We all know people like this. Think they’re bullet-proof. Some of them can get hit — badly — and still think they’re IFD: Immune From Death.
Here’s where you can go to the forum and match stories with me about your Darwin Award moments; stupid stuff that should have gotten you killed. Especially if it was fun, or SLAGIATT.
When the Mystic Fruitcake Company put on the Desert Peach musical in 1992, our actor caught that pistol every night. Never missed. The same guy couldn’t be thrown off his mark, no matter what the other actor’s did offstage to blow his concentration. Not even the night they put real schnapps in his pocket flask — and two males and the female entwined themselves in a naked Kama Sutra knot back stage. He took a mouthful of schnapps, stepped offstage, grabbed one of the guys, kissed him — dumping the schnapps in his mouth — then left him gagging and choking while he came back onstage, hit his mark and went into the next song.
Now THAT’s a trooper. What amazes me is the actors still tell these stories, laughing their heads off. Actors are cool.
Alexander was said to have been wounded by every sort of weapon that existed at that stage in human history, and it still took something like typhoid to get him. He just insisted on always leading the charge.
Maybe it’s all part of that mystique that makes people follow a commander.
That, or they’re all knuckle-running to get to the dead baboon first, to be the one who gets to dole out the half-rotted shreds of flesh. Oh, I have no illusions about my own species.