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MONEY IN DUCKS
Michael Leunig, riding his faux naïve duck notion all the way to the bank, explains how he first hit on the idea of an easily-drawn yet marketable image that would be popular with idiots. Apparently the plan occured to him during some sort of hallucination 50 years ago.
This story - also from News - contradicts that story.
He said one of the papers got a duck to pose in a photo with cricketer Keith Stackpole after he had been dismissed without scoring. When the duck was brought back to the office afterwards, Leunig decided to adopt it.
“He had it two or three days and a dog jumped the fence and killed it,” Zachariah said. “Leunig went into mourning and couldn’t come into work for a week.
“Then the duck started appearing in his cartoons because he just felt the duck represents a lovely defenceless animal.”Poor Leunig! A duck dies and he needs a week off from work? I hope it was unpaid leave for Fairfax’s sake. Wait - he could get a job at Webdiary. Write a 3-frame cartoon then take 7 weeks’ break. He’s the new Margo.
Posted by SheikYerbouti on 2006 03 17 at 12:01 AM • permalink“lovely defenceless animal.”
Ducks are F*ing vicious - the must have had the one on the ceremony doped up to the eyeballs
Posted by knuckleheadwatch on 2006 03 17 at 12:04 AM • permalinkNot just any duck. An awe-inspiring heroic Commie duck to crowd out all those disturbing propaganda images of Commie tanks.
Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 12:09 AM • permalinkI like ducks…......lightly roasted, with bacon rapped around it, with some sauteed potatoes and steamed spinach with lemon.
Posted by artful-dodger on 2006 03 17 at 12:16 AM • permalinkI’m telling you, the duck was plastic!
Posted by Vanguard of the Commentariat on 2006 03 17 at 12:17 AM • permalinkIt looks like the ceremony duck has become the pin-up duck of the anti-hunting movement.
Posted by Lucky Nutsacks on 2006 03 17 at 12:27 AM • permalinkIt was probably the amphetamine fumes from the Russian athlete that caused Leunig’s hallucination.
Posted by Evil Pundit on 2006 03 17 at 12:28 AM • permalinkFunny. It all reminds me of a touching childhood duck tale. There were we driving home from the beach in Thailand. At the duck farms in Cholburi, a squashed duck in the road and three others looking on from the side. So often were we witnesses to barnyard mayhem on the roads. Dogs mainly. The occasional pig or water buffalo. It pains me still.
Auntie Helen (original model for Dame Edna, late of South Yarra), remarks, “Oh look at the poor ducks, so sad about their little friend!” We all craned our necks to look at the touching scene. And as the family Valiant blew by, we saw the grief-stricken ducks waddle out and tuck into their poor little friend’s duck guts.
You know, it was exactly like Leunig said. Except these were real ducks, not steroid-pumped hallucinatory Soviet athlete ducks. But I no longer believed the duck propaganda. These ducks weren’t vicious, oppressive Commies. These ducks were heartless capitalist imperialistas, feeding on the disadvantaged, just like us.Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 12:29 AM • permalinkWhich reminds me…
I was driving through the country-side one day when I saw the most magnificent male duck fly right out in front of me. Unfortunately I was unable to stop in time and the body of the duck surrounded by the spectacular colourful plumage smashed right into my windscreen.
Feeling pretty bad about it, I went up to the nearest farmhouse where I knocked on the door, which was answered by the lady of the house. I said “Madam, I am terribly sorry, but I have accidentally killed this magnificent drake, and would like to replace it.”
She just looked at me and said “Fine, the ducks are out the back.”
Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 03 17 at 12:39 AM • permalinkCrittenden — Hell no. REAL capitalist ducks would have PUSHED that fourth duck out into the street to create a market opportunity…
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 03 17 at 12:56 AM • permalinkAn ex-girlfriend had a thing for ducks. We were feeding some nice ducks in the park one day, similar in appearance to the Games duck. All very nice and relaxing until a gang of male ducks came over and duck-raped the shit out our new friends.
Seems we were complicit in the crime by attracting the ducks to shore; the drakes could surround one and start raping.
