In primary school I was selected to be one of the three wise men in the school Christmas pageant. Desperately not wanting to do it I hid all notes about the Christmas pageant from my mum. I was about to get away with it until one December night when my mum decided it was curious that she hadn't heard anything about this momentous annual event. She rifled through my bag, discovered it was on that very night and within minutes I was forced into a kaftan, smacked and pulled kicking and screaming in to the Gemini.
At that stage it wasn't being wise that I really objected to - it was wearing a kaftan. Did all the blokes back in Jesus' time really get around in tie-dyed dresses? If they were such wise men wouldn't they have thought of wearing pants or something a little less gay?
Unfortunately the pressure to be a wise man never really lets up. The older you get the more people expect you to be sensible. Is it really wise to shove twisties up your nostrils and flap around on the couch pretending you are a walrus? Possibly not, but it is way more amusing than sitting still and watching ads for hand sanitiser. Being sensible doesn't make for an awesome life. It's all the stuff which is regarded as risky, ill-advised or a gigantic waste of money that generally makes life worth living.
If you do what is considered wise all the time, you will probably die boring and rich with funeral insurance. Be stupid and you might have some cool stories to tell.