No one gets too old to learn a new way of being stupid.
In a world where age is often equated with wisdom, a growing body of anecdotal evidence—and a recent surge in viral social media mishaps—suggests that the human capacity for delightful (and sometimes dangerous) foolishness knows no expiration date
In a world where age is often equated with wisdom, a growing body of anecdotal evidence—and a recent surge in viral social media mishaps—suggests that the human capacity for delightful (and sometimes dangerous) foolishness knows no expiration date. Researchers, sociologists, and exasperated family members alike are beginning to embrace the adage: "No one gets too old to learn a new way of being stupid." From septuagenarians attempting TikTok dance challenges to middle-aged professionals rediscovering their knack for ill-advised pranks, the phenomenon of "late-blooming absurdity" is challenging stereotypes about maturity and sparking conversations about the universality of humor, risk, and resilience.
Dr. Eleanor Pritchard, a behavioral psychologist at the University of Cambridge, explains that the desire to engage in playful, boundary-pushing behavior is wired into human psychology. "As children, we’re encouraged to explore and make mistakes, but societal expectations often pressure adults to ‘act their age,’" she says. "However, cognitive studies show that the brain’s reward system still lights up when we take risks or embrace novelty—regardless of how many birthdays we’ve celebrated." This might explain why Harold Jenkins, a 68-year-old retired accountant from Devon, recently gained internet fame for constructing a fully functional trebuchet in his backyard to "settle a debate" with his grandson about medieval siege tactics. The local fire department was called after a test launch sent a watermelon soaring into a neighbor’s greenhouse.
Meanwhile, millennials and Gen Zers, often credited with normalizing internet-fueled absurdity, are finding themselves outdone by their elders. A 2023 survey by the Social Media Research Institute revealed that users aged 55–75 are 30% more likely to share "questionable DIY hacks" (e.g., using a flamethrower to melt driveway ice) than those under 25. "It’s not recklessness—it’s creativity," argues 71-year-old Marcy Donovan, who documented her attempt to bake a cake in a dishwasher last Christmas. Her video, captioned "When the oven breaks but you’ve got grit," garnered 2 million views and mixed reviews from appliance technicians.
The trend isn’t limited to amateur experimentation. Corporate offices and community groups report a rise in "mature mischief," from executives stealthily replacing colleagues’ desk chairs with whoopee cushions to grandmothers organizing flash mobs at grocery stores. Even politicians aren’t immune: A 65-year-old city council member in Oslo went viral last month after live-streaming his attempt to fix a pothole using instant concrete, a hair dryer, and what he called "sheer Nordic determination." The road remains intact, but his reputation as a "chaotic civic hero" endures.
Critics argue that glorifying such antics trivializes responsibility, but proponents counter that these acts of spontaneity combat stagnation. "Laughter and lightheartedness are ageless," says comedian Lila Rivera, 59, whose stand-up special "I’ve Earned the Right to Be Dumb" explores her pivot from corporate lawyer to improvisational jester. "Embracing our inner fool isn’t about denying adulthood—it’s about refusing to let life become a script we’re too scared to ad-lib."
As societal norms around aging continue to evolve, one truth remains timeless: The pursuit of joy, curiosity, and the occasional facepalm-worthy blunder is a lifelong journey. Whether it’s a grandparent mastering meme culture or a CEO sneaking a whoopee cushion into a board meeting, humanity’s shared talent for inspired idiocy might just be the glue that binds generations—and keeps life interesting, one laugh-cringe moment at a time.
