In which the pond does a little bait and switch for a meditative Sunday ...

 

Sorry, it's an old reptile trick, bait and switch …though it's strange how the mind can play tricks.

At first the pond thought of wandering down the path of the gender wars with Dame Slap and the angelic Shanners, but then the pond began to wander back to the time when female authors had to pretend to be male to get published.

Why, Dame Slap might have been published under her name George Eliot Albrechtsen, or GEA, as she fondly was known to her unknowing readers, while the angelic one might have taken the name of Ellis Bell Shanahan, or perhaps, who knows, Currer Bell Shanahan, or Action Bell Shanahan, or ...who knows ... even Dennis Shanahan.

As Charlotte Bronte is reported to have once observed:

Averse to personal publicity, we veiled our own names under those of Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell; the ambiguous choice being dictated by a sort of conscientious scruple at assuming Christian names positively masculine, while we did not like to declare ourselves women, because — without at that time suspecting that our mode of writing and thinking was not what is called “feminine” – we had a vague impression that authoresses are liable to be looked on with prejudice; we had noticed how critics sometimes use for their chastisement the weapon of personality, and for their reward, a flattery, which is not true praise. (found here).

Oh gender’s a funny thing no doubt about it - talk to those hermaphrodite slugs and snails - and no doubt Dame Slap and the angelic one are as keen to ban TG folk as The Donald, but the pond's mind did wander ..

In olden, golden times on a meditative Sunday, the pond would usually turn to the angry Sydney Anglicans for a tirade against Halloween (well fair dibs, complimentary women and gay folk, await your turn). But of late they seem to be agitated about those damned greenies …

Sorry, more bait and switch - anyone mad enough to want to read it can easily find it - though it's pleasing to see that angry Sydney Anglicans must be devoted readers of the reptiles …

And here's a little more bait and switch …

 

Dammit, how could the pond avoid the striking unity between Dame Groan and the angry Sydney Anglicans over those damned theological greenies?

And then there's yet another far right hate crime unfolding, but that's just another day in the Donald's United States ...

The thing is, there's no point doing bait and switch without a switch, and the pond decided it would devote its day to meditating on the state of politics, and who better a guide than the man who helped ruin Iraq and bring down Malware the first time around with Utegate and good old Godwin Grech …

 

Why did the pond find this intrinsically funny?

Well of course the dog botherer doesn't want ScoMo to be his own man, the dog botherer wants ScoMo to be his man, and follow his ideas, and we know what that's produced in the past. Advise on, noble dog botherer ...

Please, be patient, the dog botherer's agenda is coming ...

There, you see … soon enough the dog botherer's climate science denialist agenda will intrude into almost anything he scribbles.

What unwise soul could have doubted it? Why forsooth we must leave Paris immediately and deny all that wretched greenie theology that so alarms the angry Sydney Anglicans …

Can a mention of virtue-signalling be far behind? Oh enduring land of the endless reptile cliché and verbal tic, make it so ...

Indeed, indeed, the failure to adopt the dog botherer's climate science denialism explains so much, together with the refusal to embrace the rest of his wondrous agenda ...

Well speaking of robust battles to come, why not a cartoon?

But wait there's more. The suspiciously named Dennis Shanahan was also scribbling this day …

Ah, so he too had gender-free advice on the agenda ...

Oh dear, not comrade Bill, that sounds grim, please, let's get on with the agenda … the pond promises it's completely forgotten those unkind jibes done by the Crikey folk way back when …

Comical Ali? That's probably a reference only a minor war criminal like the dog botherer would remember, please, oddly named bouffant one, get on with the agenda ...

By golly, at the end of all that the pond began to feel like those proverbial folk confronted with an elephant …

But never fear, unity and a board church is the cry, and that great unifier, the onion muncher, must be regurgitated again by our very own Comical Ali … here no wrecking, sniping or undermining, no undermining, sniping or wrecking here ...

Thank the long absent lord that ScoMo is being pragmatic on the matter of climate science, a dangerous theology at the best of times … and now please allow the bouffant one to assure Australia that its policy agenda will be set by angry white males over 50 residing in Queensland ...

Release the onion muncher! Deploy the onion muncher! Send in the onion muncher is the cry! Arise Queenslanders, rally around the onion muncher! 

That'll ensure a broad church … about as broad as the angry Sydney Anglicans …

Time for another cartoon, and more Wilcox  can be found here …

Finally a theological Sunday is never good without a heretic to hiss and boo. Come on down oscillating fan …

But how and why did the OF end up on the pond, when these days he seems to be a fixture on their ABC? Well, he scored a Krygsman, and that guarantees him cult status in reptile eyes ...

