Steve Irwin, 1962 - 2006


The Crocodile Hunter is dead. Long live the Crocodile Hunter. To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised that Steve lived as long as he did.

On Monday, September 4th, 2006, Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin was pronounced dead after suffering an attack by a Stingray that he was most likely asking for by fucking with. It was described as a 'freak accident' by his camera crew. He was 44 years old.

I'd like to tell you now that while this was definately a tragic loss for Steve's family, this was not an accident. The stingray skewered Steve on purpose, (because he was fucking with it), and as far as it being a freak occurance, that's bullshit too. This was simply the law of averages getting tired of being screwed out of a win. Normally a stingray barb won't kill you unless two things happen. First, the sting would have to be very close to the heart, (as it was), and secondly, there would have to be some kind of allergic reaction to the venom, (and there was). Pretty much you'd have to have built up one tremendous luck deficit to die from this kind of wound. And Steve Irwin is dead. I say this because I know how luck works, and it's not always on your side. That's why they call it luck.

I've maintained for years that Steve was going to die horribly one day, and sure enough I was all too right. Steve made the mistake of believing that his education in the field of zoology kept him safe from these large, predatory animals he was constantly harrassing. Steve was wrong. And what did he die for?

Television.

That's right folks. He died risking his life to make a stupid fucking television show. Guess what the title of the show was?

It was a documentary for Animal Planet called Ocean's Deadliest. Yeah. You read that right. Ocean's Deadliest, and it was, ("no shit" moment here), about things that can kill you in the sea. Ain't that a bitch?

The real tragedy here is that Steve Irwin was smart once. He went to college and became a Zoologist. He was taught to understand and respect nature. He busted his ass learning the ups and downs of how wallabies fuck.

Then he started slapping his ass at kimodo dragons and doing everything but poking a bear in the face with a short stick.

Believe me when I tell you that it's one thing to learn about nature. It's quite another to thumb your nose at it; an offense that Steve was guilty of at least three times every show. And he did it all because the fame and the job became more important to him than his drive for self-preservation.

That's mentally ill.

I personally know a great deal about rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, snapping turtles, bears, coyotes and wolves, but you won't see me doing more than finding ways to leave them the fuck alone when I run across them. They want me to leave them alone, and more importantly, I want them to leave me alone. Even less likely is it that I will go out looking for the damned things. Besides, saying that you have concern and respect for wildlife while going around wrestling crocodiles into your johnboat for the cameras and playing with things nature designed to run on people as an optional fuel source is like saying that you're a practicing Catholic and pissing in the holy water. Steve forgot what respect for wildlife was about; he allowed stardom to get in the way of science, self-preservation, and good sense. Now there's a widow and two children without a dad.

Plainly Ranting sends it's condolences to the Irwin family.

Steve Irwin - Zoologist, Environmentalist, Husband, Father
1962 - 2006