Supping on Ughmann tears as a late Sunday arvo treat ...

 

Pond correspondents and others have been surveying the reptile scene and noting a certain kind of disenchantment lingering in the air, with the stink emanating from the Duttonator.

A trio at Crikey covering the election saw a sign of this discontent, wondering if Rupert is over Dutton…(paywall)

Has Uncle Rupert picked his winner?: Perhaps just as much as he loves backing a Tory, Rupert Murdoch loves backing a winner, especially when he knows the win can be more or less dependent on his blessing. Famously, his papers have proclaimed it was them “wot won it“, and Albanese has retained a cautiously close relationship with the firm over the term of his leadership — likely because he knows what’s good for him. Caution would be well-advised: Rupert once said of his relationship with former UK Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair that it was like two porcupines making love. 
Despite News Corp’s usual fawning coverage of the Coalition, at midnight on April 24, the commentary section of The Australian was quite critical of them, with some of the more conservative figures at the paper dragging the opposition over the coals. 

They even included a snap of the heretics and doubters, and while this will be familiar to dinkum pond herpetologists, the pond couldn't resist repeating it ... let the supping on tears begin ...

Despite the omens, the Crikey mob weren't entirely convinced:

Could we be seeing the foundations being laid for an extremely rare News Corp endorsement of the Labor Party come election day? Probably not, and we’re certainly not suggesting it would be enthusiastic support. But Rupert does have form, backing current UK Labour leader Keir Starmer with a limp endorsement from The Sun that amounted to “surely you can’t be worse than this mob”.
Almost every News Corp masthead at the last election (with the exception of NT News) endorsed the Coalition — in line with the company’s almost universal practice. The one exception came 18 years ago in 2007, when Rupert himself endorsed Kevin Rudd over a flagging John Howard, who would go on to get demolished at the ballot box and lose his own seat after over a decade as prime minister. 

If you read the Weekly Beast on a Friday, as the pond always does,some reptiles have stayed loyal. 

Sharri (full disrespect), acting on "exclusive information", decided there was a gigantic poll conspiracy (perhaps involving a large American-owned media company acting through local reptiles), with the venerable Meade noting:

...The Sky News host assured viewers the national polls favouring Labor were “inaccurate” and the Liberals’ internal polling of individual seats indicates Dutton is “within touching distance” of forming a government.
Markson also said it’s “worth keeping in mind” that the people behind Newspoll, Pyxis Polling & Insights, “are being paid by Labor, probably millions of dollars”.
Newspoll may not be owned by News Corp any more but it is still published exclusively by The Australian.

But others are wavering and that's why the pond wanted to sup on the delicious tears of the Ughmann, who is clearly experiencing doubt and despair.

The form it took for the Ughmann was of the "pox on both their houses" kind, all is desolation, despair, and ruination, though with a special pox on Albo's clifftop house and anybody else who came within earshot or grapeshot of the unhappy former seminarian.

No matter, what joy, what fun, with the liberal sprinkling of wayward Ughmann sorrowful sighs and tears matching the taste on the back palate of the finest Clare riesling:

The header: Gotcha media kills politics of big ideas, The days when Peter Costello and Paul Keating got to their feet during question time and everyone from the backbench to the gallery leaned forward … those days are long gone.

The caption: The days when Peter Costello and Paul Keating got to their feet during question time and everyone from the backbench to the gallery leaned forward ... those days are long gone.

The mystical command: This article contains features which are only available in the web version,Take me there

It was only a five minute read, so the reptiles said, but it was suffused with longing for better, aged, picket fence times, where Petey Boy cracked jokes, and boosted babies.

Only an Ughmann could find some consolation for this wretched age of lead by reverting to the golden age of Petey Boy:

It was one of Peter Costello’s best lines, delivered in the final moments of his last press conference as a member of parliament.
In June 2009, the former treasurer was still a young 51 when he appeared before a packed audience of journalists at Parliament House to call time on politics.
At the end of a rollicking half-hour, Costello was asked if he would advise his children to run for office. He said politics was an exacting career and it was getting harder. The intrusions were growing, as was the toll on families. So, you had to really want to do it.
Then, it occurred to him, there was an alternative: “If you are just interested in being an authority on everything, become a journalist,” Costello told the crowd of scribes.
“The thing that has always amazed me is that you’re the only people who know how to run the country and you have all decided to go into journalism. Why couldn’t some of you have gone into politics instead?”
This drew nervous laughter from the reporters because the observation was both funny and scaldingly true. If I were to heed the wisdom of these words, I would end this column here. To carry on risks proving Costello’s point about the peril of being a professional pontificator. But the editor demands 1100 words and this is only … 229. So, onwards.
When Costello bowed out, one of the great modern political careers ended and so did an era. He was not only one of Australia’s best treasurers but, with Paul Keating, one of parliament’s finest communicators. When Keating or Costello got to their feet in question time, everyone from the backbench to the gallery leaned forward.