They were quite organised, these drakes. Three or four would cooperate in holding their bird victim’s head under water. The cooperation ended there as they fought to be the one on top.
It was a little distressing to watch so I threw a large stick at the whole damn lot of them and we left, duck-affinity in tatters.
#11 - grease be upon you and all who sail in you.
In the link I note Mr Levy of the Campaign against Duck Shooting holds grave fears for the vulnerable “blue-winged shovel” variant. I was going to do some gardening next week but I think I will leave my shovel indoors for a while lest some crazed gunman from the south passes by and blasts both my shovel and I to smithereens.
I think the man meant “shoveler”. Long URL - follow Rec & Tourism to Duck Season 2006. It also explains why some ducks are on the list and others are not. Strangely, personnel from the Campaign against Duck Shooting do not appear on the “fully protected” list. Duck hunters should draw their own conclusions
Posted by Whale Spinor on 2006 03 17 at 01:08 AM • permalinkI am reminded of another tragic incident inolving another variety of waterfowl.
I was driving up the coast of Maine some years ago, carefree, on a youthful adventure, whistling a happy tune. As I came around a bend, from the marsh by the side of the road I saw the majestic form of a Great Blue Heron taking flight.
Now the thing about the Great Blue Heron is, it’s neck is crook, like an umbrella handle with one or two extra turns in it. So when it snagged on the power line overhead, the whole bird flipped right around, connected with the next line up, shorted out with a big bang, and dropped like a rock into the roadside ditch.
Startled, I drove on, not knowing what to make of it all.
But the years have passed and now I think, you know, if that Great Blue Heron were a duck, he’d still be alive today. Well, maybe not, because it was nearly 20 years ago. But you know what I mean.
And you know, I could look at this as a metaphor for global warming. Noble swamp creature felled by man’s lust for power and home conveniences.
But down that road lie all sorts of extravagances. Steroid-pumped Commie hero athletes perceived as cuddly propaganda-busting distractionary ducks, for example.Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 01:08 AM • permalinkMargo and Michael. Both are of the illogical left. Both write nonsensically. Both have held inexplicable employment with major metropolitan newspapers. Both sort of look like men. Both start with ‘M’. Coincidence… or maybe something more sinister?
Posted by blandwagon on 2006 03 17 at 01:24 AM • permalinkBird Flu. Now I get it, it’s Duck Revenge on the entire human race because Loonig used one as inspiration for a cartoon strip that wet and soppy and morose.
Met a girl a few years back, got on well, first time back at her house, went to the fridge for something cold and there it was, staring back at me, a fucking Loonig calendar. “Is this THING yours?” “Yes.” “Did you buy it?” “No, birthday present.” “Why didn’t you throw it out?” “What do you mean? I think he’s great….Don’t you like Looon-ig?” I felt so dirty. I left immediately. Imagine giving such a gift as a present to show your kindness and goodwill…
The Bluebird Of Unhappiness?
The Duck Of Desolate Depression.
If the Duckdoodler reads all this, do you think he needs to take another week off to get over it?
Posted by LeftieLatteLover on 2006 03 17 at 01:25 AM • permalinkYou may be on to something, HC44. Don’t forget it was the same cuddly Soviet ducks who invaded Afghanistan, and we all know what happened after that.
Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 01:27 AM • permalink“...Sydney journalist Richard Zachariah said Leunig’s fascination with ducks began when he and the cartoonist were working at the Nation Review and the Sunday Observer.
He said one of the papers got a duck to pose in a photo with cricketer Keith Stackpole after he had been dismissed without scoring. When the duck was brought back to the office afterwards, Leunig decided to adopt it.
“He had it two or three days and a dog jumped the fence and killed it,” Zachariah said. “Leunig went into mourning and couldn’t come into work for a week...”
Says a lot about Loonig…
And this…
“...While the duck created confusion among interstate and foreign visitors, it found a friend in Victorian Premier Steve Bracks, who professed a fondness for Leunig’s work...”
