The masked lib with malcolm now impervious to criticism, re-election is a reality – the big smoke

The original psalm may have been written to accompany Dustin Hoffman’s obsessive pre-marital philandering, but the Simon & Garfunkel banger The Sound of Silence could easily be transported to the manicured lawns of Canberra in a cherry red Alpha Romeo.

Yesterday, Malcolm’s 31st Newspoll loss was official. Which for those of you who are counting, is one more than Reichmarshall Tony Abbott could muster. While Malcolm lost again, it seemed to not bother the Potemkin collection of shaken fists and aimed sentences that send the bassinet carrying Turnbull’s re-election campaign down the Odessa steps. It didn’t matter yesterday, because it doesn’t matter.


Malcolm closed the gap, which is barely news. There were no great and towering headlines accompanying the most cerebral of emoji journalism speculating on how cooked he truly is, no. Instead, we touched the sound of silence.

You see, Malcolm broke the barrier, he dug upward, he set a new record for failure. We’ve accepted that, and so has he. This has negated the gypsy curse that was warned in hushed tones, that on the evening of the thirtieth blood moon, a great evil will descend, the earth shall split in twain, the seas will boil, and the dead will rise.

You see, Malcolm, besting Tony in failure plus one is actually quite freeing for the man himself. You see, by eclipsing the ghoul, and becoming the ghoul, he’s free to lumber around without the weight of our expectations crushing his neck. It’s cool to pee your pants/be not very good at your job. Because the suspicions are seemingly confirmed, the detractors have nothing left to prove. That was last week. You had your opportunity to complain. You see, you’ve merely thickened the hide of the golem. He’s now completely invulnerable to criticism, fire all the flaming arrows you want. But the truth is obvious, he kept his job after passing the dark mark.

Another is if Malcolm faces Bill Shorten at the next election, Malcolm will win. I read the weathered face of Labor Boy, and it was a roadmap that spoke of the future. LB glumly quipped that he doesn’t even hate Malcolm that much anymore, he’s just over it. Hmm. Apathy is might be a force powerful enough to get a tattoo, or enable sexual experimentation, but it’s not enough to carry Bill over the line.

For ages, he’s been the completely forgettable teacher of our unruly class. He let his smart-aleck know-it-all kids run the lesson. Only very infrequently would he try and break up the ruckus, or worse attempt to join in, inadvertently cable tying his own leg to his chair, or attempting to lob a rotten tomato into the ceiling fan, but missing the mark. He doesn’t really care about the curriculum, he doesn’t care for the lesson plan, so they’ve taken their education into their own hands. Letting the inmates run the asylum is poor management, Billius.

To give evidence to this, think back to of any one of the Coalition’s cock-ups, and Bill’s reaction to it. Barnaby’s erect number immediately comes to mind. A more powerful opposition leader would have buried Mal’s mob many times over, however, it seems the average left voter’s anger seems to be louder, more pointed than Bill’s. In the inches donated to Barnaby’s pickle, none of it came from Bill, he was Auspol’s Gandhi (but without the sex addiction). The country may tear itself apart over the Beetrooter, but Bill is just blithely counting the minutes until the bell rings. Bill has had many opportunities to drive the harpoon through the breast of the white whale, but given the opportunity, he’s not taken it. The only thing notable about the man, is his absence.

The original psalm may have been written to accompany Dustin Hoffman’s obsessive pre-marital philandering, but the Simon & Garfunkel banger The Sound of Silence could easily be transported to the manicured lawns of Canberra in a cherry red Alpha Romeo.

Yesterday, Malcolm’s 31st Newspoll loss was official. Which for those of you who are counting, is one more than Reichmarshall Tony Abbott could muster. While Malcolm lost again, it seemed to not bother the Potemkin collection of shaken fists and aimed sentences that send the bassinet carrying Turnbull’s re-election campaign down the Odessa steps. It didn’t matter yesterday, because it doesn’t matter. Malcolm closed the gap, which is barely news. There were no great and towering headlines accompanying the most cerebral of emoji journalism speculating on how cooked he truly is, no. Instead, we touched the sound of silence.

You see, Malcolm broke the barrier, he dug upward, he set a new record for failure. We’ve accepted that, and so has he. This has negated the gypsy curse that was warned in hushed tones, that on the evening of the thirtieth blood moon, a great evil will descend, the earth shall split in twain, the seas will boil, and the dead will rise.

You see, Malcolm, besting Tony in failure plus one is actually quite freeing for the man himself. You see, by eclipsing the ghoul, and becoming the ghoul, he’s free to lumber around without the weight of our expectations crushing his neck. It’s cool to pee your pants/be not very good at your job. Because the suspicions are seemingly confirmed, the detractors have nothing left to prove. That was last week. You had your opportunity to complain. You see, you’ve merely thickened the hide of the golem. He’s now completely invulnerable to criticism, fire all the flaming arrows you want. But the truth is obvious, he kept his job after passing the dark mark.

Another is if Malcolm faces Bill Shorten at the next election, Malcolm will win. I read the weathered face of Labor Boy, and it was a roadmap that spoke of the future. LB glumly quipped that he doesn’t even hate Malcolm that much anymore, he’s just over it. Hmm. Apathy is might be a force powerful enough to get a tattoo, or enable sexual experimentation, but it’s not enough to carry Bill over the line.

For ages, he’s been the completely forgettable teacher of our unruly class. He let his smart-aleck know-it-all kids run the lesson. Only very infrequently would he try and break up the ruckus, or worse attempt to join in, inadvertently cable tying his own leg to his chair, or attempting to lob a rotten tomato into the ceiling fan, but missing the mark. He doesn’t really care about the curriculum, he doesn’t care for the lesson plan, so they’ve taken their education into their own hands. Letting the inmates run the asylum is poor management, Billius.

To give evidence to this, think back to of any one of the Coalition’s cock-ups, and Bill’s reaction to it. Barnaby’s erect number immediately comes to mind. A more powerful opposition leader would have buried Mal’s mob many times over, however, it seems the average left voter’s anger seems to be louder, more pointed than Bill’s. In the inches donated to Barnaby’s pickle, none of it came from Bill, he was Auspol’s Gandhi (but without the sex addiction). The country may tear itself apart over the Beetrooter, but Bill is just blithely counting the minutes until the bell rings. Bill has had many opportunities to drive the harpoon through the breast of the white whale, but given the opportunity, he’s not taken it. The only thing notable about the man, is his absence.