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Even taking into account the brown paper bag kakistocracies of Johannes Bjelke-Petersen and Robert Askin or the dodgy brothers operations of Fast Eddie Obeid, Joe Tripodi and Sir Lunchalot McDonald of Terrigals infamy there can be little doubt that we are now experiencing the most rancid regime in our history. It has become apparent via the election rorting scandals that Brother Scott Morrison did not leave his electoral fortunes entirely in the hands of his Infinite Spirit. Perhaps ScoBro felt that the Big Guy could not be totally relied upon to deliver the much coveted miraculous election win despite his fervent swaying and praying being topped-up with salary sacrificing to Jesus via the Horizon Church (sic) retail showrooms. Holy payola was obviously seen as no guarantee of favours to be repaid so a backup plan must've been thought necessary - the bribing of mere mortals within at-risk and marginal electorates with hundreds of millions of re-purposed tax payer dollars. It was a risk mitigation strategy; after all if the celestial CEO had spent 6 days of hard slog creationing and you're intent on salting the earth at the centre of it all then you need to hedge your bets. (Backing off the Big Guy with the Mosman Rowing Club and its ilk seems a tad blasphemous to me, but then I'm no theologian; but ScoBro's deity will be across all of the nuances of religious-based commercial transactions I'm sure.) It seems that Jehovah & Co. were cool with all of that - delivering the requested miracle, albeit caveated by a tiny 2 seat majority. Perhaps with the blatant lies, the fraudulent election posters, Greasy Palmer's $80M down payment for future favours and their 6 year track record of deceit, incompetence and graft the Big Guy was not convinced enough to give his full endorsement. Regardless, we are stuck with these criminals for another 2 years - a frontbench that reminds me of Halloween trick or treaters from the burns ward and a backbench the like of which you'd expect to find under a serial killer's floorboards. We have a dysfunctional ragtag collection of misfits and spivs led, for the moment, by a smirking, incompetent and incontinent space invader from The Shire and a bobble-headed nonentity from Wagga Wagga, the Talking Thumb, who's clearly been snacking on the Clag. As awful as this pair are they are both under threat from within by even worse alternatives. Kommondant Herr Spud-Dutton, the sadistic, neo-fascist rhizome from Dickson and Tamworth's Barking Barmy, a purple-headed poster boy for a campaign warning women not to leave their drinks unattended and who has the coherence of a drunk on a bus shaken awake by a pot hole. This L/NP is a coagulation of weirdos and shonks that is not so much a party as a death-of-democracy wake attended by flatulant aunts, uncle pervys, bagmen, corporate apple polishers, onanists, loose stools, Dogger's Guidebook subscribers, sky pilots and scorched earthers. Their grifters would not think twice about selling shares in a Rolf Harris Child Care Centre franchise to the befuddled in the nation's raisin farms. Their autocrats would happily taser widows and set fire to homeless people. The door rattlers would steal from disabled kiddies' Christmas stockings. They have a bell-bottomed, helmet-haired harridan with a pebble-creted vajazzle who remains in AFP witness protection. There's a bloated Filippino slum tourist whose oft-threatened crossing of the floor has been limited to-date to getting from the pole dancing to the titty bar and whose weight loss regime consists of taking a shit and having a haircut. There are water thieves and grass poisoners; there's a Treasurer who provides us with all of the confidence of a recalled airbag; there's an automatronic Finance Minister who's as empathetic as a proctologist's forefinger and a nut farm escapee who conjectures that a greenie conspiracy set the country ablaze to ... wait for it ... save the trees. In short, we have weirdos, freaks and dullards; but their primary, shared characteristic is that they are all liars and thieves. They've tried and tested a range of methods to avoid scrutiny - showing at least they had some small sense of shame. But now their deviousness has morphed into chutzpah; they're playing the Trump card - "what are you going to do about it?" So it is, unbelievably, getting worse. I feel a little bit of sick in the back of my throat. God save us. *Thx to Frankie Boyle for a few of those insults. Also published by the Australian Independent Media Network

The Lord works in mysterious ways his miracles to perform. So I'm told. I've never researched the source material and in the interests of full disclosure, I don't give a fuck. But I do wonder how Brother Scotty Morrison rationalises his Sky Guy's purpose in the creation and deployment of this latest virus . A bigger question of course is the divine purpose for all previous pandemics. The Black Death for instance where the omnipotent creator of the universe and all the viruses contained therein decided that several million of his most precious creations should perish in a pestilential apocolypse. If the intent was to free the victims from their dreary, earthly lives with an early pass to the celestial first class lounge then OK, but what's with the festering boils, pustules and rotting gums? Surely that's unnecessary and a bit off-putting to the others who were already browsing the heavenly buffet - the stench of suppurating bowels would overpower the piquancy of the mustard and aoli dressing on the lamb rack in the Jospeh & Mary Carvery. Why the gratuitous cruelty? Very puzzling. If there is a Big Guy then he shares some uncomfortable traits with domestic abusers - "look what you made me do!" BroSco and the brethren from the Church of the Holy Profit & Yacht Club seem cool with this - even joining in with a slipper to the nuts of any down & outer whose fraught circumstances are simply a result of their own lack of righteousness. Scotty and the chosen ones do, however, have the sense to manage the risk of hanging out with their ethereal CEO with anger management issues - by paying protection money. This tithing business (and i do mean buiness) may be paying off for BroSco. Ten percent of the PM's salary is more than 50 large p.a. (pre-tax). Scooter, up to his arse in rorting alligators, may believe that such contributions entitle him to an early, pre-Rapture return on his investment, i.e. ASAP. And lo, another miracle. Mr 38%, the creepy uncle forcing handshakes on the unwilling, has shot up to Mr 68% according to Newspoll. It seems the country is relieved that SchMo didn't entirely fuck up this time. I suspect expectations were low and people dreaded the prospect of a smarmy twat mugging to the cameras while pointing at maps, so by not being SchMo, SchMo's ratings went up. Does he perhaps see the mysterious workings of his deity in all of this? A god-given opportunity to redeem his image from that of an opportunistic grub, a man devoid of integrity whose talents have proven to be elusive beyond political assassination and pissing his trousers, now supposedly morphed into a bloke you might consider buying a Mr Whippy from (but still check the change). Morrison may not suffer from the malignant narcissism of his covfefe confrere from Mar a Lago but he's the same solopsist he always was, a believer in devine intervention that won an election for him. He's said as much. If his god was prepared to engineer his return to office despite his misappropriation of $100M in sports rorts, his rent-an-MP business model and the racketeering infesting his party is he going to be inclined to change? Is he really handing out ice creams? What we have is a scorpion and frog scenario (hint: we're the frog). Morrison cannot resist his inclinations - with him on our backs we won't reach the other side. He'll try to sneak through his neo-liberal agenda under the cover of Covid, and yet again, an opportunity will be lost to zombi Tory ideology. Image: http://fablesfairytalesandsocialjustice.weebly.com/ In his panic as the virus took a hold because of his initial apathy ScoBro floated the notion of herd immunity. But figuratively throwing grannie down the laundry chute as the Tory economy-first knee jerk response was not embraced beyond the typing monkeys of the IPA and Murdoch's rabid eugenisists so a longer game is called for. He's already teed off with pending legislation to further erode workers' rights, flagging the slashing of "red tape" to let loose the environmental vandals and tax breaks to non-tax paying corporations - all so predictable and all so self-defeating; a return to a "normal" that collapsed when faced with a stress test. When the next virus hits, perhaps just as virulent but more deadly, when the climate fights back even harder we will all be truly fucked. Despite Orange Donny's advice, sticking a bug-zapper up your arse and sucking on your washing machine's drain hose will be of no use, nor will Scotty's god be getting us to the other side. Tories stand by their convictions. Stupid, ignorant, world-destroying convictions based on disproven economic fantasies and ancient books full of primitive morality and magic people. But convictions, nonetheless. Paraphrasing Bill Maher

