THE RAZOR'S EDGE

They call 'em "Thrill Seekers." Adrenaline junkies who risk life & limb all for the fleeting rush of cheating the Reaper. Oh, you know the type: the newlywed couple who opt for a jet ski honeymoon in pirate infested waters; that idiot at the wildlife drive-thru park who has to get out of his car to have his picture taken WITH the grizzly bear (And later, while having his limbs reattached, wonders what possibly could've gone wrong?); my retired Uncle Phil, who spends summers hang gliding over the Gaza Strip. Nimrods who seemingly have no fear -- and very little common sense to boot.

What drives these people?? As a former New Yorker (born & bred), I've learned that fear is my friend; it's saved my ass numerous times. At the first hint of danger, I get the fuck outa Dodge. (See ya!) Call me chickenshit, but I bruise easily, and my ass is far too precious to risk shooting the rapids, or rocketing down the Matterhorn in a luge. But wait! Perhaps these fools were seeking something more than just a rapid pulse rate; or a tingling sensation in the ol' perineum (look it up). Then it hit me -- like a bolt of electricity from a car battery hooked up to my genitals with a pair of jumper cables (I like a thrill every now and again myself.) . . . the answer lie with none other than the greatest "Thrill Seeker" of 'em all: Uncle Fester.

That's right. You've seen those old "Addams Family" reruns. Fester delighted in pushing the envelope: he slept on a bed of nails honed sharp as the tip of a bayonet; had little Pugsly bore directly into his exposed molar nerve with a dentist's drill -- and rode his motorcycle down the grand staircase clad in a diving helmet. To many, Fester was just some old flake on a 1960s TV sitcom -- but I've come to realize there's more to the man than meets the eye.

Fester was an "ascetic" . . . and he was trying to tell us something. Like the Buddha, he punished his body as a means of spiritual awakening. We all need to heed Fester's example. Our lives have become too damn comfortable. We live in an age when anything from a six course Mexican dinner, to a happy ending, can be gotten at the drive-thru window. Our souls have been lulled to sleep by the ease of modern living. We all need to wake the hell up. Venture outside our comfort zone. Take a fucking chance. And so I am: I'm gonna eat at that new Vietnamese retaurant with the "B" rating; get that Mohawk haircut my stylist recommended. Why not?? Call me a "Thrill Seeker."