The Thrill Of Stupidity...

It's an anual event for me. With great anticipation I await the release of the year's honorees who have been selected to receive the less than coveted Darwin Awards, the top honors going posthumously to those individuals who have managed to engineer their own untimely demise, and thus vastly "improve the (human) species by accidentally removing themselves from it!" The diligent chronicler of these early departures is an able organization of the same name. http://www.darwinawards.com/ No successes of self-eradication goes unnoticed by these folks, as they glean from world-wide sources those reported instances where the human gene pool has been further "chlorinated" by individuals who while engaged in risky behaviors suffer an outcome decidedly far less than their obvious initial intent.

In 2006 a man-of-the-cloth made the "final cut" by attempting to convince his flock that he possessed sufficient faith to immolate the example of Jesus Christ's miraculous ability to walk on water. Apparently the spirit was more than willing but the fact that he could not swim a lick never entered into his calculations. The good pastor departed for a "face-to-face" with his maker and his flock was left earthbound to seek the services of a replacement minster whose demonstrations of "faith" might best be described as less flamboyant.

Being considered for inclusion in the 2007 awards is a South Carolina couple whose love-making escapade literally carried them over the edge, having fallen approximately 60 feet from a downtown Columbia rooftop to the city street below where both were discovered naked by a passing taxicab driver. Medical studies have long touted that sex is good for the heart, but doing so while in a free fall from such precarious heights was never included in any of the case studies.

It never ceases to amaze me to what precarious lengths individuals will go to be utterly and profoundly stupid. Here in the State of Florida motorcycle operators have the legal option to operate their two-wheel death traps sans helmet. For every motorcycle tooling the highways there are dozens upon dozens of senior citizens behind the wheel of their vintage Cadillacs and Buick Electras that have major difficulty just maneuvering their steeds out of their driveways without knocking over their own and their neighbor's mailboxes and trashcans. The possibility that these good citizens may see, much less avoid, an approaching motorcycle is even further reduced by the fact that their ability to merely peer over the steering wheel to get just a glimpse of the road ahead is "job one." Operating a motorcycle certainly makes good economic sense in view of the ever increasing gasoline prices., but to do so without one's head being at least semi-encased in a helmet is just plain fool hearty.

Then there's the annual collection of idiots in Pamplona, Spain where literally thousands of people come to view the spectacle of the "running of the bulls." With loud shouts of "Ahi va! Ahi va!" - translated "There it goes...there it goes!" - but perhaps should be more aptly ascribed as, "Fire up the ambulances!" - a dozen or so fear crazed bulls are let loose to charge down the narrow village streets on the heels of less than fleet-footed fools who tempt fate by trying at a full run to stay a hair's breath away from the slashing bull's horns. This year thirteen unsuccessful participants made personal acquaintances with the business end of a 1,300 pound rampaging bull, two of which were U.S. citizens, which goes to prove once again that we Americans will not be slighted when it comes to making complete imbeciles out of ourselves. Said one of the brothers, "I started yelling at my brother to show him I was bleeding everywhere, but he showed me he was bleeding everywhere!" How nice... From his hospital bed one of the brother's was proudly displaying a copy of the local newspaper with its front page photograph showing the bull that had gored simultaneously both brothers. Their mother, I'm sure, would be so proud. Said the younger brother as his parting words to the interviewer, "I think my brother and I underestimated the speed and danger of it." I don't think the operative word in that sentence was "think." Since records began being kept for the festival in 1924, thirteen participants have meet their end. Seems the number "thirteen" holds a special allure for this particular event. To my knowledge The Darwin Awards have yet to date to honor any of these dearly departed, but I bet they will be keeping a close eye on the results of all future events.

As I grow older the prospects of attempting anything remotely dangerous becomes increasingly to the fore as I contemplation even the mundane of tasks that may inadvertently place me in harm's way. I regard electrical appliances with a wary eye and believe ladders are best left minding their own business. Hopefully my final moments will be passed in restful sleep at some far distant rendezvous with the hereafter. Although being shot to death by a jealous husband at the grand old age of 93 while making passionate love to his young wife admittedly holds some allure. In the mean time I'll satisfy my passing curiosity for the macabre by reading the exploits of the truly stupid who in their misguided desires to live their lives to the fullest inadvertently do so at least to its final conclusion. "Bon voyage."