Original image: smh.com.au Scott Morrison is not my favourite person. I'm not alone. "Mathias (Cormann) regarded ScottMorrisonMP as emotional, narcissistic and untrustworthy." - Malcolm Turnbull "An absolute arsehole” - former Justice Minister Michael Keenan describes Morrison. One year after Scott Morrison's purchase of the election with hundreds of millions of dollars of stolen money Australia's Covid death toll hit 100 when great-grandmother Fay Rendoth succumbed to the virus at the Newmarch Home For Sitting Ducks. Did any Tories celebrating the anniversary of Smuggo's election artifice give Fay a second thought over their celebratory flutes of Pol Roger Brut and mascarpone sprout canapes with black truffles, smoked sesame seeds and wine salt? How many dead grannies and nurses does it take to dampen the self-congratulatory party mood of born-to-rule Tories? I suspect it is many, many multiples of 100. Over in the RWNJ's Randesque nirvana of neo-liberalism, the USA, the death toll is quickly heading to 100,000. On a percapita basis that is: Aus: 1 person in 260,000 has died. USA: 1 person in 3,280 has died. At this point in time an American resident has 80x the chance of dying from the virus as does a resident of Australia. Eighty times! While Australia's infection rate has trended downwards the rate of infection in the US continues to climb so that inevitably the contrast will become even starker. There are, of course, many variables that account for the stunning contrast - not least being the bloated, syphilitic, dysfunctional, gibbering rapist and crime boss that is the US's Individual 1 (Septic Tank 1 if you prefer). Despite superficialities and our embrace of much of their culture we're not like Americans, and so we're not in thrall to a discoloured, deranged degenerate - a souless sinkhole of avarice, a mangy, yellow cur, a cartoonish effluvium of every flaw and vice whose positives are limited to his syphilus test results, a globular travesty so ridiculous as to be unimaginable as a fictional life form. In Oz we're lucky that our goverment is merely corrupt, incompetent and ideologically bankrupt. Our own imbecilic madman Friar Abbott and his personal monkey trainer Cruella DeVil had their Trumpish attempts to fuck over the country rudely interrupted by the realisation that no, we are not as susceptible to blatant fuckwittery as are the Yanks. And so by happenstance we now find ourselves with a smug, Machiavelian liar and charlatan at the helm, someone who cannot default to an insanity plea should karma prevail and he finds himself fronting a corruption enquiry. Smuggo's standing on the shoulders of far more capable state leaders as he struggles with concepts that are typically anathema to himself, his party and their paymasters - the helping hand, social cohesion and looking after everybody is what has saved us from the worst affects of the contagion and the worst excesses of the herd-thinners. Could it be that while Flim Flam Man seeks to hide his true self from scrutiny he is capable of self-reflection and understands his own significant limitations and unpalatability after his contemptible behaviour during the fires? It seems that the public is prepared, so far, to give him a pass on that basis. In the face of a crisis that cannot be dismissed with spin, a slogan or a smirk and that cannot be lamely blamed on Labor has Smuggo changed? Has the L/NP? The new and improved ScoMo, wartime leader? FFS! And lonely Jen, sans her self-pity coach, locked away in iso at The Lodge where the butlers and the maids can't hand deliver the hot towels. Behind the media puffpieces they're all still there - complaining about the bald kids in wheelchairs getting priority in the queue at SeaWorld, the seal clubbers, the granny killers, the grifters and the shonks. The cult of the profit t/a the Coalition have been as busy as Barking Barmy Joyce's designated driver - there's a national crisis to monetise. The Tories are not returning to type. They never changed, as evidenced herewith. * * * * * The worthy unemployed and the unworthy unemployed - JobKeeer and JobFinder . Only the twisted brain of a Tory could conceive such punitive poppycock. * * * * * Snapback - the return to a trajectory that flew us into this building in the first place. "There's not enough money - people will have to starve" so that the money can still be shovelled to the mates, the family interests and themselves. Why shouldn't nurses cop a paycut to cover the cost of the L/NP cronies' lobster lunches? * * * * * CO2 is good for you . Senator Concertina Ferrari-Wheels is the homophobic Duttonista from Wollongong who uses her tits as a travel pillow and who was barred from her pilates class when the other members kept checking the velcro on their gym shoes every time she did a squat. But you can't keep a good nutter down - Connie has been speculating on how more verdant her coriander, bok choi and lemon basil would be if we pumped even more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. Perhaps she was chosen to be the champion of CO2 by her fellow vegetation. * * * * * It's always a crowded field when it comes to nominating Tory whack-job of the month and always in contention are fellow yokels Barking Barmy Joyce and Gorgeous George Christensen, both opining on the appropriate ways to keep China in line. No doubt Gorgeous thinks that his familiarity with the seedy dives of dodgy Filippino neighbourhoods equips him with the diplomatic skills necessary to bloody the noses of the Chinese Communist Party but his belief that Lapland and Poland are S.E. Asian nudie bars probably disqualifies him from further consideration as our next Minsiter for Foreign Affairs. * * * * * The ability to fuck up everything you touch seems to be one of those Essential Skills on many a Tory MP's job description. So, step forward Stuart Robert, Minister assisting the Pime Minister for fusterclucks. Robodebt fiasco - check. MyGov DDoS attack that wasn't - check. Autistic kids waiting hundreds of days to access NDIS - check. Outrageous home internet bill - check. Shares in a trust linked to the mining company of a Liberal donor - check. Gold Rolex - check. Sacked from the ministry for dodgy Chinese trip - check. Brother Smuggo: " Brother Stuart, praise the Lord - how's the rollout of the BigBrother app going? Spud wants to know when he can get to insert a backdoor so he can track those lefty journalists and the 14 y.o. terrorists from Extinction Rebellion ." Stuie: " FUBAR! " (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition) What Stuie needs is a different app - let's call it e.coli. To tell him how shit he is. * * * * * These are but random examples of recent Tory dysfunction and nastiness that come readily to mind. We could fill a book if we tracked every example - including such disasters as Greg Yorrick Hunt ordering huge batches of hydroxychloroquine as a COVID-19 treatment following Deranged Donny's grasping at poisonous straws and the millions of wasted dollars paid to Lib pal Twiggy Forrest for useless PPE. It's the standard, expensive Tory farces from the "better managers". Much of this will be forgotten, as Smuggo believes it will. The lumpy carpet in the PMO covers Fingers Taylor and his #grassgate, #watergate and the doctored documents scandal, Bam Bam McKenzie and the sports rorts scandal and the PMO's piracy of Malcolm Turnbull's book etc etc etc. We've been lucky with the Covoid virus so far and we've seen some stirling leadership from the state premiers. Smuggo is back to his smirking self, fronting the media with his freshly crafted persona of man-in-charge while stealing the limelight but pirouetting and exiting stage left when subjected to uncomfortable questions. We are confronting a climate catastrophe of far greater consequences than COVID-19 yet we have a collection of disaster capitalists who seem determined to accelerate it. Smuggo hasn't changed, the Tories haven't changed and the RWFWs of the IPA monkey typing pool, the Murdoch propaganda machine, the MCA and the BCA haven't changed. They are using the cover of COVID to sneak through climate wrecking legislation, worker exploitation, evasion of scrutiny and accountability and erosions of our freedoms. The main thing that is changing is the climate - polluted and vandalised and monetised by the Tories who are not a part of the cure. They are the disease. The trials of Liberal Money-Man Stuart Robert Also publsihed on the AIM Network .

