A 'this is not a post' post as the pond dreads the thought of returning to the reptiles ...

 

 

The pond had promised not to post anything until, with great reluctance, fear and trepidation, it turned back to its regular duties, studying the arcane, twisted, downright weird reptile minds of the lizard Oz ...

But then this turned up in the pond's in-box, headed "Americans" ...

 

 

That's grotesquely unfair. The pond had an aunt who simply loved this sort of decor, and all her bathroom features were given the full frills treatment, including disguising the toilet paper holder in this manner ...

 

She also liked Kamahl, and that might help explain to passing stray readers how the pond became a gibbering wreck observing reptile follies ...

But speaking of bizarre Americans, Ted "Cancun" Cruise was at it again ...

 

Most devotees of monstrously stupid Americans will have already noted this new folly, but it gives the pond the excuse it needed, because this dropped into the pond's in-box in response ...

 

 

Dunderfuck! What a sublime use of the English language, and coupled with "transgalactic", it was an outright winner, and for doubters, the world has its own wiki ...

 

There's a plural, just in case the pond has to refer to the dunderfucks at the lizard Oz!

And then there was the question of "insert Whitty handle here". Was that the Whitty handle that could be found here? 

So many interesting questions arising from the postings of a dunderfuck ...

Meanwhile, the pond has been reminded of the sort of millennial madness that routinely swept through the world in past times ... 

 

No need to go below the headlines, but it did remind the pond of an old favourite theme, which is to say millennial madness ...

The LA Times had a book review here which addressed the matter. The pond freely acknowledges that we're not in a Fin de Siecle time, but why can't millennial madness pop up at any time?

If Ted Cruz as a senator doesn't herald the end times, what other evidence while on earth or transgalactic journey in search of dunderfucks do we need?

...In addition to its eleemosynary richness of fact, “Century’s End” provides its readers with a fascinating focus for their own meditations on endings and beginnings and on the variety of human responses to symbolic milestones. Because of their colorful mien, Schwartz cannot help but concentrate on the extremists, whether apocalyptic or millennarian.
In truth, there is little of either in evidence before the end of the 13th Century. But from then on, as literacy and leisure rise, each century’s end seems to swarm with designer prophecies. As one reads through the evidence, it becomes ever clearer that the prophets are awfully simple folk, men and women dazzled by the compelling autonomy of numbers. None is simpler than our beloved ex-President Ronald Reagan, whom Schwartz quotes as telling an official of the American-Israel PAC: “You know (all Reagan sentences begin with “you know” or “well”) I turn back to your ancient prophets in the Old Testament and the signs foretelling Armageddon, and I find myself wondering if--if we’re the generation that’s going to see that come about. I don’t know if you’ve noted any of those prophecies lately but, believe me, they certainly describe the times we’re going through.”
Uh, which ancient prophets do you have in mind, Mr. President? Could you name one? (Armageddon appears nowhere in the Old Testament and but once in the New--in the Book of Revelation, which, if Mr. Reagan were to attempt to read it through, would give him a terrible headache.)
To Reagan’s embrace of Armageddon and to all similar calculations, one may oppose the question of Paul Harvey, Renaissance physician: “But is it credible that the extreme dismal state of the world, or any utter casualty of so mighty consequence, should in very deed depend upon the fickle state of numbers and figures?”
The answer is obvious. Our calendrical numbers, whether Jewish or Roman or Islamic or Christian, are merely convenient designations, arbitrary as applied to the years of our history, no more meaningful than the number of drawers in a filing cabinet. They can speak to us neither of coming retribution nor coming rapture. They cannot speak at all.
But Schwartz answers Harvey thus: “The answer is yes, it is credible. Or rather, yes, it had become credible, thanks to astromusicians, almaniacs, pansophisticates, Christorians, mathemagicians, kabbalanthropists, a calendaring pope, and a hybrid host of other centuriators.” Thanks, in other words, to a great gaggle (except for that “calendaring pope,” who was only trying to put things in order) of mystifiers and obscurantists.

That noted, thanks to the anti-vaxxers, down there with the Luddites and rabid Xians, we do have a bunch of new mystifiers and obscurantists doing the rounds, including this one ...

 

Yes, C and L is still keeping track of contenders for the Herman Cain awards - the pond isn't sure that the Darwin Awards knows how to cope with all the current crop of lemmings.

There's no need to gloat about this, fools and their lives are soon parted, and tough shit and all that, and all that should be erected as a headstone is a cartoon ...

 

 

And now, following up on yesterday's post, another tribute to Don't Look Up, this time by Susie Madrak a few days ago in C and L ... calling it the best political satire since Dr Strangelove ...

