In which the pond yearns for the return of the messiah, but has to settle for the savvy Savva and some groaning ...

 

 

 

Be still, beating heart. Some thought he was just a naughty boy, but soon the messiah will return, and bloggers around the world will be satiated again with an orgy of content, and the poet's vision shall be fulfilled ...

Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.  
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out  
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert  
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,  
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.  
The darkness drops again; but now I know  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Thank you men and womyn and that concludes the cultural part of the morning, and so to the usual Thursday ritual of the savvy Savva copiously dumping on SloMo ...

 

 

 

 

Yes, the pond is aware of its perversity, yes, the pond is aware it could have avoided this standard Thursday ritual by looking to the top of the reptile digital page ma, top of the world ma...

 

 

 

 

 

There's news of Josh wanting to go fair dibs, and there's a truly terrifying collection of wheelie bins and there's the bromancer dumping yet again on hapless Victorians, and there's comrade Dan returning so at last the reptiles will have their favourite piñata back, oh how they've missed him... but the pond won't be swayed by such simple-minded pleasures ... take up the cudgel, savvy Savva ...

 

 

The pond doesn't mind whatever reason. Whatever reason will do. Arrogance, strategic short-sightedness, a bear with half a brain,  hollow ring, empty man crying out to imaginary friend in strange tongue, whatever, please, do go on ...

 

Oh dear, not the 'hold my hose' line ...but what a sweetie to mention SloMo and leadership in the same paragraph ... now please, wrap it up in a final gobbet, perhaps with a mention of hapless ministers and gormless stupidity...

 

Oh dear, it was too good to last. The mutton Dutton as the standard bearer? The mutton Dutton as the alternative to the emperor with no clothes?

Dear sweet long absent lord, quick, a jab from the infallible Pope ...

And so to a survey of the rest of the reptile offerings early this morning ...

 

What could the pond do? Note that the reptiles couldn't rustle up a snap of Patrick Dodson? Turn to the lizard Oz editorialist having yet another go at the hapless Victorians? Turn worry wart with Tom? Blather about storks down the rabbit hole with Alice?

Nope, it had to be Dame Groan, even though the pond had not the slightest interest in what the Groaner was going to groan about ...

 

 

 

Before beginning, the pond would like to note the truly abysmal depths to which the reptiles have descended in their illustrations. Oh long gone are the days of the cult master ...

Second, what is this poor investment whereof Dame Groan groans? Could it be, gasp, that she has spurned the private super sector and loaded her nest egg into, gasp, an industry super fund? She couldn't be such a commie pinko socialist prevert, could she?

 

Once it seemed to be sure that Dame Groan had indeed tucked all her eggs into an industry super fund, the pond lost all interest. She might have protested that the email was spam, and the pond would have understood and even sympathised, having been on an anti-spam crusade of late, what with an unsubscribe here and an unsubscribe there ...

The pond even wondered if it might have made a mistake by groaning along with the Groaner, but a quick check of other reptile offerings was reassuring ...

 

 

Nope, just poor old Xian Porter determined to say in the news, and yet more speculation about Covid origins, though it's true that the talk of white girl racism might have provided a few laughs ...

Reassured, the pond returned to the groaning, which offers a little less pleasure than the shining, though there were still acres of groaning blood cascading down the hallway ...

 

 

Far be it for the pond to offer financial advice to Dame Groan, but has she thought of withdrawing her nest egg from vile industry funds, and heading off to a private fund, of the kind the pond was forcibly enrolled in by an employer, only to emerge with zero gain? No? Never mind, just a final gobbet of whining and groaning to go ...

Indeed, indeed, and if only Dame Slap had announced that she had transferred all her funds forthwith to Vanguard, the pond would have been mightily impressed. Not just a groaner, but a doer, with the doing announced in the pages of the lizard Oz for all to behold ... 

But apparently not, since whining and getting a decent return is everything the pond would expect of a canny groaner ...

And with that market-based solution done, the pond turned to a cartoon solution, thanks to the immortal Rowe, with more Rowe here ...

 

 

 

In which the pond plays misère with nattering "Ned" and Dame Slap ...

 

 

 

It certainly pleased the pond, always looking for non-reptile ways to start the day ... 

The pond thanks its correspondent for the joke ...and no doubt reformed, recovering feminists of the Oreo kind will be delighted by its sauciness.

And so, as Waugh might write, "feather-footed through the plushy fen of reptile stew passes the questing vole", with the pond still haunted by that poll ... Axios here, the full poll here ...

 

 

How fucked is the GOP? How fucked is the United States? What splendid paranoid riches Faux Noise and the Murdochians have bestowed on the country ...

And so to the reptiles, and what a disappointing lot were on hand this day ...

Mathias back from the dead, and speaking of how market-based economic principles would sort out climate science? 

Some piece of piece-work about the rag trade, sounding far too woke for the reptiles? 

Talk about the big pull out, and China's hegemonic ambitions, as opposed to invading a country and then leaving it a complete mess?

An indignant crow eater, agitated about being blamed for what they managed to fuck up? 