Images: Happymag + Insider.com Will it be the 100,000th U.S. death from corona virus, their 44 million unemployed, the jackbooted response to the BLM protests following George Floyd's murder or a plummeting Dow Jones that historians will mark as the tipping point for the orange globule who infests 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue? After a continuous, four year stream of outrages from the sickbag residue of Dr Evil mixed with Sideshow Bob and sprinkled with Papa Doc Duvalier that is Donald J. Trumplethinskin it has become apparent that the depths of his depravity are bottomless, that no immorality is beyond his embrace; none of which has deterred his enablers, sycophants and collaborators. With an appalling track record of corruption and incompetence is it possible to point to any one circumstance as the beginning of the end for him, his demon spawn and their crime syndicate? Perhaps it is his reported cowering in trembling, pee-stained fear in the panic room at the White House, that icon of American presidential power and prestige, that is the most appropriate symbolic moment. But the tipping point could be the immediate aftermath of that humiliation when he had peaceful citizens tear-gassed and clubbed to stage-manage a cowardly photo-op where he looked as natural as a orangutan on a unicycle when with witless silence and vacant expression he held aloft an upside-down bible, the contents of which are as unread by him as they are by the metaphorical orangutan. In comparison, how good is Australia? A prime minister does not have the powers of a U.S. president, nor do we suffer such an imbecilic, syphilitic madman at the helm. We had an idiot in charge two Prime Ministers ago after which farcical fuckwittery was removed from the Tory's list of essential skills for high office. Our man is not insane. Smirko Morrison's messaging is not Trump-like, off-the-cuff, incoherent ramblings. His forté is market-tested, focus-grouped propaganda and glib slogans that camouflage rather than amplify the mendacity and grift that is at the core of the us-&-them RWNJ mindset - "unfunded empathy", "a fair go for those who have a go", "quiet Australians", "separation of church and state was set up to protect the church from the state, not the other way around". Smirko doesn't do nuance - he does the dog-whistle. Smirko does not sexually assault women, he doesn't party with high profile pedophiles, he doesn't brag about his own wealth, he doesn't sport a ridiculous, yellow merkin on his head, he doesn't suggest sticking a lava lamp up your arse as a virus cure. Trump has had multiple wife-changing experiences, Smirko has stuck by his first. Morrison's not Trump-like. But he is Trump-lite. Morrison's standards may be higher than Trump's but then Trump does set a very, very low bar. Smirko's eye-fluttering, fan-girl crush on Trump means not just that his staff need to towel-dry his chair after a phone call from the tangerine ballsack but also that his morals are quite flexible, and that in line with his prosperity gospelling principles, wealth is the measure for his mangina-frothing admiration. Unlike Trump, Smirko attacks the media by stealth not by megaphone - raiding journalists, defunding the ABC and using his tame propaganda outlets 2GB, Sky News (sic) and, primarily, the Murdoch muckers where many millions of our dollars are shovelled to bolster the withered billionaire's empire of sleaze and disinformation, no questions asked. As with the Republicans, the L/NP modus operandi is the game of mates and as with the Republicans it has become shamelessly blatant. They duck and weave and smirk and giggle at their cleverness in dodging accountability. Sports rorts, regional swimming pools, the Regional Growth Fund, Building Better Regions Fund, government advertising on the tax-payers' dime, Climate Solutions Fund, Urban Congestion Fund, Drought Communities Program, Regional Jobs and Investment Package - an eye watering $8 billion in nods and winks to Tory and marginal electorates in an asymmetric war against those electorates that do not meet the qualification criteria of contributing to the Tories' hold on power. See Michael Pascoe goes back over the maths on government grant rorts - The New Daily But it doesn't stop there - the Tories are nothing if not shockingly avaricious. Shaden fraud is the arousal a Tory politician experiences from gaming the system. Barking Barmy Joyce's legover-of-the-moment must've been apprehensive after Barmy's $80 million buy-back of dehydrated water from Angus "Fingers" Taylor's old outfit Eastern Australia Agriculture ! What became known dryly (!) as Watergate is but one dodge in Fingers' portfolio of #gates whereby a coincidentally high number of Taylor familial enterprises benefited from unknowing taxpayers' contributions - Speaking of rorts. Kaye Lee, the AIMN. Hand-in-hand with the Tories' graft comes a paranoid fear of scrutiny. The prospect of a federal integrity commission puckers the sphincters of the pillaging Tory hordes. And so supplementing the standard dissembling and obfuscation comes the stacking of boards with cronies, the disenfranchising of the public service, the politicising of the AFP and the quashing of dissent. When Trump's time comes he will not go quietly. The notion of him getting four more years seems more outlandish with each outrage. Surely the underlying strengths of American democracy will see this abhorrent aberration dragged by the ankles, drooling and gibbering, from under his bed. In contrast, Smirko's demise will be more pedestrian. There is not likely to be a jump-the-shark moment for him as there was with the Mad Monk's plan to knight Prince Philip. Morrison is simply reverting to type - a mean and tricky, beligerent marketer of ragged neoliberal ideology. His recent brief reprieve will come to an end, the shine will fade from this buffed beige jobbie and he'll be told by a disillusioned electorate to "get off my lawn". I can't wait.

