Tuesday, November 21, 2017

In which the pond comes out swinging wildly at Terrorists and Caterists ...


This is an EXCLUSIVE - cry baby Hastie pastie calls up because he can't stand the heat in the kitchen after he lit the fire ...

Of course the reptiles and therefore the pond know the likely culprits ... snobby greenies ...


After Northcote, the pond wondered how long it would be before the reptiles discovered another EXCLUSIVE of the 'greenies are terrible people terribly up themselves' kind...

Perversely the pond was reminded of a recent quote it came across ...


Now ironies of ironies that was in the lizard of Oz - it can be googled by using key words - and reverting to the original online posting, Amis seems to have done a bit of a clean-up or enhancement, because here was a different form of it at The Independent back in 2007...


When it comes to the reptiles and the hive mind and all of the rest of it, the pond is a bit of a snob ...

Never mind, speaking of herd-words, it's time  for the pond to stop its avoidance tactics and confront the day's harsh realities ...

Luckily it can avoid the Terror, for the moment at least ...



These days only the Terror gives comfort to the barking mad armbreaker - celebrating a sporting celebrity driven mad by fundamentalist religious loonery is par for the course - and the pond only stays in touch so it might enjoy Media Watch doing a story such as The Latham vs Faruqi showdown ...

It's a measure of how low the Terror should have sunk that it still gives comfort to a man who has nothing to do, except spend his parliamentary pension while drawing attention to himself ...

And the pond has already celebrated the Bolter, so it was on to the much more dismal task of the day ... dealing with the cash in the paw man ... and what do you know, it brings us back to those devious greenies ...



The real fringe too far is, it goes without saying, the Caterists and the lizard of Oz, a small and declining power in the marketplace, but rewarding for those interested in the way institutions and businesses can slowly slide into irrelevance ...



Now it goes without saying that the pond has a bone to pick with public servants.

After all, somewhere in the anonymous Department of Finance, in anonymous Canberra, some anonymous bunch of public servants were responsible for this ...



... and for years of grants before that.

Is it any wonder that the pond has a dead set on public servants?

As for Ben Chifley, it reminded the pond that he was, before heading into politics, a locomotive engine driver (ADB it here), and the pond's Camperdown house deep in the inner west was once owned by a locomotive engine driver ...

It's a tenuous connection, but in the old days, being a locomotive engine driver was a much esteemed position, and not your usual working class gig - the pond knows this, because one branch of its working class family was a bunch of railway stiffs working in more menial jobs in the shunting yards and on the station up Werris Creek way ...



Those were the days ...

But in turn that leads the pond to that Caterist line "The volume of sweat per hour of work is low."

What, the volume of sweat involved in filling out an application to the Department of Finance for a generous serve of cash in the paw is high? The paperwork is arduous and extreme and the risk of a paper cut is high? Or should that be a joke about the sweat involved in mailing off the pdf of the application form?

What an offensive fuckwit he is, and inclined to much twaddle too ...


The usual way with these mendacious frauds is to purport a great affinity with the unwashed in the outer burgs and a disdain for inner city dwellers, while scribbling for a rag based in Surry Hills and working for an Institute in a public servant city so that access to government funding is just a stroll down the road ...

It reminds the pond of Amis's note that the institution of institutes, like the monarchy, is a sublime wank, so let the wanking continue for another gobbet ... and what's the bet that the wanker with a sociology degree from a second rate British university will make a crack about universities?


You know, there was a time when people realised that there was nothing noble about doing hard yakka for a living. It was hard on body and mind and soul, and poorly paid, and so families dreamed of sending kids to university to escape and get a better life and be able to pay to put decent food on the table.

And now?

"For which food fetishes can be a surprisingly good proxy"?

What a wanker he is, with his talk cardamom poached pear, as if that's all the doing of greenies, and has nothing to do with wankers in the eastern suburbs ...

The pond dined out for years on Paul Sheehan wanking about sourdough bread ...

