Saturday, April 11, 2009

Piers Akerman, Kevin Ruddstra, the first dog on the moon, and compound chocolate for all

(Above: Piers Akerman, casual, ultra-cool columnist for the Daily Terror, trying to lead Australian voters away from Kevin Rudd into the promised land. Stupid women miss the point entirely).

What is it with the right wing commentariet and eggshells?

First it was Miranda the Devine and the eggshell skull defence in her devastatingly frank denunciation of swimming as a sport pursued only by aggressive loners, and now it's Piers Akerman, aka the fat owl of the remove, doing the Lambeth walk with Easter bunny Rudd walks on eggshells.

That's right, groan, Australia wakes up on an Easter Sunday to the sound of the fat owl doing a Rudd bashing with an axe handle, yet again.

Come back Cardinal Pell, tell us how bad condoms and sex is for all of us (yes that means you, you Easter Sunday morning cuddle preverts).

Unemployment is the new fat owl theme, and of course it's all the fault of the Rudd government. Let's just do a quick gloss - yep, instead of looking forward to growth, Australia, along with the rest of the world, is hunkering down for shrinkage.

Who you gunna blame? The Ruddster, pure and simple. He's taken over from The Joker. He's responsible for every evil act in the world, right down to getting upset about meat in his sandwich.

That's right world, instead of looking forward to growth, Australia elected the Rudd government, and now y'all is hunkering down with Australia, getting ready for shrinkage.

We're worse than the UK basket case (and we know who's responsible for that - Kevin Brown!) We're worse off than America, and we know what did them in. Kevin Obama!

It's time to take stock, since rustling's about the only way y'alls gunna get a decent feed of beef in this here country.

There's a hole in the national savings, so no wonder the Easter Bunny hasn't left you any choccies in your Christmas stocking. 

Of course Peter Costello saw the international downturn coming, but then he's been blessed by Christ, and arises from the dead every Sunday like clockwork.

As for the evil Rudd, playing the wrong cards from day one (he's hopeless at poker and blackjack), and damned if his bon mots in Mandarin are going to do any good, as the fiendish Chinese first deployed the only Oriental Mata Hari in Australia's history, and then pulled down the shutters as the tsunami rolled around the world, and we should have been building bulwarks when cliches turned out to be fragile straw dogs useless against the impending global hurricane. 

Oh dear, that doesn't even make a sentence, let alone any kind of ranting good sense. Damn you Kevin Rudd, it's all your fault, with your intertubes thingy and your multi billion dollar connectivity caper.

Whether through stupidity or naivete, Rudd, who was feted at the Olympic extravaganza, thought all he had to do was run the hundred metres, when it required a marathon dash through the fat owl's turgid prose to get to the other side, and use his sleight of hand to duchess with skill those who had been shafted like a Homeric blinding of the Cyclops who represents, in a one eyed fashion, the interests of the business sector.

Another bloody sentence that doesn't make any sense. Damn you Rudd, damn you to one of the outer rings of hell.

Phew, am I making my point, is it clear? Sure I could have said the Rudd Labor government is fucked, and left it at that, but I'm paid by the word by that wonderful greenie Rupert Murdoch, who is determined to save the planet from Piers Akerman, Tim Blair and Andrew Bolt through heroic application of carbon neutral techniques.

Oh yes back to that Kevin Rudd, arch-satanist:

His remarkable skills have been rewarded by stunning poll results, with a whopping 74 per cent of Australians currently impressed with his pitch.

Oh no, say it isn't so fat owl, how can this be? And you've explained it all so clearly to everyone. In full and complete sentences, unlike your humble servant and intrepid follower, who has been rendered illiterate and speechless by the vile Rudd.

The cunning treachery, the fiendish Fu Manchu skills, the Beijing Olympics, the dazzling card sharpery, the Christmas splash, the worthy Costello, the hideous world collapse caused by Obama in just three short months, the devious alleged Christian Rudd's way with a pentagram.

We're doomed, doomed I tells ya. Let's see how many more cliches we can fit in. Pie in the sky, bringing home the bacon, saddling generations unborn, disastrous administration. But what can we do for a capper?

Easter eggs never looked as rotten as those being delivered by this Government.

That's right you greedy guts turkeys, you treacherous traitors. You can all eat compound chocolate, and let that be a lesson to you. No coca butter for you lot, just vegetable fats, and coconut oil and palm kernel oil. Not like the crispy bacon we got to eat before the war.

I hope you're all unemployed by year's end and have a thoroughly rotten Christmas, and that'll teach y'all for voting Labor in the first place. A pox on y'all, and there you go, the caring, concerned Piers Akerman has spoken.

You bunnies, you voted for a bunny. Choke on that chocolate!

Sadly, suspecting that no one could actually read this Akerman diatribe in one piece without visual stimulation, I've salted in bits and pieces from First Dog on the Moon.

You can also find him on Crikey, and he's a breath of fresh air in the cartooning world (my partner even subscribes to his Twitter, in which he tells the world about his cartoons of the day and his states of mind e.g. grumpy, perhaps having mistakenly read Piers Akerman in the belief he should do loon field research).

In this particular epic cartoon, here fractured into bits as a kind of Akerman tease, First Dog, much like Haydn's magical Seven Last  Words of Christ,  presents seven key panels to illustrate the seven recorded statements of Christ on the cross, only to reveal at long last and after an exhaustive search, the true meaning to Australia of these, Christ's last, words.

Have a good Easter Sunday, stay safe, and thank the lord you never ever have to read Akerman if you don't feel like a laugh, (And if you want the full First Dog holy writ cartoon, I'm afraid that after Monday, when Crikey's subscriber curtain kicks in, you'll have to subscribe to Crikey, or wait for it to turn up on the Dog's site).

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