What a pity he didn't end the column there, doddering away in the past, but he persisted and the reptiles flung in a distracting snap, the ruination of the former seminarian's despairing mind, Peter Dutton during Question Time. Picture: NewsWire / Martin Ollman,Anthony Albanese during Question Time. Picture: NewsWire / Martin Ollman

On the other hand, with the Ughmann pressing on, the pressing of the grapes of his wrath produced an exceptional vintage drop of tears...

You usually learnt something when they spoke. You learnt about politics, policy and the art of public speaking. You learnt about the poetry and brute force of language, how words should be weighed and measured, and how important it was to choose them well. To listen was to hear a masterclass in political communication and comedy was a big part of both acts.
The art of political storytelling is the art of making policy feel personal. Policy rides on plot. The best politicians build stories and create indelible images. They shine when their gift is deployed to help people understand – and believe – a policy story that the politician also believes. Good storytellers may enlarge, and they may embellish, but they don’t peddle lies. Because when a lie is discovered, trust is broken and so is the story’s spell.
As Winston Churchill told the House of Commons in 1953: “Of all the talents bestowed upon men, none is so precious as the gift of oratory. He who enjoys it wields a power more durable than that of a great king.”
A great orator can inspire people to volunteer their lives for a cause. That is a profound and terrifying power. Churchill used his words to steel his nation for war.
I saw it in Volodymyr Zelensky. Two days after Russia’s invasion, when a US official offered to evacuate him from Kyiv, the Ukrainian President’s defiant response was: “I need ammunition, not a ride.”
Zelensky’s words and deeds roused his people to stand and fight a war many predicted would be over in days.
Lest we forget, Zelensky is a comedian who rose to fame playing a president on television. Although circumstances have turned his art to tragic realism, behind the scenes he can still laugh.
Churchill was also known for his biting wit. He described his opponent Clement Attlee as “a sheep in sheep’s clothing” and “a modest man, who has much to be modest about”.

Apparently news travels slowly in News Corp about what the reptiles at Faux Noise have helped achieve ... please permit the pond to repeat a reminder...

You've got to laugh, or at least Vlad the sociopath and his minions on Russian state media and US state media do...

For some reason the reptiles decided in the Bolter to provide an AV distraction.

Sky News host Andrew Bolt discusses the "hostile" media scrutiny of the Coalition’s campaign. “Many journalists following the leaders don't just lean left but seem to live in a bubble,” Ms Credlin said. “Peter Dutton, the opposition leader, today announced a package of measures to tackle domestic violence. “You'd think … Dutton would at least get credit for that. But no mercy from journalists obsessed with identity politics.”

Say what? "...no mercy from journalists obsessed with identity politics"

Hang on, hang on, a couple of points here.

Even a cynic jetting in from Mars would understand that this is a desperate ploy, a "womyn" pup being sold by petulant Peta, and down there with nuking the country, while that old routine about Laura Norder has toad whiskers on it.

And when it comes to an obsession with identity politics, that's pretty much the entire game of the reptiles at the lizard Oz...

Whether it's endless discussions about Catholic fundamentalism or Dame Slap blathering on endlessly about how the difficult, pesky, uppity blacks are always catching a break, it's identity politics from dawn to dusk ...

The reptiles made the mutton Dutton think that sort of blather was a good thing ... Dutton ... reaffirms stance on 'one flag only, spreading joy amongst neo-Nazis throughout the land:

Dutton... reaffirmed his position that, if elected prime minister, he would not display the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander flags at official press conferences.

“I want our country to be united under one flag, and I want our country to be as good as it can be, and we can’t be as good as we can be if we’re separating people into different groupings,” he said.

“We are all equal Australians, and we can respect the Indigenous flag and the Torres Strait Island flag, but we unite under one flag, as every other … comparable country does and that’s how we can help close the gap.”

The reptiles did down the Voice, next thing you know neo-Nazis are proudly strutting in ceremonies, while it's black and DEI bashing on a weekly basis by Dame Slap - how she hates diversity in a multicultural country, how she loves inequity, how she worships and celebrates exclusion.

And what does the Ughmann do? Gaze back into the distant past and sob into his beer about Fred Daly being a fervent Catholic, and joking along with Jim:

Costello and Keating were inheritors of that oral tradition, and there used to be more of them. Labor’s Fred Daly was one of the best. A fervent Catholic, Daly had a twist on Christianity’s golden rule: “You want to do unto others as they would do unto you. But do it earlier, more often and better.”
One of Daly’s best friends was a political foe: Liberal Jim Killen. The lanky Queenslander was also known for his arch humour and, when Liberal prime minister Billy McMahon declared in parliament that he was his own worst enemy, Killen interjected: “Not while I’m alive.”
Killen and Daly are long dead. Keating and Costello are long retired. And the fun of politics is long gone.

It was the reptiles that helped kill off those days, it was the reptiles that elevated mean-spirited, nasty boofheads like the onion muncher, it was the reptiles who showed the way on chaffbagging Juliar (so much for blather about violence), and it was the reptiles who found a place in their hearts for a rustic philandering knob like Barners, no matter how he behaved (to be fair the ABC still keeps finding a place for him, just like Tony Jones kept finding a place for Clive).

So to sup on the tears, the hollowness, the emptiness, the nihil nada nothingness, the yearning for a golden age that never was ... 

