Search this site

Pantalons de merde's Maccers reprise Trou du cul sans-culottes Remember being embarrassed on behalf of Americans when their corpulent, carrot-coloured BLOTUS attended international forums to gibber his inanities about buying Greenland and relocating Seoul? With his puckered sphincter pout evoking an image of an orangutan bent over to tie its shoes The Donald was a global objet d'ridicule and a national stigma for those Americans with principles and active brain functions. Karma. Now it's our turn. DiddleyScott Morrison showed early form when it comes to mortifying Australia on an international stage. Diddley's 2019 spooning of Trump on the lawns of the White House was Obadiah Slope -level cringeworthy but he went even further with a reach around, earlobe-nibble & dismount. Half the nation turned red at the discomforting visuals of Diddley's metaphorical fondling of the orange scrotum. Such allusion was reinforced at June's G7 in Cornwall. Invited as the waterboy Diddley capered around the ankles of Boris Johnson like a rescue puppy looking for a scritch behind the ear. BoJo is a man resembling a fright wig thrown onto an abandoned construction site, but his office signifies inherent if unrealised gravitas which had Diddley wobbley of knee and moist of crotch, his ever-present smirk stretching into a look-at-me, shit-eating grin but apart from aghast Aussies no-one knew who he was. This is characteristic of a bully - sucking up and punching down. Another defining characteristic is, of course, cowardice. Never one to forego an opportunity to big note himself Diddley was nevertheless a reluctant starter for the G20 and COP26. A fresh pack of Depends was broken out as our head coprolite pondered the prospect of fronting irate world leaders who are immune to his climate denialist lies and obfuscations. The desire for him to attend by those who would be most embarrassed that this odious slug represented our country was puzzling. Perhaps this was a case of outing that creepy vicar you caught in the vestry with his dick in the hoover and a feather duster up his clacker by flinging the door open and saying to the congregation "See, I told yers!". In readiness for Diddley's participation in COP his minders and crime scene cleansers from Wolfe, Crosby, Textor & Co. dug up a dead cat - internet trolls, groomers and cat fishers. "The plan was to stir up alarm about people being nasty on Facebook to divert from any inconvenient language presaging a phase-out of coal in the final communique" but it only resulted in government politicians deleting their browser histories. It had zero affect on the frosty reception that awaited Diddley a nd his cooker of the books Black Angus Taylor, infamous for various #gates and known to gas executives and Cayman Island bankers as Fide l deFigueres. At the COP the visuals of presidents and prime ministers suddenly finding an interest in their shoes or the wallpaper upon Morrison's approach was hugely amusing as was his hectoring speech to an empty hall - the delegates having bolted for the door, a ciggy in the freezing carpark having greater appeal. The highlight was Emmanuel Macron throwing stink eye Morrison's way upon being subject to one of Mossion's signature laying on of hands for a slime-by photo-op. Image: abc.net.au From national joke and hide & seek champion to duplicitous international charlatan is quite the achievement even for the most blatant of dodgy operators. Fully equipped wth a spectrum of his own off-putting personality tics supplemented with disturbing Trumpian tendencies there is, to quote Julian Hill MP, something seriously wrong with this bloke. "This bloke" has taken his expertise in double dealing beyond our borders to the world stage. Called out for being a liar by Macron he lied to the press about the press he was lying to, accusing them of posing for selfies with the French president. Pulled up on it he reflexively blamed someone else - " I must have been misinformed. " “There has been lying, duplicity, a major breach of trust and contempt” French Foreign Minister Jean-Yves Le Drian Diddley no doubt thought he could pull off 'global statesman' as his latest persona, a Churchilian defender of "the Australian way" added to his pallette of pre-fab personalities - an enlargement of his evolving grand narrative of Brave Sir Scotty*, guardian of our soverignity, a grateful nation turning its eyes to its beneficent saviour. All he achieved was adding the entire French nation to all those sentient Aussies who already know what a shallow, duplicitous prick he really is. He's shat himself in front of the world. Embarrassed? I sure am. * Hat tip to @RonniSalt * * * * * “We voted for Scott but most of us hate him” said an MP to me, when I quit - Julia Banks Malcolm Turnbull's Address to the National Press Club - September 2021 'The Lord wants me to be prime minister’ — how Scott Morrison foretold his destiny . Crikey.

There's a malodorous funk coming from The Lodge and the source is undeniable - a turd in hi-viz Cartoon and verse courtesy of Mark David Assume an angry mood before reading; it'll save time. I'm sick of his spin. I'm sick of his lies. I'm sick of his dissembling and I'm sick of his dumb arrogance and his ever-present, self-satisfied smirk. I'm sick of his partisan politicking on every single issue. I'm sick of his inane slogans and his flatulant blatherings, as if he's retrieved Scrabble tiles from a blender to form random words. I'm sick of the relentless photo ops. I'm sick of the contrived personas - Spakfilla for a lack of personality cult. I'm sick of Daggy Dad and Scotty Takes Charge and Brave Sir Scotty and Sporty Scotty and Curry Cook Scotty and I'm sick of every hi-vizzed, hard-hatted mounting of machinery and his performative helping hand at flood clean ups and charity kitchens that stops the moment the cameras are packed away. My gag reflex is triggered whenever this vacuous poseur exploits front line workers, volunteers and grannies getting vaxxed as props for his media machine and who are then wiped from his mind the moment their immediate Instagram value has passed. I felt a bit of sick in the back of my throat when he confessed to furtive, non-consensual feel-ups of disaster victims as some sort of subliminal pentacostal conversion therapy - behaviour that should see him arrested and charged along with the coagulation of staff fondlers and upskirters and drink spikers who infest the government benches. I'm tired of his disposable principles and transactional loyalties and least effort compliance with the proprieties of ethical governance. I'm angered by the vapidity of this piffler of modest abilities and questionable achievements, his general uselessness, his drain on our collective wellbeing. He's a sinkhole for our national aspirations. I'm horrified that his only talent is to finagle avoidance of accountability and duck repercussions from his idiocies and neglect but then flagrantly claim credit for any incidental success. I'm tired of his cowardice and his intimidation of the powerless. Impervious to self-reflection, comfortable in the belief he is the chosen one he's a creepy, nasty and spiteful bully who will lash out and background against anyone challenging his authority or questioning his artfully crafted 'authenticity'. I'm bemused by his casual sexism - the confusion on his face at the notion that women are his equals and I'm aghast at the calculated misogyny of his suggesting he's due some gratitude for the uppity ones not being shot. I'm appalled at his facilitation of corruption, his suffocating incompetence, his abrogation of any responsibility ( that's not my job ™) and his laughable claims to leadership when he flees the country or disappears behind the curtains when confronted with real-world challenges. Truth is an entirely dispensable frippery whenever it doesn't serve his purposes, which is often. Announcements and promises delivered with gish-galloped smugness in a condescending tone and without a thought as to implementation will be contradicted or denied in short order. All evidence that the shite is coming out his ears right there in front of everybody is disdainfully dismissed as if he travels between dimensions where reality is subjective and he gets to choose the version that applies to the moment. I snort derisively that this Nigel No Friends had to invent his own tragic nickname. 