Says an awful lot about Bracks…
Posted by Jay Santos on 2006 03 17 at 01:30 AM • permalink/Apologies SheikYerbouti
//Should read the thread more closely
///Reaches for birch switch
////Assumes the positionPosted by Jay Santos on 2006 03 17 at 01:33 AM • permalinkI read Leunig’s linked article three times before giving up any hope of ever understanding the guy. I mean, a duck appears nowhere in that rambling tale. Do ducks cheer athletes? Why is cheering a jogger inherently duck-like? What kind of duck hovers like a sports stadium?
Above all, why is Leunig not safely institutionalized?
Posted by Crispytoast on 2006 03 17 at 01:46 AM • permalinkthe duck represents a lovely defenceless animal.
Lovely animals, Ducks:
The first case of homosexual necrophilia in the mallard
I suspect Leunig’s grasp of other realities is just as tenuous.
Leunig and this fine duck have much in common… both giant pricks.
Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 03 17 at 02:24 AM • permalink#28, see, you made a very big mistake right there even attempting to understand this guy. You’re not supposed to understand Loongig, you’re supposed to stare at his (f)art and let its melancholy beauty just wassshhh over you.
Posted by LeftieLatteLover on 2006 03 17 at 02:28 AM • permalinkStrangest thing. One Luenig Soviet duck fantasy, and it all comes flooding back. Everything starts to click. Like it was all just waiting there…
The old man had an odd bit of Australian folk doggerel, a nonsense rhyme he’d say to entertain us kids:
“Once upon a time,
When the pigs drank wine
And the monkeys chewed tobacca
The chooks took snuff,
To make them tough
And the ducks said quacksamatta?”Pigs, wine, blaspheming cartoon infidels ... monkeys, well, the GIs in Iraq chew and Bush, you know, Chimpy ... chooks, bird flu, not so tough after all, snuff notwithstanding. And the ducks, well the ducks apparently are the only ones who really know how screwed up all of this is.
Why didn’t I see this before?Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 02:32 AM • permalinkTake me to your Leda…..
A duck walks into a bar. The bartender is a bit surprised as the duck hops onto the bar and asks, “Do you have any grapes?” The bartender says, “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t.”Dejected, the duck hops off the bar and waddles out.
The next night, the very same duck walks into the bar. He hops onto the bar and asks, “Do you have any grapes?” The bartender shouts, “Look, Duck, I told you last night that we don’t have any grapes! Now get out of here, and if you come back tomorrow night and ask for grapes, I’ll nail your beak to the bar with a hammer!”
Terrified, the duck scampers out of the bar.
The next night, the bartender warily eyes the door as the duck walks into the bar. The duck carefully climbs onto the bar and asks, “Do you have a hammer?” The bartender shouts, “No! Of course I don’t have a hammer!” So the duck asks, “Do you have any grapes?”
Habib : A Shotgun.
Im not that fond of ducks. The one my dad had used to rape the chooks. It would sit under half a drum and ambush anything that walked past.
Poor dad reconed if he had a heart attack of fell over in the chookyard it would have him as well.Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2006 03 17 at 03:10 AM • permalinkMy dear old dad used to whimsically refer to his one of these as “the duckfucker”.
BTW- what has several hundred balls and fucks ducks?
A claymore mine. Clack.
Posted by Oafish and Infantile on 2006 03 17 at 03:43 AM • permalinkOn a similar theme . . . .
Q: What comes in French letters and fucks English sailors?
A: An Exocet missile.
Posted by Oafish and Infantile on 2006 03 17 at 03:44 AM • permalinkI didn’t want to take up duck shooting but this whole episode has made me. The first 50 ducks have your name on them Leunigtic.
Posted by Karl Fidel Adams-Kingston on 2006 03 17 at 03:46 AM • permalinkThis duck rape thing, very interesting. I don’t have a duck rape story. But I can tell you that ducks are neither the Alpha nor the Omega of waterfowl. That would be geese.
We moved into a house with a little pond. Had a bunch of ducks. Us kids named them. Donald, etc. Very cute. Then we got a full-sized poodle, a real hunting dog, no foo-foo poodle, from some people who were moving.
Bad combo. Julius the poodle chased down those ducks, one by one, and we had greasy chicken several nights running. Then, the last one was spotted trying to get out under the gate and my mother opened it, let him waddle out to freedom.