Cartoon courtesy of Alan Moir . If asked to nominate a politician with a penchant for titty bars I suspect most people could name the distended Member for Manila and ping-pong ball fieldsman Gorgeous George Christensen. Gorgeous G, a devout Christian, is somewhat sensitive about the curiosity aroused by his frequent perver points accumulated at iffy Filipino dives where the sticky carpets are not solely a consequence of spilled beer. Press reports of his 28 trips and almost 300 days spent hanging out in the Philippines were vile smears according to our travelling vagophile. To be fair there should be some sympathy reserved for a bloke who can't see his own genitals without the use of a mirror on a selfie stick - there's the deprivation factor to consider. And we should stop fat shaming Jiggle-O George. He already has enough on his plate. Then there's Kevin Rudd, the heedless man in topless bar and another conspicuously pious Christian who famously detoured into a Manhattan "gentlemens' club" that traded in overpriced booze and the display of ladies' pink bits. Apparently Kev was taken by surprise when confronted by a pert pair of areolae and a freshly-shaved flange and legged it for the exit . ( After surviving FBI raids and ex-Mayor Rudy Giuliani's crusade against smut, Scores nightclub is now closed. foxnews.com. ) Kev, a practicing, purse-lipped Miss Prissy was duly mortified after the local Murdoch mulch fortuitously published the story when, as Opposition leader the bible-toting Rudd was favoured to win the 2007 election. What Kev and News failed to anticipate was his popularity increasing as a consequence. What Kev also seemingly failed to realise at the time was that the bloke who'd steered him into the strip joint was not his pal. Col Allan was Murdoch's New York Post's editor, the longest-serving editor at News Corp and a " Dubbo boy with a fondness for beer, women " and peeing into the office sink. Rudd was then Opposition foreign affairs spokesman. Whatever bonhomie that may have existed between the two at the time was not to last. The scrotum squeezed through a shirt collar that is Rupert Murdoch lauded Allan as “one of the most outstanding editors of his generation”. Murdoch also stated, without irony or the hint of a piss-take that " Col has sought...to hold the powerful accountable, to assail corruption and to have a positive impact in New York and beyond ." Integrity, truth and decency earning Rupert's respect? Apparently it's revenue that does it. “I’ll get fired not because Rupert doesn’t like the stories I put in the paper. I’ll get fired because we don’t sell newspapers” Allan tol d Lloyd Grove in a 2007 New Yor k magazine profile . Allen is the Murdoch myrmidon responsible for the crude front page splashes and blatant propaganda in News Corp's Daily Guano denigrating Rudd and the Labor government. You have to question the standards of sleazy New York nudie bars when this is the type of trough snorkeller they allow onto the premises. Murdoch is the price we pay for a free press. The dullards, bigots, RWNJs, offence seekers, non-registrants on the IQ bell curve, the perpetually confused, car crash spectators, the venal and the lazy have a right to have their opinions formed for them. The Murdoch manure machine's usefulness is otherwise limited to teaching dogs to read or for prepatory hygene in proctologists' waiting rooms. Unless of course you're an otherwise unemployable hack or a Tory politician. The bile and merde produced by the monkey's typing pool of Murdoch wazzocks, pizzle ninjas, racists, planks and coprophiliacs could be mostly ignored if it wasn't for its ubiquity and dominance and the Murdochracy's hands-down-each-others'-trousers relationship with an outrageously corrupt, punitive L/NP kakocracy. This is taking liberties with the concept of a free press. It is not holding power to account - it's a protection racket for gangsters and their cronies. Criminals don't like scrutiny. SchMo's tactics for avoiding a federal integrity commission include everything short of calling in a bomb threat - it's a guilty plea by default. After exposing Sports Rorts the national audit office had its budget cut at a time when unprecedented government largesse is being distributed. SchMo's national cabinet is run in secret with fossil fuel mates being granted open slather to salt the earth and poison the atmosphere regardless of dodgy return on investment or a rooted planet. Tertiary education is being dumbed down and kept out of financial reach of enquiring minds. Various #gates bubble away. Promised millions in disaster relief goes undistributed while a bloated, smirking practitioner of POETS day cooks curries and assembles flat-pack cubbies and chook pens for the cameras. The list is long, ignored or spun by the Goebbels and Riefenstahls of News Corp. Prominant amongst Murdoch's bilious minions we have the queen of confected outrage, Alan Jones, safely isolated in his Southern Highlands luxury estate from whence he broadcasts for Sky News and writes columns for News Corp, telling us now there is no pandemic despite earler stating that “ We are living in the world of coronavirus and the most repeated statement we hear is, we must listen to the experts ”. When you're an opinionated blow-hard consistency is entirely dispensible and hypocrisy a tool of trade. Miranda Devine (aka Marge - I can't believe she's not better) piled on Quaden Bayles, the Indigenous kid with achondroplasia dwarfism who was being bullied at school, claiming it was a scam to make money. What sort of broken individual does that? Apparently it's OK with the Rupester, as she's now spewing her poison for his New York Post. If hacking a dead kid's voicemail is OK then...meh! The Cruella DeVile of politics, Peta Credlin, found herself at a loose end after steering feral friar Abbott's government into the blackhole of public opprobrium. Apparently self-immolation sits well on a CV when submitted to News Corp, so long as you've aquired the requisite RWFW credentials where Pete scores an A+, offsetting the F she received at a road-side breath test. Pete's now desperately trying to raise her miserable ratings on Sky News by grandstanding at Dan Andrews' Covid press conferences where, much to her chagrin, she simply comes across as a tragic, look-at-me shrew. Melbourne's village idiot Andrew Bolt has the coherence of a drunk on a bus shaken awake by a pot hole. When Ivan Milat died Bolt's position on the list of Australia's worst people went up one place and in any battle of ideas he's holding the beers. Murdoch himself was deemed not a fit p erson to run an international company following the UK's Leveson enquiry. The stench goes all the way to the top and sets a standard for the bag carriers and apple polishers such as Rita Panahi, Rowan Dean, Chris Kenny and their fellow bloviating detritus who work for the wizened old bastard. Murdoch apologists suggest that his political influence is over-stated. It's surely coincidence that three western democracies being pillaged by governments-by-brown-paper-bag are Murdoch's markets. King Conkers, the apricot nut in hi-viz makeup of orange spackle topped by mangy, yellowed road kill can retain office only because of the Fox News cheersquad of blonde Barbies who've discovered that pneumatic boobs and good teeth can get them a better paying gig than blowing quarterbacks under the bleachers ever could. The UK has a wardrobe malfunction as Prime Minister - who let the boob out? A bloke who sees a challenge in outdoing Trump in the I'm so incompetent I'll kill thousands of my constituents stakes. Murdoch boosted Boris's Brexit because, in his own words, 10 Downing St does as he tells them while Brussels tells him to fuck off. SchMo and Co will ignore Kevin Rudd's petition for a Royal Commission into Australian media diversity even though it has 368,000+ signatures. Big Big George & the Reverend Kev both found out that Rupert will throw anybody under the bus. In George's case it was for titillation, in Rudd's it was mendacity and self-interest - Abbott could be trusted to obey orders and blow up the NBN to protect FoxTel's revenues. Morrison will be aware that Murdoch can turn, so pending a heart attack or Jerry speeding up the inheritance by sitting on his face a tad too long, there will be no Royal Commission. * * * * * Also published on the AIM Network . Supplement - Fun with anagrams Bridget McKenzie - begrimed neck zit Peter Spud Dutton - doped nut sputter Scomo Morrison - SOS micro-moron Michael McCormack - Cecil Cram-Hammock, chemical crack mom, Micmac - clam choker. Josh Friedenberg - John Beefgirders, John R. Edge-Fibres, Jib Dogfreshner, Jobs Fingeredher Col Pot’s war on Rudd: how the tabloids turned under Allan . Crikey. Col Allan is back to help figure out the post-Trump coverage - Vanity Fair News Corp editor Col Allan retires - The Guardian Kick this mob out’: The Murdoch media and the Australian Labor Government (2007 to 2013) - Global Media Journal

