Lies, corruption and incompetence are the new normal
In a world awash with psychopathic tyrants, kleptocrats, killers and loons such as Trump, Putin, Bolsinaro, Netanyahu, Erdoğan et al and their hordes of grifting toadies it is still so very easy to loathe a comparative non-entity, a vapid mediocrity and serial underachiever like Smirkin’ Scotty Morrison.
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Watching this hi-vizzed, be-moobed, smirking dimwit gyrate around his paunch while mugging for the cameras like a fat Wiggle should trigger a Pavlovian gag reflex in any sentient observer. But on their own his staged routines are no more than a suitable explainer for, say, a curious kindergartener’s innocent question – “Miss, what’s a fuckwit?”.
ScoMo’s BoJo mojo is merely as contrived as that of his UK equivalent’s distractive idiocies, he’s comfortable with letting people die but he’s not straight out murdered anybody, he’s no Lukashenko nor a Duterte but he’s still worth backing at short odds in a crowded field for the title of ‘most likely to fuck up an entire country’.
Lacking imagination, foresight, curiosity or the work ethic to earn full despot status it’s his ability to trash Oz on such a broad scale with so little effort that keeps him competitive.
Smirko’s hold on power is tenuous. The fragility of his authority is perhaps best illustrated by recent revelations that within the plain sight of this overt Pentacostalist, Parliament House became a 5 star knocking shop and masturbatorium for sex pests, drink spikers and rapists. If the hired help is not shy about jizzing on a minister’s desk then perhaps he’s not held in the high regard that he holds for himself.
As with any kakistocrat he protects himself via a horrendium of thralls and lickspittles and of like-minded Old Testament moon units and prosperity cultists and proto-nazi authoritarians and he presides over a criminal cartel eager to share in the spoils of the grift that he enables.
The Tory front bench is a police line-up; the entire Coalition is a combo deal of sex offenders’ convention, tent revival and mobster expo. This slurry, often accompanied in news stories by the term “alleged”, has not one redemptive member to offset their repulsiveness. Not one. Not since WW2 have we had to trust a government more and never has one done less to earn it.
According to Smirko, and an eagle painting, he’s been “called to do Gods’ work“. The surreptitious laying on of hands as some sort of covert conversion therapy seems to be the methodology that Smirko has adopted to meet his celestial KPIs. Clearly, fulfilling his earthly duties is not something he seems to be particularly bothered with and he’s happy to sub-contract the BAU Tory bastardry to his stooges.
I wonder if God – when he spoke to Scott Morrison through an eagle painting* – I wonder if he told Scott-the-Christian about all the people his government would allow to die while they waited for help.
(*results may vary with your own eagle paintings)
— 🕯 RonniSalt 🕯 (@RonniSalt) May 20, 2021
Nosferatu replicant Stuart Robert, a missionary creep and very unattractive man, is one of Smirko’s favourite acolytes. His illegal persecution of the unemployed has earned him a new gig – persecuting the disabled and blowing up the NDIS. Robert’s inability to form an image in a mirror likely explains his lack of self-awareness. Not a handicap in this government but surely they should’ve appointed someone capable of working during daylight hours.
Health Minister Elmer Fudge’s vaccine rollout is so lethargic the back of his head is covered in bug splatter and his messaging is as coherent as a man whose tongue is caught in his bicycle spokes. What he’s saying, I think, is that the Tories don’t like targets without a plan, or a plan without a target, thereby disappearing up his own arse.
Chubby exchequer Joshie Friedenberg, the numbers guy who allows himself a +/- 100% margin of error is the blowie slowy circling the lounge room. He’s counting the days til Smirko’s demise so that he can assume the position and unleash his beloved Thatcherite austerity onto the vulnerable. Nothing cheers Joshie more than further enriching billionaires while withdrawing job support during a pandemic and telling knock knock jokes to the homeless.
The Nationals, partners in crime and fossil fuel co-conspirators from Cockheads’ Corner are “led” by Deputy Dag Michael McComack, a bleached, dull-eyed Elvis with the intellect of a bi-valve who grins like a shot fox at his cleverness whenever he’s able to recite the speaking notes he’s been handed by the PMO. This dullard is so stupid he thinks a Vol-au-Vent is the air-con outlet in a Swedish car and that the red ones were triumphant in the War Of The Roses. He would wear a baklava on his head if he were to ever rob a Lebanese pastry shop. McCormack’s role apparently is to prove that no matter how appalling the Libs can be in the worst of circumstances, the Nats can always outdo them.
Addressing each one of the odious brown baggers, shrubbery-lurkers, dead ends, weirdos, humbuggers, liars and thieves would challenge the most robust of attention spans so, back to Smirko.
Government for the Tories is a treasure hunt, an opportunity to settle scores and to prosecute their culture wars. The coronavirus was Morrison’s gift from his homicidal god – a political opportunity to distance himself from his Fibonacci accumulation of corruption and failures that will be the catalyst for Australia’s decline towards failed state status. He’s tried to exploit the virus for his own electoral advantage and as per historical precedent he’s fucked it up.
Belief in his own exceptionalism, ironically trading on his very ordinariness as a sales pitch for grooming the apathetic, the stupid and the complacent that he fondly brands as his “quiet Australians” will bring him undone. Fortuitously the virus has shone the spotlight on what a cowardly, useless spiv he is and it may be the end of his long, lucky run.
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This article was originally published on Grump Geeser.
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