'ScoMo' - the $50 note he's pinned to the lapel of his unpleasant presence; a spiv raffling past-expiry-date rissoles at the local boozer, backslapping the punters and pretending he gives a fuck. I'm embarrassed that someone occupying the highest office in the land appends such an asinine moniker to official communications. I hate that no freak fringe is off-limits for grooming as he chases the preference votes of the clunge farm escapees. He nods and winks to the arse-wash of sovereign citizens, freedumbing anti-maskers, red-pilled conspiracy wingnuts, horse-punchers, the self-righteous ACL homophobes who are obsessed with what the gays do with their pink bits and the UAP and One Notion over-spill that have me reaching for a puke bag. I'm sick of his pandering to the wealth interests of an avaricious cohort of cardboard box billionaires, fridge magnates and private-schooled sybarites for whom too much is never enough. I'm disgusted at his punching down and victimisation of those least able to fight back and his denegration of those who show that they might. I don't like his stooges, I abhor his cronies, I detest his enablers and I'm dispirited by the appeal of his facile schtick - the pre-fab chook pen and cubby house, the bloke-next-door affectations of a transactional, calculating spruiker of the virtues of apathy and unquestioning acceptance of this superficial drivel. I'm appalled at his Jesus-with-an-ABN sect that celebrates self interest and licences disdain for the disadvantaged. It makes me nauseous that he is OK with the destruction of the environment as his expected end times make our livable planet an expendable, temporary stop-over on his way to his imaginary celestial forever-holiday resort, sharing beers and jokes about the povvos with his good mate Jebus down by the VIP pool. His smarm makes me cringe, his voice makes me gag, his presence on the telly makes me feel defiled. His bloviating hypocrisy bubbles away in my colon like a bad oyster awaiting a projectile vomit of bile and loathing into the smug bastard's face. I'm ashamed that this grinning, vacuous opportunist connived and lied and inveigled his way into our country's top job. Watching Morrison's rise was like watching a fish climb a ladder - such things are difficult to comprehend. The way he gained office defines his character, or more accurately, his lack thereof. His behaviour during the fires disaster revealed his true useless, craven self. Given his surrender in adversity and his admissions of impotence in the face of real world challenges his delusional self-belief is staggering. A serial failure but for the intervention of grim happenstance this low-flying dullard reminds me that somewhere there's a flushing toilet missing his head. He's a void, a vaccum sucking the hopes and aspirations from all but the gullible, the toadies, grifters and subscribers to his disturbing talking-in-tongues prosperity cult. He claims the imprimatur of his deity yet nontheless fears all scrutiny, defaults to habitual lies and deception and depends upon his cabal of bag carriers and crime scene cleansers and the complicit Murdochrities and media specials to cultivate a dumbed-down audience for whom the news is only entertainment and entertainment is the only news. He's a squatter who fills in the time between elections by electioneering and buck passing. There is no nuance, no subtlty, no 3D chess in his behaviour - no intellect at all, no vision, no insight, nothing beyond the full time sales pitch of a tent revivalist. He's a charlatan and a grifter to whom ethics is an English county and whose god-ordained tasks remain a mystery after 3 long, depressing years of this fuckwit cosplaying at PM. Always late to the party he awaits poll results to form his opinions, scapegoating his cockups and disappearing until his minions can spin a means to lay claim to any upside or, failing that, to dig up another dead cat. For Scooter Morrison it's the triumph of cheap politics over the national interest every time. Under this imbecilic galoot we are experiencing the erosion of our values and the sacrifice of our national integrity. Our transformation from a progressive, liberal democracy to Ayn Rand World in pentecostal Disneyland is well under way. I am gobsmacked that after Howard and Abbott the Libs somehow found someone who's worse. This bloviating pecksniff was scraped from the filter after an incontinents' pool party. Our country will be vastly improved from the very moment this fatuous twat and his smirk are thrown out onto the street. From Twitter * * * * * " The plot is that once you make government a pay-for-play operation, you forget how to govern when there’s no one paying. Required to act in the public interest rather than deliver what his donors want, Scott Morrison and his government are all at sea ." Crikey “ I’ve been in evacuation centres where people thought I was just giving someone a hug and I was praying, and putting my hands on people … laying hands on them and praying in various situations, ” Scooter Morrison, April 2021 "Joel, I really feel like this is what the Lord wants … He wants me to become prime minister.” Scooter to his chum Joel A’Bell Scott Morrison and the women’s movement . The Saturday Paper

John Howard - how this clusterfuck started God save the queen And bless all her palaces Johnny was stuck in a time-warped paralysis Back to the future is where we should be Chaplains in schools and WorkChoices macht frei Summers of cricket And white picket fences Bugging East Timor with no consequences Men at the coal face and women in kitchens God's in his heaven; to hell with Chris Hitchens The blacks should be grateful There'll be no notion of 'sorry' There's just bin nights and bingo in his grand oratory Mabo got land back but not on his watch He'd rather die in a ditch, take a kick to the crotch Then came the Tampa Laden with distraught refugees Said Little Johnny "they're all killers and thieves" FUD and dogwhistling and throw in a wedge For the coming election brown folks were his best hedge Planes into buildings He couldn't believe his good luck At the bombing of children he would give not one fuck He got out the atlas to locate Iraq This was the keys to The Lodge to be handed him back But the electorate awoke And kicked his arse to the kerb It was our national conscience he'd no longer perturb Now his future's uncertain, a little bit vague But if karma's a bitch he's got a date at The Hague Every election, without fail, the Tories turn on the heating in John Winston Howard's crypt and trolly his defrosted, cadaverous presence around to jape and jolly for the cameras with their candidate du jour. To many this is not unlike exhuming a long-forgotten egg sandwich at the bottom of a pre-teen's schoolbag. Or finding your weirdo old neighbour indulging in hand-to-gland combat on your nature strip. But for the posh north shore ladies and the Mercedied Toorak bankers and the Kings School born-to-rule old boys he's Tory royalty. John Winston's a shrivelled little man with a petty little mind. In Paul Keating's assessment he was " a shiver looking for a spine to run up " and he's still Mungo MacCallum's more earthy but equally on point " unflushable turd ". Or in the words of the Tories' own - a " lying rodent " who's " mean and tricky ". These apparently are the characteristics of Liberal Party iconography. Our own diminutive Maggie Thatcher in drag Little Johnny didn't want to keep things as they were. He wanted to send us back to the '50s and beyond - a land of curtain twitchers and the cultural cringe, of portraits of Betty Battenberg hung in every classroom, church on Sundays (preferably Anglican), the missionary position, doffing of caps to our betters, busted unions, closeted gays and doclie, out-of-sight indigenous folks. It's to the country's credit that he failed at each. Howard, like any die-hard conservative, sees the world through his own cozy lived experience and lacks the intellect to imagine anything outside of it. 'Relaxed and comfortable' was his grand ambition for the country; bland and beige as in his oxymoronic manifesto of 1950's nostalgia - Future Directions. "I would like to see them comfortable and relaxed about their history; I would like to see them comfortable and relaxed about the present and I’d also like to see them comfortable and relaxed about the future." This explains his appeal to the fogies, young and old, in the leafy surrounds of the Tory heartlands. When your biggest problem is your over-chlorinated pool then a new cabana boy is all the change you want. Howard's achievement was to convince tradies and suburban travel agents and Jim's Mowing franchisees that with him in office then they too could one day employ their own pool guy. Howard's legacy is two-fold. Australia's Big Lie. The highest taxing, highest spending government in our history was carried along by the Hawke/Keating reforms to spawn the enduring myth of the Tories as better economic managers. They dine out on it to this day. And his awfulness laid the groundwork for two horrendous successors - a badly shaved yowie in red sluggos and a failed marketing spiv who gets career advice from an eagle painting. Abbott's style was to burn everything down, Morrison's is to watch it burn. To be fair to Little Johnny there were other accomplishments: The lie-detecor destruction test of core and non-core promises Entrenched middle class welfare Punitive industrial relations The move further right - flushing any talent down the drain should they give any hint of less than enthusiastic endorsement of RWFWittery His AWB wheat for oil crimes His East Timor bugging crimes He killed the republic referendum He finessed dog whistle politics He's was a dedicated practitioner of propaganda not pursuasion - " stir emotion, scapegoat the innocent, enforce group identity and arouse suspicion without evidence *" He provided a character reference for George Pell When you see him wheeled out round the Tory fundraisers and media it will confirm an election date is imminent. * How Trump, Elon Musk and Gwyneth Paltrow short circuit your ability to think rationally. Business Week. Related readings wherein he hasn't been called a cunt: " if we judge Howard by his own standards as a reformer, there isn’t a great deal to show for his lengthy period in office ". John Winston Howard: The Biography. Wayne Errington and Peter van Onselen John Howard. A study in policy consistency . M.L.Murry. A long read of 355 pages. But interesting. Where ‘mutual obligation’ began: John Howard’s paradigm shift on welfare . The Guardian In truth, Labor is the superior economic manager . Craig Emerson Economics