When the new bakery opened near my home two weeks ago, there was just one product in the window: a row of large, round, dusty sourdough loaves. The miche loaf. They looked so alluring I bought one even though it was a hefty 1.7 kilograms and $13. As I carried it home the loaf was still warm, fresh from the oven. It was immediately obvious this bread was exceptional, with a crunchy, almost caramelised crust. Tasting that loaf, especially the crust, was a spiritual experience. I resolved to do something I had never done before. I wanted to shake the hand of the person who made this possible. (here)

Having marvelled in my 20s at the routine quality of the food in Paris people took for granted, it never occurred that, in my lifetime, the food within my life in Australia would, overall, become superior to the food I found in Paris. That I would have a better miche in my own urban village than the miche from Poilane was not an insignificant cultural marker. (here)

All the links are gone now, Sheehan has been cleansed from Fairfax, disappeared into the digital ether ...

It was too easy to mock him ... and yet, who can imagine that the Caterists are up at 4 am and dining on a lump of coal before heading off to work in mines? Or shovelling coal to keep up the steam for the engine?

The pond doesn't mind good food or good bread either ...

But the pond knows where the Caterist is going with this talk linking food snobbery, gays, homophobia, greenies, the outer burbs and the inner west, and he should stop it ...

Let's locate the homophobia where it has always existed ... deep in the heart of the reptiles of Oz, and Murdochian commentators around the land, encouraging fear and loathing, demonising the other, and then when the results are in acting like tone-deaf spoilsports anxious to ruin the party ...



But as we're speaking of grumpy old men, how about this analysis at Crikey (outside the paywall for the moment)?

..The now notorious Daily Telegraph front page response to the same sex marriage vote last week tells us everything we need to know about News Corp’s strategy in managing down the paper’s structural decline – and how it will end. The admission by Rupert Murdoch at the company’s annual general meeting in the United States later that same day that all bar the company’s national papers are struggling gives us an idea of how successful their strategy is. (Hint: it isn’t.)

...The next day in her column, Markson tried again under the heading: “Seriously, some people just can’t take a joke.” Apparently, she wrote: “The Daily Telegraph’s font page yesterday was a work of creative genius.”

...The conversion of the Tele’s front page to an analogue meme for its audience of grumpy old men is based on understanding how the Tele keeps its readers coming back. Sure, Married…with Children may date you to the 1980s (and been almost deliberately retro even then) but it’s a deliberate back-dating for the Tele’s market...  the Tele’s aging print demographic is not that attractive to advertisers. Most days of the week, it gets by with a handful of displays and about three pages of classifieds – one of those pages for “adult services”. 

... The success of their analogue strategy each day doesn’t translate to digital. In fact, doubling down on the demographic in print hurts them in digital. Grumpy, old men may have liked the Al Bundy cover or the dismissal of Labor’s Bennelong candidate Kristina Keneally the day before as “Bill’s Girl”. But it part mystifies and part repels just about everyone else.

And surely grumpy old Caterists whining about cardamom poached pears and dukkah eggs (oh those Egyptian wogs, remember Suez!) while simultaneously dipping paws in the honey of taxpayer loot so that they might dine out in style on the finest Canberra cuisine (we keed, we keed) is a sight as obnoxious as the Terrorists pandering to the arm breaker and its diminishing market of grumpy old men...

Well enough of that, enough of the Caterists spewing with rage, like ageing rats in a cage, the pond will probably have truffles for lunch, and until that moment arrives, the pond will feast on a truffles-class cartoonist, with more Rowe to be sniffed out here ...



UPDATE: the Caterist trolling produces the result the troll under the bridge always desires ...



In which the pond takes a moment out of usual reptile business to discover the best Malcontent blogger down under ...


As all the reptiles fall for the Republican three card trick, the oldest form of GOP knavery and distraction delivered down under, the pond would like to pause for a moment, and point out the best left wing blog currently available in this land of wonders.

The pond stumbled on this extreme friend of comrade Bill purely by accident, but this fervent, passionate left-wing blogger knew exactly what to say about Malware's latest sets of obvious tricks ...


Panic, fear, of course ... and that cynical rushing out of promises of tax cuts after a disastrous day at the end of a disastrous year ... panic has set in, will the asbestos lady tell him to go?

Now if the pond hadn't been deeply conservative, these are exactly the sort of rabid extremist left-wing thoughts the pond might have had infiltrating the old noggin' ...