Cartoon courtesy of Alan Moir. Subscribe to Moir here . Sooty Morrison's $8.1 billion RortSeeker program of shovelling public money to enclaves of Lib privilege and marginal electorates bought the Tories a two seat majority in the 2019 election - a net gain of one seat. That's $8,000,000,000+ for a single seat increase. That's the self-trumpeted "superior economic management" of the born-to-rule touts in action. They can't even do grift cost effectively. But for the Tories it was other people's money well spent. Blatant lies, FUD, fraudulent election posters, the excrement from Murdoch's propaganda apparatus, an appeal to greed and self-interest and an $80M nod & wink distraction campaign from the flabulous accused fraudster Clive Palmer all helped of course. But in the game of mates that is Tory government the success of RortSeeker in the federal election has seen it remodelled as RortKeeper in office. Sooty's disappointment at his failure to win the Eden-Monaro by-election was palpable. After weeks of shoving his candidate aside to mug to the cameras he reverted to his where's wally routine and went AWOL. He had marketed himself as the product but the electorate didn't buy it even though Eden-Monaro was bribed with twice as much funding as the average seat under SportsRorts. Clearly the rorts program would require finessing given that voters cannot be trusted. You can't prise traditional venal practices from a dead Tory's fingers - what's different now is that a pandemic and a bushfire-charred environment provide new opportunities for the monetisation of other peoples' misfortune. The crisis also conveniently provides cover for and distraction from their odious and incompetent behaviour and so RortKeeper was rolled out. Few sentient beings were surprised when it was revealed that Stu Robert's latest fuck-up in a series of fuck-ups1, the COVIDSafe e.placebo, cost circa $68M without tracing a single case of infection. Snafu Stu is the type of guy who could wear a sombrero the wrong way round so of course this one man tech-wreck is the Tories' preferred I.T. geek. If Stuie can't break it, it's unbreakable. The rorts dimension to this incompetence is found, as always, if you follow the money. The CEO of the development company DELV is the spouse of a Liberal Party candidate. Purely coincidentally no doubt, his company hosted government grants enthusiast Angus Fingers Taylor MP at business events2. Fingers' talent for accessing tax payers' funds to subsidise the entrepreneurial endeavours of chums and family is the stuff of legend.3 Another Hayekian champion of free markets who nevertheless is ever eager to indulge in tax-payer funded largesse to support his own enterprises is the billionaire cockroach king and hacker of dead children's phones Rupert Murdoch. Murdoch the undead and Keith Richards are the only two people guaranteed to survive a nuclear war but pending such a possibility Sooty wants to secure his own tithe-enabled availability for the rapture by keeping the old monster on side. A $10M top up to a previous $40M donation to Newscorpse, friendly tax treatment and the dismemberment of the ABC is a small price to pay to facilitate Sooty's 1st class boarding pass to the last flight to heavenly reward. (Jen and the girls will be down the back.) The COVIDSafe farce and the protection money paid to Murdoch are but two examples of the early phase of the roll-out of RortKeeper. How are lurk merchant extraordinaire Fingers Taylor and his old #Watergate mate Barking Barmy Joyce faring in the updated model? These two grifters could sniff out a dollar in the skat of a Werribee duck . Hot out of the blocks Fingers has appointed one of his former advisors and a prominent critic of renewable and carbon policies to the board of the Australian Renewable Energy Agency. And there's $4M to Shine Energy for a feasibility study for a coal-fired power station despite them having no energy sector experience and having never completed a project. Good job, well done Angus! Angus's stuntman partner in grime, the Evel Knievel of provincial politics Barking Barmy Joyce vacated his front seat on the gravy train after he fell into the gland canyon of one of his staffers. Barmy was compensated with a $600,000 gig to send unread text messages from the front bars of country pubs. Now that he has been able to settle his VB tab, organ donor Barmy will no doubt be pondering further opportunities to fund his designated drivers and Playboy subscriptions while plotting the demise of his bête noire and boss, the Wagga Wagga chook magnet Mickey Mac McCormack. While Fingers and Barmy are freestyling our PM and his flustered Treasurer are focusing on retro-fitting their neo-con ideology into their forced framework of capitalist socialism. Morrison's SkidMarx manifesto is a work-in-progress but a key feature will be RortKeeper as evidenced by the shelving of requirements for the banks to change their criminal behaviours. We may all be up to our collective armpits in ordure but there is something deeply satisfying in watching Bubble and Squeak at the podium, blustering in red-faced embarrassment at being forced to adopt and sell a Keynesian response to an economic crisis. It worked after WW2, it worked during the GFC but it's anathema to the Tories' discredited dogma of punitive austerity and look-after-the-wealthy trickledown voodoo. Morrison's discomfort at having to sell the biggest deficit in our history after decades of snakeoil about surpluses, the Lib's denigration of government stimulus spending and their failed experiment in time travel ("we've brought the budget back to surplus next year") may finally wipe that repulsive smirk from Sooty's pie hole. But the smarmy yahoo's boondoggles, rorts and his normalising of blatant corruption will continue so I suspect not. Plus he's got the rapture to fall back on. 1 COVIDSafe, RoboDebt, MyGov non-existant DDos attack , $38,000 home internet bill 2 Coronavirus: Government's COVIDSafe app could have cost 'tens of millions' for zero tracing results . Nine News. 3 The adventures of Angus Taylor - Michael West Media Close to the wind: the trials of Liberal Money-Man Stuart Robert - Michael West Media The Angus Taylor story: from the Liberals' golden boy to a man on the edge - The Guardian

Spinocchio skirts the issue Image: AAP, Lukas Coch Spinocchio Morrison the clueless MC from Announceables-R-Us has showed off the new org chart that is his disaster recovery plan. The women of Australia are revolting and the marketing man responded to his crisis like a marketing man does - by revamping the packaging. The LNP now comes in a choice of colours, swinging dick blue and sheila pink. Thankfully, during his pitch to the press Morrison resisted the urge to fondle his balls as a wink to his blokey-bloke base (" Play along, fellas. They've probably just got the painters in so they'll forget all about it after a box of Cadbury's Favourites "). As a demonstration of his sudden revelation of the value of women to the party Spinocchio has elevated several of the serving wenches to special ministerial status adding "women" to newly grandiloquent titles thereby cynically absolving the men from any accountability to half of the population. First female Attorney General Excretia Borgia, the new chief law officer of the land and a fugitive from AFP interviews (whose public persona projects not so much lawyerly calm as 'desperate crackhead haranguing her dealer for more credit') has a somewhat soiled record when it comes to supporting the sisterhood. Who can forget the helmet-haired harridan's screeching slurs against the women in Bill Shorten's office with threats of "oil noime noimes"? Excretia's priority will be to provide cover for her predecessor the Xtian Porter against historical rape allegations which have conveniently been consigned to PMO svengali Phil Gaetjens's Penski file . The Xtian will now busy himself in his new role by persuing defamation action against our national broadcaster, claiming that he can be identified as the unnamed alleged rapist in the ABC's disclosures of Tory sleaze by simply joining the dots. A rather bizarre argument for defending one's reputation if you think about it. Morrison's marketing reflex kicked in with his annointing of a selection of heretofore handmaidens who have sought to thrive by being just as egregious as the men. Amanda Stoker, Anne Ruston and Jane Hume, the lipstick on the pig, will join Excretia in a taskforce to manage cultural change by making sure that privileged women don't miss out on the largesse. A tag team of mini-Maggie Thatchers but without the personal warmth. Contributing his blokey input Deputy PM Forrest Gimp, the bonus track on a Yoko Ono CD, was the go-to guy to explain how to try to not be a ballsack as a part of the Nat's redemptive performance of newly found femininism. Gimpy used Barmy Joyce's inflatable doll to demonstrate to the troops those places where it's inappropriate to touch staff in an hour long mansplain (lunch break included). Gimpy's empathy session covered his old talking points - comparing womens' soccer to an egg & spoon race, rampant homophobia and extolling the virtues of corporal punishment. Some of the Big Swinging Dicks though found their feminine side a tad harder to get in touch with. Head spud and now Minister for Defence gruppenfritter Aldo Fitler had had enough of shouty wimmin and free speech, claiming social media was being defamatory towards him, thereby invoking the Streisand effect by refreshing memories of tuber-themed lampooning of his resemblance to a starchy staple. The "mad fucking witch" sledge that Aldo directed at a female journo must've slipped his mind as has the context - his expressing sympathy for Big Swinging Dicks member Jamie Briggs whose staff touching procilivities saw his use by date brought forward. It is notable and unsurprising that sympathy from the boiz went to the groper not the gropee including that of then Finance Minister and fellow BSD Hieronymus Botch: Morrison has tried to do what he always does - remove himself from scrutiny, resonsibility and accountability. Once more he's using females as human shields. Not his wife and daughters this time but female members of his cabinet. This is not just an issue of a lack of women in the Tory parties, it's their lack of decent human beings. How telling of their behaviours that media stories about them now inevitably include the Lifeline phone number. The entropy continues.

