There are morals which seem to your average citizen prima facie obvious. You know–the stuff so basic that even Aesop never felt compelled to write a fable for them (“…and that’s how Lion realized that poking his wiener at a cactus was A Bad Idea. Moral: Don’t be an total idiot. The End.”)

And yet there are those daring, thick-skulled few who flaunt the tenets of self-preservation and boldly ((really? “boldly”?? )) hurl themselves at the swirling chaos of nature’s indifferent whim, each genome etched with the plea: “fuck me up bad, existence. I’m begging for it!”

Like this poor fellow, for instance:

There had to be alcohol involved, because I can’t think of anyone soberly electing to wind-surf during a freaking tropical storm. I hope this guy is okay; I’m sure this experience will be cataloged in the Bad Idea file.