Viva, Darwin Awards, viva!

Aside from the internet’s usefulness in being able to complete every quiz crossword ever, being home to the blogosphere and providing P2P connectivity and downloadable music and movies, the Darwin Awards are the greatest social contribution it has made.

Without the Darwin Awards, which far outshine trinkets such as the Oscars, Olympics and Nobels, how would we ever measure and commemorate the selfless achievements of those noble individuals who enriched mankind’s genome year after year?

The Darwin Awards commemorate those valiant people who have improved the gene pool of our species, Homo sapiens sapiens by accidentally removing themselves from it. By definition, the Darwin Awards can only be made posthumously. In other words, they’re to die for.

With competition hotting up since they were launched in the early 1990s, there are now several honourable mentions too — people who tried hard, but failed to, shall we say, cross over. They include the legendary “Lawnchair” Larry Alberts of California who survived his historic flight in a weather-balloon-powered garden chair, equipped with a pellet gun, some sarmies and a six-pack of Bud.

This year’s winner is Michael, a 58-year-old Texan with no surname given. Michael smaaked his dop — a lot! — and preferred life pissed to the eyeballs. But he developed an agonising throat infection that made it impossible to swallow. Undaunted, Michael set up a self-administered enema and pumped three litres of sherry up the chocolate channel. The “enema within” did its job. His citation reads further: “Michael did a pretty good job of embalming himself. According to toxicology reports, his blood alcohol level was 0,47%.”

First runners-up, and double Darwin winners, were a young South Carolina couple, both aged 21, who were found naked and dead in the road in the early hours of June 20 last year. Initially baffled, cops later found two sets of neatly folded clothes on top of a nearby building. Problem was the building’s roof was pyramid-shaped and the pompers, one named Tumbleston, appear to have given new meaning to the old question: “Did the earth move for you, darling?”

Their citation states: “This is a true Darwin Award trifecta: TWO people die, WHILE in the act of procreation, due to an ASTONISHINGLY poor decision. Bottom line: if you put yourself in a precarious ‘position’ at the edge of a pointy roof, you may well find yourself coming and going at the same time.”

Runners-up this year include a German gent who electrocuted himself when he tried to get rid of a meddlesome mole by pounding metal rods, called droppers in South Africa, into the ground and connecting them to a high-voltage power line. Lacking the deft skills of our fabled izinyoka, the ex-Germanation event pumped so much electric oomph into the ground that the cops had to trip the main circuit to reach Herr Highwire. The Darwin Awards do not say whether any moles were hurt or killed in the incident.

Also honoured is a West Virginia man who was crushed while dismantling a run-down barn. He fired up his chainsaw and ripped through the main support post, bringing the whole structure down on himself. The demolition itself was a huge success, though the same can’t be said of the West Virginia chainsaw mess-maker.

An Illinois man won a game of chicken to see who could stay on a railway line the longest in the path of an oncoming train. And a 29-year-old computer tutor was killed in California while driving and working on his laptop at the same time. He was killed by an oncoming Hummer, assisted by some other vehicles.

Judging by the ever-increasing number of Darwin wannabes, there is no shortage of nobility among humanity. From people who fall to their deaths showing others how strong the window glass is (although I don’t know if self-destructing lawyers count) to people who keep a loaded Smith & Wesson next to the phone and answer the wrong one in the dead of night, there never seems any shortage of willing gene-pool cleaners.

Having worked at Sowetan (until recently), I’m surprised there are so few South African entrants. After all, there are oh-so-many who could qualify, if only they were competent or decent enough to go the distance.

Sure, the Darwins judges have strict criteria aside from ensuring death, but that should not deter the nation that is “alive with possibility”.

In addition, there are hundreds — including most of our existing ruling elite, the Cabinet, the ANCYL, ANCWL, NEC, NWC, SACP, PAC, Cosatu and any number of their cronies — who owe the human gene pool big time.

C’mon, comrades, mshini wami. Viva Darwin Awards, viva!