Dear sweet long absent lord, no pity for the mutton Dutton? 

Why this is a dangerous heresy, almost up there with the dangers that Halloween poses for the innocent children anxious to ruin their teeth and their souls … or perhaps the dangers that climate science, that dangerous theology, poses to the planet ...

As usual, the pond must quibble. Surely the onion muncher - who has endured in the pond forever - must be celebrated, surely he can return as the best opposition leader politics have ever seen. Surely his rising from the ashes will allow a new generation of carping, whining far right ratbaggery of the dog bothering kind …

Surely the oscillating fan will look forward to this bright future rather than dwelling on the ancient past? Who on earth would return to the Fraser years? Surely he knows the answer is to send the onion muncher to Queensland to appeal to elderly angry white males?

They know a fraud when they see one? Go tell that to devotees of the Donald, including that gender-switching Dame Slap, amongst the first down under to dance in the street to celebrate sweet victory while wearing a MAGA hat …

As for recognising a fraud, Wilcox had a cartoon about that too …

And that's way more than enough bait and switch for a meditative Sunday ...

In which the pond almost reaches the end of its Polonial, our Henry tether ...

Frankly, and with the greatest respect, it seemed impossible for the reptiles to produce anything sillier than the sight of the Donald calling for unity … and yet once again, the pond got caught out disrespecting the amazing reptile ingenuity to be found down under …

 

A worn-out irrelevant hack in fear of his seat is suddenly front page news, and in the digital edition is an exciting EXCLUSIVE?

Pardon the pond's French, but fuck the pond dead, it must be a desperate time to be a reptile, and the pond extends its deepest sympathy to the bouffant one, but then what would living with Angela S do to anyone?

Meanwhile, the pond was overwhelmed by the sheer size and bulk of the reptile output this weekend … and it wasn't just Dame Slap, though she was in fine smiting and smoting form …

Look at the rest … such a feast, so many treasures … 

Why, there was Dame Groan doing her climate denialist dance, Angela S in full flowering, our Gracie whining about how we'd never had it so good, Polonius of course, Shanners again, the dog botherer trying to rally the troops so that perhaps this time we might do Iraq properly, and little Johnny talking about a broad church, though naturally that should exclude wets, pathetic dropkick liberals and suchlike losers ...

Out of this cornucopia it's extremely perverse of the pond to maintain its loyalty to prattling Polonius, but the pond has learned from the reptiles that perversity is the way of the world …and arcane stupidity and rampant pedantry must always come a close second ...

Of course Polonius is now busy counting all those disqualified Senators as legitimate members of parliament, so it gave the pond a chance to remember his recent scribbles …

By golly, so Polonius really does lurk on Reddit, trolling people …

But enough jollity and unity and peaceful polity, it's back to Polonius whining away with his usual petulance, completely incapable of accepting the Wentworth result with any grace, and so picking at the sore in his inimitable way …and still hoping down the track for ScoMo glory ...

The pond has no idea what this anal retentive regurgitation of political history does for prattling Polonius. Is there a Freudian in the house? 

As usual, the pond had begun to regret its choice - why Polonius, why not a dose of Dame Groan climate science denialism? - and rushed to get through the final gobbet …

Well at least now it seems it's all Malware's fault - how relieved the ABC must feel - and how comforted ScoMo must be by Polonius's wise words that nothing was at stake in Wentworth … though the pond does wonder why this very day the reptiles needed to deliver a clarion call for unity from that arch-loon and destroyer, the mighty, magnificent onion muncher. 

How lucky that Wentworth had nothing to do with the actual state of the government … at which point the pond will pause for a celebratory Pope cartoon, with more infallible Pope here …

And now, as a "Maserati strike" blossoms in PNG, the pond will continue on its perverse path …

You see, yesterday the pond ignored an urgent message from our hole in the bucket Henry …

Note that in the splash that "Libs" has a capital "L" … but somehow, in the process of beatification and sanctification by Krygsman, the "L" disappeared and became an "l" … and that transformation entranced the pond ...

By golly the Caterist will have a word with our Henry. Everyone knows that the weirdos of Wentworth produced a wacko result, and anyway, as Polonius just assured us, it didn't matter … nothing matters … how did the Donald put it? There's no proof of anything!!

Yes, we're all post-modernist post-ironic Frenchified subjectivist relativists these days, and here's a pond secret. 

The pond only put in our Henry as a way of padding before arriving at the blessed relief of a Rowe cartoon. 

Pad away, Henry, pad away with blather about "liberals", as if a genuine "liberal" would be caught dead in the company of an onion muncher ...

