Monday, August 21, 2017

In which the pond enjoys a late afternoon Oreo, because it's never too late to bite into an Oreo ...


The pond only harks back to Mike Carlton here because - some distance down that tweet - a kindly soul EJB - blessed with the wondrous tag silly cat running -  the pond has always thought of itself as a silly cat running - put up a link to the pond, and so the pond achieved perhaps one or two degrees of separation from the acerbic Carlton ...

And then thanks to Michael Pascoe's tweet, embedded in the chain, the pond went off to down memory lane to about me ...


And why does that matter?

Well you see, after all the mockery and ridicule, it will be noted that the line about the Oreo's Australian university status no longer appears at about.me, but instead has been discreetly edited out, airbrushed like a Playboy photo ...

But the pond hastens to reassure punters that it's still the same smart cookie beloved and celebrated by the pond ...


And lo, just as the pond has returned, so has the Oreo.

Yes, all this was by way of reassuring stray punters that the pond hadn't forgotten that Monday is Oreo day ... but don't the pleasures longest delayed taste the best when finally consumed, or perhaps belatedly consummated?



Strange, the definition seems simple enough ... and the Oreo seems to be exhibiting strong signs of it ... not for her a wide ranging variety of flavours, just your standard mass produced fast food Oreo ...


...though how to pronounce xenophobia could take hours of discussion ...



And here for the argument and a sample pronunciation ... even if it's not the way the pond would say it, because amongst many pedantic matters, the pond refuses to acknowledge that "zee" exists ... and not even Oscar the Grouch could persuade it otherwise ...


Ah Oscar and the Oreo, as one with the messaging ...

Never mind, it's back to the Oreo for a final burst of xenophobia ...


Now the pond has done its duty and paid attention to the Oreo, but if it might be so bold, could it offer a few editorial suggestions, along the same lines as made that talk of being amongst the ten top university minds mysteriously disappear ...

Most migrants and refugees make fine citizens, and even some members of the reptile commentariat, though sadly only some. Let's face it, it was Australia's gain and America's loss when Rupert decided to abandon his Australian citizenship for a brazen pot of Fox News gold ...
The story of modern Australia is a migrant story, no matter how many Greens councils try to deny it by banning Australia Day, or members of the reptile commentariat insist it’s been a total disaster that puts all our lives at risk, or refuse to acknowledge that the day was once celebrated all over the shop, and is a moveable feast and that if there was to be a proper federal Australia Day, it should be on the 1st January, when the Commonwealth came into being, but we all know how we feel about doubling up on a holyday, as opposed to spreading them out, though we've spread the day out before to all kinds of odd days, as this meme suggests... 


But the balance between mass migration and social harmony is a delicate one. It is put at risk by ratbag ideologues of the Oreo kind who demonise Islamics, persecute minorities and pursue a fanatical closed-border policy without assessing the consequences. 
The unelected scribblers staffing the Murdoch rags risk have continued to serve their chairman in a bid to ensure his going endless acquisition of wealth, while determined to limit the wealth of others. If the emergence of a bigoted population prone to Foxian hysteria has come as shock, with the Donald the ultimate tragic consequence - though can climate science and Brexit be far behind? - it is because the scribblers are so far removed from the people they claim to serve, which might help explain their circulation and revenue problems. 
The bulging register of mindless references to Godwin’s Law-breaking thought crimes that every fuckwitted dimwit leads with can only be balanced by the silly stupids who routinely open their columns with references to Orwell and Brave New World, when that brave old socialist would have been appalled to see the likes of an Oreo quoting him ...
Somehow these loons think that wearing wondrous un-PC badges shields them from the intolerable hysteria they have cultivated in a dissenting minority of crazed white supremacists, isolationist nationalists and neo-Nazis. 
But shouting xenophobia at bigots won’t stop their terrorism. Fox News continues, though it’s been outflanked by other even more extreme forms of ratbaggery, and the reptiles of Oz now look on at their capacity for creative destruction, and wonder how it’s all come to this. 
Well their ongoing cultivation of the extreme right won’t protect the free world from those determined to make us unfree, like Daesh and the Chairman and the Oreo, who shout that closed borders is freedom, and who, to an uncomfortable degree, spread about exactly the same kind of hatred and bigotry and unwillingness to just live and let live and get on with enjoying life as fundamentalists everywhere do ....

And with that bit of re-writing done, it's time for a Rowe, evoking an Oreo hero ... with more Rowe here ...


