In which the pond has a Dickens of a time with the Prof, in an ever so umble way, before getting on with nuking the country ...

 

There are many reasons to be cheerful ...

The juice of the carrot, the smile of a parrot
A little drop of claret - anything that rocks
No Dame Slap, the days when I ain't spotty,
No time with Harry, sitting on the potty, curing smallpox

Yes, it occurred to the pond that with the number of red cards the pond is handing out these days to Dame Slap, the pond might never return to planet Janet above the faraway tree for the entire year ... with this outing immediately sent from the field ...

No you don't get to whine about the trouble with Harry on the pond's beat ... and if he takes down the monarchy, who cares? ... (late breaking ... if the pond is going to read about the trouble with Harry, it'll be via Marina Hyde with these sorts of bon mots ...“I didn’t care for Rupert Murdoch’s politics,” Harry writes at one point in Spare, “which were just to the right of the Taliban.”)

But it's a good cue for an infallible Pope ...

... but that's all it is, and more of the life-saving infallible Pope anon, but meanwhile, red carding Dame Slap yet again left the pond with very slim pickings ... 

Presumably the reptiles will only crank into gear after Australia Day, much like the cardigan-wearers at the ABC, because what a serve of dross came across the pond's bow this day...

Dear sweet long absent lord, what a dire lot ... though the pond supposes it should express gratitude and tug the forelock and celebrate the way that the emeritus Prof has a new book coming out,  and so he's helping it along with the help of the reptiles  ...

"Gratitude research"?  That such a thing should be ...and a snap that would gladden the heart of a Nimbin hippie or a Paltrow wellness Goopster?

Never mind Nietzsche, the pond learned the benefits of expressing gratitude at an early age by a master of the art ...

'I am improving my legal knowledge, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah. 'I am going through Tidd's Practice. Oh, what a writer Mr. Tidd is, Master Copperfield!'

My stool was such a tower of observation, that as I watched him reading on again, after this rapturous exclamation, and following up the lines with his forefinger, I observed that his nostrils, which were thin and pointed, with sharp dints in them, had a singular and most uncomfortable way of expanding and contracting themselves - that they seemed to twinkle instead of his eyes, which hardly ever twinkled at all.

'I suppose you are quite a great lawyer?' I said, after looking at him for some time.

'Me, Master Copperfield?' said Uriah. 'Oh, no! I'm a very umble person.'

It was no fancy of mine about his hands, I observed; for he frequently ground the palms against each other as if to squeeze them dry and warm, besides often wiping them, in a stealthy way, on his pocket-handkerchief.

'I am well aware that I am the umblest person going,' said Uriah Heep, modestly; 'let the other be where he may. My mother is likewise a very umble person. We live in a numble abode, Master Copperfield, but have much to be thankful for. My father's former calling was umble. He was a sexton.'

'What is he now?' I asked.

'He is a partaker of glory at present, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah Heep. 'But we have much to be thankful for. How much have I to be thankful for in living with Mr. Wickfield!'

I asked Uriah if he had been with Mr. Wickfield long?

'I have been with him, going on four year, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah; shutting up his book, after carefully marking the place where he had left off. 'Since a year after my father's death. How much have I to be thankful for, in that! How much have I to be thankful for, in Mr. Wickfield's kind intention to give me my articles, which would otherwise not lay within the umble means of mother and self!'

Being ever so umble, the pond is deeply thankful to be in the presence of a mind who can top the hole in the bucket man when it comes to talking of the ancient Greeks ... what a partaker of glory that must be...

Oh indeed, indeed ... and back to the pond having the Dickens of a time ...

One Thursday morning, when I was about to walk with Mr. Dick from the hotel to the coach office before going back to school (for we had an hour’s school before breakfast), I met Uriah in the street, who reminded me of the promise I had made to take tea with himself and his mother: adding, with a writhe, ‘But I didn’t expect you to keep it, Master Copperfield, we’re so very umble.’

I really had not yet been able to make up my mind whether I liked Uriah or detested him; and I was very doubtful about it still, as I stood looking him in the face in the street. But I felt it quite an affront to be supposed proud, and said I only wanted to be asked.

‘Oh, if that’s all, Master Copperfield,’ said Uriah, ‘and it really isn’t our umbleness that prevents you, will you come this evening? But if it is our umbleness, I hope you won’t mind owning to it, Master Copperfield; for we are well aware of our condition.’

I said I would mention it to Mr. Wickfield, and if he approved, as I had no doubt he would, I would come with pleasure. So, at six o’clock that evening, which was one of the early office evenings, I announced myself as ready, to Uriah.

‘Mother will be proud, indeed,’ he said, as we walked away together. ‘Or she would be proud, if it wasn’t sinful, Master Copperfield.’

'Yet you didn’t mind supposing I was proud this morning,’ I returned.