We got geese after that. The poodle learned real quick you don’t F with geese.Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 03:50 AM • permalinkUm, duck with wild rice dressing—an old stand-by of many Sioux and Chippewa grandmothers of the upper midwest. (The wild rice dressing absorbs the excess grease of the duck, making the dressing taste like seven shades of heaven.)
Posted by David Crawford on 2006 03 17 at 04:13 AM • permalinkHH: Mark Steyn, last question on this. One of the Telegraph suits sent out an e-mail to someone questioning, saying we hope to have Mark Steyn back within the Telegraph family soon. Is that just shining on their distraught readers?
MS: Yeah, I don’t quite know why they’re saying that, because (laughing)
HH: You’re not coming back soon. All right.
MS: I’m not…that’s certainly something that…there’s no reason for them to be sending that out to readers.
If you buy a duck that you see in the window of some Chinese restaurants, well that duck needs to be reheated in a microwave for 1 minute only. Get that! 1 minute… otherwise they lose their tenderness. That’s very important. 1 minute don’t forget. You don’t want a tough duck.
End of community announcement.
My favorite USENET item of all time is duck based
>Sat Apr 24 07:57:13 EDT 1993
>Newsgroups: rec.birds
>Subject: Mallard question>>The other day I noticed a female mallard hit by a car in the
>>middle median in the road. 2 males were standing by her, one was
>>frantically trying to nudge, her and get her to move. I never
>>knew ducks had “emotional” ties to their mates. I’ve heard that
>>Canada Geese mate for life. Do mallards do the same?
>>(Before I could turn around and move the body to the grass on the
>>side of the road, so the two doting males didn’t get hit, someone
>>else moved her.)>I hate to burst your bubble, but they were trying to mate with her.
>Ducks only mate for one season (they pair up in winter with the
>drake following the hen back to her natal site). Once the hen is on
>eggs the drake is free to seek other copulations. You frequently
>see several drakes chasing a hapless female in hopes of a
>copulation. The drakes you saw were trying to seek some more ova
>to be joined with their sperm and the fact that she was dead
>probably escaped their attention.Cane toads are similarly used as direction-finding creatures.
Cane toad licking is how you get directions
Ducks are again cool. They weren’t cool for the last 25 years, but have regained popularity and status.
Anyway, I’m amazed that no one has mentioned the richest duck in the world, Scrooge McDuck. It was so much of a favourite comic of mine as a kid, I called my children Huey, Dewey and Louie. Only kidding.
Andrea, I’m not pissed yet, but getting there ...
Leunig loves ducks…don’t they lock you up for that sort of thing?
Actually, I love ducks myself…damned tasty animals. Dunno if it’s still open, but the Balinese Grill in Brisbane used to do an awesome roast duck. Yum!
In other news, I’m wondering what foreigners think when they see Leunig in action? I just hope they don’t associate the rest of us with him.
Posted by Mr Snuffalupagus on 2006 03 17 at 07:39 AM • permalinkThis could be re-named and sent to Loopig.
Quite clever, if a little heavy handed.http://www.faithfreedom.org/oped/Chris60317.htm
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2006 03 17 at 07:55 AM • permalinkmy grandpop had ducks in the back yard. they shat a lot & smelled truly awful. good eatin’ but. my dad took me to the 1956 olympics, where the crowds booed the russians at the opening ceremony & cheered the hungarians following the brutal repression just weeks before of the move towards democracy in hungary - there were also raucous parties celebrating the defection of a bunch of hungarian athletes (not that i was aware of what the booing or cheering & general hilarity was about). the support for the hungarians was much more significant than a bloody duck epiphany, probably fabricated to fit loony-bin-ig’s fey self-portrait. wanker
How the ducking hell can one keep up with 2 threads on mallards at the same time? Is it bad form to cross-post here? (ducks Andrea’s arrow… hehehe)
Errol Flynn’s trick with ducks @ #11
Posted by Stop Continental Drift! on 2006 03 17 at 08:31 AM • permalinkGrrrr, the one thing that gets my goat is the pompous assumptions of the likes of Leunig that the evils of the Soviet Union were simply inventions of the west.