Even the deeply conservative might cultivate extreme fear and loathing of Malware each day they attempt to use his NBN ...

Truth to tell, this left-winger was too extreme for the pond, too repetitious, far too obsessed, much too malcontented about Malware even for the pond ...


This very morning this story turned up on their ABC's breakfast show, as a trio of morning distractors discussed this fervently left-wing blogger's story. 

One wretch - some junior ministerial lickspittle lackey - tried to dismiss it as nonsensical, but naturally their ABC seized on the story and used it to mock the Liberals ...

Every little angle, every little trick to pour scorn on Malware must leave Comrade Bill swimming in this blogger's wake, gasping in awe and astonishment at his resolute trashing of Malware ... as when the Napoleonic delusions of the man were recently skewered ...


It turns out this dummy is so dumb that even a hick from the deep north has better smarts. Is it any wonder his authority has collapsed?


It will be remembered that assorted Labor politicians tried to nail Malware about that decision to cancel - comrade Bill said Malware was frightened of his party, frightened of the electorate, frightened of the parliament - others compared him to authoritarian tyrants - but surely these are mere pinpricks up against the image of a hot air balloon collapsing and losing all authority ...

This deeply left-wing blogger is attuned to every Labor tactic, and willing to ask the most pertinent questions as he tries to stir trouble within the Liberal party ranks ...


It goes without saying that this leftie - thoughts of Chairman Mao or Uncle Joe often leap to mind - celebrates every chance of a Liberal defeat, though at times he does sometimes show a little sympathy for the soft Liberal underbelly of pathetic wets like the poodle ...


Of course Albo is right ... or so this devious Labor cheerleader blogger would argue at every turn.

The pond can't go through all the recent postings at this dangerously subversive blog, but the tendency to the apocalyptic is remarkable ...


Every day is a clarion call for Malware to go, and for the Liberals to collapse into themselves like colliding distant stars ...

Now the pond might have got this all wrong ...

It seems there are some that can't stand this blogger, and feel threatened by him - it's true he's as rabid and as dangerous as a wild dog loose in the streets - and they might even imagine that they're trapped in a remake of the remake of Blade Runner ...


Be that as it may, however much this extreme left-wing blogger consorts with pedophiles, however much he looks like a street screen in a fog-drenched movie about killer cyber 'bots, the pond wondered how it was possible for the likes of Pope to match this rhetorical Malware hater and his deeply rooted Malcontent ...

Well credit where credit is due, the Pope always does his best, and his comparison of Malware today to a hermit crab almost takes the high ground back from the best left-wing blogger in the business, with more exemplary papal postings, as always, available here ...


Oh and the refusal to name the blogger is deliberate. The pond wouldn't want to encourage him, because he has the very same narcissistic streak as the Donald and Malware ... and too much attention goes to his head like an aphrodisiac ...

The deeply serious question the pond must now ask is this ... is this blogger the poodle working under deep cover?



Monday, November 20, 2017

In which the pond swallows another Monday Oreo whole, and with barely a blink ...


Reluctantly the pond had to mark down the Major this day, partly because of repetition - how stupid of a rampantly biased man always to rabbit on about bias - and partly because the rabbiting produces a deep sense of tedium and ennui ...


The pond will say just one thing about the ABC's recent changes.

Back in the day, there was an understanding that stories prepared for radio had a different style and approach than stories designed for television. The difference might be summarised as that between the use of sound effects and music on the Goon Show, and the literalism that images produce. Some images might convey a hundred words, or on a good day, a thousand, while sounds allowed the mind to travel in another way ...

Each involved separate skills and disciplines, each in their own way were unique artforms, and now everything is mashed together as content, and pumped down into ever smaller lumps so that the wretched muck might emerge in digestible form on a small screen as zombies wander the streets gazing into it, while bumping into each other and passing cars ...

Hipsters yearn for beards and tatts and vinyl and even - long absent lord help us - Phillips cassettes, but each passing day of Deliveroo and Uber, they deliver themselves into digital penury and job lot slavery and politicians are only too pleased to press-gang them into similar forms of servitude as a way of scamming unemployment figures ...

