putting a thumb on the scale, to one side, trying to give the Monday reptile mob an easy inside run to becoming the last pond posting for the year.

The pond has lined up for its Sunday meditation two of the finest reptile professionals.

What a top notch challenge, how intimidating.

Admittedly these experienced reptiles are showing the signs of wear and tear. They tend to repeat themselves endlessly, over and over, incessantly, in a non-stop way, regurgitating again and again, but that's entirely the point and befits the season ... because who hasn't swallowed a bit of Xmas pud and regretted it immediately, or was it the custard whipped up by the pond's long lost favourite aunt?

Never mind, let the pond begin with Killer Creighton, just to show it's serious. 

Anything that Stevo dished up yesterday in the way of staying safe surely couldn't match the Killer in a killing mood ...

 

 

 

 

Now the pond will play fair, and remind punters of why the Killer gets so agitated below ...

 

You see not so long ago, the Killer came out with this famously fatuous piece. No need to read all of it, just the opener is needed as a reminder ...

 

 

Poor Killer ... no wonder he's still brooding, so let the brooding begin ...

 

Good old Killer, never give in, never surrender, a genuine Buzz Lightyear in his own way ... a little thick, so predictable in his emissions that the pond finally at last understood why people argue for social distancing, and perhaps also mask wearing ...

 

 

But enough of seasonal jokes, at least for the moment, because the reptiles have provided Killer with his own illustration as a way of starting off the next gobbet ... and what do you know, they've rubbed his reindeer nose in a picture of jolly Swedes ...

 

 

 

 

Ah your good old cost benefit analysis regarding death. For some reason, the pond was reminded of Jessica Mitford's The American Way of Death ...

Alas, poor Yorick! How surprised he would be to see how his counterpart of today is whisked off to a funeral parlor and is in short order sprayed, sliced, pierced, pickled, trussed, trimmed, creamed, waxed, painted, rouged and neatly dressed - transformed from a common corpse into a Beautiful Memory Picture.

We have odd ways of coping with death, given its finality, and no voice, or even an echo, returning from beyond, but we do have a clue as to why Killer was so indignant.

That damned useless king, coming out and spoiling Killer's perfect thesis ... bloody Swedish royalty, shouldn't they be off hanging around with Epstein in the English way?

 

 

What's worse, the reptiles snuck in a video, which the pond appends only for academic interest, because, being a screen cap, it won't play ... but the message is clear enough ...

 

And so poor Killer is left to brood, about deaths and lefties and the hapless private sector, and poor old News Corp, hanging on for hand outs from the tech heavies. 

Oh ye long absent lord, oh ye of little faith in News Corp, hear now the plaintive wail of your humble emissary of death ...

 

Et tu Sweden? Historians will struggle to see a public policy disaster in Sweden?

Never mind, Killer Creighton will struggle to understand that people prefer to live a quiet life than experience an agonising death. Memento mori and all that, but better later than now. Still, if the Killer wants to boost the funeral industry, let him feel free to add to the death toll in the Roman way ...

Let him die, and the sooner the better, so that in a stoic way, he might show us that the spirit of Marcus Aurelius is not dead ...

“All that comes to pass”, he tells himself, even illness and death, should be as “familiar as the rose in spring and the fruit in autumn”. Marcus Aurelius, through decades of training in Stoicism, in other words, had taught himself to face death with the steady calm of someone who has done so countless times already in the past.  (Graudian here)

Yes, and the stock market will boom and Sweden will be great in the spring, and Killer will enter the terribly Swedish house of the long absent lord justified (but did She have to use so much white on all the walls, and as for the Ikea trimmings, and those dreadful bright colourful Scandinavian curtains, so 1960s ...)

And now to prove that the pond wasn't kidding and that the Monday reptile mob would find this meditative Sunday line up a major challenge, please come on down prattling Polonius ...

 

 

 

 

The pond can already hear the sighing, the moaning, the gnashing of teeth, the wailing and the sobbing.

 

Not the bloody Pellists and the bloody ABC and the bloody tykes again. How can Polonius keep on churning out the same tired old crap? Will there be a line in it about the way the ABC doesn't have a single decent conservative in its ranks?

 

Yes, all that, but the pond has traditionally been a haven for the Pellists, ever since the dear lad scribbled for the Sunday Terror little homilies on the best ways to provide excuses for the molesting of children. Ignore the children, let them suffer as they come unto him, and berate others for their many mortifying sins! It's the Catholic way, what a winner guilt has been over the centuries, while the gropings can carry on behind the arras ...

 

 

Dearie me, Polonius is a touchy, needy thing, and it seems that almost anything will set him off these days.

A sensible person, if so frail and inclined to take a fence, would swear off the ABC, why boost their ratings?, but not Polonius, because he's obsessed ...

The reptiles tried to distract him with pictures of men wearing frocks, but luckily these are pictures that don't move because the pond only uses screen caps ...

 

The pond has no idea why the reptiles decided to add all that text, but those men in frocks reminded the pond, in a fit of nostalgia, of the good old days when it always took every chance to celebrate trannies and the joys of wearing decent, handsomely expensive frocks ...

Oh it's the Xmas season, so where's the harm?

 

 

 

By golly, the pond just loves the sight of men in frocks. Trannies rulez ... but back to Polonius for a little more indignation and outrage ... 

 

Indeed, indeed, and so to the matter of Ridsdale. It turns out that's all the fault of the Victorian police, and nothing to do with his good, endlessly supportive and caring chum, seen here ...

 

 

Of course all this is a nice distraction from the behaviour of the Catholic church, its minions and its relentless desire to ignore its victims and hang on to the moola, so on we go ...

 

 

Did not the pond deliver? Are not the Catholic church, and the Pellists entirely blameless?

Did not the pond confront the Monday reptiles with a major challenge?

In case they fail, the pond wishes a merry Xmas, or a happy Saturnalia, whatever rocks your boat, to those faithful readers who keep the pond going by providing amusing comments. 

You select band of miscreants know who you are, and the pond reminds you yet again that the pond now never reads the reptiles it presents, only the comments they evoke and inspire...

Have a good one, and if the Monday reptiles rise to the challenge, why the pond will be happy to repeat those seasonal wishes again ...

In the meantime, here's a seasonal hope for all ...