Loonig, you stupid goose – they were real, and there are plenty of survivors today to testify. They were horrors far beyond anything we in the West can possibly imagine and our governments of the day were 100% right to be concerned and protective of the people.
Posted by Flying Giraffe on 2006 03 17 at 08:33 AM • permalinkUmm… the guy really is a full-on fruit-loop, isn’t he?
Posted by Stone Cold on 2006 03 17 at 09:23 AM • permalinkRussian tanks were in the streets of Budapest…
The Communists were the terrorists of yesteryear…
some spontaneous moment of liberation from all that fear-mongering and grim propaganda.
So the “so-called war on terror” is mere propaganda, just as the T-34’s in Budapest were. Because Budapest doesn’t really exist, it’s so far away, and so not really real. A bit like Iraq. Just a cypher, a symbol, a word in a political battle, it doesn’t actually mean anything. What’s important is the here-and-now, ousting Bush/Blair/Howard, and nothing else really exists, it’s all propaganda, because if it did exist, their world would be shown to be a fantasy, a delusion, and Osama Bin Laden would really be a a dangerous and Evil threat, rather than a silly bogeyman conjured up to frighten us.
Leunig, in companionship with most on the left, has had to face a choice: change their beliefs, or retreat into a comfortable fantasy world where the only threat is the Bush/Blair/Howard Zionazi Fascists.
So they chose.
Vladimir Kutz, in my child’s heart, had become the duck; the little direction-finding duck that had appeared most innocently and unexpectedly to show the way forward.
Which I suppose explains Mark Latham’s rise to head the ALP, and get voted for by those like Leunig. Because he had as much vision for Australia’s future path as a direction-finding duck.
Part of the Job description of the <strike>Leunig</strike> Looney Left is that you have to be Quackers.
#57 Yes, know the Errol Flynn story and believe it’s not an urban legand. But pork !! The ducks must have been non-Islamic or if they were they must have been force fed. But if they were Islamo-ducks they would surely have ritually beheaded themselves or at least blown themselves up taking as many infidel ducks with them as they could.
We need to be told.
Posted by Whale Spinor on 2006 03 17 at 09:44 AM • permalink30 YOWZA! avio-necro-homo-porno photos; my Friday is complete; might as well go home now.
Posted by Stoop Davy Dave on 2006 03 17 at 10:02 AM • permalinkI tried to sleep, but all the ducks of the past came crowding in. When fitful sleep came, ducks peopled, or I suppose I should say fowled my dreams. Ducks I hadn’t thought of for years. All the ducks I’ve slighted, the ducks to whom I have been unkind. The ducks I’ve roasted and eaten. Good with wild rice, just like Crawford said. Can we still call it Peking duck or is it be Beijing duck now? Duck l’orange. The Chinatown duck torture chambers, where brutalized duck carcasses dangle. Then came the terrible ducks of vengeance. Soviet ducks on steroids, like T-34s waddling about, quacking their horrible death quacks of fire, hordes of Soviet ducks committing duck rape and duck pillage. Then I saw four ducks on duckback, and they were War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. Well, Duck War, Duck Famine, Duck Pestilence and Duck Death, but it was still pretty bad. Damn you, Leunig.
Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 10:42 AM • permalinkDucks used to (and probably still do) fly over my university campus on their way to the pond behind the convention center. Occasionally they came in too low, and you risked being skewered if you didn’t jump out of the way. Nothing stands between a duck and its water.
Of course, the ducks were nothing. Hordes of Canadian geese regularly descended on the grassy areas and muscled out the ducks, humans, dogs, jeeps. They are the Hulk Hogan of the waterfowl world.
I read Leunig’s linked article three times before giving up any hope of ever understanding the guy. I mean, a duck appears nowhere in that rambling tale. Do ducks cheer athletes? Why is cheering a jogger inherently duck-like? What kind of duck hovers like a sports stadium?
Leunig == Chancey Gardner;
If Leuning wasn’t such a pompous, insular little lefty, you know he would have done a HoWARd the Duck cartoon by now.