Lies, corruption and incompetence are the new normal In a world awash with psychopathic tyrants, kleptocrats , killers and loons such as Trump, Putin, Bolsinaro, Netanyahu, Erdoğan et al and their hordes of grifting toadies it is still so very easy to loathe a comparative non-entity, a vapid mediocrity and serial underachiever like Smirkin' Scotty Morrison. Morrison's only talents are self-promotion, shirking responsibility and blame-shifting albeit underpinned by reflexive lying, an entirely misplaced, thin-skinned self-belief and the dumb luck to always fail upwards but why is this otherwise unremarkable, flatulent yobbo so utterly deplorable? Watching this hi-vizzed, be-moobed, smirking dimwit gyrate around his paunch while mugging for the cameras like a fat Wiggle should trigger a Pavlovian gag reflex in any sentient observer. But on their own his staged routines are no more than a suitable explainer for, say, a curious kindergartener's innocent question - "Miss, what's a fuckwit?". ScoMo's BoJo mojo is merely as contrived as that of his UK equivalent's distractive idiocies, he's comfortable with letting people die but he's not straight out murdered anybody, he's no Lukashenko nor a Duterte but he's still worth backing at short odds in a crowded field for the title of 'most likely to fuck up an entire country'. Lacking imagination, foresight, curiosity or the work ethic to earn full despot status it's his ability to trash Oz on such a broad scale with so little effort that keeps him competitive. Complementing his neglect and general uselessness is an innate nastiness that is untroubled by scruples, honesty or shame, where there are no moral dilemmas only political problems and opportunities. Ethics and standards are treated as roadblocks and openness, morality and principle are entirely dispensible. His awfulness is as obvious as to require a Riefenstahlist propaganda unit within the PMO's Kunkel-Gaetjens' laundromat, a 24/7 personal photographer, the payment of protection money to Murdoch's turd polishing rags and a collection of focus-grouped personas to provide the quick change artiface for his endless smarm offensives. Smirko's hold on power is tenuous. The fragility of his authority is perhaps best illustrated by recent revelations that within the plain sight of this overt Pentacostalist, Parliament House became a 5 star knocking shop and masturbatorium for sex pests, drink spikers and rapists. If the hired help is not shy about jizzing on a minister's desk then perhaps he's not held in the high regard that he holds for himself. As with any kakistocrat he protects himself via a horrendium of thralls and lickspittles and of like-minded Old Testament moon units and prosperity cultists and proto-nazi authoritarians and he presides over a criminal cartel eager to share in the spoils of the grift that he enables. The Tory front bench is a police line-up; the entire Coalition is a combo deal of sex offenders' convention, tent revival and mobster expo. This slurry, often accompanied in news stories by the term "alleged", has not one redemptive member to offset their repulsiveness. Not one. Not since WW2 have we had to trust a government more and never has one done less to earn it. According to Smirko, and an eagle painting, he's been " called to do Gods' work ". The surreptitious laying on of hands as some sort of covert conversion therapy seems to be the methodology that Smirko has adopted to meet his celestial KPIs. Clearly, fulfilling his earthly duties is not something he seems to be particularly bothered with and he's happy to sub-contract the BAU Tory bastardry to his stooges. Nosferatu replicant Stuart Robert, a missionary creep and very unattractive man, is one of Smirko's favourite acolytes. His illegal persecution of the unemployed has earned him a new gig - persecuting the disabled and blowing up the NDIS. Robert's inability to form an image in a mirror likely explains his lack of self-awareness. Not a handicap in this government but surely they should've appointed someone capable of working during daylight hours. Health Minister Elmer Fudge's vaccine rollout is so lethargic the back of his head is covered in bug splatter and his messaging is as coherent as a man whose tongue is caught in his bicycle spokes. What he's saying, I think, is that the Tories don't like targets without a plan, or a plan without a target, thereby disappearing up his own arse. Chubby exchequer Joshie Friedenberg, the numbers guy who allows himself a +/- 100% margin of error is the blowie slowy circling the lounge room. He's counting the days til Smirko's demise so that he can assume the position and unleash his beloved Thatcherite austerity onto the vulnerable. Nothing cheers Joshie more than further enriching billionaires while withdrawing job support during a pandemic and telling knock knock jokes to the homeless. The Nationals, partners in crime and fossil fuel co-conspirators from Cockheads' Corner are "led" by Deputy Dag Michael McComack, a bleached, dull-eyed Elvis with the intellect of a bi-valve who grins like a shot fox at his cleverness whenever he's able to recite the speaking notes he's been handed by the PMO. This dullard is so stupid he thinks a Vol-au-Vent is the air-con outlet in a Swedish car and that the red ones were triumphant in the War Of The Roses. He would wear a baklava on his head if he were to ever rob a Lebanese pastry shop. McCormack's role apparently is to prove that no matter how appalling the Libs can be in the worst of circumstances, the Nats can always outdo them. Addressing each one of the odious brown baggers, shrubbery-lurkers, dead ends, weirdos, humbuggers, liars and thieves would challenge the most robust of attention spans so, back to Smirko. Government for the Tories is a treasure hunt, an opportunity to settle scores and to prosecute their culture wars. The Corona virus was Morrison's gift from his homicidal god - a political opportunity to distance himself from his Fibonacci accumulation of corruption and failures that will be the catalyst for Australia's decline towards failed state status. He's tried to expoit the virus for his own electoral advantage and as per historical precedent he's fucked it up. Belief in his own exceptionalism, ironically trading on his very ordinariness as a sales pitch for grooming the apathetic, the stupid and the complacent that he fondly brands as his "quiet Australians" will bring him undone. Fortuitously the virus has shone the spotlight on what a cowardly, useless spiv he is and it may be the end of his long, lucky run. Also posted on the AIM Network . * * * * * The Morrison PR machine at work A culture of corruption is engulfing the Morrison government. Prof. Jenny Hocking. Pearls and Irritations. A dossier of lies and falsehoods. How Scott Morrison manipulates the truth. Crikey. Dennis Atkins: Scott Morrison’s four favourite ways to bend the truth. The New daily. Dennis Atkins: We’re heading for an early election, and Scott Morrison has revealed his script . The New Daily.

Will the premature defecater make an early run for the polls? Image: some clever dick on Twitter “Morrison’s poor judgment, the debacle of the vaccination rollout, the failures on quarantine, the monumental debt created by the monumental spending, his intolerance of criticism will all catch up with him eventually, most likely not until after the election, when he will reap what he has sown.” Niki Savva, journalist, author, and former senior adviser to Prime Minister John Howard and Treasurer Peter Costello. Sydney 26th June 2021 Somewhere, hiding within the sheltered confines of the QAnon clubhouse at Kirribilli, Scurry Morrison shat his pants. Head prefect Gladdy Twoshoes' hubris had set the meanest, nastiest, ugliest virus variant loose after Scurry had expended considerable political capital pissing in our custard and telling us it was a trifle - "e nvy of the world ", " it's not a race ", " NSW is the gold standard ", " I commend the NSW Premier, she hasn't gone to lockdown... " and then Poor, Sad Gladys ® went and announced the inevitable - another lockdown. A smooth vaccine roll-out was Scurry's ticket to any easy run to the polls. The big flaw in this all eggs in one basket strategy was of course Scurry's considerable talents for fucking up. And here we are. Scurry typically practises social distancing whenever the going gets tough, disappearing for days and maintaining radio silence while his team of flunkies catch their breath to war game the options. Their boy's vulnerability can always be gauged by the frequency and duration of his disappearances and the volume of the covering fire from Murdoch's nightsoil spruikers. Burying the bodies, inventing distractions, blame shifting - spinning up more revs than a choirboys changing room until they regain control of the news cycle with announcements re-announcing old announcements or announcing upcoming announcements. Such practices have served Scurry well during his tenure - the billions in rort fests, shrubbery lurkers and rapists, pissed off wimmin, ecocide, disaster capitalism to further enrich cronies, abandoned citizens, jailed kindergartners could all be forgotten with the virus soaking up all the air time but the very thing that was providing cover for the smug yob's indolence, nastiness and grifting is the thing that will finish him. As with the bushfires the pandemic has exposed Morrison for who he truly is. No Facebooked curries, no borrowing of chickens or mounting of heavy machinery, no be-medalled general nor tame premier can hide his vacuity and uselessness. A coward who baulks at scrutiny and bullies any defiance, a clueless charlatan, a pig, a QAnon adjacent prosperity cultist who celebrated an affinity with Mr Tangerine Man, an overtly religious moral void, an inveterate liar, a poseur whose first instinct in a crisis is flight, whose vision is shaped by the rapture and whose ambitions are informed by an eagle painting will be desperately rifling through dumpsters for dead cats. This was Morrison's chance to shine, to show up the doubters and haters, to prove he was worthy of the office, that he could confidently go to an early election. Instead, he shat himself. Again. Did you spot the musical reference? Not my job Video: ALP Where is the PM when the country needs him? On LinkedIn . Women's Agenda. Sleaze of Origin: grubby Gladys shapes up to shady ScoMo . Crikey.