Yeah, nah! Not a psycho Spud pulling the wings off butterflies - "I think I will, I think I won't...". You've got to feel for der Gruppenfritter. Well, no you don't - the bloke's what an arsehole would be if arseholes had an arsehole, or in kinder parlance he's a fully cooked unit, so rather let's just have a chuckle at his dilemma - will he deploy an IED or will he hold off hoping Scooter goes full Campbell Newman . Spud can smell the blood in the water. Herr Shickletuber is no doubt delighted at Scooter's travails; according to Bob Carr going so far as chucking a grenade down the hallway in the form of a public airing of a scathing text assessment of Scooter's character as a “fraud” and “complete psycho”. The potato wedge (someone had to say it). Usually immune to embarrassment Scooter's rapid-fire eyeblinks semaphored his discomfort at the National Press Club when publicly confronted with such an accusation originating from a member of his own cabinet and at his "good friend"* St Gladys's contribution to same - "a horrible, horrible person more concerned with politics than people". * Author's note: not his good friend I can imagine Spud's excitement at these public humiliations of his foe - a facial tic, a slight flaring of the nostrils. If he possessed eyebrows perhaps he may have lifted one as another indication of his arousal. I'd never given any thought before to the notion of synchronised boners with Spud but in watching the opprobrium build on Scooter I displaced my hot Milo and Scotch Finger from my lap to the carpet due to a phenomenon that's as rare as a Tory's kept promise. I felt a fleeting bond with hairless Hitler. Chubby buddies! Scooter's messiah complex is evident in his smarmy arrogance and self-regard and his shamelessness but, like his deity, he's got a vengeful, thin skin - those barbs would've stung. Scooter is incapable of introspection and is inclined to retribution but he's powerless to act on his instincts to undermine his tuberous nemesis so as per the playbook his response was to deny and distract. A photo-op was called for. In a desperate attempt to divert attention and recover some palatability with pissed off women in particular the self-styled marketing whizz concocted a bizarre mash-up of the shower scene from Psycho and Patrick Swayze's reach around on Demi Moore in Ghost by washing an innocent woman's hair. Image: Some clever clogs on Twitter Creepy yet hilarious; fondling an unknown woman's head was Morrison's attempt to offset his misogynist reputation FFS! Touchy pervy with the vibe of a subliminal baptism - surely a sign this bloke cannot read a room or that some in his inner-circle of image wranglers hate him. Perhaps both. In watching the unravelling of the Tories as a whole and Morrison's smirkathon in particular one is inclined to optimism that this unapologetically corrupt and shambolic regime is shortly to be assigned one-way tickets to Dignitas. The opinion polls are promising, independents are threatening once blue ribbon seats, their fuck-ups are affecting the politically disengaged and internal warfare is rife. Tory cheersquadders Janet Albrechtson from Murdoch's Daily Riefenstahl and the oleagenous Andrew Bolt on Melbourne's Hun have both voided on Scooter. The scrotum squeezed through a shirt collar that is Rupert Murdoch does not like backing losers. Likely there'll be Scomo+Jen hagiographies scheduled for regular release but if Murdoch's faecal finger of fate points Scooter to the exit he's in big strife. We're in for months of the worst behaviour possible from the desperate Tories. They can and will get dirtier - the prospect of a grilling by counsel assisting with consequent spooning from Bubba on the lower bunk lends itself to fear and panic. We can abhor the coming ugliness while enjoying the thought of their collective puckered sphincters. Scooter's god will be on speed-dial but his mendacious, genocidal deity requires careful handling. Tithing and prayer circle schmoozing of his celestial sponsor won't keep the Tubermensch at bay. In the traditional, unambiguous sign that he's circling Spud told morning TV he's "100% behind" Morrison. He would've gained new friends if instead he'd said "Scooter is my Prime Minister and I'm ambitious for him". Will there be a Spud spill? Doubtful, but the prospect is heartening. Twitter again “ When Morrison describes the aspirations of Australians, it’s like reading a Hallmark card. He never braves the harder stuff, the values a democracy depends on to function. Truth be told, I can’t work out what values excite him politically. Except winning. In some ways he’s the Liberal Party’s Kevin Rudd, only less annoying. " Janet Albrechtson - The Australian

An e.mail from his God To : Scooter From : The Heavenly Father Cc : the Son, the Holy Ghost, the Eagle painting Subject : Returning your call Hi Scoot, Apologies for the delay in responding to your prayers, it's been a bit frantic what with My latest round of global misanthropy and Beelzebub's interference wrt Ukraine; not to mention the 2 new galaxies I have on the drawing board. I did leave a couple of messages as per the Lad's face in your cheese toasties - whilst I am infallible that was a tad ambiguous I must confess so thank heavens (LOL) for modern technology where we can avoid any confusion. You want Me to save your arse, yeah? There has been a bit of a misunderstanding My son. Drought, fires, floods, pestilence, the mouse plague, the Canberra convoy - do you see the theme? I gave you the top job as a warning to humanity for what I had planned and as a do-nothing PM that job was also to not interfere in My malevolence. You're familiar with My genocidal track record so I was expecting you'd readily pick up on this and the early signs were promising (kudos for Hawaii, quarantine and the old folks homes) but you then fucked up everything you touched and then hinted at My involvement ... you've taken things too far. While blaming everyone else is a nice touch, putting Me in the frame with all of your public announcements of our supposed collaboration is not on. I'm good with the angry God routine (obvs) but you're on your own with the constant fails - after all My brand is 'all powerful deity', dude. When the time comes for Me to claim credit for something I'll distribute a weeping statue or two and chuck in another miracle (note though that not even My omnipotence could get persona au gratin Gorgeous George laid; I tried as per your request but he has to negotiate that for himself. Please note that Brother Stuie has dibs on the stigmata - did he let you know? Sobering Barnaby up is a future option perhaps. Thoughts?). Regardless, there's bad news. It's over I like to throw positive stuff into the mix - you know, carrot and stick. Loaves and fishes, water into wine (or as I now call it, the reverse Barnaby. ROFL). Junior claims credit for those but they're mine. Old school sure but I don't want a despondent, fuck-up weary flock pulling a Jim Jones - I can look the other way on mass murder but suicide's a no-no. My people are My greatest creation (blackholes aside - I'm pretty chuffed with those) and they need an occasional upside and I am not seeing any from you. To be frank, you've become an embarrassment to yourself and to Me. I could overlook the rather tragic self-applied nickname, the risible curry cooking and the wholly invented daggy DIY dad routine, after all, the exploitation of a gullible public is the business model for My franchisees but the panicked, shrill tantrums, throwing Jen under the