Starring Lara Bingle as Bev!
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 03 17 at 11:12 AM • permalinkEven John Philip Sousa Got into the act:
Be kind to your web-footed friends
For a duck may be somebody’s mother,
Be kind to your friends in the swamp
Where the weather is always damp.Be kind to your web-footed friends
For a duck may be somebody’s brother.
Be kind to the denizen of the swamp;
He’s a dilly through and through.In this context, Leunig’s grief is understandable. His duck may have been somebody’s mother. Or brother. Whatever.
Off topic, but in re: Wronwright’s insinuations of a lack of martial prowess in the Paco clan in an earlier thread: I’ll have you know, buster, that when Washington crossed the Delaware, it was a Paco who stayed behind to hold the horses. It was a Paco who, but for a broken fingernail, would have gladly taken part in Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg. It was a Paco who volunteered to remain at the fort and polish General Custer’s spare boots when the latter embarked on his last ride. When Teddy Roosevelt announced the charge up San Juan Hill, it was a Paco who volunteered to “be right back” with a box of victory cigars. And it was a Paco who, during the raid on Pearl Harbor, immediately sent off a post card to Washington to warn of the attack. So there!
Muslim ducks? The ducks of Islam?
Hello? Can you spell o-b-s-e-s-s-e-d?
Start another MoToons thread, Tim, they’re getting hungry!
Posted by LeftieLatteLover on 2006 03 17 at 11:51 AM • permalink#74, it’s very late, but the news sites are pinging with bird flu outbreaks in Israel, three people hospitalised, farms shut down, PA and Israel to fight BF together, says JPost…
Posted by LeftieLatteLover on 2006 03 17 at 12:10 PM • permalink#74, it’s very late, but the news sites are pinging with bird flu outbreaks in Israel, three people hospitalised, farms shut down, PA and Israel to fight BF together, says JPost..
Posted by LeftieLatteLover on 2006 03 17 at 12:12 PM • permalinkDuck al’Orange is one of my favorite dishes.
It was 50 long years ago, in that same sports stadium, that I experienced one of my early duck epiphanies… The spirit of the duck, as I now understand it, suddenly and mysteriously emerged and a great moment for sport and humanity unfolded before my innocent eyes.
American actress Barbara Hershey (Hoosiers, Hannah and Her Sisters) had a similar epiphany in her own dissipaited youth (it was the times, man, the times). She was on location when a seagull employed on the film died at her feet. She said she could feel the gull’s spirit enter her body and become one with her and she consequently changed her name to Barbara Seagull. She went on to marry the equally looney David Carradine and have a son named Free whom she once breast fed on national late night television. Eventually, she grew up and regained her sanity, dumped Carradine, changed her name back to Hershey and went on to become a pretty good little actress. What a pity Michael couldn’t follow suit.
Posted by Kyda Sylvester on 2006 03 17 at 12:36 PM • permalinkI think Leunig picked ducks because they’re safer than cows.
Congratulations to Barbara Seagull for another stellar example of Hollywood airheadism. Look, who among us hasn’t been traumatized by some random, horrifying brush with waterfowl mortality? Dead seagull dropping out of the sky at your feet? Been there, done that. 1978, the seawall at Ocean Beach, San Francisco, drinking Mickey’s Big Mouth, an odd and not particularly good beer in stubby green barrel-shaped bottles. Seagull collision overhead, one dead seagull directly at our feet. Omen? Something somehow significant? I don’t think so. Just another dead trash duck. The only thing I took from that was, you know, flying and spotting garbage is about all these birds need to know about. And flying, it turns out, they aren’t so good at. You think I’m going to name myself after one of them? Ill-mannered squawky offal gobblers.
Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 17 at 02:32 PM • permalinkMickey’s Big Mouth, an odd and not particularly good beer in stubby green barrel-shaped bottles
If you’re looking for a way to quit liking beer, switch to MBMs. Well technically it’s a malt liquor. Belay that, technically it’s crrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrap!
That said: I love the packaging, especially that wide wide mouth. These things are designed to be gulped down QUICKLY (like, before you really start to taste it) and iirc, the packagingwarnsadvises you to drink them VERY COLD. Good advice.
