In which the pond dodges a petulant Peta bullet, but gets taken out by the Lynch mob and a little endian Georgian ...

 

Thanks to YouTube pirates, the pond caught the opening of Jack Reacher the other day (Scientology version). Good 5.1 sound, good image and lots of guns, and no link because it'll be gone within the week. 

The show begins with long distance sniping, five dead, maybe at 700 yards or so, with the art of sniping savoured and brooded over at length. Hand crafted bullets, with an M14.

The pond bailed before getting to fingerless Werner and ham-laden Robert Duvall, but the pond recalls Tom sticking three rounds in the centre at 700 yards using a Remington 700 at Bob's shooting range. Okay, that's only 640 metres, but any way you cut it, that's better than the alleged 130-150 yards reported at the recent event.

It's the American dream, and the pond was reminded that Trump's shooter simply hadn't seen the right movies, and his father hadn't got him the right kit. So many SCOTUS/NRA approved guns available, such a culture of violence.

The pond had hoped that by this day the shooter storm would have finally swept past the reptiles at the lizard Oz, leaving only detritus in its wake. Alas and alack, the Lynch mob was out and about this day in the far right top of the digital world section of the paper...

On the upside, this meant the pond didn't have to pay attention to the lesser member of the Kelly gang, one Joe, railing at the greenies for wanting to kneecap the RBA - apparently unaware that the orange Jesus and the GOP gang want to abolish central banking altogether. 

As a bonus, the pond could also ignore the reptiles railing at the greenies about a cartoon, deeply unaware of the irony involved. If only they'd seen the infallible Pope of the day about the way that cancel culture lives ...

Another bonus was that the pond could ignore petulant Peta yammering away about the unions. Been there, done that too many times ...

On the downside, the pond should probably have stuck with the Scientological Reacher, offering way more insight into US culture and its taste for violence than the Lynch mob ... (it was left to Alexia Fast as Sandy to introduce a little humanity into the Scientology fest).

As usual, the pond was tempted to click on the link, and as usual, the pond had a Peanuts experience, with the football snatched away yet again ... for some inexplicable reason with the link landing the pond on a Killer Creighton piece ...

While the pond's devoted to Killer, the premise seemed slightly absurd. 

Currently holding no office, the mango Mussolini's political power has never been greater, not even when he was actually the POTUS? If his political power's now so great, why does he bother running?

And there wasn't any mention of JD and his calling the mango Mussolini the new Hitler, so the pond had absolutely no excuse to celebrate JD ...

The pond has already noted JD's astonishing flexibility ...

Back with the Lynch mob, there were plenty of history-loving snaps, cheap from the archives ... because everyone loves the Nazis. Where would SBS without them?

Then it was time for the Lynch mob lecture, and a deep wave of empathy and even deeper sympathy for his students ... but on the upside, instead of offering Mao, Caterist style, the Lynch mob dragged Karl into the show ...

Just the head movement? But Jack Reacher showed the pond the importance of having the right kit and the right correctly loaded bullets and the ability to hit a target at distance ... no wonder academics hate this stuff. 

The Lynch mob needs to get out on a range quikstix and get some triple-ham loaded advice from Bobby Duvall ... (and von Stauffenberg might have done better if he'd been willing to die with his bomb, rather than leave to save himself, and thereby he would have spared his brother an allegedly ugly exit by way of piano wire).

Back to the point-missing prof ...

The pond simply doesn't have time to go into the enormous stupidities embedded in that gobbet ... it's simply enough to note that the entire world doesn't run on the basis of accidents alone.

As for the meaning of the events in Pennsylvania, it's simple ... it's a glorious chance to make a buck ...with this a summary of the story to hand at TMZ ...

Yep, lower the temperature, lower the volume, lower the political heat, yell FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT just like they used to do at Tamworth High while having an all-in brawl of thugby league boofheads ... (no, the pond won't mention the unhappy toads of the deep north).

It turns out that some do have agency, it's not all accidents, even if the agency is a form of self-degradation and debasement ...

Luckily that brought the pond to the last of the Lynch gobbets ...

The pond is no psychologist, but there's something deeply weird in the wiring of the Lynch mob ... offering a grand theory about grand theories, while at the same time being completely clueless about such matters as gender. 

Cue a gay animal story ... on the basis that there's more to heaven and earth than the prof can imagine. Oh and deep pity for his students and for the status of the University of Melbourne.

Speaking of great men of history, a recent Rowe celebrated that greatness ...

What to do for a bonus? Again the pond had a stroke of luck. Entirely by accident, the reptiles had provided the pond with a way to avoid petulant Peta ... a serve of Jennie George howling at the moon and renewables.

George has turned into quite the reptile pet, saying all the right climate science denialist things ...

She really does know all the lingo ...you know, "triumph of reality over virtue signalling" and all that jazz. Meanwhile, on another planet ... reality calls ...

The pond was pleased to be reminded that NSW had an actual premier, so invisible and so fatuous has he been ...

Then it was on with the renewables bashing ...

Of course George could have been railing and ranting about the cost of nuking the country to save the planet, and associated transmission costs and the chance of epic blow outs, but as a dedicated compulsive obsessive, that's not her style ... and the pond began to grow weary, simply wanting it all to end ... and the quicker the better ...

Why is it that after reading this sort of guff, the pond is always reminded of Gulliver's Travels and the big and little endian feud (Project Gutenberg) ...

..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 grandfather, 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 penalties, 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 Blundecral (which is their Alcoran). This, however, is thought to be a mere strain upon the text; for the words are these: ‘that all true believers 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 reckoned 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.”

The planet goes to hell in a handbasket, and more quickly by the day, and just to pluck one yarn of many from the WaPo ether (sorry, paywall) ...

... while all that the Georges of the world can do is expostulate about is their bloody useless eggs ...

And now to end by celebrating the CFMEU bullet the pond dodged by dodging petulant Peta ...