bus, the ukelele, the washing of a stranger's head (I noted the baptismal undertones on that one so thank fuck you didn't do her feet) and now the facile "reds under the beds" faux outrage - I don't want people thinking I am advising you on this shit. If it's any consolation it's not just you, it's your entire cabal of incompetence, sleaze, grift, cruelty and planetary destruction. I've borrowed the résumés of the entire LNP gene puddle from Old Nick and what a disheartening read! I once had some hope for Joshy, a nice Jewish boy, but in digging down he's a nasty little cunt isn't he? And innumerate to boot. Spud, as is obvious, is the anti-Christ in a human skin suit. And what's with Fingers Taylor? I created this fucking planet and I'll be the one to destroy it - so tell that pyromaniacal eco-maniac to back the fuck off. Spotty dick Jimmy Paterson's Hitler Youth of the Month persona makes Me uncomfortable. I looked away first time round but questions were asked. Jimmy should focus on completing his Hitch-hikers Guide To State Forests. The lady folk ™ are no better. Michaelia (Blah Stupenda) has a future as a roof-top, active shooter, Mandy Stoker gives off a Nazi doctor vibe, while Holly Hughes and Anne Ruston belong in a home for foundlings confiscating the orphans' Christmas presents. As for the Rustic Party, that souser BJ has the bladder control of a Wiggles concert mosh pit and an entirely misunderstood interpretation of the comfort to be derived from "thy rod and thy staff". Sweaty Betty McKenzie, Miss Appropriation 2019 and the fastest drawers in the west would re-gift her edible panties yet she's the best the rubes have to offer? FMD! While it's a good idea to assemble the worst possible people imaginable in one place that one place is not something I want My name associated with. That's B.Bub's domain. You're desperate and looking ridiculous so I say this more in sorrow than in anger. It's time for you to get up off your knees and fuck off. If you could leave My name out of future stunts that will be most appreciated. (Please acknowledge receipt via return e.mail.) regards, The G Dog 😎 PS - Please ask Brian to forward the details of the tithe account so I can draw down on some of that lovely stash. My new Jag is a gas-guzzler and with the price of petrol lately my week-ends are being ruined.

An e.mail in reply - from Scotty to his God Sky News From : ScoMoses (Scooter) To : The Lord Cc : Pastor Brian, Brother Stuie Subject : Your email Nǐ hǎo oh Lord, ( See what I did there? Phil Gaetjens suggested I leave that out but what's wrong with a bit of levity between old friends? ) I trust this finds You well. How good's God, eh? 👍👍 I got Jen to read Your e.mail to me as soon as I got back from the opthamologists - my eyesight is still a tad blurry . I am writing in response to said e.mail wherein Thou has't suggested that Your arrangement with me as Your "Chosen One in the great southern land of the Holy Spirit" was in need of review. I had picked up a vibe that Thou was not happy when my nightly solicitations went unanswered. Strictly between You and me, I will admit there have been some errors of judgement. Welding that woman's head to the flat-pack ch ook pen was a staffer's idea , and it was my CoS who didn't clear any of the slogans through your office first (to be blunt I'm not sure he believes You really exist). Don't get me started on Greg Hunt's stuff ups on vaccines and RAT kits. Most of the other problems are the Labor premiers' fault. I have passed your issues on to Phil G for investigation. No, seriously. I was wondering if perhaps Emmanuel Macron had been in Your ear. Don't believe a word he says - he's a bit fond of the Beaujolais if You follow my drift. Based on the transactional nature of our relationship i feel there is room for negotiation. We've got $16 billion stashed away for "discretionary" use and we look after our mates 😉. If You provide me with a coded spreadsheet of Your favoured wealthy institutions I will ensure the appropriate disbursements are made from what's left after Angus and Barnaby have had access to it. Rupert has confirmed he and his flying monkeys are still on board. They may be evil incarnate but as we both know that's no barrier to doing business. If we keep poking the godless Chinese it could keep my arse in the big, green chair or even bring on the great end times a bit earlier. It hits on some of our shared values - fear, war, mass death, racism. Are we good? Your humble servant and good friend, ScoMo PS. Is my Rapture gold pass still valid? PPS. Jen says 'hi'. Decoding ScoMo: the hidden story and messages in his Pentecostal mashup . Crikey.

The political passing of our always late PM Scooter surveys the results of 3 years of his government. Photo: AAP, Dave Hunt A draft obituary for the election aftermath In anticipation of the political passing of our soon to be ex-PM I thought I'd get ahead of the pack and celebrate early, confident that I do not have the power to spoil the outcome by doing so. A most amusing irony in the removal of the blunder omnibus that was MIA Morrison's toxic government will be his attempt to reconcile his belief in divine endorsement of his worthiness with his humiliating loss of office due in no small part to 'acts of God'. He would've made a pathetic yet also gratifying spectacle when on his knees (that peculiar, buttockless derriere overflowing his flanny jim-jams) praying for an explanation from his celestial sponsor - the one whose advice he sought over that of experts and scientists. The for once non-practised tears and choking voice damn the lazy gobshite for the hypocrite and fraud that he was. Lauded by Trump, a carrot-coloured, psychotic narcissist with whom he celebrated many shared values and yet perversely also called by God, F. Scott Fitzfuckup was a fatuous blaggard of no discernable decency or talent beyond posturing and the avoidance of accountability. He was an opportunist of disposable principles whose instinct in any circumstance, however dire, was to hide while looking for angles that served his own interests and for scapegoats to finger for his own failings. As with so many mediocre men he had in his possession an entirely undeserved self-belief and relentless ambition unhindered by merit. As the country and the world moved on around him The Great Schmo, a flailing middle manager, flattered himself with the title of 'leader'. A petty mind further constrained by a literal belief in a Santa Claus for adults, a practised liar, a deceiver, a manipulator, a shrivelled, one-dimensional intellect, a light-weight incapable of reflection or forethought, mentored by a grifter, impervious to self-reflection. A lazy laggard with the underlying condition of smarm that typified the shameless big-noter. There was no occasion too small for Skiddy to fail to rise to. Untroubled by scruples, honesty or shame he would claim credit for the work of others and deny his own well-documented fuck-ups. Like all poseurs and bullies he was a coward. Frightened by feisty women, intimidated by the rubes of the Rustic Party, reduced to pathetic whimperings when confronted by the blatherings of twin turncoats Colonel Blimp Craig Kelly and his rotund, fellow nutter-in-residence Buoy George Christensen. He surrounded himself with grifters, he used "Jen and the girls®" as human shields, no child living or dead was safe from being used as a prop, no brazen photo-op was too shameful. There was no bar too low, no issue he wouldn't politicise, no expectation he couldn't disappoint, no accountability he couldn't dodge, no rort he wouldn't exploit. There were no fringe loonies from climate conspiracists to neo-Nazis he wouldn't dog-whistle. Victim blaming, bullying and backgrounding were his specialties. Aggrieved by the concept of proactive government he was nevertheless comfortable with the notion that he was deserving of two publicly funded and staffed mansions and a retinue of minions and minders. The reality check of voter anger, disappointment and regret affronted his entitlement and was explained away as a failing on the part of the electorate. For Scotty, someone else was always to blame. After >3 years of indolence interspersed with problems he bungled into crises the unanswered question is 'what was the purpose of Scott Morrison?' In retrospect it would seem he sought government simply to prove that government was counter-productive and in this one mission he was successful in so far as it applied to his own. He sought power for power's sake, refusing to exercse it ("...that's not my job"), choosing indifference and invisibility in times of crisis while defaulting to his failed travel agent's propensity for self-aggrandisement whenever opportunity arose. Why did he think his God wanted him in the job? To abandon those covered in ash, smoke and mud as being unworthy? To treat climate change