The Daggy Dad routine has been put on hold We are eighteen months on from Scooter Morrison's Hawaiian decamping holiday during the devastating 2019-20's bushfires and signs of re-growth have been appearing - the ScoFro on the top of Scooter's head. In the middle of a pandemic with millions of stressed citizens in lockdown and a vaccine roll-out in a shambles we can at least be re-assured that in this time of crisis the Prime Minister of our nation remains focused on his image. Image: Reddit The ScoMo ™ personality cult, carefully crafted and managed by a legion of spin doctors, image wranglers and media manipulators from the Gaetjens, Kunkel & Finkelstein stain removal service within the Ministry of Propaganda will likely have been undergoing some panicked revisions. Following clear evidence that their boy's integrity deficit is becoming too evident to too many there will have been some collective shatting of dacks - there's nothing like a dive in the polls to motivate the re-packaging of their dodgy product. Don't expect any tattoos, a moustache or Scooter learning the drums but 'ScoMo's homemade curries' (sic) will probably stay on the PR roster - cynical shmaltz to help calm a wavering base of middle-aged white blokes who are increasingly susceptible to buyer's remorse when their golf courses are closed and their jet-skis are stored under a tarp. Bogan Scotty downing a champagne shoey to insert himself into Olympic successes? Maybe just some green and gold facepaint - Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oik, oik, oik! Not likely - I'm betting that saviour Scotty the Dear Leader will replace Daggy Dad for some little while at least. Let's not under-estimate the challenge posed for his grooms and bag carriers. The nation has not grown along with the noble aspirations of an inspirational leader - a Chifley or a Whitlam; it is shrinking to fit the stunted vision of a small mind that is untroubled by scruples, honesty or shame. Grand oratory that uplifts a nation has been replaced by the unprompted denials on a radio talk show that he'd shat himself at a fast food joint. So proud, so uplifted that this contemptible turd is in the national wheelhouse. The re-invention of Scooter should at least be an entertainment during lockdown. Dear Leader will need to control the smirk. This ever-present tic broadcasts his arrogance and is never a good look but less so when you're responsible for the most spectacular fail since federation. Expect the default to now be serious Scotty - an earnest expression topped by the newly fluffy coiffe. There will be waves of gish-galloped, focus-grouped inanities - "all in this together", "keeping Australians safe", "saving lives and livelihoods" and on and on and on til your will to live is only saved by your desire to see this useless braggart removed from office. Heroic, sad Jen the ever-reliable empathy prop should get a good run. Jen's been stressed in lockdown apparently. Uncomforted by the panoramic harbour views across manicured lawns yet Jen's trivial tribulations should play well with the North Shore Range Rover set whose gardeners have been unable to tend to the topiary and the mums of middle Australia will swallow it like a rent boy in a prayer room just as they did for Gladdy Twoshoes' Poor Sad Gladys schtick. In keeping true to neo-liberal/Pentacostal win/lose principles, for Scooter to shine others must suffer. Fingers will be pointed, colleagues will be back-grounded, lambs will be sacrificed, rugs will be pulled from under friend and foe and never shall accountabiity or blame be assigned to The Dear Leader whose true self is there to see for those who bother to look. We'd be better off if, for PM, someone had filled a wetsuit with the contents from the spa filter at an eczema convention. Fun with Schadenfreude Not all is doom and gloom: Christian Porter will never be Prime Minister. Christian Porter and barrister Sue Chrysanthou may have to pay $500,000 in legal fees to Jo Dyer. One Nation's James Ashby failed to convince the Federal Court the Government should meet his legal costs to date via an “act of grace” payment of $4.5 million. Cream bun connoisseur Gorgeous George Christensen and Flaccido Domingo Craig Kelly will both be missing from Parliament after the next election.

The spiv with the shiv celebrates the third anniversary of his defining perfidy " This is my leader and I'm ambitious for him! " Gif - Twitter " Scott was in it from the word go. " Herr Schickltuber on the political assassination of Malcolm Turnbull. A piffler of modest abilities and questionable achievements who wanted to be PM, his only valid claim to the Prime Ministership was that he's not Peter Dutton. A unctuous quibbler for whom a glib catchphrase passes for uplifting rhetoric, who goes on and on and on like a one-ended stick with utterances that are not so much Winston Churchill as Kuta beach kiosk t-shirt - "How good is Bali?", "I'll sunburn for you", "If ya wanna go on the jet-ski you'll get a go on the jet-ski". Listening to Scooter attempt inspiring oratory is like watching a 3 year old draw a horse. It was three years ago, on the 24th August 2018 that Scooter showed, unambiguously, his true self. He shanked his "mate" Malcolm Turnbull. In what could be called his signature move he pressed the plausible deniability button. " Who me? Prime Minister? Oh...gosh, OK. " He would have us believe that the leadership plotting of his prayer circle of fellow god-shoppers including Alex Hawke, a potential donor for those needing an arsehole transplant and Stuart Robert, a contributing cause of vaginal dryness, was undertaken without his participation or knowledge. The master at dodging accountability subcontracted his dirty work to his humble flock of acolytes who eagery invoked their Christian values - " do unto others before they see it coming ". Scooter lays claim to being called by God. Why did The Big Guy in the sky, the creator of an entire universe, need Scooter's minions to carry out the plan? Perhaps the communications via an eagle painting got garbled - it was open to misinterpretation. Burning bushes and talking snakes may have once had their place but we now live in an age of technology and ubiquitous social media. Why not a godly FB post or even a Tik Tok interpretive dance routine? Ahhh... Despite the endorsement of an omnipotent albeit hands-off deity there is no challenge too small for Morrison to fail to rise to. In times of crisis he resorts to the grand traditions of the self-righteously religious - dissembling, hypocrisy, blame and scapegoating. Apart from displacing about 95,000 cubic centimetres of air everywhere he goes what has this prick achieved in three years? The most corrupt government in federal history is no small feat, with blatant rorting as their business model and several MPs whose honorific 'The Hon.' should be replaced with 'the accused'. To paraphrase Theodore Roosevelt, w hen they call the roll in Cabinet, the members do not know whether to answer 'Present' or 'Not guilty. ' Why does the most overtly religious PM in our history tolerate, facilitate or participate in the scams and the grift? How much does he believe his own holier than thou bullshit and how much is political contrivance? With Brian Houston as his mentor and Donald Trump as his hero we get a glimpse of the character of the man. Given another three years will he go the full nasty, will he encourage the drift to a quasi-theocracy based on a prosperity cult? Exploiting the undeserving poor to feed the filthy rich is Tory tradition as is destroying the environment so, no changes there. With an election pending he'll do whatever it takes and if that means exposing your kids to a deadly virus it's a risk he's willing to take. There is no dire circumstance, no crisis that The Great Schmozzle cannot make worse by becoming involved. He is reliant on Murdoch's muckspreaders, a slush fund of some "unallocated" $80M from the last budget to spend on rorts and the notoriously short memories and apathy of the electorate but he could be re-elected. How good is that? As consolation, at some future time, even the most academic political biographies assessing Scooter's legacy are likely to at least reference The Great Dak Shatting Incident of 1997 and how his personal protection squad is required to carry plastic poop bags. His greatest achievement shall live on. Glossolalia. Scotty The Saviour sans Barking Barmy's excuse of being lit to the gills. There are long, long lists of Tory malfeasance, nastiness and incompetence so to save space here's a few links. They're subject to updates as the dirty deeds continue to accumulate: A dossier of lies and falsehoods. Crikey. A complete list of the Liberal Party’s corruption over the last 7 years . The Chaser. Achievements Of The Coalition Government . A rallying crime . Martin McKenzie-Murray, The Monthly. 'He was in it right up to his neck': How Scott Morrison deposed a prime minister. Peter Hartcher, SMH. Scott Morrison’s partisan interpretation of biblical passages is disturbing for democracy . Kevin Rudd in The Guardian. Where would this man be without pollsters dictating his every utterance? Dennis Atkins, In Queensland.

