Crikey, that 'urts!

Australia is in mourning over the death of Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin. He died yesterday at the age of 44 from a freak accident with a stingray. [Read the story, then come back.]

I'm a bit torn between feeling sorry for the guy and his family, and thinking "Damn. Didn't see that one coming!"

I mean, the guy was doing such amazing things. A conservationist through-and-through. Few people nowadays feel as passionate about something as Steve did. And fewer still actually take action and make a difference. And though most, if not all of us thought he'd surely see his demise in the mouth of a crocodile, it's not surprising that he died doing his job. I suppose it's more glorious than dying on the shitter or something.

So Discovery Channel is running a marathon of his stuff. I want that job ... the guy who digs through all the tapes and puts together an impromptu posthumous tribute to a celebrity. That's a feelgood job right there. It much be especially fun for a guy like Steve Irwin who has a metric shitload of shows, interviews, movie footage, outtakes, etc. I wonder if a job like that requires you to wear a pager. 'Cause you never know.

So yeah, I'm making light of a sad story. But it is sad. Hell, when I was at UCF, they used to have get-togethers at the Fiji house to drink and watch this guy's new episodes. Great entertainment value. And anyone watching him for the first time might think, "Is this guy for real? What the hell is he on?" But yes, he was for real in his demonstrative presence and insane antics. He was over the top.

And that passion was reflected in everything he did.

It's a sad day at Australia Zoo.