I want to live in a country with an official National Darwin Award for the year’s stupidest act performed at a totally unnecessary risk to one’s survival. Awarded posthumously, in many cases, it would not only distinguish those Americans least fit to survive every year, it would also drive home the point that we aren’t responsible for saving stupid people from themselves.
Who knows, it might even prove to be a traditional, treasured source of family entertainment, like Sunday night t.v. movies. No doubt hundreds of enterprising, fame-seeking Americans would battle for this new, high-visibility honor–perhaps even competing for a lucrative prize as well–for their heirs.
It would also lend people a humorous and therefore a healthier perspective on life and death, on success and failure, and on individuality and the public good.