On the other hand, the pond could just have put up that meme to be found on the Carlton tweet and not bothered with anything else ...



In which dashing Donners offers a lunch-time delight ...



Oh dear, so many bi's in the world, is it any wonder that dashing Donners is in a frenzy? Or at least a lovely puce frock of outrage?



The pond was away for only a few days, but it seemed like an eternity, with each new day of the Donald promising a fresh disaster ...

And it seems that each new day the indefatigable, delightfully dashing Donners has a new piece somewhere in the press getting agitated in his ineffably Catholic (and catholic) way ...


Now the pond can't quite work out why Donners gets so agitated about purple. After all, there's a long and proud love of purple amongst the tykes ...


By golly, they love a good frock, and so does the pond, and any irony or agony that the pond feels about poor old tykes being bigots must be counter-balanced by the way that the tykes for centuries managed to label assorted heretics as witches, faggots, dykes and poofters and consign them to an eternity of hellfire - though frequently giving them a taste of hellfire and torture here on earth before sending them on their way to meet up with Satan ...

It's typical of dashing Donners that he should be startled at the notion that homosexuality and bisexuality are normal conditions/situations/states of mind and/or body that have been around for yonks, long before the ancient Roman graffiti which read ...

Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity! (here for much more).

And speaking of bisexuality ...



The trouble is, Catholics need to get out and about a bit more and enjoy life and the various forms of sexuality on offer ... in the middle ages, they never had much trouble and loved to grind their pestles in all kinds of mortars, at least if Boccaccio can be taken as a reliable guide ...

Get the purple off the statues ...


... and get that purple out on the street, or risk sounding like a fuddy duddy Donners ...


Frankly there's not a single sign that Donners has the first clue about artistic achievements ...and for that the pond must rewind the clock and go into the back catalogue it missed during the great modem mayhem ...

But first, a cartoon, because the pond has a backlog which should be run, even if there's no direct relevance to the matter at hand ...


Ah that's better, now it's on with Donners ...



Yes, Donners was also out and about in Fairfax last week, though why he should keep on wanting to tell us the bleeding obvious - gays? He's agin 'em - is something of a mystery ...

It seems to be an almost unhealthy obsession, a deep fixation, almost - if one happened to be Freudian - anal retentive ...

On and on he went, shocked by the heathens and the philistines in his midst...


To put it bluntly, Donners is barking mad, and that talk of lesbians being physically incapable of procreation generated a huge number of hits and comments for the Fairfaxians, which was the main point of the exercise, though, to the pond, it had the same cruel charm as putting monkeys in a cage at the zoo, and then inviting other monkeys along to hurl peanuts at the gibbering idiot ...

Look at that wicked woman slumped on her chair ...

Now the pond can testify that living in a family full of rampant alcoholism and the odd bit of domestic violence is no reason to take things out on gays or to blame them for the woeful state of the Catholic church or to encourage them to forsake their god-given sexuality for the hate and hurt and briars on their desires that the non-Blakeian Donners of the world seek to inflict ...

But then in the final rant came yet another sticking point for the pond...


Forget all the rest of the gibberish for a moment, why on earth does Donners keep quoting T. S. Eliot on the family?

Like the pond, Eliot was one of those types who liked marriage so much he tried it several times. Those doing a Greg Hunt will find his review of his first marriage here ...

In a private paper written in his sixties, Eliot confessed: "I came to persuade myself that I was in love with Vivienne simply because I wanted to burn my boats and commit myself to staying in England. And she persuaded herself (also under the influence of [Ezra] Pound) that she would save the poet by keeping him in England. To her, the marriage brought no happiness. To me, it brought the state of mind out of which came The Waste Land."

Uh huh. Well let's not go into the state of mind on view in The Waste Land, let's just say it was a tad gloomy - let's just say it wasn't quite the state of mind or condition of marital bliss that Donners seems to be blathering about ...

And as for that second marriage?

On 10 January 1957, at the age of 68, Eliot married Esmé Valerie Fletcher, who was 30. In contrast to his first marriage, Eliot knew Fletcher well, as she had been his secretary at Faber and Faber since August 1949. They kept their wedding secret; the ceremony was held in a church at 6:15 am with virtually no one in attendance other than his wife's parents. Eliot had no children with either of his wives.

