In which the pond gets back to post-Ēostre normal with a serve of the bromancer and a good groaning ...

 

 

What a relief to get past that endless pagan Ēostre orgy with the reptiles and settle down for a quiet day at the lizard Oz.

Oh sure there'll be a plaintive cri de cœur from the bromancer, but the pond is used to reptile suffering, and will be able to make it through unscathed ... if anything, it's just part of the daily ritual, which begins with the pond checking whether there's been any change to the reptiles' unholy, unseemly lust for Klive's kash in the reptile klaw ...

 

 

Yep, the KKK is still going strong, and it seems that the tongue shot might now be lost to history, and the pond's chance of a quadrella of tongues gone with it, as the reptiles have found a new routine ... bring on former chairman Rudd, because if that doesn't scare reptile punters, nothing will ...

 

Never mind, the pond always ignores simplistic Simon saying (nothing about his conflict of interest) and so to the plaintive cri de cœur. 

By golly that moving of the rock, and the pending arrival of the rapture over the weekend did nothing for the bromancer's mood ...

 

Ah both siderism at its finest, but here the pond must protest. Surely the bromancer should be celebrating the valiant contribution of Faux Noise, Tuckyo Carlson, simpering Sean H. and all the rest of the clowns to the state of the world.

Where else might you find a candidate worthy of Republican attention?

 

 

Actually the pond knows exactly where you might find a candidate with that amount of baggage ... hiding in the garage ...

 

 

Dear sweet long absent embattled lord, there's something deeply weird and obsessive going down there, and a captain's pick too, which says a lot about the captain, but the pond isn't in to hate speech, and so returns to the glum bromancer, perhaps agitated that somebody so stupid should be called out ...

Naturally it's got nothing to do with the reptiles or Faux Noise or any of that jazz ... apparently Deves was delivered unto us as a virgin captain's call birth ... and nothing to do with the reptile belief that tranny bashing might well replace black bashing as the new autumnal sport ...

 

Truth to tell, could AI be any worse that the bromancer, or the rest of the nonsense that pours out from the reptiles? Just asking for a tranny friend ...

 

 

 

The pond's takeaway? Who knew that the bromancer was a CIA agent?! What a startling admission ...

Meanwhile, News Corp is hurting our democracy, our enemies take huge advantage of this, and the speaking in tongues man is on a mission for his imaginary friend ... and all the bromancer can do is indulge in a mighty bout of both siderism and a piteous hideous wailing sound ...

Here's an oldie but a goodie once featured by the pond ...

 

You can't palm it all off on social media and Elon Musk, though the pond would cheerfully give the Musk a palming. 

The bromancer's wailing took the pond back to the long lost days when the reptiles considered blogging the den of all Satanic weevils, and look at that game now ...

And so to the usual Tuesday slice of Dame Groan.

But why the groaning? The pond has no interest in the groaning about economics, though there are some readers who find the groaning endlessly fascinating ...

It's more to do with the choices available ...

 

 

 

Geoff offering advice? Is that wise? Venerable Troy urging the bromancer to stay calm? But think of the entertainment lost ...

Simplistic Simon reprising what was at the top of the page? No, repetition is not an enhanced educational method ...

So off to the groaning it is ...

 

Now the pond has already flagged that it has no interest in the groaning. It just wants to get through the maze so it can nibble at its Rowe treat ... (dammit, why won't that bloody rat take an interest in the cheese, peanut butter and salami the pond has offered day after day?)

The pond is aware that the groaning is really just a device to remind lizard Oz readers of the days when we had a big spending inflationary government that tossed money at all sorts of trinkets, just to stay in power ...

You know, pink batts, former Chairman Rudd and so on and so forth ...

What's that? You still haven't got your car park? Never mind, just shift to Wagga Wagga ... now on with the groaning ...

 

Is it wrong for the pond to throw in an old Wilcox at this point? Well they say repetition is good for the soul, if not useful as an educational method ...

 

Lordy, long absent lordy, how the pond loathes those large beasts blocking up the back streets of Newtown and celebrates each time it sees a funny little car tootling about ...

Sorry, the pond did warn it wasn't up to an arcane discussion of inflation because the pond has discovered if you spend one groaning penny, next thing you know you're pissing away a groaning pound ...

Yes, all being well, the speaker in tongues with a mission from his imaginary friend to saturate the land with pagan Ēostre eggs and filthy lucre will keep doing his thing, and at the end of the rainbow, there'll be a tremendous payoff ... and if you believe that, Dame Groan has got some difficult times to sell you on ...

And with that the pond thinks it's earned its immortal Rowe, though there's always more Rowe to be found here ...

Lo, verily, he has arisen ... and walks among us ...