In which the pond joins Killer and Jimbo on the killing fields, with a Groanian aside and coal forever!

 

 

The pond makes no apology. When the Killer scribbles, the pond is always up for the scribbling. The pond can't get enough of Killer's lust for the killing fields, mixed with a doleful amount of self-pity and suffering, and by golly, was he in good form this day, or what ...

 

 

 

 

Right there, right at the get go, is a sight designed to terrify and traumatise the Killer. A face shield on top of a mask! The pond has previously evoked Killer's fear of the mask, perhaps arising from a childhood fear of the Batman (surely he wouldn't be agitated by the fearless role of the Phantom in showing the best side of colonialism?)  

Now with the fear firmly exposed, it's time for the Killer to do what he does best ... and yes, the trauma of masks, along with a little Xi worship, will feature ...

 

Oh how Killer yearns for solid leadership and a strong man ...

 

 

Ah the old Woodstock routine ...

 

 

There's more here, but being a groover, and a one time wannabe hippie, the pond will just quote one bit of the piece ...

Joel Rosenman, co-producer of Woodstock, told Reuters via email:
“Woodstock was not partying in defiance of pandemic containment measures, because at the time of Woodstock, there was no pandemic, and there were no containment measures to defy. In the months following the December-January peak of the pandemic, the flu all but disappeared. By mid-‘69, any preoccupation with the virus had given way to widespread unconcern. Media coverage had dwindled to virtually zero. As far as the nation was concerned, the pandemic was in the rear-view mirror. It was during this time, not during the pandemic months of the previous winter, that my co-producers, John Roberts, Artie Kornfeld, Mike Lang and I created Woodstock—without so much as a thought about ‘pandemic.’ It wasn’t until the next flu season, several months after Woodstock, that we all found ourselves in a horrifying déjà flu.”

Yes, the pond always catches déjà flu reading Killer, and that Woodstock detour does suggest the sort of bunkum far right locations the Killer visits for a relaxing read, but a more important question is WWRND?

 

 

The pond just had to slip that in, because whenever the pond reads Killer, the first question to spring to mind is, "are you insane?"

 

 

Indeed, indeed, if it isn't Xi or Richard Nixon for our Killer, it's Cuba, but do we really want to save lives anyway? How can there be a decent killing field, without a few killings? Come of people, be fearless and individualistic, follow the Killer ...

 

 

And so to the next battle, and here the pond must report a dreadful sight ... Jimbo turning all barrels on the bromancer ...

 

 

A manly man with a tank, gun blazing ...

Meanwhile, the bromancer is off fighting another war, with a line that's totally bromancer and totally predictable ...

 

 

It was with great sorrow and reluctance that the pond left the bromancer to that fight, and returned to blazing Jimbo, with the bromancer in his sights ... and yet it's more in sorrow than anger that Jimbo gently chastises the bromancer and his foolishness ...

 

Indeed, indeed. Once we've reformed the Brisbane line, it will be tooth and tail, though perhaps a few tanks will be needed in reserve for the paratroopers dropped on Sydney (oh how good it is to re-fight old wars), and all the pond can hope is that the bromancer is taking notes ...

 

The big question is why would Greg Sheridan be so wrong, and so stupid in Jimbo's eyes? There, alas and alack, the pond can't help ... but a more interesting question is whether the bromancer will return fire? Will he wait until he sees the white in Jimbo's eyes before getting into a tank and firing off a round?

You see, Jimbo seems confused about the drums of war ... though last night's Media Watch showed how even a simplistic, simpleton reptile of the Sharri kind (what a muppet she is in front of camera, as leaden as Charlton Heston in his prime) might mount a war on China with bold conspiracy theories ...

Most satisfying, and Iraq and Afghanistan in excellent condition, and now standing by, suh, for return fire from the bromancer ...

And so, ignoring the bromancer's current offering, the pond pressed on with Dame Groan, only because she has such an adoring fan club ...

 

Frankly the pond doesn't get this love of the Groaner, always groaning away. Is it the delicious whiff of heresy, that rant about Ming the Merciless, which possibly induced a fainting fit in the Caterists? Or is it her joshing of Josh?

 

Indeed, indeed, as everyone knows by now Dame Groan had a precipitous decline in her own take-home pay from the reptiles, and the shock must be lingering still ...

Well it's been fun, but we must proceed to the bottom line, and to the pond resisting the desire to throw in a Norman Lindsay cartoon ...

Oh what the heck, the Groan fan club has had its fun, the pond must now have its own ...

There's something quite Groanian about that sulky face. And now to a bonus to the Groanian bonus ...

Yesterday, the pond dropped in on the reptiles, and right there, at the top of the digital page was this ...

 

It conformed to everything the reptiles hold dear. A feisty blonde, standing tall and proud, with a deep devotion to manly reptile coal, and of course a fierce determination that coal should continue on, clean, innocent, pure, and virginal in the dinkum Oz coal way ...

Yet by this morning the EXCLUSIVE had completely disappeared from sight ...

It was wrong, it was shocking, there was dinkum Oz coal fighting for a place in the energy mix, and it couldn't even hold on to the front digital page ... but the pond knew there would be visual rewards for regurgitating Perry's excellent, probing work ...

 

Look, a lunar landscape, and just out of Singleton. What a splendid sight. And now to follow with a sight that would terrify even fearless Killer to the core ... a bunch of Woodstock hippies holding up signs, and outside Gladys' sanctum, of all places ...

 

How could that terrifying sight of rampant sigh-clutching hippies be redeemed? Of course, it goes without saying, call back the feisty blonde, with hands on hips, defying the howling mob ...

 

Oh how the reptiles like to conform to their stereotypes, as noted a number of times by disgruntled former female reptile employees ...

Now it will be noted that the pond hasn't commented on the argument, only the illustrations, but the pond does wish Ms Manook every success in denying climate science, fucking the planet, and perhaps even producing bigger lunar landscapes up Hunter Valley way, while making sure that there's not enough money in the kitty for remedial action when the digging is done ... but never mind, because now we're at the final gobbet, and Ms Manook settles the argument with talk of "all the 'virtue signalling'", though why she should put inverted commas around that noble phrasing must remain a mystery ...

Well done, well played, say coal is a clean commodity, click heels three times and head to Kansas.

The pond would have liked to honour Perry's and Ms Manook's noble effort with a cartoon, but sadly, the Rowe of the day harks back to our Killer, who began this day of reptile entertainment, with more Rowe as always here ...