You mess with Harpo Marx, you get the horns.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Crikey! What a Bloomin' Shame.

I am also bummed out, gutted even, over Steve Irwin's untimely death. Many a time have I seen him pick up one or even two deadly snakes, wrestle a croc, and uncomfortably adjust his khakis in an episode of The Crocodile Hunter, with nary a scratch. The bloke lived large and lived well. Yes, he took plenty of risks, and there was that time when he was carrying his child in the croc pen (obviously, Steve wasn't cut out for babysitting)... but that was far and away the exception. Most of the time Steve was mad in the sense that a kid in a toy shop goes mad.

My favourite episode is one where he is visiting a part of Virginia (if memory serves) and observing, then picking up a Timber rattlesnake off of a large rock. Suddenly, the rattling noise doubles in intensity and Steve freezes. "Oy!" or something to that effect, says Steve. Another Timber Rattlesnake is coiled up on the ground, right between Steve's legs, as if from a Madonna video. With nerves of steel (and bollocks to boot, no doubt) Steve gingerly places the first snake down and carefully moves out of range of the second snake, using a straddling motion that Elvis would have been proud of, only in slow motion.

"Whew! Crikey, that was a close one!" exclaimed Steve.

If only the same could have been said of yesterday's events.

He was a one of a kind. Good on ya, Steverino! You will be missed, mate.

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