In his 2009 press conference, Costello noted that question time answers now usually ended with a “focus group tested tagline”.
“There is nothing in that, really,” he said.
And there it is. Nothing. The emptiness we all feel. The hollowness at the core of this campaign is so vivid you can almost touch it. Australia’s election is being held in a broom closet of ideas while the house burns down around it. Six months from now, no one will recall any part of this campaign because not a single word adequately addresses a radically changing world. History is on the march, and we are mute.

How sweet it is, and all because the reptiles suspect that the Duttonator and their patented form of bigotry, hate, fear and loathing might miss out this time. Who knows what will come to pass, best drink heartily on the tears in the moment.

No wonder the reptiles cut to an AV distraction, Rhiannon Down and Noah Yim report from the campaign trail.

The Ughmann kept on pretending it was all about grand visions, big ideas, you know, like the war with China by Xmas:

The times demand big ideas. The threats are real and multiplying. Our leaders should be painting on a large canvas, not to alarm but to prepare.
Instead, the stage is tiny. Labor is fighting a cartoon villain named Peter Dutton. The Coalition’s campaign needs a complete rewrite, but it’s already in the last act.
Comedy was the first casualty of 21st-century politics. Eventually, policy went with it. And it is facile to lay all the blame at the feet of the Opposition Leader or the Prime Minister. This is a collective responsibility. We are getting the politics we deserve.

Comedy? The pond isn't sure about it being a casualty. Bill Maher perhaps, but then he's been a casualty for a long time. 

The pond still gets a laugh from cartoon villains:

Is it safe, is it safe? asked Sir Larry, and what fun that it isn't safe for the reptiles at the moment. And in one of those sublime reflexive moments beyond the valley of irony and the mountain of despair, the Ughmann keeps blaming the media, with the sort of lashing of himself that keeps the cilice fashionable in Opus Dei circles ...

Much of the blame must fall on the media. For years now, politicians have been brutalised for every misstep, every difference sold as division, every change of heart written up as a moral failure.
Rather than encourage debate, reward innovation and treat politicians as human, the media has too often been a slaughterhouse of reputa­tions.
The names George Pell, Christian Porter, Linda Reynolds and Fiona Brown should haunt the dreams of the media vigilantes who burned them on a pyre of allegations. Justice collapsed under the weight of moral panic, and judgment disguised itself as journalism. As part of the media class for more than 35 years, I accept my share of the blame.

Keep lashing, keep lashing, and once you've done that, lash out wildly at others.

But then, we are all journalists now. With the arrival of the iPhone in 2007, everyone has become a broadcaster.
Politicians now cannot go anywhere or whisper anything offstage without fear of reprisal from a citizen reporter. Online forums drip with bile and tribal bigotry. So it turns out you are way worse than we ever were.

The old social media ruse. But they learned the art from the reptiles of Oz and the tabloid Murdochian press, and now you've just discovered that anyone can carry on in the same way? Such sweet joy ...

Then there is the major party professional political class, which seems to believe appalling ideas can be hidden behind a rote line and a lie. The art of winning government is reduced to an auction of bribes and feeding people on their own prejudices.

Hilarious stuff, this from a kissing cousin to the Faux Noise crowd, though that has resulted in excellent intimately related, fox friendly comedy...

Go on, rant and rail about everybody but the real ratbags ...

The Greens, teals and the growing conga line of minor parties and independents enjoy the privilege of saying whatever they want without the embuggerance of ever having to run a country. Their industry is in churning out dot-point delusions to parade their moral superiority.

And speaking of buggering a country, aided and abetted by a bunch of reprehensibles willing to enable an authoritarian dictatorship, intent on wreaking just about everything, from Ukraine to pre-schoolers, while supine doggies pant for treats, what a non-greenie, non-teal spectacle it makes ...

At last a final fine whine ...

At some point this pantomime will end. It will come with a crisis. Let’s hope our political class and we, the people, can rise to meet it. But we will not be ready.
Former New York governor Mario Cuomo said: “You campaign in poetry and govern in prose.” God help us when the winner of this dadaist drivel turns their hand from verse.
This campaign says nothing – and says it badly. Words without wit, wisdom, metre or memory.

Without memory? 

That's about right for a reptile completely befogged and unable to recall who gifted the cantaloupe Caligula to the world ... but others remember ... because they find it hard to forgive and forget pathetic scribblers inclined to whimper and whine when things turn bad for them.

And so to relief from the ranting with a cartoon that's not about anything to do with any of the above ...

Finally, a few more snaps from the pond's recent travel adventure, with this an old store that survives in Nundle's main drag and which the pond can recall visiting as a child:

The store has been restored, though not as the pond remembers it, and it's now filled with faux period items carrying a generous pricing ...

On then to a couple hoping for fool's gold in the Sheba dams at Hanging Rock, this not being the best place to score a fish ...

A view from Hanging Rock of the valley below ...

The mighty Peel, named after that plod, seen from the back Bowling Alley Point road to Nundle, still gravel, a fossicker's haven despite the signs, and giving the pond a Streeton moment (check the wiki for the Major Mitchell connection)...