I remember watching "Crocidile Hunter" for the first time and thinking "this man will die on television." We all knew he would be killed by a wild animal. But the fact of the matter is that nobody, nobody dies like he did. There have only been 17 people killed by a singray, ever; and it is believed that Irwin's is the first human death-by-stingray to be caught on camera. Just think of it; this is the man who fondeled poisonous snakes, chased giant jungle cats, and offered his infant son to a crocidile as bait. After all this, he meets the statistically impossible end of catching a stingray tail square in the heart. How appropriate, perhaps, even preordained for this walking cartoon of a man. I can only hope that I can find a hobby that is equally as dangerous and amusing. It would be the only thing that can save me from a cliche death of cirrhosis.
Stay strong Terri, Steve has Jesus to protect him from himself now. Come to think of it, she wasn't there when the fatal incident happened, was she? What if? Isn't that the only hell we need?
Goodbye loco Steve
Though I never knew you at all
you had the grace to cream yourself
at the sight of those who crawled
They crawled, out of the swamp
and agents whispered into your brain
They dressed you up in Khakis,
and made you use that stupid slang
And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like dead meat in the tin
Terri wasn't there to save you
when the ray set in
and I would've liked to know you
but I'm just a dud
your candle burned out long after
we ever thought it would
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