Now the pond fancies itself as something of a liberal of the 'live and let live' kind but buggered if it can swallow the Liberal party as being able to trade under the banner of "Australian liberalism."

For example, the pond was taught that liberals and conservatives shouldn't lie ...

The government has managed to undersell the carbon emissions it has secured? 

Australia on track to miss Paris climate targets as emissions hit record highs ...

What was it the Donald said? There's no proof of anything, but buggered if the pond can see how climate science denying coal lovers can, with a clear conscience, talk of the triumphs of the coalition's climate science policies …

Well there's just one more gobbet of our Henry rowing his boat before we get to a Rowe, with no doubt a few more references to "liberalism", as if somehow that's a match for "Liberalism" ...

Ah, so the explanation for Wentworth is essence of distilled Henry blather … which really puts the pond in the mood for that Rowe, with a reminder that there's more Rowe here, because someone is always pissing into the tent, or pissing in their pocket, or in the cases of Polonius and our Henry, pissing into the great void of nonsense …

By golly the Rowe caught a curious bird lurking in the background on a tree, perhaps a laughing onionmunchingburra bird cawing for unity …

But somehow that tent also reminded the pond of one of its favourite movies, a relic of British colonial days down under … a taste apparently shared by at least one pond reader …

  

Yes, there's many a poor sod at the end of their tether, likely enough readers of the reptiles, bizarrely imagining that they pose a solution for anything, when the real problem is that there's no Laxian Key for reptile blather … so much Tangreese, so little time ...

In which the pond has a Friday feast, but relax, Moorice is the main course ...

As the reptiles drift further and further to the right - some might have thought this an impossible feat, but never discount the singular ability of the reptiles locked in Murdochian la la land - the pond thought the time was right for a Friday banquet.

There was Moorice, whom the pond simply can't ignore, one of the world's greatest scientists, standing by to do a fiery Donald on the UN, so there was the main course done and dusted.

Others might read the Pulitzer Prize winner Elizabeth Kolbert scribbling in The New Yorker on How to write about a vanishing world …

“A lot of what we’re doing in terms of conservation actions is futile until we stabilize the climate,” Ove Hoegh-Guldberg, the director of the Global Change Institute, at Australia’s University of Queensland, tells Braverman. Hoegh-Guldberg describes local efforts to preserve or restore reefs as “rearranging the chairs on the Titanic to get a better view.” Imitating those on the other side, he says, “Let’s just block out those horrible people, like me, who say it’s all futile. ‘Lalalalalala, can’t hear you!’ ” 
In the second camp are those who argue that, yes, reefs are dying and, yes, the situation is only going to get worse, but this just makes local restoration efforts that much more urgent. Ruth Gates, the director of the Hawaii Institute of Marine Biology, is working on selectively breeding corals that might be able to withstand higher temperatures, an approach that’s become known as “assisted evolution.” 
“The gloom and doom is paralyzing,” she tells Braverman at one point. “The scope of climate change is paralysing.”

Oh come on, between despair and delusion, the pond will always go the delusional … and who better than the delusional Moorice?

But first the entrée, little snatches, little gobbets of salivating delight as an opening treat … you see, the reptiles have been busy helping demonise that dreadful man Khashoggi …

How much? Well they stuck it at the top of the digital revolving page …

So even though it's only an entrée, a little attention had to be paid ...

Note that precautionary "this is not to suggest that the killing of Khashoggi is justified"… as the authors then go on to explain how Khashoggi would try the patience of a saint or even an ever so democratic and reformist crown prince … so full of outrageous opinions, it's completely understandable why he was topped, some assassinations being merely part of a thoughtful reform programme, a path towards democracy byway of mayhem and consular murder …

How outrageous was Khashoggi? Check out this one…

Shocking. Fancy calling the war in Yemen an abject failure. It prompted a comment down below …

Indeed, indeed, shocking, and Khashoggi just kept on being offensive in the most offensive ways …

It takes some considerable cheek to talk of "Khashoggi's disappearance" as if using "disappearance" will erase memories of a brutal murder which even the Saudis now concede was premeditated.

So just who are these authors expert in the art of disappearing ugly words like "murder"?

Yep, one's from a ratbag think tank, Greg Hunt it here, and what do you know, another's from a similar sort of ratbag think tank, hunters go here …

Wait, wait, you say, perhaps there's another reason for talking about a 'disappearance.

Could it mean that the reptiles recycled a piece that ran in the New York Post back on October 18th, under the header Why the Saudis despised Jamal, (here no paywall), and then had the cheek to dress it up and put it at the top of the page?