and a rampant pandemic as his God's will and not to be interfered with? To leave it to his disaster capitalists cronies to find profit in misfortune in line with the dogma of his weird prosperity cult? "Getting government out of people's lives" to leave them at the mercy of can-do fossil fuel oligarchs, party chums and Jesus retailers who, it must be said, have an admirable creative portfolio of schemes to transform public money and resources into super yachts, family trusts and property portfolios - the trickle-down of our money to their mates - Skiddy's small government, free-marketeer chums who subsidised their friends & regulated their enemies. At last there is one government that is out of our lives - the most incompetent and corrupt in our history. Morrison's greatest contribution to high office was being removed from it. * Hidden detail in Scott Morrison's Instagram post sparks outrage . Yahoo News. "The pattern is that if you attack Scott Morrison... he will lash out and background against you in the most vicious of ways." Samantha Maiden, The Drum " Morrison always presents himself as the answer to the problems he creates ." "... the extraordinary reframing of abject failure as courageous leadership. " Katherine Murphy " An administrator not a leader; The reason why he’s behind on issues is because he waits for the polling before acting .” The New Daily " Where would this man be without pollsters dictating his every utterance? " Dennis Atkins, In Queensland " Morrison’s whole career has been based on the ability to leave jobs unfinished while getting himself promoted out of trouble. ” Richard Dennis, The Saturday Paper

He lies so often, so casually, so consistently and so reflexively you'd think he'd be better at it. " One of the most unpleasant men I've ever had to sit in front of ." Jacqui Lambi Immediately following the termination of John Howard's twelve stultifying years as Prime Minister the job had a change of tone; and a higher turn-over rate than a Bangladeshi ferry service - six PMs in eleven years. Even the Italians were impressed. This helps explain why the electorate narrowly opted to further tolerate a marketing spiv and treacherous political assassin for another term - the jerk with a smirk and his cabal of grifters vs yet another change? "Better the devil we know" they said. The consequences of that misjudgement have become clear to any sentient citizen with an IQ greater than their shoe size and a functioning decency gene. Now there are Tory MPs who can no longer ignore the stench and are distancing themselves and offering up their own assessments of Smirko's true self. Their man is toxic; outed as a reprehensible, obnoxious, backstabbing fraud and liar, the most repulsive individual to have ever occupied the PM suite. There are any number of events over time that demonstrate his unfitness to serve in the role but there are standouts that expose the true character of the man - lower than the most odious of effluvia to ever ooze from beneath a Port-A-Loo door at a doggers' day out. A nasty, vindictive bully with a casual indifference to truth, a snake, a floundering incompetent and bloviating gobshite, a misogynist by inclination and an opportunistic racist for whom an individual's worth is based solely on their contribution to his own interests. There are three names that define this void of decency and principles - Brian Houston, Michael Towke and Kimberley Kitching. Loyalty for Smirko is entirely transactional. Brian Houston, hereafter referred to by Smirko as "Brian Who?" was his close friend and mentor, spiritual guide and role model of godly profit who has turned out to be no more than a confidant-of-convenience, past his use by date the moment his Pastor Creepy vibe became too public. Smirko was of course far more forgiving of sex pest MPs and an alleged rapist whose vociferous denials were accepted without question as doing so served his own purposes. The hint was there for Brother Brian when Smirko dismissed as gossip the truth of his attempted inveigling of an invitation for Bro Brian to attend Trump's White House. There's abandonment of a friend and then there's the reputational destruction of a party colleague for personal advancement. What moral vacuum approaches his political opponents to solicit dirt on one of his own? Smirko established his political career the same way he practised it - with shameless duplicity. “ I would never underestimate Scott Morrison… because I would never underestimate a guy who would turn to one of his political opponents to take out one of his own… a guy who will do that will do anything " says Sam Dastyari who as a Labor Party operative provided Smirko's gangsters with their requested dirt file on Michael Towke who was the clear winner over Smirko 82:8 for Liberal Party candidature for the seat of Cook. Smirko's not one to let democratic process or decency stand in his way - the character assassination of Towke was triggered with the enthusiastic participation of Murdoch's muck spreaders suggesting Towke's Lebanese heritage was suspicious and somehow offensive to the sensitivities of The Shire. Smirko denies involvement of course but much to his discomfort statutory declarations from party members attest to the veracity of his connivance which also hinted at the future defenestration of another of Smirko's good friends - Malcolm Turnbull. A man who uses dead children as props was not going to blanch at the opportunity to exploit the untimely death of Labor MP Kimberley Kitching for political point scoring. Smirko needed no hi-viz or hard hat when he whipped out one of his go-to tools of trade - industrial grade hypocrisy. The bully de la bullies could scarcely hide his delight by implying it was Labor Party bullying that had contributed to Kitching's early demise. Unfortunately for Morrison, and as always, there's his own history to confront and it blew up in his face as such things so often do when his attempted deflection simply consolidated all of the stories of his own appalling stand-over behaviour: Concetta Fierravanti-Wells: an "autocrat [and] a bully who has no moral compass", "not fit to be prime minister." Julia Banks: "menacing, controlling wallpaper" Jacqui Lambi: "one of the most unpleasant men I've ever had to sit in front of." Gladys Berijiklian: "evil", "a bully”, "a horrible, horrible person." Christine Holgate: " I became the roadkill of our Prime Minister, who sought a major distraction of the piling criticism in parliament that week", " one of the worst acts of bullying I’ve ever witnessed" and an "utter disgrace". Pauline Hanson: "he is a bully, because I have experienced it myself...he is...you do it ‘my way, or there’s no way’." Bridget Archer: "a frank discussion – not just a pastoral care meeting...I would have preferred not to have the meeting at that time while I was feeling emotional." The bully will be brought low. In trying to save the odious toad and their own grifting arses the Tories have an advertising expenditure (using our money aka theft) that exceeds that of McDonalds and Coles but it will prove to be insufficient. Morrison's concession speech will, of course, frame the impending result as a failing on the part of the electorate. Looking for Scott Morrison - Sean Kelly, The Monthly, Nov 2018. " Morrison’s particular talent for avoiding traces might have helped him reach the prime ministership. It might not help him keep it. " The End . Andrew P Street -" Tony Abbott invites anger for his continued climate denial; Malcolm Turnbull inspires regret for what might have been. Morrison’s name will represent something even less dignified: absolutely nothing at all. " Party members say Morrison used Lebanese background against opponent - SMH. “ Also during that meeting, Scott Morrison informed me that there was a strong rumour about that ‘Michael Towke is actually a Moslem’ [sic]. ” Scott Morrison denies falsely claiming 2007 preselection rival Michael Towke was a Muslim . The Guardian. “ I am advised that there are several statutory declarations to attest to racial comments made by Morrison at the time that we can’t have a Lebanese person in Cook ”. Sam Dastyari talks about PM Scott Morrison's dirty tactics to be elected to parliament in 2007 . Dastyari spills the beans. Michael Towke repeats claims after PM denies raising his Lebanese heritage in 2007 preselection fight The Guardian “ Amongst many unedifying tactics used to unseat me from my preselection victory for Morrison, racial vilification was front and centre and he was directly involved ”. Turns Out ScoMo’s Father’s Day Pic Was From A Memorial For Four Kids Killed By A Drunk Driver . Pedestrian TV. " Turns out old mate Scott Morrison used a picture from a memorial event grieving the loss of four children who were killed by a drunk driver to make himself look like father of the year on Father’s Day ."

