If an over-financed, under-loved climber is injured or dead on Everest, it must be May


I couldn’t feign surprise by the news of injured guys in the very merry month of May

Written by Kyle Magin

Like that annoying Justin Timberlake meme or the resultant flora from April showers, there’s no more sure way to tell May has arrived than to find out some well-funded sociopath has harmed or killed himself (or, infrequently, herself) trying to climb vertical plantation/literal Himalayan shitpile Mt. Everest.

Every year, people who actively hate their families and their continued existence on this Earth take two-three months off from vacuuming wealth out of the developed world to have a bunch of brown people haul their shit up the world’s highest peak so they can take a selfie at the pinnacle of the most narcissistic endeavor imaginable.

The spiritual descendants of Maurice Herzog–who used charming terms like Coolie and Chink in a trumped-up account of a book climbers cherish to this day–then extol their own bravery when some perfectly-foreseeable catastrophe befalls them because they’re climbing into the Death Zone.

In 2015, more people died on the mountain than ever before, surpassing the previous year and the one that got a shitty Jake Gyllenhaal/Josh Brolin treatment because if there’s anything rich people like better than doing dumb shit because they can afford it, it’s getting famous for surviving it.

2015 was particularly fucking galling, because while the outdoor/adventure world and its participants sent up #prayers or #goodvibes for the dozens of millionaires and their paid help who died on the mountain following a series of earthquake-triggered avalanches, 8,000 people died down the hill in Nepal and tens of thousands more were displaced in a country with an average monthly income of $300.

They died with a quarter of the Patagonia set’s fanfare. As a non-dues paying, orbiting member of that world, I’m sick of it. You should die a death as lonely as the one you choose to live if you make an attempt at Everest. Furthermore, your last moments of life should be filled with the shame of hiring poor people to chase you up on your retarded quest if they happen to get hurt or killed, as well.

I’m sure some OK people have taken a shot at the world’s highest peak, but I’m going to save my shock and empathy for full human beings and not the bots who can train for five months before essentially taking off work for an oxygen-aided hiking trip to the third world so everyone can see their dope North Face setup on top of the world in May.