Dearie me, did the Major produce that hoppy toad?

Well with that grumble out of the way, it's on with the Oreo blathering on in her inimitable way about western civilisation ...


James Paterson is a classical liberal? The IPA is full of classical liberals?

We can talk of elitist mobs while fat cats sit in a think tank living the life of Riley thanks to anonymous donors?

We shouldn't dare mention that bigotry and homophobia fits many religions like a glove, and that not coincidentally Islam hails Christ as a prophet and missionaries helped blight the lives and thoughts of generations of indigenous people with blather about paradise in the sweet bye and bye, and that fundamentalist Xians and Islamics are at one on the matter of teh gayz?

Is it any wonder that the pond is such a huge fan of the Oreo?

And the pond shares the Oreo's deep distress ...


Eek, the UN?! The black helicopters have landed in the Liberal party and this is all by way of a prelude to introduce world government by Xmas, and not as previously thought, by way of climate science, but by adopting UN wording ... and now it all appears doomed?

The pond would like to reassure the Oreo that western civilisation is safe, and so is Judeo-Christian and British civilisation, with the Oreo having invaded that scepter'd isle ...


This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, 
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 
This other Eden, demi-paradise 
This fortress built by Nature for herself 
Against infection and the hand of war, 
This happy breed of men, this little world, 
This precious stone set in the silver sea,.. 
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Oh the pond speaks fluent western civilisation and flung that in because the Oreo is in such a funk about the state of the world and the state of Britain and heck, just about the state of everything, that the pond thought she needed some comforting ...

Let's face it, none of its got anything to do with barking mad fundamentalists and their bigoted homophobia and other sexual quirks of the Roy Moore kind - in the end it's all due to those wretched gays ...



Damn you queer radicals, it's all your fault, why can't people be politically incorrect and bigoted and homophobic, and decently barking mad like the Oreo and like they could be in the good old days? 

Is it now wrong for the barking mad to mention that the Oreo is barking mad? Is even that form of political incorrectness going to be ruled out of order? Where will it all end? Will we be stopped from shouting in caps? Will Islamics be no longer allowed to call for jihad? What about white nationalists yearning for Adolf? How on earth will we manage to crank up a third world war with civilised politeness and tolerance and accepting each other is all the go?

And so to more fine flowerings of western civilisation ...




In which the pond lets off a double-barrelled blast of onion muncher and Moorice ...


Of course the pond had to clear the decks. How could an Oreo or an Order of Lenin hunter of the Major Mitchell kind compete with the two heaviest hitters in the pond pantheon of pleasures?

And it goes without saying that as soon as any huckster or hustler starts spruiking a golden age, he's talking classic racism of the ancient Greek kind ...

The term Golden Age comes from Greek mythology, particularly the Works and Days of Hesiod, and is part of the description of temporal decline of the state of peoples through five Ages, Gold being the first and the one during which the Golden Race of humanity (Greek: χρύσεον γένος chrýseon génos) lived. Those living in the first Age were ruled by onion lovers, after the finish of the first age was the Silver, then the Bronze, after this the Heroic age, with the fifth and current age being made of iron and filled with onion haters ... (well that's what imaginative Greg Hunters would find here).

Yes, there'll be pie in the sky in the sweet bye and bye, and we'll all live in a paradise, and in the meantime, there's always the deep thoughts of the onion muncher to chew on ...


Rhodes eh? Was there a course in what Rhodes really stood for?


That full story at the Beeb here, and that link to the Guardian obituary of 2002 here, where a number of wretched matters are discussed and it ends this way...

...It may be left to the future historian who shall have access to the documents to determine his share in the guilt of the Raid. Certain it is that he vacillated long in sore perplexity, and it may be that his message to Jameson had been misunderstood by that unlucky strategist. But the fact remains that when, in November 1895, the British Government gave control of the southern portion of Bechuanaland to Cape Colony and the northern to the Chartered Company - a sinister act, giving colour to many imputations - the Johannesburg agitation boiled up afresh, and Rhodes gave Jameson his orders to collect the Company's troops and prepare for an expedition with Maxim guns. From that unscrupulous beginning there was an unbroken sequence of evil.