There has been no occasion too small for Smirko to fail to rise to. Image source: Twitter, unattributed Have you heard about the loathsome loser? He's a loser but he still keeps on lyin'. Loathed in Tory heirloom electorates, despised by many of his own MPs, hated by Victorians and Western Australians and abhorred by women, he's even been called out by the puce-headed, bibulous slothario of bovine stupidity and dodgy morals who is his deputy. How low can you go when you cannot even meet the standards of a fornicating Father Jack in a comically over-sized cowboy hat? His values are not so much formed by self-interests as being entirely replaced by them. A delusional narcissist and reflexive liar in the Trumpian style he's devoid of introspection and hostile to critique. His kevlar self-belief is centred on the ludicrous notion that an omnipotent, super-natural being, creator of all things, took a personal interest in his career. 'Everything is permissable when The Big Guy is on your side' was too tempting a concept for an amoral hypocrite - he embraced the god-helps-those-who-help-themselves sophism like Barnaby clenches a cold beer. It takes a monumental ego and a cloth ear to campaign on the concepts of acceptable government corruption, lowered wages, disenfranchisement of women and the legitimisation of trans trauma. WTAF, apart from a belief in his own genius and celestial sponsorship encourages him to dismiss the concerns of all but the hard-core arseholes and wannabe Big Swinging Dicks, to lie so casually and so conspicuously, to trumpet his failures as successes, his indolence as hard work and his grift as virtue and then shamelessly lay claim to the achievements of others? Is he that bereft of self-awareness or is he merely an unapologetic, whatever it takes shyster? " I. Am. The. Prime. Minister ." This is a bloke who preens and smarms as heroic leader. The alpha male, a national saviour who enjoys a beer with the boys, the boss cocky who's good on the tools, the big dog who can run up a chook pen, a Churchill pointing at maps, resolute leader of men in times of strife. Is he fooling himself as much as he tries to fool the rest of us? More timorous coward than the Brave Sir Scotty of his own narrative, he hid behind the curtains when confronted by angry women. He fled from flood victims. He abandoned the country in a crisis. He was laughed at by backbench oblate spheroids Craig Kelly and Gorgeous George Christensen whose only claims to formidability would be at a hoppo-bumpo jamboree. Everything this fucker does is calculated. He may have an unwavering belief in his own god-ordained destiny but he's prepared to dispense with any principle, any standard of integrity and degrade any institution to fit his own agenda - himself. He frames decency as weakness, he shouts and hectors, he punches down and bullies. He is, by any measure, a complete turd. The focus groups have confronted him with an uncomfortable truth. Despite the anti-Labor histrionics and ScoMo ™ hagiographies of Murdoch's pamphleteers, the bias of the Stokes/Costello bobble-heads and the Vichyesque collaborators and whipped dogs in the ABC the revealed truth is that he is a widely detested creep. For a wanker who saw himself as the Tories' best selling point, as a marketing savant and an admired man of the people and showed every sign of believing his own "I saved the country" bullshit it would have been a rude shock. I would've paid good money to be the PMO operative who broke the news to him. It would've been a challenge not to snigger. Now he says he will change but he will see no need to do so. His nastiness is innate. His disdain for the unfortunate, the underprivileged and the merely unlucky and those not voting for him is genuine. If you're not prospering it's your own fault, if you've been the victim of a disaster you're on your own, if you didn't vote for him then 'fuck you'. It will be women who will contribute the most to the demise of this bullying misogynist but the ultimate irony is that this loathsome loser is about to be sacked when according to his personal dogma it's his own unworthiness that will bring it about. Sit down, take a look at yourself Don't you want to be somebody? Someday somebody's gonna see inside You have to face up, you can't run and hide Lonesome Loser, Little River Band

The messiah complex. Brother Scotty's weird grab for power Source photo: Mick Tsikas/AAP The reflexive criminal behaviour of the grift & congealed bacon grease that is Donald Trump can be understood if you test his every action against his primary motivation - pleonexia , the all consuming greed of a grotesque, amoral fraud. Burying his dead first wife Ivana at his Bedminster golf resort for the tax breaks is penny-pinching avarice that defines this corrupt vulgarian. The upside of that affront is that it may encourage Melania to double the salt and cheese content of his hamburger intake to ensure he's not around to have her future, naked corpse displayed in a glass case at Mar-a-Lago for $50 a peek. That the ludicrous, tangerine ballbag is entirely driven by the accumulation of ostentatious wealth is clear, whereas it's trickier to pin down what enthuses our very own unchained malody - the artiface trading as ScoMo ™ . Image: a Twitter clever clogs I was intending to move on from sledging the dolt after his ignominious banishment to the bleachers but his miasma clings to one's clothing. His behaviour has always been a clear indication he'd be a continuing source of derision as evidenced by his post-election squatting at Kirribilli House when it looked as if the only way he could be removed was to notify the Israeli military that a Palestinian family was living there. Morrison's a particularly peculiar unit. Possessed of a self-regard that exceeds the bloated ego of a talentless politician favoured by happenstance to always fail upwards he seems to have interpreted his luck as the beneficence of an all powerful deity, a god who has a grand plan - Scotty the Chosen One. Not for Scooter the standard issue narcissism that drives seekers of high office or the 'God's on our side' invocation of self-righteous self-interests. Scooter has a fully-blown messiah complex. Pastor Supreme, Blessed Leader, Shepherd of the Flock, The Keeper of Truth, Beloved Father of the Nation, His Benevolence, Keeper of all Wisdom. The latest revelations (there will surely be more to come) of his usurping of power by taking his squatting inclinations into the portfolios of five of his own ministers was Morrison's take on Trump's sedition customised for local conditions and in accordance with his fervent belief that he's the next best thing to the second coming. Brother Scotty the missionary creep. "Only I could really understand the weight of responsibility that was on my shoulders and on no-one else..." Scott Morrison "Nobody knows the system better than me, which is why I alone can fix it" Donald Trump Apart from their shared awfulness and mutual admiration comparing Scooter to Trump is fraught. Whereas Deckstain Donny cynically exploited the profitable gullibility of 'Jesus was a white American' rubes and dullards, Scooter's motivation seems to have been a sincere belief in his own godly specialness. As Minister For All Things could he facilitate an imminent Rapture - the further accumulation of riches by the wealthy righteous while he encourages the incineration of the planet? To me his Pentacostalist-inspired weirdness is a convincing explanation of his aberant mindset. When you have the warmth of a Cobargo handshake, suffer from the underlying conditions of smarm and a suite of off-putting personality tics, if you're aesthetically unpleasant with the physique of a lasagne thrown from a speeding car and with a head better suited to Jeffrey Dahmer's fridge but yet retain a skerrick of self-awareness, when lying and artiface are second nature it is understandable you could be tempted to disguise your lack of appeal with a barrage of " I'm not pretending to be someone else " dress-ups and role plays. But Morrison's deceit goes deeper. A give-away was the ever-present, know-all smirk. Morrison has always had an aversion to scrutiny. His modus operandi is secrecy. With God on his side, untroubled by scruples, honesty or shame he thought he'd get away with his despotic power grab pending the end times. Now with a new government checking the books, with enquiries and royal commissions in the offing, the Morrison carcass is not yet picked clean. I am anticipating further material. I wonder what Jesus is telling him now. Alan Moir Why the former