Miranda Devine is an intelligent person. I believe so, but she is coaxed to write rubbish and does it religiously well. Well, that’s what the dog of my next door neighbour who once dated one of her cats told me. Truly. She is paid by the Sunday Crapograph to write terrible drivel by the column-inch (or centimetres since the metric system came to the DT, next year). Devine’s expertise in drivel extends from “feminism” (anti-feminism), sometimes “global warming” (anti-sciences and its windmills, though her controversial pope Francis is in favour of reducing human emissions of CO2, to Devine’s chagrin), “LGBTi” (anti-gays and their promotion of marriage equality, which between us and an Obeid lamppost is far better than life experienced by slaveys — the women who are barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen making sandwiches for their blokes) and of course that naughty nasty Labor Party. Devine is anti-Labor, especially anti-Julia Gillard mostly because she was an unmarried red-haired atheist feminist PM — despite the Labor link with the “Catholics”, Devine’s own church — and graveyard (that of Gillard and Devine equally).

There was a time in Australia when humour was a defining description of modernity and showed quirky adaptation to change, while showing the love for the heritage. Most of humour in the present crop of cartoons in the press has given in to insults, lame comments and toilet jokes, Gus’ crappy toons included — as the general philosophy of ideas has been replaced by whingeing about anything that moves. There was also a lot of perceptive caricatures done with very clever artistic flair back then. These days we distort surfaces with Photoshop and call the result: imaginative. 

The cartoon above by Molnar published in the Sydney Morning Herald in 1959, shows the middle class trying to define itself in the class war. At the time, especially in Sydney, the bulldozers were about to be started and demolish anything that was old. Heritage was about to be lost by the suburban load. The same thing is happening now with the Liberal (CONservative) government of New South Wales pushing a WestCONnex — a 1956 surface solution gone underground to solve Sydney’s traffic woes by displacing traffic jams from here to below the clay and sandpits, and charging a fortune for it. The Liberals (CONservatives) don’t like change, unless it involves making more cash and destroying traditional Labor seats, where the lands around the exits for the tunnels shall become playgrounds for their mates — the developers (bulldozers and concrete-making factory owners included) and turn these new 35 storey monsters into pseudo-liberal enclaves that will change the gerrymander of the area. “Sydney is full” says the headline in the Syderney Morning Herald. No problemo says the Liberal (CONservative) government. We demolish and go up and up and up, while their leafy north-shore is spared except along their highway, which was done over by Labor.

Devine has no humour in her ink wells. 

So one can expect Devine’s columns to hover around acidic subjects in which she is an expert driveller with a whingeing diarrhea. Yesterday’s (8/10/2017) was no exception. Her exposé of a few bad apple in the feminist camp was quite hilarious (not by intent, that’s for sure), until she mentioned names, such as of Polly Dunning at the end of a tirade that explained why women should do sandwiches for their man, obviously the love of their life, if he demanded one. Her hated “feminists” had objected to the sandwich-making:

“I was married for twenty years and my favourite packed lunch for my husband was called a Get it Yourself with a side order of I’m not your mother.”

“Nope, I didn’t sign up for that at the altar. But in the spirit of being helpful… pickled onion stuffed in mandarins.”

Leader of the attack pack was Polly Dunning, daughter of professional feminist Jane Caro, and mother of a toddler about whom she infamously wrote last year, recounting her horror at finding out she was pregnant with a boy: “I felt sick at the thought of something male growing inside me.”

Wow! This is below the belt...

I don’t know why I have the curriculum vitae for a certain professorial chick called Laura Beers on my desktop. She is an associate professor of some university (Birmingham) whose research focuses on modern Britain. She is particularly interested in the ways in which politics both influences and is shaped by cultural and social life, and in the role of the mass media in modern society. She has recently published her third book, Red Ellen: The Life of Ellen Wilkinson, Socialist, Feminist, Internationalist, a history of Britain’s second female cabinet minister. Wow. 

Here we can see some real academic grunt with solid analysis, versus the Devine’s expertise in drivel, for which Devine manages to fill some voids with words with an astonishing regularity on a whole page of a newspaper that usually ends up in landfill or is used as a small tent by a homeless Syderney man. 

Of course, on another whingeing page, the gloriously outraged Deluged Turdocrap reports that wind farms get more grants to study THE PROBLEM OF WINDMILLS than our “troubled” youth get studies about why they are miserable, cannot find a job and kill themselves. Let’s say here that there is no problems with wind farms but the loony Liberals, especially under Turdy Abbott (loved by Miranda Devine), decided that they should find problems with wind farms, so in order to find problems with windmills, they had to spend a lot of cash on noise experts, of bird flight experts, on wind-tunnel experts, on any whatever-crap experts they could find to find problems with wind farms — so far, to no avail. Apparently the study continues with vigour because there must be problems to be found with wind farms otherwise it’s cactus for the coal industry.

Meanwhile the very humble Piers Akerman of the island shit-pump fame tells us that “arrogance, close-mindedness and intolerance have marked the whingeing and bitter campaign waged by supporter of the Yes lobby in the homosexual marriage debate.” 

To tell you how it really is, there is no debate, just an opinion-poll through a postal vote on offer to which people can say bugger off, respond with dignity for support or have a fist fight about it in the streets.

After mentioning a few of the “many organisations that have been exposed as grotesque bullies,” Piers tells us with confidence that “there is still a month to go before this unnecessary nation-dividing exercise is exhausted — to no apparent gain.” Yes. That’s for sure. Turdball should not have initiated this postal survey, but he had to, in order to get his loony parliamentary knuckle-dragging mates to vote on it eventually if they choose too... Meanwhile, if some people are getting hammered, their postboxes damaged, their mail burnt is mostly because the No-lobby has gone crazy. 

Imagine that god had created Adam and Romeo in His (god is a male) own image to roam paradise forever in a fondling happiness! Crap! No Eve to blame for the original sin! Bastards! Yes, I know, god created Kate and Eve instead, but, really, I ask you... Seriously...  

This is what Annika Smethurst of the same toilet paper tells us with horror that Matt Canavan, dual-citizen minister of the Crown in the Turnbuckle government had been joking that politicians cannot be trusted in general, especially his stupid colleagues who support the No-vote in particular... 

The Deluded Terrogaph hates Malcolm like hell and wants him to be replaced with crappy Tony Abbott, instantly. Unfortunately, there is no space left in my column here to do a complete analysis of the “incredible” non-credible Peta Credlin’s really serious drivel, though she is quite correct to tell us that Turnbull is struggling... We know this much. 

But she wants him to be replaced by Peter Costello as treasurer and Tony Abbott (her little poodle protégé that she had potty-trained to do his business in other people’s backyard) in charge of the PMship AGAIN, as if once had NOT BEEN ENOUGH already! Geez! Hey Peta, hold your donkeys. Times have changed. Abbott was an aberration on the Aussie landscape. Both men, Costello and Abbott, might still get their sandwiches from their missus, but we are now in the 21st century with different solutions that the future of this small planet needs, instead of these two Neolithic dinosaurs who thought it was flat. One, Costello, was a lazy treasurer according to Paul Keating and the other one, Turdy, as PM, well..., he was ignorant of anything spherical and still is, sporting red “Catholic” budgie smugglers instead of the paradisiac fig leaf.  

To top it all, Gus is the one in charge of making the sandwiches, in the Leonisky household.

So, it’s time for all the opinionators of the Dorky Turdocrap to be relegated to the dustbin. I would not like a homeless man being kept awake by the non-water-proof drivel dripping from above his head.

Uncle Gus

from the local soup kitchen