In which the Caterist has the honours, and Dame Slap and the Major take up the bog standard Voice and ABC bashing duties ...

The Caterist has earned pride of place this day in the pond thanks to a most excellent outing. 

Each day the pond says a little prayer - let a prize loon be unleashed for entertainment purposes - and this day the Caterist has been offered up by the long absent lord ...

The woke neo-Marxist world! Durkheim, hinting at vague memories of life as a sociology student back in the days of Eating People is Wrong ...“Have a little sociological beano. As you said - in sociology one can do anything and call it work.”

Of course the pond isn't going to debate theology with the Caterist, but it does feel the need to return to the text in the Lord's prayer, and by extension that reference to the King James version, put together by and named in honour of a homosexual king.

As any Catholic from long ago could tell you, loyalty to the wrong wording of the prayer or that filthy translation ensured swift passage to hell, though it has to be noted that the homosexual king's version seems to have surpassed the Cox version once foisted on the pond ...

Perhaps it's the Catholics that are destined to eternal hellfire, and the lost golden plates are the final word on fairy stories ...

Whatever, it's truly wondrous to see the defamer of people and diviner of the movement of flood waters in quarries get some religion ... and now back to the church of woke neo-Marxsm that is truly responsible for everything wrong in the world...

Sublime Caterist. The coup loving authoritarian fine people on both sides snake oil seller, for all his strengths as a con artist, fraud and liar, was "hardly Reagan."

But the pond has read enough and been converted by the Caterist, and now seeks to resign from the woke neo-Marxist church, in much the same way that Robert Carlock sought to resign from a global conspiracy by way of The New Yorker, here, probably paywalled:

Dear Global Liberal Cannibalistic Pedophile Conspiracy:

Please accept this letter as my resignation from the Conspiracy. As of today, my bar tab has been fully paid and I have returned my ceremonial cloak of deepest-red velvet, so deep as to be black, to Glen at the front desk.

I write this with a heavy heart. Joining the G.L.C.P.C. was a dream come true, and yet just last year I was starting to think that maybe there was no global leftist cabal that ate babies as part of a satanic rite in order to gain immortality and, through control of the media and the banks, impose a New World Order and also run child-prostitution rings. I had been working in Hollywood for years, intentionally producing youth-corrupting garbage TV in the hope of getting noticed by the Conspiracy. From a networking standpoint, you guys are next level, and, at the time, I was trying to make the pivot into feature films.

So I was relieved to wake up one midnight, unable to move, to find a sulfurous imp (aglow on its forehead the Greek letter eta: “H,” for “Hillary”) crawling into my mouth. After that, of course, I was able to understand the coded messages you were sending through C-span, pop culture, and Wordle. A few weeks later, I was listening to “All Too Well (Taylor’s Version),” and there, hidden in the part about the refrigerator, was my invitation to the 2021 Feast of the Innocents-slash-orgy in the crypt under the Lincoln Memorial!

Since then, I have been an active and involved member of the G.L.C.P.C. It was my idea that we stop using “cheese pizza” as code for “child prostitute” at the pizzerias that we own around the world as fronts for child prostitution. I’m proud to say that incidences of confused Little League teams accidentally being given child prostitutes are way down. I also was the one to suggest that maybe “Q” from QAnon is that guy Quentin who was always taking pictures with his phone. And, later that evening, I helped Oprah and Pope Francis drown him. I got a high five from Oprah!

And yet I never felt entirely welcome. Clearly, my choice not to participate in the rite of eating human babies and drinking their blood has held me back. Which I find hypocritical. As I said during the interview process, it shouldn’t matter what I eat; isn’t the whole point of the Conspiracy to create a better world, one of tolerance and inclusion? Where a dog can marry a car and there are zero guns and the Thought Police punish Wrong-Think®? At the time, Hillary Herself stood and applauded those sentiments (I was quoting her, but still), and then everyone started clapping and then it turned into an orgy.