Indeed, and it can be argued that both apartheid and the likes of the dictator Mugabe are the children of Rhodes, with all the consequent unhappiness produced ... and that if the onion muncher is the best a Rhodes Scholarship can produce, what an unhappy outcome for Rhodes and scholars ... second rate minds earning weak punch-drunk degrees abroad while imagining they were British to the bootstraps ...

In much the same way as the onion muncher was determined to create unhappiness in gay lives, Rhodes was a barking mad megalomaniac determined to produce unhappiness throughout the world ...

At his death he was considered one of the wealthiest men in the world. In his first will, written in 1877 before he had accumulated his wealth, Rhodes wanted to create a secret society that would bring the whole world under British rule.[9][page needed] The exact wording from this will is: To and for the establishment, promotion and development of a Secret Society, the true aim and object whereof shall be for the extension of British rule throughout the world, the perfecting of a system of emigration from the United Kingdom, and of colonisation by British subjects of all lands where the means of livelihood are attainable by energy, labour and enterprise, and especially the occupation by British settlers of the entire Continent of Africa, the Holy Land, the Valley of the Euphrates, the Islands of Cyprus and Candia, the whole of South America, the Islands of the Pacific not heretofore possessed by Great Britain, the whole of the Malay Archipelago, the seaboard of China and Japan, the ultimate recovery of the United States of America as an integral part of the British Empire, the inauguration of a system of Colonial representation in the Imperial Parliament which may tend to weld together the disjointed members of the Empire and, finally, the foundation of so great a Power as to render wars impossible, and promote the best interests of humanity. (Greg Hunt the details here)

Never mind, back to the onion muncher for a final gobbet and the stock-in-trade blather about the glories of western civilisation and the British, and the wonder is, if he loves the Poms so much, he doesn't go and live there and dwell amongst them, and thereby save us all much misery and nattering negativity ...



The golden age of the onion muncher? It's not before us, and the pond hopes fervently that it is behind us, though it's never wise to second-guess ruffians ...

Raise the tone of our civic conversation? Is that what saying "no" like a broken clock chiming all day long is supposed to do?



Links as in the cartoon, because now it's time to turn to Moorice, and once again, it seems that Moorice is determined to deprive the pond and the world of his astonishing insights into climate science ...


Speaking of broken clocks, as one often does in the company of the onion muncher and Moorice, is it possible that the pond might find itself in the rare position of agreeing with this broken clock at least once this day?



The most shameful political episode since federation?

So much for the dismissal. So much for the 1932 constitutional crisis in NSW ...

In fact in the usual wiki way Greg Hunters might find delight in a list of Political controversies in Australia, and use them to assess Moorice's tendency to hysterical exaggeration and myopic unawareness of the political history of the country, up there with his ability as a climate scientist ...

Even on his own side, has he so little time for Petrov and the DLP?



Never mind, there's more Moir here, and as for other matters, it's clear that the pond can agree with the broken clock that the Constitution makes for more plain reading than attempting to fill out a Centrelink document online, and the politicians and their parties have only themselves to blame, and now it's time for a final Moorice gobbet ...

Go on Moorice, sic him, sic that wretched Malware and his presumptuous, arrogant and foolhardy instructions to the High Court on what they should find ...



Phew, thank the long absent lord duty has been done, and now it's time for weddings, parties or anything really, with Mark Knight twittering here and showing how difficult it is in Northcote with all those green lawns ...(though in time that reference will seem like nothing but a midsummer's dream)



Sunday, November 19, 2017

In which the pond sprays on some Devine good grace and good faith, as promised ...


Remember that Devine talk of good grace?

It seems like so long ago, an eternity ... and luckily this Sunday Miranda the Devine provided a chance to see how the accepting with good grace was going (sadly Akker Dakker had the good grace to disappear, presumably on a holyday to lick his homophobic wounds) ...

First the pond had to get past another bit of Devine malice ...


Try telling that to the Donald ...

And so to the good grace, as the pond promised ...



That bit of street art immediately sent the right signal to the pond ... the Devine's good grace was going to be malice and vandalism in action ...


