One day, my grandfather, who was a Renaissance man, tremendously sensitive and a poetry lover, said to me this beautiful and delicate sentence that I’ll never forget: “Boy, there are only two types of people in this life: the wimps and the brainless”.

According to this thorough, though not much cross-checked theory, “the wimps” would be all those people who consider life as a long-distance race and, thus, seem to walk through this world putting the handbrake on. These people don’t like to take risks and they get along with achieving a moderate vital comfort as long as it’s long-term. For this reason, these people usually devote all their efforts and money to get long-term valuables such as family, love, work, the Atlético de Madrid (a Spanish soccer team), etc.… The followers of this philosophical school are very easy to recognize, because they dress completely from Decathlon, they drink Aquarius and never, ever, eat the edges of a pizza.

On the other side there are “the brainless”. This school of thought would include all those who live for and due to the pleasure of the present moment. This existential approach to a great extent is due to the fact that they believe that death is something that will find them sooner or later, so, taking into account that I will not last forever, I give a damn! Though they are free, vital and unruly animals, they tend to have significant times of deep regret, because they always let themselves go on impulse not thinking of the consequences. These people are very easy to recognize because they have an arm completely tattooed with Japanese goldfishes, intended to cover another tribal tattoo from when they were 20 years old, and that, in turn, was made to erase the name of the ex woman/man of his/her life.


And why am I telling you all this? Because today I want to tell you about the personality who, in my humble opinion, was the most brainless one in the 20th century, or, that is, the most frolicsome guy all around the world. No, my friends, I’m not talking about Hugh Hefner, nor Jesús Gil y Gil, but about a little gentleman with moustache, born in 1946 in the island of Zanzibar… somebody who, on 5th September 1987, celebrated his 41 birthday in Ibiza. The celebration was a complete rave, to the point that today that party is still considered as the craziest party in the history of the island… And to say that in the party island is no trifle.

Who am I talking about? Regretfully, you’ll have to wait until next week to know it, but I’ll give you a clue: his mouth was full of teeth and he has a Guinness Record as “the person with the most luxuriant and rectilinear chest hair since records are made”.



Translation: Dora Sales

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