How unfair is that, and an echo of a day-old piece served up in a previous triptych of terror in the lizard Oz ...

 

Poor reheated Penbo, poor plunging Ben, and how funny it is to see the reptiles mock the pious and piety. 

Once upon a time, a reptile would doff the hat in the direction of Xian piety, but given all the carry-on at Hillsong, as reported in Crikey, it must be hard ... (sorry, paywall affected, but worth a read for the base comedy of clap happy sordid carry ons_.

And so to the pond trying to make the best of a bad hand, and thinking about going misère, but instead settling for a round with "Ned", while noting that the reptile columnists have been eerily and strangely silent about Xian Porter ...

Oh sure, the Xian crusade carries on in the news pages, but that's hardly the reptile spirit of things ...

 

 

 

More of Dame Slap anon ... even worse, the dominant story was of a failed reptile love ...

 

Barners  deployed? Sorry Jacinta, sometime reptile favourite, it's off to the neddies with "Ned" ...

 

 

 

Melburnians must be tired and full of quiet despair, but the pond also suffers, because "Ned" scribbling is surely in one of Dante's outer rings of hell ... 

As might be expected, in proper reptile style, "Ned" opens with nary a mention of the crow eater hotel quarantine bungle, the cause of all that's currently going down ...

 

 

The assault is sordid? How about the inept incompetence being sordid? Never mind, on we go ...

 

 

Does anybody imagine this sort of accounting will endear itself to Victorians? When you go "for the record", everyone knows you're flailing about like a prize loon ... but luckily this bout of "Ned" flailing has only one gobbet to go ...

 

 

Note how astutely "Ned" held back that bit about the quarantine failure in South Australia to the third gobbet. He might have led with it, but what good would that have done?

He might even have provided some alternative comedy, a little quiet relief, what with gorgeous George out and about on the Xian Porter matter, and Joel always on hand for a laugh about a cult ...

 

 

... but it's a grim day for the pond, and things got even grimmer when Dame Slap and her talk of activist judges hovered into view ...

 

 

Where's Dame Groan when she's needed? Come to think of it, where's Xian Porter? Off in another place, it turns out ...

 

 

So what attracted Dame Slap's attention instead?

 

Oh to be fair to Dame Slap, it does take her back to the good old days, when she fellow travelled with "Lord" Monckton, and scribbled furious warnings about the UN using climate science to establish world government by Xmas.

It's only a pond delusion to think that she might have shed that snake skin, and thought a little bit more about climate science, and even done a Maude Flanders, and shouted to the clouds "won't someone think of the children ..."

 

Heaven forfend! The very notion that Australian citizens carrying Australian passports have a right to return to Australia had the pond rolling Jaffas down the aisle in consternation ...

What next? Send Australian citizens to Kiwi land? Why this whole notion of Australian citizens having rights is a very slippery slope, and the pond has no idea where it all might end, but it's certainly nothing to agitate an IPA chairman ...

Never mind, there was only a little Slapping to go ...

 

Yes, we'll all be the poorer for it. What, climate science advising us that we're fucking the planet right royally? 

Of course not, who would mention such a thing in Dame Slap's presence? The spirit of "Lord" Monckton lives on, and don't expect Dame Slap to scribble suffer the little children to come under her ... they can just bloody suffer, all right, safely suffering off in the future, and if the entire planet goes down, so much the better for the IPA chairman ...

Sure, we the people will be a whole lot poorer, what with rising seas, scarcer resources, difficulties producing food, yadda yadda, but worry not for the IPA mob ... they'll always have a Gina grant to help keep on keeping on, and a generous lump of coal in their Xmas stocking, and what more could anyone want ...

And so to the Rowe of the day, with more Rowe as usual here ...

 

In which can be found Klassic Killer, a tasty Oreo and a late burst from the Angelic one ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today the pond is proud to present a Klassic Killer rant ... but first a message from our sponsors. Woke folk getting you down? Tired, worn out, by the tedious business of caring for others? Have you thought about an armed insurrection as a way of sorting things out?

 

 

 

Yes, there's nothing like armed insurrection, and you can access that tweet at Huff Post here. Now on with Klassic Killer ranting and howling at the moon full of woke folk ...

 

 

Actually Pepe the frog isn't just about Trump. It's also a symbol for neo-Nazis and white supremacists, so much so that his creator tried to kill him off, but the pond is pleased that Killer loves Pepe. It keeps him in the right, white, neo-Nazi supremacist mind set, so that he can truly rail at the woke folk ...

 

 

The pond is always eager to please, and join this Klassic Killer outing by noting that you can read Klot Kotkin at the Claremont Institute Center for the American Way of Life ...

And just so you might better enjoy Klassic Killer, here's a little from the wiki (footnotes there) on the Klaremont Kenter ... (remember, everything goes better if you can produce a KKK mood) ...