’The question is,’ said Alice, ‘whether you can make words mean so many different things.’ Image: Charles Dodgson, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland In a local take on a post-truth Trumpian world of altenative facts Smirko Morrison's BS centrifuge has been revved up to desperation level on the spin cycle. Election timing options have become constrained by circumstances beyond the limited capacities of our prevaricator-in-chief and Tory polling numbers have taken a promising downward trajectory. Smirko's omnifiascos have accumulated into an Abbottesque fustering of clucks and the panic is starting to show but you've gotta admire his chutzpah: Framing an anti-corruption body as the bad guys is Orange Donnie-level gaslighting. The capo dei capi of the most corrupt federal government in our history is cashing in on the martydom of St Gladys d'Berejiklian, seeing a chance to sell his omertà as a virtue. Gladdy, his " very good friend "*, had been persecuted by ICAC, she was a victim - he would not be distracted from his good works by such unjust scrutiny. * not his very good friend Ever the opportunist who trades on punching down Smirko shortly thereafter took a populist dig at social media with some performative outrage at anonymous trolls, some of whom besmirch the reputations of the alleged rapists, the sex pests and stalkers, the sousers and spivs whose presence he relies upon to stay in power. Smirko's been selling farts as rainbows since his brief gig as a child actor. In spruiking NSW's rampant Delta outbreak as the gold standard that is leading the way out of the pandemic he's betting the house that the born-every-minute schmucks are as thick as the curtains in a ground floor bordello and that they outnumber those voters with either a conscience or a functioning cerebrum. The problem is that he may be right - the gushing over St Gladys has no doubt chuffed the PMO's Goebbels- Riefenstahlists and their RWNJ pamphleteer chums from the Murdoch sewers. Gladdy was down not just on Daryl Maguire but also with the BAU Tory grift; rortin' and rootin' - you're darn tootin' (if the Libs wanna use that as a slogan there's gonna be a small fee). Dirty Dazza was upbeat, feeling Glad all over 😎 with the scheming for detouring some lazy millions down Wagga Wagga way but so many sympathetic Aussie mums undermined the March4Justice sisterhood by allowing that Gladys, a senior politician blooded in the fight club of Tory politics, had no agency over her own decisions because of a dud boyfriend. FFS! Nice way to feed the 'women are too emotional' self-fellating misogynist set. Let us not forget St Gladys's direction of bushfire relief funds to Tory electorates and donors while ignoring badly affected Labor-held LGAs. Let us not forget either the shredding of the paperwork after ICAC revelations of the rorted Stronger Communities slush fund and Gladys's " too bad, so sad " response. Her new squeeze is a senior counsel familiar with the workings of ICAC yet Gladys threw in the towel at the prospect of further please explains. Do ya think she may know what's coming? Joan of Arc my pink, wrinkled arse! The Canberra Tories' delight that the Gladys experience was validating their normalisation of corruption may have a short shelf life if Gladdy is proven to be a baddy. That gaunt apparition now haunting the federal backbenches, looking less a Tory blue-blood Prime Minister-in-waiting than a corpse disinterred from a shallow bush grave is Christian Blue Balls Porter. It was Blue Balls who was initially tasked with drafting an Avoiding Answerability bill in the time he could spare between persecuting whistleblowers in secret trials and trawling for knee-tremblers in the bars of Manuka and Kingston. Nothing says integrity like a bloke who blames his 2 year old for wiping his iPhone, who refuses any testing of his vociferously professed innocence of rape allegations and who sits on a $1M legal fund the donors of which he will not reveal. That Shroedinger integrity bill is now in the hands of a woman who was passed over for the job of North Korean news reader lady because she was too shrill. Michaelia has form - refusing an interview with the AFP over a choreographed police raid on a union. Her credentials as Smirko's AG are impeccable. Smirko also wants us to overlook that his 2IC is a babbler of incoherent hayseed homilies that pass for insights in whatever addled processes pass for his remaining brain function. Barmy Barnaby did what Barmy does - saying the quiet bit out loud by complaining that he couldn't do his thing if he was to be held to account. It would be useful if a Barnaby colour chart could be produced to warn observers of his current state: embarrassed pink, fully munted magenta, blotto burgundy, hungover vermillion, priapic purple or befuddled violet. There's one thing to be said in Barnaby's defence though - his pub tests always have the biggest sample size. “ I am not crazy; my reality is just different from yours .” The Cheshire Cat, Alice in Wonderland Barmy is as miffed at social media as Smirko: “ From my own personal experience of recent times, you have got to get to a point where you say enough is enough ” said Barmy with a straight albeit florid face. “ Sure, social media has its virtues and its values and enables us to connect with people in ways we’ve never had before, but those weapons can also be used by the evil one and we need to call that out. ” Scott Morrison, Australian Christian Churches conference March 2021 Image: Twitter Smirko claims to see the work of Beelzebub - perhaps it's in the user comments posted to his own social media calling him a duplicitous turd. He hates that he has little control over it but he fears an integrity commission. His ranting about social media is one of his go-to 'look, squirrel' distractions but nothing shouts guilty more loudly than a politician dodging anti-corruption scrutiny. He wants us to forget his pattern of failure but he is desperate to escape accountability for rampant corruption. A perp walk is not a good look for post-politics sinecures even in the boardrooms and ambassadorships of the Tory ecosystem. The connection between integrity commissions and social media is the Lying Nasty Parties' dislike of both because they hold the sleazy bastards to account and call out the fuck ups being sold as triumphs when the mainstream media is largely complicit. The Tories will frame any legislation as being targeted at the nasty trolls but the net will be wide. Scrutiny, truth and dissent are their true targets and bullying and harrassment are practices they would prefer to monopolise. The Morrison government is facing a battle over an integrity commission it doesn't really want. ABC Liberal MP Andrew Laming created dozens of Facebook pages to promote LNP and attack opponents. The Guardian Bushfire Rorts: Coalition targets bushfire recovery funds for Coalition seats. Michael West Media Win for Collaery derails Porter’s attempt to cover up Timor-Leste bugging . Crikey Since 2012 Australia has slid 8 points in Transparency International’s global corruption ranking.