TBS Newsbot

While you were asleep: Another US school shooting, Barnaby’s critics become limp, Trump’s kids ape Scooby-Doo

Hmm. Great. Overnight another school shooting happened in the US, the criticism of Barnaby became weak and those meddling Trump kids were at it again.



High school shooting in Florida reveals itself, same old problems.

I’m unsure how long it has been since that last school shooting, but it doesn’t matter. This morning we have the latest, as one Floridian high school suffered from that very American condition. Details at this stage are early, the current count stands at one dead, twenty wounded with the suspect in the company of police.



Sadly, the actual details and/or motives are particularly not that important, as it will absolutely follow the rhetoric of all those before. An outpouring of grief followed by a complete denial of the actual issue. To whit:





Criticism of Barnaby Joyce jumps shark, drags populace to awkward almost empathy.

Well, the Barnaby Joyce cock-up rolls on, as the rigid criticism of anything and/or everything the man hasn’t done over the past however long. This morning, the man has both corrected his mildly incorrect army reserve record (as he actually served from 1996 to 2001, not to 2003; pardon me while I clutch the door frame to steady myself from the shock), and rumours state that he asked his estranged wife to approve an “all is well” Christmas card illustrating that everything was ok, and the greeting were seasonal.

Wow. We’ve come to this, I’m now starting to feel sorry for the guy. I’m struck by the mental image of Barnaby Joyce as the distressed cockroach on the footpath, slowly being devoured by a bajillion ants with press accreditation. I mean, clearly we’ve failed to get him, both Mal and the Nationals have not cut him loose, so now we’re coming off desperate with the hyperbole.

And in the interest of fairness, allow me to add myself to the stream, as an unnamed source geographically close to the Deputy Prime Minister stated that on more than one occasion, that he failed to separate the glass from the cardboard in his recycling bin, absolutely refusing to following the established rules. What was in the bin, Barnaby? Was it spent bottles of Malbec and discarded house paint catalogues? It was, wasn’t it? Get out.

Get all the way out.


The Trumps blow shit up, haunt a hospital.

The family that killed off meaningful criticism forever have once again illustrated the true brilliance of their work, as this Scooby-doo-bian headline unfurled itself before defecating rebelliously in my breakfast.



It reminds me of a story that a 5 year old would tell you. That vague stream of consciousness where yet more fantastical details are added in to grip the reader. It’s a shooting range, but the guns explode. It’s next to a spooky hospital, but it’s haunted.



Um, ok.

As for the whole blowing up shit in your own backyard, unless movies, television and entirety of that landmass below the Mississippi has lied to me, isn’t that what America is all about?


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