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Straight from the greater world of icky ugliness to your personal space. Sorry about that.

Approx Reading Time-10Good morning, class. What happened while you were asleep? Well, Turnbull became more unpopular than Abbott, Twitter rehashed some hashtags and the world trembled at the decade long reign of Taylor Swift.

 

Turnbull’s support lower than Abbott’s at the time of spill, electorate nervously sips sarsaparilla.

Boy Howdy. We, the general voting public, are watching the clock, our ears pricked, searching for the train whistle of fate that will return the sunburnt gunslinger with the black hat, and the belt buckle made of a child’s skull, that dastardly dude with the conservative ‘tude, One-Tone Abbott. Before we ran him out of town, he promised to return, return to take down the lily-white sheriff we ran into the arms of, before we found out that he was redirecting money from the safe to his hideout over the hills (and the Pacific).

Now all we do, is wait. Wait for when the clock strikes twelve, when the political undertaker has recorded the measurements of the two combatants, as we stay away from the windows, waiting to hear the bitter outcome of yet another duel we have no say in (well, that’s no say, bar cleaning up the mess when the gun smoke subsides). We know not when, but we know it’s a when.

There’s a spill a-comin’.

Editors note: This morning a newspoll undertaken by The Australian shows that Malcolm Turnbull’s satisfactory rating sits at 29%, which is lower than Tony Abbott’s at his lowest (30%):

 

Anti US-election ire reaches bottom of barrel, rehashing hashtags.

In an election that has given us so much, be it the Ken Bone, Trump’s deviated septum, an innate knowledge of the female reproductive organs or our fingernails needled down to the nub in sheer nervous anxiety, it’s fair to assume that we, like the candidates, are suffering from apathy fatigue. Our dislike of the man has birthed yet more casual stupidity to pass the hours away as they draw closer to zero hour, but as that hour is almost upon us, we’re labouring to the finish, lactic acid flooding the wittier parts of our psyche.

Not that I’m judging, but we’re balls deep in the hubristic remakes. Similar to the Twitter trend that we all internally chuckled at last week, #TrumpBookReport, #TrumpaNovel is upon us, whereupon the titles of internationally renowned fiction are thrown onto the hissing orange bonfire of Trump.

Lols.

Yes, it has been a long election campaign, and the horror has been palpable, but, if we expect to make true change, and belittle Trump, we need to entertain the possibility that he might still win the election, which means that we have four years of shovelling memes into the coalface. I don’t want us to lose sight of that. All of us can grow our humour back to where it used to be. #MakeCynicismGreatAgain

 

World celebrates the first decade of glorious ruler Taylor Swift, all hail Tay.

Much like the reign of Pol Pot, the decade-long Swift reign has seen great and horrible change. We’ve seen her do the reverse of what ‘ol Pol did, as she turned her back on her agrarian roots, for the ills of the metropolitan lifestyle in order to spread her pro-Love, anti-Lover agenda. Even those who resist the book of Taylor know the learnin’s within, as we all discovered that criticism upon the self should be met with blank humility, that instead we should seek out the prophet with the hella good hair. We also learned the name of the devil, Calvin, for he who claims to create disco does nothing but create trouble, and brings the end of (their) days.

As today marks the first ten years of the Tay, her acolytes around the globe, as per tradition, will be displaying their religious artefacts to better spread the word of… Her.

No men.

 

The top five #AusPol Tweets from overnight

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