Oh dear, no children? That must explain why the gays are so rampant and difficult, seeing as how it seems the family failed to play its part, and so as expected, the culture continued to deteriorate ...

That's if you believe dashing Donners infallible confection of bigotry and disdain ...

And now to use up a few more of those cartoons in the back catalogue, with perhaps the only relevant connection to Donners his desire for strong male leadership...

Take it away Steve, show us your manly capacity for leadership...






In which the pond hoped to join Major Mitchell on an Order of Lenin medal hunt but ended up wailing in a karaoke bar ...


The reptiles are in a right old flap this day with a 54/46 split, and Malware telling the High Court what it should find, and dissembling on a daily basis about the Kiwi in his midst - what happens when Malware leaves the country and Barners takes charge? Will we go to war to reclaim NZ as an Australian state so that finally Barners can claim the All Blacks as dinkum Oz winners in the game he loves? Oi oi ...

And the shock and horror of Malware's creation continues to hit home ... though credit where credit is due, the cheerleading of the Murdochians helped produce this total copper-clad fuck-up ...


Naturally at times of stress like these the pond seeks to relax by going on an Order of Lenin medal hunt with Major Mitchell, but it turns out that this day, we're off to a karaoke bar where the competition will feature much wailing and poignant renditions of that popular song "I'm all out of market share, I want you to come back and carry me home, away from these long lonely nights of declining circulation and revenue ..."


Yes, it's another Major Mitchell hissy fit, because who needs a diversity of voices when the gramophone needle can stay in the same crack all day ...


Oh poor pitiful them, but the pond is known to harbour grudges and by golly, the attempts to fuck-up broadband in Australia - an activity in which the reptiles of Oz were front and centre, with the interests of Foxtel deemed to be more important than the country's digital future - leaves the pond with a sour taste in its mouth ...

It wasn't Keating that missed the boat on a wired world, it was the reptiles, and as for those Major Mitchell crocodile tears about Fairfax ... well, what else could the pond do, but read on ...

Indeed, indeed. The pond knew it would be all the fault of the ABC, and as for that dreadful Andrew Probyn, he should know his place.

That sort of highly charged political commentary is best left to a member of the reptile press working for an American press baron ...


And remember if the cawing Crowe doesn't satisfy, the reptiles can always wheel out the bouffant Shanahan to write a news story - if you call writing up a poll news - and then comment on it, all in the same breath ...

Oh it's too rich, as it always is when the Major Mitchell gets into navel-gazing and fluff-gathering and "oh pitiful us" mode ...


And there you have it.

Let a thousand voices contend? Not on the reptile beat. At heart they've always been oligopolists with a strong desire to be monopolists, and the notion that anyone outside their limited field of view might be given a leg-up is anathema ...

Tax Google and Facebook and hand the money over to News Corp and the job is done and the fix is in ...

Such naked self-interest deserves a medal and luckily the pond has one standing by ...


And so to the story that really got the pond agitated, and which upset others so much that they emailed it to the pond (please don't bother sending emails to the pond, we never reply, this was a private email):


Now this tale needs no further re-telling. 

The fibre to the node delivery system, courtesy Malware, is fucked, a crock that will take much consumer money to repair, and the notion that the NBN could turn a profit and so be taken off books, rather than be seen as vital infrastructure for the coming century, courtesy Stephen "let's have a gigantic internet filter" Conroy, helped fuck the way the NBN has gone about its useless, offensive business.

It will take decades to recover from the damage done by this inept roll-out, but what really irritates the pond is the way the reptiles, having encouraged the disaster from day one, are now showing their Janus side, and claiming that they're highlighting the problems...

But they were part of the problem, and this is the result ...


The pond has recently experienced this blame-game, with Telstra keen to blame the NBN for everything, even before the NBN actually landed in the pond's street ... and with a modem that had nothing to do with the NBN (to the point where the pond felt like raising the issue of the way gambling had produced profound corruption in Indian cricket).

By the purest of ironies,  people are discovering what Malware has wrought, and this disaster is now rolling out in urban centres, at precisely the time the government is depending for its survival on a Kiwi posing as a Tamworthian, and Malware is telling the High Court what it must find so he can survive a little longer ...

And now the Major Mitchell wails about the suffering of News Corp? Please allow the pond to cry a river ...

And so to a cartoon, which allows the pond to draw attention to the entrepreneurial Moir, post-Fairfax trying to get a new business model going via Twitter here ...


