In which the pond takes a break with its gat and chambers the bromancer ...

 

 

 

 

 

Huzzah, today is light duties day for the pond,  and how wise it was for the pond to decide to permanently ban petulant Peta ...

Don't the reptiles ever get tired of what seems to be their only sport, comrade Dan bashing? 

Besides, if the pond wanted to waste its time, why not spend it on that tale of spending $55k on "sex workers". 

Alas and alack, it seems that political correctness has overtaken the reptiles. In the good old days, the reptiles, proud of their willingness to affront, would have talked of prostitutes, courtesans, call girls, fille de joie, grande horizontale, hookers, whores, hustlers, scarlet ladies, bawds, drabs, cocottes, tarts, floozies ... and the excec turning the tricks and running up that impressive bill as a libertine john ...

Sorry, the pond has had Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep as its street library toilet reading, and is sometimes inclined to reach for its gat before getting to the toilet paper ...

Meanwhile, the pond was astonished to watch Morning Joe last night go on an endless rant about the unendurable suffering of the French, and the perfidious nature of the stab in the back deal,  almost bringing Mika to the end of her seemingly inexhaustible showbiz tether ...

So the time was right to look below the lizard Oz fold, and see if the yarn still resonated with the reptiles, like the resonating phone call the pond got from an alarmed partner trapped in Melbourne when the quake hit ...

 

What a relief. Just because the reptiles led with petulant Peta the pond had feared the entire day might be lost, but instead it could be wasted in company with a proudly peacock-strutting grand goose, aka the bromancer ...

Centre stage? Top of the world ma! Of course the pond knew immediately the bromancer had to stake his turf, which had recently come under threat, as noted by Crikey ...

 

 

 

The pond had ignored The Economist when it happened, but it did pose a serious threat to the bromancer's ability to dominate with undiluted hysteria. 

Centre stage might not be as good as Suez in '56, or Nixon in an opera, or the fall of the Berlin Wall, but it would have to do ...

Now perhaps a few more choice words? Say gobsmacked? How about enthralled? Perhaps astonishing? Anyone for a catapult?

Say what? The bromancer has in just a few short weeks moved from talk of climate waffle to waffle about helping the planet?

What an astonishing transformation, but then ...

...Morrison, who has faced growing international pressure to commit to stronger action against the climate crisis, insisted that the US and Australia were “both seeking to get to the same place” and reiterated that his government would outline its plan before the Cop26 climate summit in Glasgow.
“We are going to see the most profound transition of the global energy economy that we’ve seen in a very long time,” Morrison told reporters early on Wednesday Australian time. (Graudian)

And so it goes ...

 

From that to this and back again ...

It seems we have all turned against coal now, well at least until the next coal mine opens up and Clive gets busy ... but back to the bromancer, and spoiler alert, the pond must warn of talk of enormous historic opportunities and brilliant achievements, and then the poor sap sounds like he got sapped by reality and sobered up ...

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills of Surry Hills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark little clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed Murdochian journalist ought to be. I was about to piss squillions of dollars on submarines and realised I might just be about to mess it up ...

Take it away, bromancer ...

Oh yes, we're proudly independent, no doubt about it, and once we've got the subs, it'll be piss off uncle Sam, you can trust the bromancer ... or you can have an infallible Pope ...

 

South China sea ahoy ... but please, don't try to distract the bromancer. He's got a gat and cash in his purse, and he's itching to go on a spending spree, the loot is burning a hole in his pocket, he's had a run on Eddie Mars' roulette wheel, and he's ready to drop a bundle ...

Yes, yes, it may be that we'll be totally independent, except for that US-Australian crew and that imported US commander ...but to be fair, the bromancer this day gave The Economist a fair run for its money ... because nothing cries independence like a nuclear sub with an Australian flag and a seconded US commander ... and must we argue about who can do the best American accent, Sean Connery or Sam Neill in the re-make, The Hunt for Stars and Stripes September ...

Sad to say however that the pond's bonus must be a serve of the seconds, as the pond slipped a Chambers into the chamber ...

This is just a chance to see how the reptile hive mind works, but to be fair, it's also a chance to fire off a First Dog ...

Of course the pond could have run First Dog in full earlier, as a fine accompaniment to that serve of the bromancer, or at least noted the Graudian link here, but truth to tell, the chambered Chambers needs a little help, and a little distraction ... because how many ways can you say it's all good, and it's all for the best, and please don't send me to the corn field ...

 

That was back in June, you silly goose, things have changed a tad since then ... and not just Morning Joe going on a rant about back stabbing back stabbers ...

 

 

Thank you First Dog, a little magical thinking always comes in handy when dealing with the reptiles, and so to the final bullet in the Chambers ...

 

 

Oh yes, perfidious French, just settle down, and take your perfidy medicine in style ...

And now to another matter ...

You see, as well as the quake, the pond's stranded Melbourne partner has been sending snaps of loons on the march and complaining about not being able to get to the sushi shop ...

 

 

 

But the real action has been elsewhere ...

Dazzling Dazza? Patti Smith? And then there was this in Crikey ...

 

 

Again with dazzling Dazza?

Please, if we're going to serve horse paste, serve it with due and proper credit ...

 

 

 

 

Poor old Rickie Lee, how did she simultaneously end up in that mess and get ignored at the same time?

And then came the Tudge, crying freedumb ...

 

 

 

 

 

And that reminded the pond that, as well as giving up The Big Sleep, the local street library had recently given up this Bergian moment, published, as you might expect, by the usual ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was the sort of half-baked nonsense from an IPA stooge that you might expect would allow you to score a job in a university as a plant, and it ended with "No one has the 'right' to rule", with the inverted commas supposed to be the get out clause, and to soften the blow of immense meaningless stupidity, but which the publisher forgot about for the blurb on the back ... thinking instead that a little yellow might do the trick ...

 

 

 

 

 

And so here we are, with loons in the street crying freedumb, along with the Tudge and the Berg, and all the pond has to offer in retort is a Rowe, but it is some fair retort, with some more pretty fair Rowe always here ...