prime minister saw fit to amass such immense secret power may never be properly explained. But his former cabinet colleagues, many of whom have been horrified to learn what had been concealed from them, say it speaks of a psychology of control, distrust and even paranoia. ABC. Behind the scenes of Scott Morrisons power grab "It’s clear what Morrison and co are doing here. It would be “indefensible” for them not to cooperate with an inquiry into what happened, as Guardian Australia ’s Paul Karp noted yesterday. So they are instead doing everything they can to undermine it – to turn what the government is seeking to make a calm, judicial process (Labor even rejected a bid to take this to the more political privileges committee) into a “political circus”, one that is not credible or genuine because it doesn’t fit some expanded parameters they have created. It’s surely only a matter of time before we hear the term “kangaroo court”, a Morrison favourite . All throughout this saga, the Trumpian parallels have been hard to ignore . But there is something especially concerning about a former leader seeking to delegitimise an investigation into his conduct, and a once-legitimate party that is more than happy to enable him." Taking full irresponsibility. Rachel Withers, The Monthly Why did Donald Trump bury his first wife Ivana at his golf resort? Irish Central * * * * * Interesting reads What drives Donald Trump? Greed, and greed alone . Catherine Rampell, Tampa Bay Times Mercurynews.com

One man's journey Cathy Wilcox , SMH ''Luv, we all get taken out in a box.'' Paul Keating to Julia Gillard after she lost the leadership ballot to Kevin Rudd " The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt ." Bertrand Russell It is self-evident that anyone aspiring to be PM has a robust self-regard. Even the wiser ones harbour some illusions about their indispensability but it is the bovine dullards and the zealots who despite all evidence to the contrary are the most convinced of their own exceptionalism. Overlay that conceit with an intransigent religious literalism and we have Tomás de Torquemada redux ( sans the austere lifestyle but with the familiar sparse coif and man boobs ) - a happy-clapping, prosperity gospelling mutation of that Old Testament fantasist Mad Abbott where their shared dogma is righteousness ( theirs ) vs the unworthy ( check for daily specials ). Government to them was a comforting, authoritarian patriarchy where the womens do the ironing, grateful they're not shot when they get a bit toey ( but they are useful for explaining the nuances of rape. Not good according to Jen ). And it's where the flock need not trouble themselves with the Godly mission of the annointed one. He was a smug windbag, a smirking oaf who lost a staring competition with an electric arc welder and who thought it a good idea to publicly wash the hair of a stranger - a laying on of hands for a retinue of obsequious press flacks to help cultivate an image of not-a-weirdo. He believed his guile had his deity's imprimatur - further evidence that the worst people are commonly those affectedly professing their godliness. Having a God whose interests always align with your own is a self-sustaining contrivance - 'because I have God's favour everything I do is God's will'. Quite useful whether you're burning heretics, brutalising toddler asylum seekers or steering Covid vaccines away from a Labor-oriented state. He thought of himself as special. Not just the smartest guy in the room but on a mission from his God who showers the pious with earthly wealth but with little sympathy for the poors or the non-believers - a convenient celestial licence to intimidate, silence and persecute. Bad things only happen to bad people according to the handbook for Jesusing neoliberals: “ There shall no evil happen to the just: but the wicked shall be filled with mischief ” Proverbs 12:21 The Public Service was told to unquestioningly toe the line, the AFP raided the ABC, universities were nobbled, whistleblowers were prosecuted, welfare recipients were demonised and harassed while wealthy fridge magnates, party mates and the temples of Yahweh wallowed in buckets of public largesse - no strings attached. Endorsement from the ethereal realm also over-rides the scientific method. Voices from burning bushes prevail over the observable phenomena of quantum mechanics, expert concensus of pending ecological collapse are ignored because, ya know, the Rapture. Selective, credulous acceptance of biblical contradictions facilitates literal beliefs in comical superstitions that excuse all sorts of bad behaviour - persecution of non-conformers being an historical favourite. It also dispenses with any need for accountability to anyone other than a omniscient, omnipotent yet paranoid phantasm whose tantrums kill millions. The Oaf's whole Jesusing routine was more than just a PR ruse; he truly believes that secularists are ungodly heretics to be re-educated or reviled. "Australia is not a secular country... As US Senator Joe Lieberman said, the Constitution guarantees freedom of religion, not freedom from religion . I believe the same is true in this country." From his maiden speech to Parliament He was fully onboard the 7 Mountains Mandate looney train, at least in spirit ( no pun intended ) . He facilitated the infiltration of fellow pulpit pushers and the punishers and straighteners of the anti-gay/anti-trans bigots and he sought succour through fellow fabulists - flight risk Brother Stuie and personal bag carrier and co-conspirator Alex Hawke. He has not introduced one single policy of benefit to this nation - indeed he has failed to even articulate any vision or forethought beyond politicking. During his tenure the country has not progressed in any way - going backwards in most international rankings. His incompetence, the vindictive nastiness, government as a manelovent force, the hypocritical piety, the cultivation of division, the rampant cronyism and graft, the secretiveness and intolerance of dissent, the five ministries megalomania, the incoherent gibberings designed to frustrate en quiry, the bullying, the tearing down of conventions and standards, the denigration of expertise - the whole horrendous revivalist circus of the worst PM in our history; a national embarrassment who is deserving of the most humiliating removal from our consciousness. Serial fuck-ups and the application of the smirk removal cream of public approbrium for his failures and his facile, dress-up brand management failed to dent the i mpervious narcissism of belief in his own ‘genius’ and self-image as a ‘master strategist’ . His shamelessness has survived his ostracism to the opposition backbenches where his unemployability stands out like a hi-vizzed walrus at a choir practice - the guy whose smarm included " if you're good at a job you'll get a job ", the guy who initiated the dob-in-a-bludger hotline. This is schadenfreude tied in a big, pink bow. The denigration from his Tory cohort was shrugged off: " He fucked us and his fingerprints are absolutely fuckin' everywhere on that. The bloke thinks he is a master strategist. He is a fuckwit ." Anonymous federal Lib MP. “ Everyone wants him to piss off. But people don’t want a by-election ,’’ a senior Liberal source told news.com.au. Julia Banks, ex Lib MP - “ menacing controlling wallpaper ”. Catherine Cusack ex Lib MP - " ... it’s just all come a bit late for the Liberal party. The party I joined 40 years ago and loved. The party he has ruined. " Concetta Fierravanti-Wells - an “ autocrat [and] a bully who has no moral compass ” , “ He has used his so-called faith as a marketing advantage .” Gladys Berejiklian - “ a complete psycho ”. His appearance before the Robodebt Royal Commission elicited humbug not humlity. It took 330 years before Torquemada's remains were dug up and belatedly burned auto-da-fé. T he NACC may be a more timely seal on The Oaf's deserved humiliation but I doubt we'll see any genuine contrition. In 2007, Howard repealed the Parliamentary Pension scheme. This means that he is not entitled to any pension besides his 15.4% Public Service super than cannot be accessed before he turns 65 . Bwahahahahaha! * * * * * Me: Who will I transfer my loathing to once this prick is levered off the public teat? Spud: G'day. Good reading The Parable of the Amen Snorter and the Rotten Fish . James Ley, Sydney Review of Books. Parliamentary convention is dead for the Coalition. Long live denial and deflection . Maeve MGregor, Crikey. The pernicious long shadow of Scott Morrison . Maeve MGregor, Crikey.

