Town under siege
RUSSIAN bots are spreading fake news on social media. Russian hackers are threatening the computer infrastructure of the Western democracies. And now the Russians have an entire town in California under siege. People can't even get out of their houses.
Russian thistle – also known as tumbleweed – is tumbling down the streets of Victorville,100km north-east of Los Angeles, driven by strong winds.
The weed is piling up against houses, according to Huffington Post, stacking up and forming two-storey mounds People have been phoning 911 for help.
However, Russian thistle long predates the Putin era. It's an invasive species brought by Russian immigrants to South Dakota in 1873. It has since spread over some 40 million hectares.
It's now naturalised, American as apple pie, nothing to do with the Kremlin. Gene Autrey, The Singing Cowboy, was able to croon:
I'll keep rolling along
Deep in my heart is a song
Here on the range I belong
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds…
Canelands
I've just finished reading Greg Arde's The Sugar Farmer's Son, a biography of Gerard de Rauville, Durban's mover and shaker in the property world, whose origins were in the canelands of the North Coast, part of the vibrant French Mauritian community.
Bonds of family, duty and honour – underpinned by the Roman Catholic Church – played through strongly. He and his brothers suffered ghastly tragedy when their parents and sister died in the Windhoek air disaster in 1968.
They picked themselves up. Gerard embarked on a sometimes terrifying rollercoaster ride in the property sector, that came close to disaster but fortunately turned out very well in the end. This is in many ways a snapshot of yesterday's Durban.
I'm intrigued by a passage from Gerard's schooldays at St Charles, in Maritzburg. His younger brother, Michel, was playing in a rugby match when a Catholic brother smacked him on the head for some mistake.
Gerard ran down the field and tackled the brother, shouting: "What are you doing to my brother?"
Would this smacking brother by any chance have been Brother Carrot-Top? It sounds very much like him. Brother Carrot-Top – so named for his carroty red hair – was a short, chunky German who refereed matches at junior level. (I was a Merchiston boy).
Carrot-Top's enthusiasm for St Charles far outstripped his knowledge of the laws of rugby. "Grun, grun!" he would shout when St Charles had possession. He would whip their backsides with the lanyard of his whistle if they were slacking. He would join the loose scrums, shoving for St Charles.
It was most comical. The St Charles parents watching would be embarrassed and even more outraged than the parents of the opposition side.
Them wuz the days.
Highland Gathering
MY OLD muso mate, Smelly Fellows, has adopted the nom-de-guerre, "Maloliente". This is Italian for, er, "Smelly".
Smelly/Maloliente reminds us that in Amanzimtoti this Saturday the Lions Club will be holding their Highland Gathering at the Sports Ground in Hutchison Road, from 9am.
There'll be live music in the beer tent from 10-30am, from Salty Dog (Smelly's group) as well as R@W, Catlike Thieves, Zisamo, Mitch Barnes Band, Calamity Jam, Bradley Grey Band, and Groove Croo.
The massed pipe bands will display at 4.15pm.
Entrance: R50 for adults; R20 for schoolkids. Further information: John - 082-7711108; Shane – 083-3069997.
Smelly will be wearing a kilt and will give an exhibition of tossing the caber. This is not to be missed.
Expensive treat
BOBBIE Gordon, of Nottingham, England, added a single banana to her grocery order by e-mail from Asda, who deliver to your front door. The banana was a treat for her seven-year-old boy.
Then the bill arrived by e-mail. The banana was charged at £930 (R15 763), according to Sky News.
Fortunately her credit card blocked the transaction. Adsa apologised for the "computer glitch".
Says Bobbie: "I told my seven-year-old: 'You must really enjoy this banana, you must cherish every mouthful'."
Tailpiece
A FELLOW walks into a bar with a small dog. He puts it on the piano stool and the dog starts playing like crazy. Then a big dog comes in, grabs him by the scruff of the neck and drags him outside.
Barman: "That little dog's fantastic. But what's with the big dog?"
"Oh, that's his mother. She wants him to be a doctor."
Last word
Misogynist: A man who hates women as much as women hate one another. - H L Mencken
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