In which the pond takes to the court with Mirko and the Major ... (sitcom title rights reseved and patented and what not) ..

 

 

 Of course Mirko is being post-ironic and post-modernist when he calls for a cancel culture move to designate leftist mob bullying as a hate speech crime.

Or maybe he's just being post-stupid.

One way or another, the pond felt the need to consign him to hellfire for all eternity, writhing in flames, tormented beyond insanity.

Any pifling crime would do. Being a poofter is one good example. Devouring shellfish, as the pond did over the weekend, is another way to hellfire.

The pond is uncertain as to Mirko's feelings about poofters and shellfish, so what about consigning him to hell just for his name, which is offensive in the eyes of the Lord, as those eyes are interpreted by the pond, who regularly speaks in tongues to a powerful imaginary friend, so the pond might consign assorted people the pond doesn't like to hellfire for all eternity ...

Yes, it's going to be one of those thoroughly silly reptile columns only a Mirko could imagine ...

 

Um, actually  the base position is who to consign to hellfire for all eternity, and the pond reckons that Mirko is a good candidate ...

Oh call it mob vigilantism if you will, but hunting witches and poofters has always seemed like jolly good sport, and if it involves chemical castration or perhaps suicide, why so much the better ... and as for 'leet academics purporting a sanctimonious attitude to those he doesn't like, how about a burning at the stake?

 

After reading all that guff, the pond has to say that it thought a little less of Swinburne University, which the pond has always thought of as a college with delusions of grandeur, though perhaps not with the architectural delusions of RMIT, which has spread visual pollution throughout the land ...

 

 

Such a stupid man, though the pond supposes it shouldn't use that word, when rationally and effectively, it would be better to consign him to an eternity of hellfire.

But the pond has already done that several times - moronic repetition of the Court kind is always satisfying - and so it's time to move on to the Major, and he was in the same tennis ball pounding mood ...

 

 

 

 

 

The Major is of course a case of a classic old fogey, grumbling about social media, so it was right of the reptiles to give him an illustration featuring a couple of sweet young thing airheads doing a bit of flag-waving of the nauseating kind ...

 

 

Ah yes, of course, it's all the fault of highly politicised uppity urban Aboriginals ... unlike Price, or make out like a bandit Warren Mundine, who agree with the Major and therefore pass muster.

If the pond learned one thing, it's agree with the reptiles or suffer an eternity of hellfire ...

 

Indeed, indeed, but how strange that Comrade Dan should exist to torture the reptiles. Oh well, he must lose on social media, which helped, thanks to Twitter, to precipitate a riot in the Capitol building by a bunch of leftists, no doubt.

But what would the pond know, up against a man who will some day find that long lost Order of Lenin medal that will prove he wasn't just up himself, he was a journalist in search of the facts ...

 

It was that line about SloMo being a 'quietly competent' leader that had the pond rolling the jaffas down the aisle.

Whatever he is, he isn't quiet. When he's not speaking in tongues to his imaginary friends, he's always out and about talking in a dinkum, cobber way, as if that fools anyone, though it's true, for all that they're defamed, people from marketing and used car salesmen do manage to shift units ... and sometimes they can even up sell to a vehicle with Trucoat ...

As for quoting Guy Rundle, the pond wonders how Rundle feels finding himself in the company of the Major? Actually they deserve each other, and the pond would willingly marry them, apart from the dangers of hellfire associated with the ritual ...

As for competent, the pond realises it's stayed too long in the company of reptiles this day, but here was the poor old bouffant one, sobbing into his beer about the competence of Scotty from marketing...
 

 

What was SloMo's crime, his failure to act? Was it serious? Say his failure to act on climate science? His clutching of a lump of coat? His consorting with QAnon types?

Of course not, it was because he stood by and watched as a noble comrade was done down ...

Oh the indignity, oh the sadness, oh the stench and the smell of rotting fish ...

 

 

Talk about a dire and tragic situation. The pond was almost moved to tears, and began singing "the night they drove old Kevin down, all the bells were ringing, they went 'na, na, la, na, na la", or some such worning ...

Now, I don't mind chopping bills
And I don't care if an MP's money's no good
You take what you need
And you leave the rest
But those bloody Victorians should never
Have taken the very best

Or if you will, we'll all be rooned because poor old Kev has been discarded, thrown on the ash heap, and him with so much more stupidity to offer to the world. How is this fair?

 

And so to the wrap-up, and usually the pond would end with a cartoon, but really, what cartoonist could match the comedy of this letter to Rudy. It's probably better read on Scribd, as here,  for anyone wanting clearer text and footnotes, but never mind, hum along to the sounds of The Specials singing A Message to You Rudy.

You'll appreciate why the pond decided this was more fun than a cartoon ...