Friggatriskaidekaphobia
TODAY is the day we forget for a while about the Mayan calendar and what might – or might not – be going to happen next December. Instead we allow people to frighten us with words like friggatriskaidekaphobia and paraskevidekatriaphobia[1][2] – both of which mean fear of Friday the Thirteenth. (Frigga is the Nordic goddess after whom Friday is named). It'll happen twice more this year, by which time the Maya hysteria (December 21) ought to be in full spate. That's if rising sea levels haven't put London, the Netherlands and the Kingsmead cricket pitch permanently underwater.
Oh, what silly, superstitious nonsense it all is! We hardbitten, no-nonsense types get through the day making sure black cats don't cross our path, we don't walk under stepladders and we have no dealings with cross-eyed women. If at all possible,
we shake hands with a Chinaman. The more hardbitten and no-nonsense of us stay in bed all day, preferably with a voluptuous woman who does not mind making tea.
And the really hardbitten and no-nonsense of us will be at Point Yacht Club tonight for the Friday the Thirteenth Draw (Friggatriskaideka Draw to the older traditionalists), where the December and January jackpots are combined.
Stand by to gybe!
Hunting hysteria
AND HOW'S this for another bit of irrational hysteria? This fuss over the decision by the wildlife authorities to allow the hunting of a politician at Mkuzi is astonishing.
Don't they realise that these creatures have to be culled for their own good? That the hunting of politicians has not just added hugely to the tourism product offered by KwaZulu-Natal, it has resulted in a phenomenal building-up in the numbers of politicians? That ...
Er, hold on ... it seems I've been misreading this. It's a rhino they've given somebody permission to hunt .
But the argument holds true all the same. Hunting has played an important role in the conservation of rhino, the building up of the species. It's the great paradox of conservation.
Americans especially will pay a fortune for the right to hunt a rhino or a buffalo or a lion – or whatever. The result is that private game ranches have sprung up to replace marginal beef and agriculture operations. Habitats have been restored. Zululand today is closer, in terms of wildlife and habitat, to its Victorian heyday than it has ever been.
Local traditional communities benefit from significant employment and often a share in the hunting fee. They have an interest in conserving wildlife instead of poaching it.
It is a paradox. The motivation of trophy hunters is open to question and slightly disturbing, certainly. But what is more important – the survival of rhino as a species (and the thousands of other species that share the same range) or a purer than pure approach that is certain to fail?
Let's get this straight. We're still talking about rhino, right? (But that politicians idea isn't a bad one either).
Not the Duke
THE BODY of a young woman has been found in the grounds of Queen Elizabeth's Sandringham estate in Norfolk. Forensic tests are being done and the police are treating the case as one of murder.
However, no suspects have been identified. Nobody thinks it was the Duke wot dunnit.
Subway demo
ABOUT 700 people travelled the underground railway in Mexico City last week in their underwear – no trousers or skirts.
It was apparently part of an exercise to demonstrate that teamwork can transform society.
If the reasoning is obscure, the exercise was a little alarming judging from TV footage. Maybe what they are getting at is that is that Y-fronts are not the complete answer.
Tailpiece
A GAME warden arrives at a woman's house in central Africa to deal with a fierce gorilla that's up a tree in her garden. He has a shotgun and a fierce Doberman.
"How this works, I go up the tree and throw the gorilla out. Then the dog pounces and clamps his jaws on his genitalia. The gorilla loses all his fight."
He hands her the shotgun.
"What's this for?"
"These gorillas are tough. Sometimes I get thrown out of the tree."
"So then I shoot the gorilla?"
"No, shoot the dog!"
Last word
The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated.
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