Now there's any number of things to note here, including the way that the 18C-loving Murdochians never actually show the full work in all its glory ...


And it's interesting that it would seem that Scott Marsh had actually secured the permission of the Botany View Hotel to put up his art, unlike the vandals who came along and vandalised it ... and who thereby helped spread the story further, as in this Fairfaxian report ...

"They have threatened staff and patrons," he wrote. "[They] are here to cover up a 'hateful' painting while spreading hate and fear in the process. Try and get that logic...."

...Hundreds have since left poor reviews on the pub's Facebook page, which has become a battleground, with many supporters of the pub commenting on, and disputing, one-star reviews. White and beige paint was thrown over Cardinal Pell's face on Wednesday. It is not known who defaced the mural. "It is what it is," Marsh said. "I try not to get too upset about those things." However, he said he was disappointed he didn't get a chance to "get a nice photo in the morning light".

Marsh has shown good grace at the fate of his artwork:

Despite the backlash, Marsh said most of the feedback he had received had been positive. "The response has been 98 per cent positive; the only negative response has been from a few Christian groups," he said. Following the first incident of vandalism, Marsh said he planned to leave the defaced mural as it was. "I think it's just a chapter in the life of the mural," he said. "When you're making public art, the reaction is important, the reaction is needed."

But why wouldn't he show good grace. Anyone wanting a copy of his street art of the onion muncher will need a couple of hundred bucks to get a limited edition print run of the epic portrait:


And now back to vitriolic Devine, determined to show a complete and utter lack of grace ...



Accept the result with good grace and in good faith? 

Attacking street art in Newtown and coming in and assaulting decent gods-fearing secularist and atheist folk with talk of invisible friends and prayers to a virgin teenager knocked up by the Lord? (well so they think in Alabama). What next? Insist that we all eat human flesh and swill down human blood on a Sunday?

Why they couldn't even find a shot of Magda Z with her eyes open, instead running an image with her in squinty Babe mode ...



Ah fuck, there it goes, the hysteria, the fear-mongering and the deeply fundamentalist bigoted Catholic homophobia, and Australia torn apart in ways we can't even imagine ...

If you can't imagine it, shut the good faith and good grace fuck up about it ... but no, instead we must be Devined in the usual way with the usual fragrance ...




Now the pond won't join that dreadful woman Laura Tingle leading the sniggering on The Insiders about the Devine hailing ScoMo's revival of his leadership credentials - that cat is so dead we must be on to its nineteenth life. Oh okay, it's another story in the Terror - google it if you must - but the real shock there is the sight of the Devine purporting to be a journalist filing a story, when it's just the culture wars by another name.

Never mind, there's still more of Devine the columnist, and you don't even get a decent set of steak knives.

You see, once the Devine gets on a roll, her lack of good grace, lack of good faith, knows no bounds ...



Now there were many comments beneath the Devine piece, with only a few trying to spark a rational discussion of the old fear-mongering Devine routine abut florists and bakers ...


How weird has it been getting of late? 

Why even gorgeous George - 'everyone has the right to be a bigot' - Brandis showed signs of getting testy, a little impatient, with the ramblings of the likes of the Devine ...


(paywall protected, text can be googled)

So the Christian bus driver said you look gay, so don't expect any service here, and the atheist bus driver said no true believers here, and the Jewish bus driver said Islamics can only ride in the luggage compartment ... and why did Barry Cassidy insist that the pond brood about bus drivers? What about mall owners banning gays from malls to provide a little protection for long suffering Xian shoppers wanting a Merry Xmas?

Never mind, the Devine show good grace and good faith in this matter? 

Of course not she can see years and years of shrieking and howling columns stretching out before her, complaining and moaning, and taking the black paint to other people's joys and desires ...

Why, if adultery is now to be the new standard, she can spend endless weeks shrieking about the way any number of Xians fuck like rabbits without respecting conventional Xian notions of marriage ... and end up in the divorce courts ...

And now, since the matter of adultery was raised at the start of the show, can the pond finish with a few cartoons about that peculiar Xian notion, as ripe with hypocrisy as the smell of a hundred year old egg ...







Oh and here's one for the gays ...