To be rich would be a wonderful thing. Now, I don't mean to have a nice car and a nice home, but really rich. Rich like a Kennedy or a Bush. Rich like the GDP of a small to medium country. Because when you are rich, when you are famous and absolutely...
I am sinking into my chair, my head is floppy and my eyes are at half-mast. I have succumbed to chronic Durban-ness. I can barely tap the keyboard. I would pay someone to tap it for me, but that would mean going indoors to make a phone call or someth...
Views: 1021 | 12 Comments » | posted on Tuesday, June 29th, 2010 | Tags: Durban
There is a distinct meme out there on the internet, and to some extent on the streets, that the world is hating on us. That everyone is out to spoil our party, to take away our vuvuzelas and poo-poo on our parade. Every day all I read on Twitter, Fac...
I like rugby, no scratch that, I love rugby. I know football is meant to be our thing at the moment, but I really do love rugby. And I love Tendai Mtawarira. If I could adopt him as my brother, I would. I'm not too sure if adoption works that way, ma...
It is time again to leave this town. To go. I will miss Amsterdam and her whims. I will miss the shops that never open. The waiters who stand behind the bar, chatting, never knowing that you are there. Or at least, doing a very good job to pretend. I...
I went to university in Durban in the mid 90s. I had a bunch of Muslim kids in my class. There were no beefs, no thoughts of "the other". Just some other kids. There was Aisha from Zimbabwe -- the chick who bounced between being a Muslim and a commun...
There are a bunch of folks out there who like to get up in our shit. Nitpicking word puritans who like to get all righteous about how we use the English language. You'll find them in every office, on every forum, blog, twitter feed, and comment secti...
The obvious answer to this question is no day is a good day to die. Because until it is proven that the afterlife exists, with its bevy of virgins and bad-ass harp music, dead is dead. And anyway why are virgins good? Not like they put out. Reminds m...
When Juju and his supporters sing about killing farmers, I am sure the image they have in their minds is a man like Eugene Terre'Blanche. The so-called "boer" -- stuck in his verkrampte politics. A man who defines himself by racial rhetoric and old i...
I went for a run tonight. And I had a business idea. Terror camp. It is like one of those fitness boot camps. But run by jihadists. Now before you click on the home button or do something silly like go read an article about Juju or ET, let me lay thi...
David Smith is a world famous artist and a British Olympic hammer thrower. He is a curler for Scotland and Manitoba. A pro wrestler fondly known as the British Bulldog. A Canadian economist and a Mormon missionary they call the Sweet Singer of Israel. He is a British historian and a bishop. David Smith is the biographer of HG Wells, a professor of physics, a composer and a music teacher at Yale. He played rugby for Samoa and England. He created the Melissa worm, a deadly computer virus. He starred in a reality TV show and shot his way to silver in the 600m military rifle prone position at the 1920 Summer Olympics in Antwerp. In fact he is even a radio guru who is already blogging on thoughtleader.co.za
But this isn't that blog. This isn't the blog of any of these men. This is the blog of the other David Smith. David J Smith. The unemployed bum who lives there by Durban by the Sea. The one who specialises in crack-pipe theories, obscure facts, flawed logic and tall stories. The one who dreams of owning a Datsun 1400 bakkie. Know who I'm talking about now? Yes, that one, the one who likes to write about himself in the third person.