Skiddy leaves his mark Image: Inside Story Full of shit and full of himself, Scooter has left the building. His greatest contribution to Australian governance is his departure from it. A vacuous blowhard given to bovine slogans, a pentacostal nutter convinced of celestial endorsement from a deity whose prosperity ethos luckily aligns with his own, yet he was also sufficiently cunning as to disguise his odious actuality with his daggy dad artiface and endless photo-op dress-ups. The ever-present, punchable smirk belied any of his claims to humility; rather it underlined his belief in his own devine exceptionalism - a would-be theocrat thwarted by secular reason: “ God’s kingdom will come. It is in his hands, we trust in Him. We don’t trust in governments. ” Preaching at the Victory Life Centre in Perth, 2022 Following the electorate's clear gag reflex at the notion of this disingenuous gobshite continuing to represent the values of our country the image of a now forlorn figure on the Opposition's backbench nose-bleed seats ironically elicited some entirely undeserved empathy. Scrolling his phone hoping someone had returned his calls, his " if you're good at your job, you'll get a job " banality taking its time to manifest itself, he was due instead the forensic grilling by a no-nonsense Catherine Holmes at the Robodebt Royal Commission where he distinguished himself as a practised sophist and blame shifter. And, due also, the ignominy of his too-clever-by-half 'secret ministries' parliamentary censure - a loose equivalent to the impeachment of his orange BFF and fellow twatwaffle Dorito Donny. History will record, and many will now recall his many failings - his cravenness and inaction in the face of adversity, his ducking of accountability, his claiming of the success of others, his malice and bullying, repurposing taxpayers' money to cronies and right wing supplicants - all manifestations of his lack of character. A shrivelled, one-dimensional intellect, a light-weight incapable of reflection or forethought with underlying smarm and personality defects, mentored by a proselytizing grifter and informed by an eagle painting he was impervious to self-reflection - comfortable in the belief he was the Chosen One. In his departing sermon presented as a valedictory speech he professed “ faith in Jesus Christ, which gives me the faith to both forgive but also to be honest about my own failings and shortcomings ” which he then failed to be honest about by neglecting to mention any. Manifestly unsuited to the job he is a study in how megalomania, verbal diarrhea, treachery and happenstance can reward a shameless fabulist and serial failure. A creationist's literal belief in biblical fables and his related, rampaging case of gynophobia are the 2 standouts in his compendium of personality defects. He was visibly confused by the notion that women are equal. He referred to females, including ministers, by their 1st names, men by their titles. He mansplained over the top of his senior minister Anne Ruston  when she was asked about the Lib government's treatment of women. Women to him were packaging - "1st party room as PM. B4 media came he requested all women MPs move seats & sit in front of him. As props. For the cameras. When media left, Scott’s men took their seats" Julia Banks, former member for Chisholm. Counsel for all things female, the eponymous "Jenny", was required to alert him to the unacceptability of rape via reference to his own daughters. " I've had plenty of mates who have asked me if they can be my special envoy to sort the issue out with Pamela Anderson " he told Gold Coast radio station Hot Tomato FM. Wink, snerk, guffaw, eh? eh? Imagine that pasty slug pawing a woman. No actually. Don't do that. He did get handsy with unsuspecting disaster victims, admitting to copping a quick feel as some sort of subliminal, evangelical healing process by his God's emissary - himself. Inanity and beyond was a feature of the slogan bogan - each facile declaration followed by the smirk as if he'd passed on an inspirational maxim. The restraint shown by not shooting women protesters is a standout for the clueless galoot as was his spittle-flecked tirade against Christine Holgate who had the audacity to be a strong female role model as chief postie. Which brings me to his trademark malice and bullying: "The pattern is that if you attack Scott Morrison... he will lash out and background against you in the most vicious of ways." Samantha Maiden, The Drum This godly man, this humble servant of a benevolent divinity was ever eager to punch down, to victimise, neglect, torment and defame. Toddlers, Kopika, and Tharnicaa, asylum seekers, the unemployed, grannies. If some died, they died - his conscience was clear. The black hole of honesty (truth bends around him) cultivated a regime where rorting was not a crime but a credential. The open disdain he held for established and trusted institutions went beyond the traditional Tory aversion to accountability - his God's will over-ruled any and all. Science? Evidence? Proof? Veracity? Phhht! When he needed to step up he stepped out; when opportunity arose to show true leadership he hid behind the curtains. He was anti-anti-corruption, aesthetically unpleasant, duplicitous and wantonly cruel. His loyalty is transactional - Brother Brian? Who? Brother Stuie? Who? His most valuable gofer was his photographer. His closest confidante fled for the exit as an integrity commission was coming to fruition. He claims credit for 2 issues as stand-out big wins for his legacy - the response to Covid and the AUKUS pact. Let us remain mindful of the context: Australia came through the worst of Covid better than most. This is not due to The Galoot who was tardy with vaccines - worsening lockdowns and blaming the premiers. He, and cherubic Rubbery Figures Frydenberg were dragged kicking and screaming by the premiers (and, FFS, Igor Mortis John Howard) to implement the JobKeeper initiative of Greg Combet and Sally McManus. AUKUS cedes our residual sovereignty to the Americans for decades and for a brain-bleeding price. Delivery is on the never-never and we can be sure the Seppos will bill us for every one of their inevitable FUBARs. It looked for too long a while that we'd never be rid of The Galoot - stuck like a clock spring on the soap. Now to be referred to in the past tense, his name should become a verb synonymous with opportunistic duplicity - " That car yard sold me a lemon. I was Morrisoned ". "He departs the parliament having scarred democracy, diminished trust in government, creating a legacy of shallow politics and photo op policies, of raising the individual above the collective, of switching the story to fit the circumstances; of above all, advancing Scott Morrison." Amy Remeikis, The Guardian Worst ever PM. Fuck off! As Scott Morrison leaves Parliament, where does he rank among Australian prime ministers? The New Daily Decoding ScoMo: the hidden story and messages in his Pentecostal mashup . Crikey ($)