Oh dear, weevils in the entrée, and much water under the bridge since then, and the pond will send out the waiter to apologise profusely ...

But enough of the mouldy entrée, it's time for a full dose of Moorice as the main course … warning, an afternoon nap might be required to sleep off the indulgence, just like when you ate too much Xmas pud  and swallowed the threepence…

Good old climate change, whatever that might be. The pond of course deeply regrets linking to that dreadful Kolbert woman ...

…we seem to have reached the point where even the calls to arms are starting to sound like dirges. In the same chapter in which Wadhams argues for better energy policies, he observes that such policies probably can’t—and almost certainly won’t—be put in place fast enough to save the Arctic. Therefore, he says, technologies to block sunlight or change the reflectivity of clouds will have to be deployed. These so-called geoengineering technologies have yet to be tested—if truth be told, they’ve really yet to be invented—but without them, according to Wadhams, the “temperature rise, and the associated further feedbacks, will be too great to allow our civilization to continue.” Apparently, this is supposed to count as inspirational. 
It’s hard to say what purpose would be served by a message of straight-up despair; despondency, as it’s often noted, produces its own feedback loop. And yet, scientifically speaking, what alternative is there, as we move into the future, beyond the baiji, and the golden toad, and the reefs, and the sea ice, on toward reëngineering the atmosphere? Lalalalalala, can’t hear you!

The pond apologises for interfering in Moorice's flow. When he gets a full rant going, all the pond should do is stand back and let Moorice flow, and let those who can't take it, put their hands to their ears and shout Lalalalalala, can’t hear you!

Uh huh, is there a pipe bomb in the house? Seeing as how the Donald is conducting one of the more robust and most unique (thanks News 24) democracies doing the rounds at the moment …

But back to Moorice, cheering on the destruction of Europe, because let's face it, a Europe run by populists and Vlad the impaler would be so much better. Remember, instead of faceless bureaucrats, how much better things would be with a grinning, bare-chested Putin ...

Yep, only Moorice could interpret calls for the government to do something about climate science as a cry to do nothing …

But what about desserts you ask? Surely there's room for an after dinner mint or three? Well yes, and here's a Rowe cartoon especially for Moorice, with more instructive Rowe cartoons to be found here …

Now the pond isn't going into the old argument of calling the serving of sweets deserts, when good-old fashioned 'sweets' would do … the pond is proudly Francophile and pleased at the way the perfidious French corrupted and replaced middle English … even if talk of tea for dinner and sweets for dessert was all the go in Tamworth ...

"a service of fruits and sweets at the close of a meal," c. 1600, from Middle French dessert (mid-16c.) "last course," literally "removal of what has been served," from desservir "clear the table," literally "un-serve," from des- "remove, undo" (see dis-) + Old French servir "to serve" (see serve (v.)). Dessert-wine is from 1733; dessert-spoon from 1776. (here)

Now some might think a hit of bloody human wine and fleshy human bread hardly constitutes a sweet, but if you're going to be pedantic, think of it as a nice sauterne and some pain au chocolat avec du sang ...

In short, the lies start with the header, since seeking the right to believe that other humans are wicked and deserving a place in hell, and it's your duty in your workplace to make that point on a daily basis, naturally means that the religious seek the right to discriminate …

But then Mike Pence calls himself an Xian, while keeping the company of the daily liar, so the pond shouldn't really be surprised …

Uh huh, so there you go … "until now it has been widely accepted that religious organisations need to be exempted from the operation of anti-discrimination laws."

So they do seek the right to discriminate according to whatever fundamentalist Islamic or Xian or Jewish belief that motivates them …

Why not just say it, why trot out disingenuous specious tommyrot of the "seek to believe not to discriminate"kind …

The pond is beginning to regret embarking on dessert. There's that feeling of being too bloated by nonsense … and yet there's a whole bowl of it to swallow ...

Uh huh. Well, believe what you like, just don't expect taxpayers to fund your right to discriminate … and while we're at it, how about recognising reality and taxing religions in the way of other corporate entities? 

Why not start with scientology? At least if you're running a cult, you should be made to reveal your books and pay your taxes … 

If prostitutes and brothels are made to do it, how come bigots score an exemption?

And what goes for the L. Ron mob surely applies just as well to Sunday cannibals …

And so to a relieving Pope. The pond never thought it would get there, but at last there's safe harbour and time for a nap, but not until the last dinner mint. How sweet it tastes, this coal-laden mint …with more savoury papal advice here … (by golly, that's a good likeness of comrade poodle, though in the manner of Orwellian pigs, some might confuse him with the onion muncher).