Only 2 or 3 times in my life have I actually embarked on a hotter-than-hell epicurean experience and regretted it. Usually I just revel in the endorphin high that comes from eating hot stuff in much the same way a runner gets his or her endorphins going after a good run. Of course eating very spicy foods is not for the feint of heart, and one should always be prepared by putting a roll of toilet paper in the fridge over night.
And then there's this guy:
In a feat worthy of a posthumous Darwin award, he gives his girlfriend's brother a spoonful (which would probably be enough to get most people to down a gallon of milk directly from a cow's utter if necessary). But no, this guy eats a plateful - a frickin' plateful - of his own homemade concoction that, just after tasting, caused him to say "Wow, that's hot."
Shortly after consuming the liquid fire, he starts to itch all over and then he dies in his sleep.
To be fair, it might not have been the hot sauce that caused his death, but it certainly couldn't have helped. To paraphrase the Mythbusters: I'm a professional. Do not try this at home. EVER!
Read the news story about his suicide by hot sauce here.
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