New vistas, new perils
IT'S been a few months now since I abandoned my trusty cellphone with the Arabic lettering on the buttons and access to the Nkandla party line, for what is called a "smartphone".
It's a learning process. This smartphone is smart in ways you really don't want it to be smart. In other areas, it just doesn't do the simplest things.
As I've already related to readers, you find yourself in situations such as having dinner with a razzling redhead when you thought it was a blonde you'd asked along. Such a contretemps simply does not occur with the Nkandla party line.
However, the smartphone does admittedly open new vistas, such as the sultry damsel whose picture suddenly appears on the screen, a gal with a cleavage to induce vertigo.
But all is not quite as it seems. The image is accompanied by an alarming message: "This is one of the other-world aliens who are kidnapping men.
"These female aliens are invading the earth, kidnapping sexy, good looking, highly intelligent older men for various experiments.
"You personally are not in any danger. I just e-mailed you to say goodbye."
What am I to make of this? New vistas indeed. There was nothing like it on the Nkandla party line.
THESE Nasa Johnnies don't give up. They've launched yet another rocket to Mars. In six months' time it will land yet another exploration vehicle.
This will transmit back to HQ images of waterless, flinty expanses, red sand and not a blade of vegetation – quite obviously the Griquas rugby field at Kimberley.
How long will this massive international hoax be tolerated?
End of the bar
UKIP (United Kingdom Independence Party) is a political manifestation of the fellows at the end of the bar.
These are highly opinionated on everything, highly vocal and, as the evening wears on, tend to suggest remedies to the country's and the world's ills such as "Send in the marines!" or "Bomb the bastards!"
Then they go home, sleep it off, go to work next day and don't think again about the country's and the world's ills – not until they're back at the end of the bar.
It was a worrisome departure when they suddenly manifested as a political party a couple of years ago and played quite a role in Britain's Brexit referendum.
But they were wiped out as a political force in last week's local government elections in England. Their burly, overweight candidates looked a crestfallen lot as the results came in.
Whither Ukip? Back to the end of the bar of course.
A YOUNGSTER goes off to varsity. He's running short of funds. He phones home.
"Dad, you won't believe what modern education is developing. They actually have a programme here that will teach our dog Jack to talk."
"That's amazing. How do I get Jack on that programme?"
"Just send him down here with R10 000. I'll get him on the course."
So his father sends the dog and R10 000. About two-thirds through the semester the money runs out again. The youngster phones home.
"So how's Jack doing, son?"
"Awesome, Dad, he's talking up a storm. But you just won't believe this – they've had such good results they've started to teach the dogs to read."
"Read? No kidding! How do we get Jack on that programme?"
"Just send R20 000, I'll get him in the class."
The money arrives promptly. But our lad has a problem. At the end of the year his father will discover that the dog can neither talk nor read.
So he shoots the dog.
When he arrives home at year's end, his father's excited. "Where's Jack? I just can't wait to see him read something and talk."
"Dad, I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before I left to drive home, Jack was in the living room, kicked back in the recliner, reading the finance pages like he normally does. Then he turned to me and asked: "So, is your father still having an affair with that pretty lady, Rachel, who lives down the street?"
The father goes pale and exclaims: "The son-of-a-bitch, he'll talk to your mother. You shoulda shot him!
"I did that Dad."
"That's my boy!"
The kid went on to law school and is now a politician.
Life is a zoo in a jungle. - Peter De Vries