‘Oh dear, no, Master Copperfield!’ returned Uriah. ‘Oh, believe me, no! Such a thought never came into my head! I shouldn’t have deemed it at all proud if you had thought US too umble for you. Because we are so very umble.’

‘Have you been studying much law lately?’ I asked, to change the subject.

‘Oh, Master Copperfield,’ he said, with an air of self-denial, ‘my reading is hardly to be called study. I have passed an hour or two in the evening, sometimes, with Mr. Tidd and Prof Carroll.’

‘Rather hard, I suppose?’ said I. ‘He is hard to me sometimes,’ returned Uriah. ‘But I don’t know what he might be to a gifted person.’

After beating a little tune on his chin as he walked on, with the two forefingers of his skeleton right hand, he added:

‘There are expressions, you see, Master Copperfield—Latin words and ancient Greek concepts and terms and Nietzsche being high falutin' —in Mr. Tidd, that are trying to a reader of my umble attainments.’

‘Would you like to be taught Latin?’ I said briskly. ‘I will teach it you with pleasure, as I learn it.’

‘Oh, thank you, Master Copperfield,’ he answered, shaking his head. ‘I am sure it’s very kind of you to make the offer, but I am much too umble to accept it.’

‘What nonsense, Uriah!’

‘Oh, indeed you must excuse me, Master Copperfield! I am greatly obliged, and I should like it of all things, I assure you; but I am far too umble. There are people enough to tread upon me in my lowly state, without my doing outrage to their feelings by possessing learning. Learning ain’t for me. A person like myself had better not aspire. If he is to get on in life, he must get on umbly, Master Copperfield!’

I never saw his mouth so wide, or the creases in his cheeks so deep, as when he delivered himself of these sentiments: shaking his head all the time, and writhing modestly.

‘I think you are wrong, Uriah,’ I said. ‘I dare say there are several things that I could teach you, if you would like to learn them.’

‘Oh, I don’t doubt that, Master Copperfield,’ he answered; ‘not in the least. But not being umble yourself, you don’t judge well, perhaps, for them that are. I won’t provoke my betters with knowledge, thank you. I’m much too umble. Here is my umble dwelling, Master Copperfield!’

We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from the street, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah, only short. She received me with the utmost humility, and apologized to me for giving her son a kiss, observing that, lowly as they were, they had their natural affections, which they hoped would give no offence to anyone. It was a perfectly decent room, half parlour and half kitchen, but not at all a snug room. The tea-things were set upon the table, and the kettle was boiling on the hob. There was a chest of drawers with an escritoire top, for Uriah to read or write at of an evening; there was Uriah’s blue bag lying down and vomiting papers; there was a company of Uriah’s books commanded by Mr. Tidd; there was a corner cupboard: and there were the usual articles of furniture. I don’t remember that any individual object had a bare, pinched, spare look; but I do remember that the whole place had.

It was perhaps a part of Mrs. Heep’s humility, that she still wore weeds. Notwithstanding the lapse of time that had occurred since Mr. Heep’s decease, she still wore weeds. I think there was some compromise in the cap; but otherwise she was as weedy as in the early days of her mourning.

‘This is a day to be remembered, my Uriah, I am sure,’ said Mrs. Heep, making the tea, ‘when Master Copperfield pays us a visit.’

'I said you’d think so, mother,’ said Uriah.

‘If I could have wished father to remain among us for any reason,’ said Mrs. Heep, ‘it would have been, that he might have known his company this afternoon.’

I felt embarrassed by these compliments; but I was sensible, too, of being entertained as an honoured guest, and I thought Mrs. Heep an agreeable woman.

‘My Uriah,’ said Mrs. Heep, ‘has looked forward to this, sir, a long while. He had his fears that our umbleness stood in the way, and I joined in them myself. Umble we are, umble we have been, umble we shall ever be,’ said Mrs. Heep.

And being ever so umble, the pond was filled with deep gratitude that this was the last short burst from the emeritus Prof, together with a little promotion for his forthcoming tome ...

What an incredible wanker, and yet the pond is ever so umble to have been a recipient of his infinite wisdom, and best of all, there's the book promo done and dusted right at the very end, and the pond is ever so thankful it might discover the tome in a street library after some chastened loon dropped it there, realising they'd done their cash stone cold...

And so to a bonus, and here the pond was desperate. 

On Monday, the pond had learned that it needed to consume more coal and oil, thanks be unto the Caterist, and on Tuesday, the pond had learned that there was no relationship between weather events and climate change, thanks be unto Lloydie of the Amazon, so it was passing strange to learn that there is apparently some sort of climate crisis going down, and the best way forward is to nuke the country ...

Sheesh, the pond was completely bewildered. Who was this Ted? Why did he sound like a simpering idiot? What sort of awakening was he on? Was he realising that taking a junket could allow a capactiy for drivel?