And appropriately for the season, they come in green bottles! So I think it would be great if a lot of people Other Than Myself should glug down a whole lot of MBMs.Posted by Stoop Davy Dave on 2006 03 17 at 03:36 PM • permalinkThe cannibalism practiced by ducks is not restricted to ducks you know. All poultry are the same. One of the little known facts about the push for ‘free range’ eggs is that the mortality rate of hens in commercial free range setups is MUCH higher than that of cage systems. And it is not from predation by hawks etc.
Where do you think the phrase ‘pecking order’ comes from?
Chooks are revolting creatures too.#82
Rabbit season!Actually all of this duck talk has inspired Nicky and I.
You are are welcome for cocktails.
Fluffy Ducks, of course.
—Nora
Posted by The Thin Man Returns on 2006 03 17 at 08:15 PM • permalinkPaco—I remember your family’s battle cry from the Alamo—“You missed one! Over there! That one too!”
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 03 17 at 09:11 PM • permalinkAndrew Bolt skewers it in the Herald Sun:
The trouble started with the organisers’ decision to stage their show around a poem by Michael Leunig, the duck-worshipping cartoonist from The Age, whose parent company, coincidentally, is chaired by the same Ron Walker. Coincidentally, I say.
This was asking for tears, given that Leunig’s attitude to humans is best summed up, I think, by his gift to the National Museum of Australia – a giant animation of a man pissing on his own face…
Do you think Christianity would ever get this reverential treatment at a Games ceremony? Do you know that most Aborigines are in fact Christians? Don’t you think it’s time the symbolic Aborigine beloved of artists was not depicted as some earth mother or act of nature, but as a clerk, engineer, Country Women’s Association member or hard-Yakka plumber?
But this ceremony was to be a prayer of the New Pagan. With a mystic duck as a guide and reason the enemy.
And so boy and duck then met ballerinas, who were circled by men on motorbikes before being hoisted into the air, to hose the floor with their flares.
Why? Don’t bother to ask.
Posted by walterplinge on 2006 03 17 at 10:55 PM • permalinkDuck l’orange also is the official duck of the Ukrainian anti-soviet liberation movement. Think about it. T-34s, Hungary, Putin, Ukraine, that guy who got poisoned by KGB soup. Borscht, presumeably, maybe a potato bisque. I highly doubt duck soup. But its all come full circle.
I’m really trying to get out of this duck thing, but its impossible. I hate to say it, but luenig might be on to something.Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 18 at 12:27 AM • permalinkI don’t mean that Leunig’s Russkie drug sump was really an inspirational propaganda-smashing duck. Not the way he imagined it. But maybe the fundamental underlying duckness is key here. There are just too many coincidences.
Posted by crittenden on 2006 03 18 at 12:36 AM • permalink...by his gift to the National Museum of Australia – a giant animation of a man pissing on his own face…
No. Really?
Posted by Kyda Sylvester on 2006 03 18 at 12:44 AM • permalinkI think the fact that the duck et al has created so much reaction says a lot. If the ceremony was just a Delta, Winston & Queeny show with a few fireworks I don’t think we would still be talking about it a week later. And as far as Leunig goes - get over yourselves. He has certainly brought a lot more pleasure into people’s lives (and I am certainly defending all of his views, many of which I do not agree with) than the contributions made to this forum.
(I now wait for the deluge of abusive, oops, I mean witty, cutting responses in fear.
#94 “pleasure into people’s lives”
What work of his I’ve seen over the years I’ve found rather depressing. The only time I took pleasure in it was when I was already feeling self-indulgently low and it fed into the downward spiral, such as his ‘The Life You Lead’ and ‘The Life You Could Have Led’ cartoon c. 1990.
Glad to say I got out of that little slough of despond.
—Nick
Posted by The Thin Man Returns on 2006 03 18 at 01:40 AM • permalink“There I was, 10 years old…Russian tanks were in the streets of Budapest…It was a miracle… it was clear that there had been some amazing release of hope and innocence from the crowd; some spontaneous moment of liberation from all that fear-mongering and grim propaganda.”