In reality, those noble ideals go only so far. I soon came to feel like a pariah. I was frequently left out of inside jokes about ritualistic baby-eating. At dinners, I somehow always found myself seated next to fucking Mark Zuckerberg. I was Mop Boy at three orgies in a row. And then, at the Gathering of the Cabal last Wednesday, as the line was forming before the Slaking Altar, Tom Hanks (he was wearing a brass goat head, but I’m pretty sure it was Hanks) noticed me standing off to the side and said, “What a baby. I guess we should eat him next!” This got a big laugh (although it was kind of a kissing-ass, I-think-that’s-Hanks-under-there laugh). Needless to say, I left early, even though the Rothschilds had brought a “special surprise” that turned out to be solid-gold live birds...

And so on, though the pond has little hope that its redemption and transformation will save the Caterist from a gloomy depressive final gobbet ...

....As I walked back home through the secret tunnels under the Denver airport, I found myself wondering, Is this really how we’re going to make a better world? By worshipping the Devil and eating babies? Yes, I know that eating babies and drinking their blood grants us immortality. Except . . . does it? Since I joined the G.L.C.P.C., so many people have told me about Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s “epic” final Feast and Slaking. How she ate “so much baby” and drank “so much blood.” And then the next day she died. The other night, Senator Feinstein basically had to be carried up the schist steps to the Basin. She did not look super immortal. And President Biden wasn’t even there, because he’d fallen off a couch earlier that day.

Which brings me to the real reason I have to resign. I don’t think any of it is working. Not just the “immortality by way of cannibalism.” The whole damn thing. Are we any closer to a socialist-plutocratic New World Order than when we started? The Gathering was a chance to reassure members that the Conspiracy is not completely off the rails, but even the Treasurer’s report was alarming—why does the portfolio have so much crypto?! Do we control the economy or not? And the video highlighting our recent achievements was flat-out depressing. I’m glad that cigarette use in movies is down and soccer continues to gain in popularity, but that really doesn’t convince me that all the baby-eating is worth it. And, if we’re just spinning our wheels despite the direct support of Satan Himself (who frankly seemed pretty rattled about our progress), then maybe we should all be rethinking the G.L.C.P.C.

In closing, I do hope you’ll keep me in mind for any future global conspiracies. And please let me know when you might have time to discuss my screenplay. 

And now after that sublime Caterist comedy, which allowed the pond the time to resign from a vast conspiracy, please spare a little time and space for some black bashing. 

Please make room for a deeply alarmed Dame Slap ... activist lawyer, almost up there with activist Alito ...

We will hear much of "a race-based voice" because it's the best that Dame Slap can muster ... and it comes at a time when David Rowe produced a lovely tribute to a race-based voice ...

That goes some way towards redeeming the way the pond is wasting its time on Dame Slap ... who for variation in her black bashing next offers "race-based body" ....

It is, it goes without saying but the pond will say it anyway, sublime Dame Slap legalistic pedantry of the first water, since if the parliament has the power to make laws with respect to the composition, functions, powers and procedures of a body, it can do an ATSIC if it wants.

The real point of Dame Slap is that she's agin it, and being agin it, she must run a pedant's toothcomb over it to stir up race-based controversy about a race-based body, with that sort of fuss offering a chance to toss red meat to the long suffering, persecuted Xian 'minority' celebrated just recently by the Caterist ...

It goes without saying that Dame Slap would only see impending disaster ... and sees splendid ways for the mutton Dutton to whip up a point of constitutional principle ... that a white-based majority must maintain its supremacy and control in all things. It's the blonde way or the high way ... and so to a feral fantasy that isn't hard for a Dame Slap to imagine ... that bloody activist High Court at work, refusing to listen to Dame Slap, activist lawyer ...

And there you have it. In the hands of Dame Slap, a modest proposal becomes a "governance disaster of an unholy scale..."

The planet might be burning and flooding, aided and abetted by the reptiles, but when a catastrophist and alarmist seeks an unholy scale, turn to letting a few blacks have a few words ...

But at least there you have an indication of how any attempt at a referendum is going to go with the reptiles of the lizard Oz ... down bigot's lane, with a quick detour through extremist street, and then by way of partisan zealot parade ...

