Beyond incompetence and corruption
Untroubled by the burdens of either wit or intelligence the embaldened tubermensch who, for now, leads the meritocracy trading as the Liberal Party seems to be struggling with his personal brand, as is manifest in his Howardesque, too tricky by half cavilling over the Voice to Parliament. A vuvuzela in a chamber orchestra hoping no-one notices the discordance.
Not being Scott Morrison is a prudent image; albeit one that was obligatory given the level of loathing due that perfidious galoot. Yet Spud Dutton’s headkicking, homophobic, warmongering, race-baiting reputation is hardly a winning alternative, particularly when such a persona is widely seen as authentic, ironically unlike FauxMo’s shamelessly contrived, yet G-rated daggy dad flimflam which in no small way helped to bring the shyster undone.
“Cuddly Pete” had only a brief run – the Murdoch manure machinery’s efforts to sustain such an obvious deceit being counter-productive given their rustadon audience of rightwing nutters celebrates bastardry, culture war attacks on the “wokes” and persecution of the others*.
*As of publication the “others” is the trans youth but subject to change without notice and as may be determined by the political advantage to be gained from tormenting the victims du jour ala Robodebt.
Tory noir is a smoking ruin of creeping nastiness, sleaze and graft yet there is no contrition, there’s hubris but no humility and there’s shameless hypocrisy to camouflage their embarrassment and their terror at the prospect of the national integrity commission. Over nearly a decade they shat in our collective handbag yet now rely on a humourless automaton pulling the wings off butterflies (“they love me, they love me not”) to recoup some credibility. Spud will never trump Smirko as our worst ever Prime Minister because he will never be PM, but for now, as tuber supreme in the L/NP vegie patch this visionless, reactionary hack is the representation of who they really are.
Lined up behind the tinpotato is his idiot sidekick, the gormless Sussan Ley. Suss got the deputy dork role to help offset the Tory’s infamous fella ratio – the swollen but karmically shrinking ranks of sex pests and big, swinging dicks. (Author’s note: Dutton and Morrison are two of the remaining BSDs).
Desperately shrieking Sussan’s shtick, apart from consonant abuse, is her feigned outrage and droning whine topping the sour expression of someone who pickles her own vag.
Dutts & Suss/Bubba & Squeak – the A Team from the et al shonks, God shoppers, spongers and dullards who’d spent their years grifting like no-one was watching; who took the game of mates to a level that would shame a Saudi royal.
He’s still there, isn’t he? That plastic garbage bag of grass clippings; the beer view mirrors, the claret-complexioned coagulation of cirrhosis and stupidity, that menace to sobriety known as Barking Barmy Joyce.
Barmy’s role is to champion the monetisation of planetary destruction on behalf of his miners & frackers constituency. And therein lies the evil at the core of the Coalition – the purposeful destruction of ecosystems to feed the insatiable greed of the filthy rich who have convinced themselves that with their wealth they can isolate from the consequences of environmental collapse.
Corruption and incompetence are bugs in politics. Morrison made them a feature of his nudge, nudge, wink, wink sleaze fest. What they have now demonstrated is their appetite for evil.
Evil is a standard now embraced by the Tory ecosystem.
Evil is the illegal pursuit and willful persecution of powerless Robodebt victims for non-existent debts.
Evil is abusing people’s lives and wellbeing to score political points.
Evil is directing disaster support funds away from Labor-voting electorates.
Evil is the fossil fuel mates who know the truth yet persist with planetary destruction.
Pure evil is that Tory accomplice, the scrotum-headed media magnate and his willing flunkies who not only know the truth but promote the lies regardless. There is no hell hot enough for Rupert Murdoch and his flying monkeys. There is no stretch in chokey long enough for the Tudges, Porters and Roberts of the Lying Nasty Party.
This article was originally published on Grumpy Geezer.
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