The institute was an early defender of Donald Trump. The Daily Beast stated Claremont has "arguably has done more than any other group to build a philosophical case for Trump’s brand of conservatism."
In September 2016 the institute's Claremont Review of Books published Michael Anton's "The Flight 93 Election" editorial. The editorial, written under a pseudonym, compared the prospect of conservatives letting Trump lose to Hillary Clinton in the 2016 presidential election with passengers not charging the cockpit of the United Airlines aircraft hijacked by Al-Qaeda. The article went viral and received widespread coverage across the political spectrum. Rush Limbaugh devoted a day of his radio series to reading the entire essay. Anton would later serve as President Trump's national security advisor from 2017 to 2018.
In 2019, Trump awarded the Claremont Institute with a National Humanities Medal.
The institute caused controversy by granting a fellowship in 2019 to the Pizzagate conspiracy theorist Jack Posobiec. National Review columnist Mona Charen wrote that "Claremont stands out for beclowning itself with this embrace of the smarmy underside of American politics." In 2020, Slate magazine called the institute "a racist fever swamp with deep connections to the conspiratorial alt-right", citing Posobiec's fellowship and the publication of a 2020 essay by senior fellow John Eastman that questioned Kamala Harris' eligibility for the vice presidency.
During the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic, the institute received between $350,000 and $1 million in federally backed small business loans from Chain Bridge Bank as part of the Paycheck Protection Program. The institute stated this would allow it to retain 29 jobs.

Pizzagate! 14! 88! And so back to the Klassic Killer for a final gobbet ...

 

Oh indeed Marxism ... which may freely be confused with a Chinese dictatorship that most bears resemblance to the Chinese tradition of rule by emperor. The pond used to say that Mao was the last emperor, but Xi has put an end to that by becoming the new emperor. The closest we've come to all that in the west is the mindless cult worship of the Donald, as celebrated and practised by Newscorp and Killer's sources ...

Moving along, the reptiles have tried to confuse the pond by having the Oreo on a Tuesday ... and it turns out it's just another regurgitation of the current favourite in reptile mass mind think ...

 

 

 

 

What can a reformed, recovering feminist with a degree in political science offer when it comes to epidemiology? It turns out about as much as the pond, trained in y'artz ...

 

 

 

Of course all this idle speculation is a great distraction. But what might we want some distraction from? The infallible Pope has a suggestion ... reminding the pond of Peter Weir and its time in the y'artz ...

 

Meanwhile, back to more mindless speculation with the reformed, recovering feminist ...

 

Indeed, indeed. An unsure reformed, recovering feminist, and someone not expert in the field, and yet, still the need for some distraction from issues at hand, of the kind noted by the immortal Rowe in his expert portrait, to be found here ...

 

By golly, that's up there with the way Rowe used to capture the soul of the onion muncher.

 And so to a final speculative gobbet from the reformed, recovering feminist ...

Excellent stuff. The pond, as usual, has come away none the wiser. There's nothing to see, except the speculation favooured by the reptiles these past few weeks.

And it turns out that, as with climate science, there's not much point talking about the science, when there's a great debate to be had. You know, dumb the science down to the point where the pond and the reformed, recovering feminist might grasp it, while entirely missing the point of the science, and then let's have a debate, because that's what scribbling for the reptiles requires.

That said, the pond has been splendidly distracted from sordid issues at hand, of the sort hinted at by Cathy Wilcox ...

 

And lastly, for its bonus, the pond reverted to the weekend, and ancient Shanners, left hanging out to mature, and now with the rotten smell of matured blue vein...

 

 

 

 

The pond is always moved by reptile talk of the war on men, the suffering of men, and such like ...

 

 

 

Naturally our Shanners is an expert in the field ...

 

Indeed, indeed ... and at this point the pond should make it clear it doesn't intend to argue or debate the Angelica one, but simply display and admire her thinking, a common enough routine, frequently found in supportive complimentary women or adherents to the Katholic church. In any case, the pond prefers a gentler example of the suffering of men ...

 

There he was, fornicating like any number of rabbits in heat, and with two past marriages, and yet suddenly, he hasn't been married at all, and then he's married as a tyke, with all the benefits therein (confess and you make it into heaven). 

How could this be, how could you fuck, fornicate, adulterate, and so on and so forth, and end up a pure tyke cleansed of sin? Well the Katholic church does keep women in their right place, as madonnas and whores, and that avoids the likes of Shanners having to go on about the suffering of men, so there's a real plus for starters ... but go on she must, and she does ...

 

Unmarried women suffer more violence? Why let them become Catholic, and they will be redeemed ... above all, they should avoid becoming extinct ...

 

Okay, the pond is treating a serious subject with frivolity, but that's because it's heard this wretched line blaming women rather than men any number of times from the Angelic one, not to mention Miranda the Devine in her hey day, and Dame Slap on occasion ... anything to downplay the behaviour of testosterone-laden men with a Killer-like contempt for the weak, the woke and the womanly ...

 

That last par is, of course, pure essence of distilled Dame Slap ... it seems the reptiles can never get over the suffering of persecuted men of the Boris kind, or even, it goes without saying, the suffering of the Donald, who merely wanted to take a perve on undressed girls or grope women by the pussy ... and what's his reward for this gallantry? A witch hunt!