III.

I couldn’t resist. I tried. I really did. But it got the better of me. And it was worth it. Every second. Well, the first few hundred seconds were worth it. The last several hundred thousand were utter crap. But that’s the way it goes with Temptation Island I guess. Once you’ve seen one hard body in a swimsuit you’ve seen them all. After that it is just a matter of whether you care about the characters and are interested in what is going to happen to them. I must admit I felt damn sorry for that little Puffie (or whatever her name was) and wondered what drug that bastard Clint was on to cause him to sheath the PORK SWORD with that Penthouse bimbo when he clearly had himself a loving relationship with a woman who was not entirely unattractive. Hey, hold on! I have no idea where I am going with this storyline. Can you see a point? Me neither. I think I might change track completely.

I was chatting with a friend the other night about how many real live dead bodies we had seen, as you do sometimes. I don’t mean photographs of people squashed by large boulders dislodged by earthquakes in Central American countries featured at Yuk.com, or post mortem photos posted in the alt.binaries.tasteless newsgroup by some drunken mortuary attendant either. I’m talking real stiffs in front of your eyes. My friend had seen a woman really messed up by being run over numerous times on a freeway in Sydney. All I have seen is a mate laid out for burial—looking like someone else I might add—after a motorcycle accident.

None of this could be considered fun unless you have a serious problem that should be dealt with immediately by you and your therapist. But the conversation made me think on the subject of dying and generally how good it was to be alive. No, I am not going to crap on like some demented Born Again person. It’s just that there seems to be plenty of people about who take some serious risks with their lives by being involved in that most bizarre of recent inventions: the EXTREME SPORT. Okay, that’s their prerogative as freethinking adults. Look around you though. Don’t you want to hang around for a while?
You know, when I was a teenage motorcyclist I used to do some pretty stupid things, e.g. I would ride through a row of intersections at 100 kph. Generally, when you are young you have a tendency to think you are immortal. I was no different. Then I got a few shocks. In the space of a year three of the people I hung with were killed. Bit of a downer really. Still, we did have a few good parties. And one of the funerals in particular was excellent.

Okay, the Fates can throw you a curve ball (don’t you love how these Americanisms are creeping into our language), but that doesn’t mean you should invite death into the lounge room and offer it a few brewskies and maybe a slice of pizza. So, FUCK all those extreme sports I say! They are way too risky for me and my new found zest for remaining alive. Never will I go fast down a hill on a wheeled device or strips of fibreglass. I will avoid anything involving a distance between me and the ground… And I will never watch Temptation Island again. (Of course, that last sentence doesn’t really fit in, but I felt bad about that failed first paragraph and thought I should try to link it to this end bit.)

Hey, here I am at the issue at hand. And what is that you say, no doubt at least as confused as me. Well, it’s this: Anything is better than dying. Mind you, we cannot avoid dying sooner or later. Everybody says so. But, in an effort to put it off for a while, the riskiest thing I want to do is jump off the wardrobe onto my new Queen-sized bed yelling Geronimo, or maybe doing something involving WHIPPED CREAM…

Some may say that you need a few risks to fully savour life and all it has to offer. I say to those dickweeds that they can fully savour the inside of a wooden box, while I have my feet up on the verandah, one hand wrapped around a beer and the other hand down someone’s pants.

I have had 2 requests from women (my mum and sister) to include another photo of me, so here I am as high off the ground as I ever want to get when not being propelled by a big metal tube with wings. Note, I have increased the risk by standing on one leg. I did consume a few litres of alcohol to condition myself for this stunt.