This Ted talked of parliamentary inquiries and nuking the country, but the pond didn't have the foggiest who he was ... he might well have been a Bobo beloved by Mr Burns - apparently King Chuck III also has a thing for battered Bobos ...

Luckily the reptiles included a snap in the next gobbet, and some of the fog lifted ...

Say what? He decided to take a junket to Japan and perhaps have a sushi and sashimi treat each night, as the pond was once wont to do (alternating every so often with some karaage style or when in Osaka, a serve of okonomiyaki)?

It turned out that the reptiles stuffed this travelogue with snaps and click bait videos, as in the next gobbet ...

Why there's the Dominator planning exciting times for NSW, and there's the oh so umble Ted explaining that the Japanese know all about costs, so who can argue with that ...

Meanwhile, on another planet, reporting in from the AFR here ... back in the ancient days of July 2022 ...

Nuclear energy is too expensive to be considered an option to help Australia reduce its carbon emissions, at least in the next decade, according to the latest report by the CSIRO.

While some politicians and industry bodies continue to push nuclear energy as a way for Australia to wean itself off fossil fuels, the economics of large or small modular reactors do not stack up compared to renewable energy such as wind or solar.

This is even before the political considerations are taken into account about whether federal or state governments would change laws to allow nuclear power plants to be built in Australia.

“The status of nuclear SMR [small modular reactors] has not changed,” the CSIRO report said. “Following extensive consultation with the Australian electricity industry, report findings do not see any prospect of domestic projects this decade, given the technology’s commercial immaturity and high cost.

“Future cost reductions are possible but depend on its successful commercial deployment overseas.”

The Gencost report found that a small reactor typically costs as much as $16,000 per kilowatt-hour, 50 to 100 per cent more than large-scale nuclear.

By contrast, wind and solar come in under $2000 per kilowatt-hour, it said.

In June, former Energy Security Board chairwoman Kerry Schott told The Australian Financial Review that nuclear energy, like new coal-fired power plants, was not a viable option because it was too expensive.

The Gencost report – undertaken by the CSIRO and the Australian Energy Market Operator – found wind and solar were still the cheapest form of electricity generation in Australian even after the additional integration costs, such as transmission and storage, were taken into account.

Despite inflation and global supply issues, wind, solar and batteries were predicted to keep getting cheaper – even as the share of renewable energy in the grid heads towards 90 per cent.

“The latest report shows renewables are holding steady at the lowest cost source of new-build electricity,” CSIRO chief executive Larry Marshall said.

“With the world’s largest penetration of rooftop solar, unique critical energy metals, a world-class research sector and a highly skilled workforce, Australia can turn our challenges into the immense opportunity of being a global leader in renewable energy.”

But the pond is an umble and grateful person, and is grateful for Ted's junket and the incredible wisdom he can offer ...

By golly another snap, and the pond will confess that even though it was incredibly umble and grateful, Ted was starting to get on its nerves, which is why the pond was umble and grateful it had set aside a serve of infallible Popes for just such an emergency ...

It's possibly a tad out of date, though apparently there might be some more unprecedented floods, and there's a bushfire season in the offing, but still the umble pond was grateful for a break from Ted's blather ...

Who is this loon, and why do the reptiles keep loading him up with snaps? 

Talk about a travelogue, talk about an itinerary, talk about the ongoing need for relief via an infallible Pope ...

Well the nips and the gobbets are getting shorter, but this one still manages to fit in a snap to help with the itinerary ...

And that provided the pond with an excuse for another infallible Pope ...

Ah, an echo of the lizard Oz editorialist from yesterday and more of that anon, but first a final gobbet from tedious, interminable Ted, still on a first class junket all over the place...

Oh dear sweet long absent lord, this prize futtock is the Coalition's energy spokesman? 

The scales fell from the pond's eyes. Say it ain't so. It no longer had that beefy boofhead Angus to mock and kick around ... and instead had been lumped with the tediously interminable Ted? And yet the pond was still supposed to be cheerful and full of gratitude and ever so umble?

Never mind, keeping in mind the thoughts of the infinitely wise emeritus Prof, the pond managed to flash a smile of gratitude, as a sign of being richly blessed by the reptile offerings this day...

And so to a coda, and the pond wishes it had seen this yesterday when the lizard Oz editorialist was rabbiting on about Trumpism and Brazil and how wrong it all was ... and then came this, a sign of the way that Murdochian thinking had helped normalise coups of the authoritarian kind ...

No, the video doesn't work, and it'll be a very long time before the pond ever enables a Tuckyo Carlson video ... but it's a reminder how the local reptiles refuse to note exactly what their kissing cousins in the USA get up to, and how the chairman's lust for profits continues to fuck the planet, and it's very hard to stay cheerful and smile with gratitude when confronted by the worst of the worst ...

And speaking of authoritarians and autocrats, for a closer, there's the usual immortal Rowe ...