In which the pond crashes out with our Henry, the bromancer, and the trudging Tudge ...

 

 

 

 

What a delight to be back with the hole in the bucket man on a Friday. The pond still remembers with shock and dismay - tinged with horror - that dismal day that Telstra assured the pond it was just "routine maintenance", and the pond would be up in an hour.

It turned out to be a bit more like the "routine maintenance" the reptiles are offering the planet ... deeply fucked.

But the pond isn't bitter, it's just grateful to be able to play a game of "spot the science" with our Henry. The point of the game is simple. Our Henry is purportedly writing about climate science and its implications for the planet.

For anyone who dares to play, the game is simple. Spot any actual science.

Of course the header gives a clue that this might be trickier than it seems - "more myth than Enlightenment" might just as well stand for poor old Henry, who clearly doesn't have a fucking clue about the science, and so avoids it like a red hot poker thrust at the nether regions ...

 

Players will have spotted Plato, and The Republic, and Pierre Bayle and unruly populaces, and in lieu of scientists, diviners full of apocalyptic projections and vain imaginings ...

Oh and there's also a dose of rampant Micawberism, but those delusional enough to think they might spot some science are on a deep losing streak ... because when you're a doddering old fart, all you know how to do is to dodder down the backroads of senility.

Still, we must keep on playing the game ...

 

Sorry, spot the science players. You get a goodly dose of Cassirer and secular religions and the meaning of life (no, Monty Python can't be counted as spotting the science), and earlier there was an impressive array, including Bacon, Hume and Weber ... all splendid scientists, no doubt, but not counting in the game of spotting the science  ...

One last chance to play ...

 

 

 

No, the pond will not accept spotting the Spinoza and his Tractatus Theologico-Politicus as spotting the science, but it will allow that spotting the wankery deserves a consolation prize. 

Any climate scientist reading this epoch-limiting mindlessly moronic text could only gasp and weep, and worst of all, poor old Henry still doesn't know how to fix a bucket ... but then that would require some recognition of engineering, if not actual science ...

Luckily, the pond's Friday joy didn't end there, because the bromancer was back out harping on the same sort of theme ... only this time there's a dose of alliteration, signifying very little, not even the bromancer's pitifully problematic way with words ...

 

 

By now players of the spot the science game might be feeling despondent ... which is good, because the bromancer has never bothered with the science. He's more an onion muncher, climate science is crap sort of man, and he's happy to pour cold water on any attempts to do anything about a non-existent problem ... as you might expect from an expert climate scientist of the bromancer kind ...

 

 

 

Yes, the world is heading to hell in a handbasket, and how happy that makes the bromancer ... and how much more fun it is to play spot the delinquents than spot the science ... and if Australia should be among the coal-loving delinquents, why then we can all wag school together ...

 

 

 

Yes, the lizard Oz keeps on keeping on with its denialism, and all the pond could think of was what's being left to vulgar youff.

No wonder they think the world is fucked and want to get off ... but at least the pond can get it on with the immortal Rowe, with there always being more getting on here ...

 

And now, there being no climate scientist denialists in News Corp, as the pond has ably demonstrated, it's time for an extra, but be warned, it involves trudging behind the paywall with Tudge ...

First a warm up to explain why the pond paid attention, because it dominated the top of the digital edition and turned up in the tree killer version ...

 

 

Well it's a distraction, because we certainly need a distraction from distracting climate science and our coal loving ways, and it was also reassuring to see that the reptiles were still taking cash in the paw from the freedumb party, because, when indulging in democracy, you can never have enough freedumb or cash in the paw ,,,

That's why it was pleasing to be reminded that to learn the thoughts of a Minister of the Crown, you had to pay a stipend to Chairman Rupert, because that's the way democracy works. Not so much freedom to speak, as freedom to pay the Chairman to trudge a little way with the Tudge ... you can never have enough freedumb, or cash in the Chairman's paw ...

 

Try harder? That's rich, coming from a twerp of the Tudge kind, handing in his speech to the reptiles to make sure he scores a big splash, but on we press ...

 

Um, they've given us the mango Mussolini, boofhead Boris, the empty Gaetz, and back home, gold standard Gladys? Oh and a star chamber persecuting a whistle blower, and Xian Porter and the demonic potato head and ...

Oh never mind, the pond has had its dose of reptile science, and must keep on in its re-education camp, so it can understand just how free, wealthy and egalitarian it's been for the first inhabitants ...

 

Indeed, indeed, but never let us forget the influence of dickheads ... and to think that we need to head back to the 1950s so we might all be trained to participate in the next Vietnam ... or Iraq ... or what else have you got?

The pond should at this point note that it made an enormous sacrifice, because Dame Slap was at the centre of a cat fight this day ...

 

 

And yet here was the pond, trudging with Tudge, and listening to the bleating of the little Sir Echo, also known as the lizard Oz editorialist ...

 

Anzac Day a contested idea? You know, the pond isn't much for history these days, it did enough of it in its vulgar youff, but the pond can remember that Alan Seymour wrote The One Day of the Year way back in 1958 and the wiki's bald plot summary will give some idea of the contest ...

Alf’s son Hughie and his girlfriend Jan plan to document Anzac Day for the university newspaper, focusing on the drinking on Anzac Day. For the first time in his life Hughie refuses to attend the dawn service with Alf. When he watches the march on television at home with his mother and Wacka, he is torn between outrage at the display and love for his father.

Oh there was a great fuss, but then the pond had been taught that ideas should be contested, and there was a fair contest to be had about the meaning and point of Gallipoli, and two up and getting pissed as a parrot ...

 

You know, that cartoon appeared in the lizard Oz on 26th April 1969...

 

 

What a different paper it was, how dimly remembered at The Conversation, how soon reptiles can forget their history ...

The pond can also remember the Black Line, and an actual attempt at genocide in this fair and balanced country ...

But why bother, because now, when it comes to the past, and to the present and climate science, the reptiles have always preferred blinkers ...

 

 

Oh pity poor vulgar youff, on a planet steadily being fucked into a terminal condition ... but at least it might help them understand what it was like in the aftermath of invasion day ...

Meanwhile, it was lucky that the infallible Pope was on hand to celebrate democracy as a way of crashing out for the pond (what does crashing out mean? Ah for that you'll have to catch up on the high def release of High Sierra... mister, what does it mean, when the pond crashes out after a dose of our Henry, the bromancer and a serve of lizard Oz editorialist Tudge fudge? Why, it means freedumb, Ida, freedumb, but at least you scored top billing over Bogey) ...