Sunday, August 20, 2017

In which Miranda the Devine and Akker Dakker deal with religious symbols ...


(Above: while sequestered from the intertubes, the pond also missed its daily dose of Rowe, with more supplies here).

The pond missed many things in its short time in modem hell, what with peak stupid being cranked up to eleven almost every day, but still the resonances linger, and so the Sunday Terror provided a chance to catch up, thanks to the very best reptile minds seeking to ferret out the deeper significance of things, in particular religious symbols and coverings ...

 

Talk about an exemplary pairing - the Devine splashing on her essence of vitriole, while Akker Dakker spares a moment from the tuckshop for a yaroop garooah perspective ... 

Could there be any better way to achieve enlightenment when it comes to matters of garb and dress?


Not even a working modem.

But when it actually came to the Devine header, the pond began to feel a faint sense of alarm, the queasy sense of a boat in uneasy motion upon an uneasy ocean ...


Now the Devine has been here before ...

That was prompted by Bronnie's and Stephen Parry's suggestion that a burqa-wearer sit in the glassed-off section for schoolchildren in the federal parliament ...

And so to the current fuss ...


This began to sound eerily, alarmingly like the pond, right down to the illustration. 

The pond has many a time compared religious dressings, though it hasn't sought refuge in a doll when there are so many real-life examples of funny garb over the years ...



And the pond just loves seeing nuns with Liberace, or nuns with guns ...


But no matter how you dress it, the pond is alarmingly in the same tent as the Devine. 

As a devout secularist atheist determined to burn in hell for all eternity, or at least have ashes scattered in Tamworth, the pond would be happy to see the burqa banned, but it would have to be on a fair dibs basis ...

This would mean getting rid of all those stupid fish symbols on cars for starters, which frequently send the pond into a road rage even worse than when it sees a 'baby on board' sign, the pond fancying itself as something of a baby when it comes to avoiding a prang ...

And those stupid smirking Scientologists shoving money down the throats of already filthy rich cultists could be forced off the street ...

Oh all sorts of religious garb could go, including men wearing very silly hats ...and beards ...



But what would happen to the pond's witty, clever atheist T-shirts, which always attract attention and flattering secular comments in the King street Newtown promenade?

Being a barking mad fundamentalist Catholic, the Devine could recognise the issue, and could see the chance of gay-bashing being treated as some kind of manifestation of Daesh fundamentalism ...


Yes, there are important freedoms, including the freedom to be deluded and the freedom to be a bigot and a homophobe ...

It was an awkward experience, and so the pond turned to Akker Dakker for answers ...


Of course. Why didn't the pond think of it? 

Blame Labor and the greenies, and a burqa-clad woman, and make cheap jokes about the burqa-clad form ... after all, who knows if those mincing nancy boys are really men or women?


Ah trust Akker Dakker to deliver the goods.

Conflating and confusing forms of dress in which some see religious significance and a set of cultural values with vestments and sacred robes, as apparently the only form of religious garment allowed, is a masterstroke ... and likely to send off Greg Hunters to read up on the Burqa and its perceived religious significance ...

No doubt Akker Dakker is furious whenever he sees an anti-abortion sticker on some fundamentalist Xian vehicle and smashes the windscreen as payback ...

That's why following up his confusion about religious garb, symbols and messages with a tirade about Saudi Arabia proves the fat owl's genius.

Or irrationality. The pond understands that some think genius and irrationality are inextricably linked to produce the artistic imagination.

The pond was now hoping and expecting that the fat owl would unleash a rant about fundamentalist Daesh thinkers refusing to allow gay marriage, or accept climate science ...

Sadly the best that Akker Dakker could do was discover that many people don't like face coverings ...


It should go without saying that the pond doesn't have any time for facial coverings,  and hopes at some point it might get mentioned in Snopes regarding facial covering jokes ...


Never mind, slowly but surely, Akker Dakker works himself around to cheering on Pauline ...


Actually what they stood and cheered was the notion of religious freedom and a refusal to demonise delusional people who believe in meaningless gods, for who amongst us at some point hasn't believed in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny ... and who amongst us hasn't at some point been as stupidly bigoted and as ignorant as Akker Dakker?

Never mind, it's been a truly rich week, and the pond feels blessed to be back, with good old Barners, the Tamworth Kiwi the source of much fun ...



And now pure essence of Rowe. At last the pond can get back to taking shots straight into the eyeball, with more Rowe here ...