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| An uniquely insightful slab of meat |
I must confess to a certain unedifying, if only occasional, habit: poring over the stories of people who got themselves hurt or killed through breathtaking displays of stupidity. Such online rubber-necking is popularly catered for by the Darwin Awards website; but I tend to find more cause for morbid fascination in the antics of a class of people who might be termed 'Doolittles'.
The Doolittle, as the name suggests, is a person who thinks that he or she can make friends with dangerous wild animals. A common pattern is for the Doolittle to experience a long run of luck with this unwise show of affection, which gives rise to an inner conviction of his or her "special connection" with the predatory species of choice, before the fantasy is dispelled in a few violent moments and with a great deal of blood. Unfortunately, what might be a case of individual natural deselection often results in the death or injury of sane bystanders, for Doolittles are hardly shy about dragging other people into their lunacy.