And so to a disappointing Major, who is offered up for a bonus, but who has fallen back on the age-old reptile device of ABC bashing to fill up the void at the heart of the lizard Oz.

The pond supposes that something needed to be redeemed from the ashes of the dog bother's documentary ... and the intent noted by Jon Faine here ...

My animus towards their chosen presenter, Chris Kenny, requires explanation. He served as a ministerial advisor to Alexander Downer and Malcolm Turnbull, and is a prolific columnist for The Australian newspaper. His on-air duties for the cable TV network are only part of his profile.

Over many years, he has consistently expressed resolute hostility to the national broadcaster. He has frequently accused the ABC of bias, and has joined a conga line of Murdoch media critics insisting that the nation would be better served by a diminished ABC.

In what universe is he a suitable candidate to weigh up “the extent to which the ABC is fit for purpose in the 2020s”?

I have little doubt Chris Kenny will simply confirm his already well-formed views about a complex and diverse organisation that, much to the chagrin of the Murdoch empire, is consistently found to be a cherished and most trusted voice. While even the most passionate supporters do not pretend the ABC is perfect, the overwhelmingly positive role it plays in the life of the nation is unarguable.

Well yes, but in what unknown universe would the Major be any better, it being exceptionally rich for the man still hunting for that Long Lost Order of Lenin Medal to blather on about admitting one's mistakes?

It must really stick in the reptile caw that the hatchet job garnered a measly set of eyeballs. Once again the pond must quote the venerable Meade, but does so gladly ...

With the word “exposed” in its title you would think Chris Kenny’s doco Your ABC Exposed would have uncovered something.

But the attack on the public broadcaster was a laundry list of Kenny’s grievances which have been raised before in countless pieces in the Australian, where he is an associate editor and columnist, and on Sky News.

But so excited was the former Liberal party adviser he hired a mobile billboard and had it drive around the ABC’s Ultimo headquarters. The bizarre display was in addition to all the promotional pieces on Sky News and in the News Corp papers.Despite his attempts to drum up interest for the exposé, a total of 85,000 people tuned in on Tuesday night at 8pm. Over on the ABC at the same time Miriam Margolyes had five times as many viewers for Australia Unmasked.

To be fair, it was a relatively good audience for Sky and for Kenny, whose earlier regular show The Kenny Report had just 32,000 viewers.

Speaking of a laundry list of grievances, the Major has his own list, and that's why the pond has marked the Major down. As it is with climate science, so it goes with the Major and the ABC. The pond has heard it all before, and it's tiresomely repetitious and tedious to endure ...

The pond does suppose that ABC bashing is less damaging than the Major's usual sport of planet-bashing ...

... but the sight of a fluff-gathering navel-gazing reptile quoting other reptiles of the Dame Slap kind to give the ABC a krogering is still tedious stuff ... especially when the Major falls into a doddery old fart routine of the "it was back in November I remember, though you young 'uns might have forgot ..."

How whimsically rich is all this blather? The dog botherer quoting Dame Slap and the dire Shier to be in turn quoted by the Major, when all the time they're just hapless minions for the main man ...

Yes, the pond has no shame and has resorted to cartoons to get through the litany ...

That talk of stars reminds the pond of one of the biggest reptile stars in a show hopefully coming to a theatre near the pond soon, so it can view the rip in the comfort of its lounge room ...

And so the pond has filibustered its way to the last of the Major's gobbets, with that joyous ratings number of 85,000 still ringing in the ear louder than tinnitus ...

And as the Major goes on it to speak of clangers, the pond must confess to finding this Crikey clanger irresistible ...

Oh cum on Crikey, the Major is still coming out with stale spurts from the litany ...

Duty done, and with the infallible Pope absent on a Monday, the pond looked around for a closing cartoon and remembered it had been a long time since it featured a TT, so here it goes (to be found here)... it might help to think of the Major as a time traveller staring at his pocket calculator's list of ABC infamies ...