But you know what, Michael Leunig? Even though you felt really great and everything, those Russian tanks were still in the streets of Budapest. It wasn’t “propaganda”, it was real.
And this is exactly what’s wrong with Leuning. While we’re all totally and deliriously happy that he had an “epiphany”, other people still had to deal with the real world. With real Russian tanks, for example. People died.
There’s a word for Leunig’s affliction. It’s called “solipsism”. It means that the only thing important to a solipsist is how he or she happens to feel at any given moment. Nobody else matters. Reality doesn’t matter. It’s all about making one’s self feel good. And in Australia we have a word for that.
So while we’re really happy that everything is just ducky for Michael Leunig, the rest of the world may be forgiven for asking what manner of fantasy indulgence it is that gives whole pages of a daily newspaper to this sort of wanker.
Posted by Cadillac Slim on 2006 03 18 at 06:51 AM • permalinkYou know Jacki’s argument reminds me alot of when as a young fellow i’d slag of some middle of the road band or artist such as Foreigner, Chicago, Air Supply, Boston, MIchael Bolton etc.
Almost without fail someone would remark how much momey the said artist had made, thereby revealing that deep down they really liked the artist (but were too scared to admit it) and that by pointing out that they made a good living from it somehow negated the fact that they were bland, boring, insipid, unimaginative, turgid, banal, mediocre, tedious, lackluster, humdrum, uninspiring..
well you get the picture.
#94 Jacki
(I now wait for the deluge of abusive, oops, I mean witty, cutting responses in fear.
...and I am certainly defending all of his views…
Nooooooooo, Jacki. Nothing to fear here. We want to hear more defence from you!
We want you to explain the duck to us.
We want you to explain how Leunig’s cartoon mocking the Holocaust has brought pleasure into people’s lives (I guess you are talking about the Iranians?).
We want you to explain about his visitations from God in his paddock.
More! The floor is yours.
Posted by Stop Continental Drift! on 2006 03 18 at 08:24 AM • permalinkNot me, paco, not yet.
I am fucking pissed off. I can’t stand that bastard fuckwit Leunig, never could.
My fucking taxes paid for that fucking crap. I want my fucking money back.
My whole family just sat there, looking at each other, asking what the fuck IS this?
And Jacki, you can fuck right off back to whatever duck’s asshole you dripped out of.
Fucking Leunig. I’d rather be pissed on by a syphlitic hermaphrodite with breast cancer than hear or see anything from that fuckwit EVER again.
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 03 19 at 03:42 AM • permalinkOh dear. I see from the above that you have met my little brother. My bad—went to quickly roast some cumin seeds for dinner and he pounced.
He shall be getting a few extra chiles in his curry tonight.
Posted by MentalFloss on 2006 03 19 at 04:42 AM • permalink(94 & 96) I predict a bright future for Jacki and Cadillac Slim, and expect them to be dating by the end of this week. But first, a few gratuitous licks:
94
I think the fact that the duck et al has created so much reaction says a lot.
Do you? Here’s what it says: “Irritating stupidity is likely to be remarked upon.” That’s deep, baby.
And as far as Leunig goes - get over yourselves. He has certainly brought a lot more pleasure into people’s lives
Even in the very-narrowly-defined “cartoon whimsy” category of literature, he’s a pop-fart, and not even a juicy one.
But maybe I’m spoiled. I just spent the weekend reading Walt Kelly’s early Pogo strips, 1951 ~ 1953, and every panel of it has more warmth, humor, whimsy, and DAMN-WELL better drawing, than any or all of Leunig’s worthless ouevre.102 Amos? Izzatchoo, bwah? Whaddayoo tryna say?
Posted by Stoop Davy Dave on 2006 03 20 at 01:35 PM • permalinkYes 1956 Olympics when the Melbourne crowd nearly rioted in the most famous water polo match in history.
Funnily enough they weren’t supporting the duck loving Soviets, but those nasty Hungarian terrorist sympathisers who had the audacity to upset world stability.
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And there I was thinking that Plucka was the root cause.