Steve Irwin

Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter," has died. As with other bloggers, I'm shocked and more saddened than I'd thought I would be at the news. I mean, it's not like I actually knew him or anything. And who hasn't seen him wrestle an alligator or pick up a venomous snake and procede to kiss it or something and not thought, "Damn, that dude is soooo going to get killed one day!"? But then he actually went and did get killed and it's all very sad. And it wasn't even a croc he was bugging or a snake he was handling, it was a stingray he just happened to swim over, startle, and get a barb plunged into his chest. It's a total freak accident involving an animal that, apparently, rarely attacks and almost never kills, especially when compared to some of the other animals he handled constantly without incident. Incredible. The universe has a really sick sense of humor.

No matter what you thought of his "Crazy Aussie" schtick (which, from what I can, tell really is how he was), no matter how you might have disapproved of his methods (some people think he was too confrontational with animals and too familiar), you can't deny that he loved animals, loved to educate people about animals, and fought to conserve them. My thoughts are with his family, who lost a loving husband and father, and the whole animal kingdom, which lost a friend and a champion. I offer a "Crikey!" in your memory.