Well the pond might not go that far - Dr Strangelove is in the pond's top ten movies of all time - but Don't Look Up is bloody good fun, and perhaps it's the blogging about loons that helps explain the attraction ...

After I watched the new Netflix release, "Don't Look Up," I had the strangest sensation -- because it felt like it was written by bloggers. After all, the plot centers around an life-ending impending disaster that the media would prefer to downplay or ignore. (Or worse, turn into clickbait.)
And it seems like some media outlets are taking it personally, because many of the reviews are downright sniffy. (I almost didn't watch it, because I saw so many negative reviews.)
The movie is about a new comet discovered by two scientists (Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence) that's headed directly to earth, and their attempts to get taken seriously.
(It reminded me of "Dr. Strangelove," but also "Network," the 1976 film about Howard Beale, a network anchorman who threatens to commit suicide on-air because he's so infuriated by the overriding profit motive in network news.)
Because while "Don't Look Up" is really about climate change, it's also about the public response to the pandemic. And it's about Trump. (Meryl Streep plays a female version.) But mostly, it's a laser-focused critique of the media and its inability to wrestle with existential, world-threatening issues -- like climate change. (There's an all-too-realistic segment in there about the New York Times -- excuse me, New York "Herald" -- and their refusal to stand behind their own story. How do you "both sides" impending disaster?)
Lest this sound like homework, the movie is a comedy. Really. It's very funny. And serious. (Director Adam McKay calls it a "disaster comedy.") It's a good way to spend New Year's Eve. Oh, and be sure to watch it until the end of the credits.

Indeedy do, and while we've now moved past the eve into a new year of millennial madness, it's still worth a viewing, so that sides can be taken, and arguments about which bit of the egg to cut can be carried out - top or bottom (the pond goes bottom just for the perversity).

...Besides, our Histories of six thousand Moons make no mention of any other Regions, than the two great Empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Which two mighty Powers have, as I was going to tell you, been engaged in a most obstinate War for six and thirty Moons past.
It began upon the following Occasion. It is allowed on all Hands, that the primitive way of breaking Eggs, before we eat them, was upon the larger End: But his present Majesty's Grand-father, while he was a Boy, going to eat an Egg, and breaking it according to the ancient Practice, happened to cut one of his Fingers. Whereupon the Emperor his Father published an Edict, commanding all his Subjects, upon great Penaltys, to break the smaller End of their Eggs.
The People so highly resented this Law, that our Histories tell us there have been six Rebellions raised on that account; wherein one Emperor lost his Life, and another his Crown. These civil Commotions were constantly fomented by the Monarchs of Blefuscu; and when they were quelled, the Exiles always fled for Refuge to that Empire. It is computed, that eleven thousand Persons have, at several times, suffered Death, rather than submit to break their Eggs at the smaller End.
Many hundred large Volumes have been published upon this Controversy: But the books of the Big-Endians have been long forbidden, and the whole Party rendered incapable by Law of holding Employments. During the Course of these Troubles, the Emperors of Blefuscu did frequently expostulate by their Ambassadors, accusing us of making a Schism in Religion, by offending against a fundamental Doctrine of our great Prophet Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth Chapter of the Brundrecal (which is their Alcoran.) This, however, is thought to be a meer Strain upon the Text: For the Words are these: That all true Believers shall break their Eggs at the convenient End: and which is the convenient End, seems, in my humble Opinion, to be left to every Man's Conscience, or at least in the power of the Chief Magistrate to determine.
Now the Big-Endian Exiles have found so much Credit in the Emperor of Blefuscu's Court, and so much private Assistance and Encouragement from their Party here at home, that a bloody War has been carried on between the two Empires for six and thirty Moons with various Success; during which time we have lost forty Capital Ships, and a much greater number of smaller Vessels, together with thirty thousand of our best Seamen and Soldiers; and the Damage received by the Enemy is reckon'd to be somewhat greater than Ours. However, they have now equipped a numerous Fleet, and are just preparing to make a Descent upon us; and his Imperial Majesty, placing great Confidence in your Valour and Strength, has commanded me to lay this Account of his affairs before you.

That said, what a relief to note that not all Americans are mad, or besotted by frilly features in toilets, though the dunderfucks find it terribly hard to talk of toilets, and blather on about bathrooms, or dating, when they really mean fucking ...

But these are venial sins, and shouldn't distract from those Americans finding great humour in observing dunderfucks of the Ted Cruz kind, as we all join hands to dunderfuck the planet ...

Finally as the dread hour of the return of the reptiles fast approaches, a few cartoons to settle the pond's nerves ... beginning with a big-endian weather moment ...

 

This last one is dedicated to a young relative of the pond ...