From Queensland:
Peace out, Steve Irwin. No more snakes on an Aussie. Where's Sam Jackson with the antidote when you need him?
Alright, so a sting ray got him. But who out there didn't think that just maybe a friggin' snake would pop him for being messed with in the Outback? I mean, pick me up by the tail or disturb my siesta and I'd be aiming for the cojones.
I'm guessing very few expected Steve to fatally slip up. A bite here and there, sure. Close calls, sure. Perhaps even a missing digit or two. Not death, though. People watched the show because they expected thrills, and accordingly had faith in his immunity by which he could get up close and personal for them.
Even the demi-god Heracles was brought down by poisoned blood.
Steve played with fire. But let's face it: he was a dedicated conservationist who was passionate about his work. Could we ever expect to say the same about the millions who laughed at the Aussie exclamations or the Boy Scout demeanor? Hardly.
Time to go wrestle that big crocodile in the sky, Irwin. I'm rockin' short khakis tomorrow for ya.
R.I.P.
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on Tuesday, September 05, 2006 at 3:08 AM.
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