September 10, 2006

• As we all know by now the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, passed away after he was stabbed in the heart by a sting ray barb. Even though he was able to remove the barb from his body, the poison had already spread through his heart and he died.

  Not what I was expecting on Labor Day. For some reason, I thought the man was invincible since he made a living hanging out with dangerous animals. Subconsciously I think all people who run around doing things that could potentially kill them are immortal–so “death” and “Crocodile Hunter” didn’t end up in the same sentence in my head.

  I have to admit I didn’t like his show. I thought it was boring and he was kind of annoying–always picking up snakes and poking at crocodiles. It’s just not my kind of entertainment. But reading about his passing was quite sad…you can’t help but feel a little bit gloomy whenever someone you’ve seen on television passes away before their time. Whether or not I liked his show doesn’t change the fact that pop culture is now less one figure.

  So of course I’m going to have to comment on the sting ray barb to the heart thing because that’s what made headlines. Sure, he was the Crocodile Hunter, but I highly doubt that his death would have caused nearly as much furor if he had succumbed to a disease or a gunshot wound–you know, something normal. And how odd that the sting ray managed to hit the heart over all the other body parts. Of all the places the Crocodile Hunter could have been stabbed, it was his heart…the heart! An organ that doesn’t take up nearly as much space as a leg or an arm…that’s a once in a lifetime shot right there.

  Initially, I thought how he died was terribly tragic and sad: the man was killed by a sting ray. Not cancer, old age, a murderer…he was killed by a sea animal that usually doesn’t attack humans unless it’s stepped on. And the bitter irony that follows is that the man dedicated his life to animals…so to be done in by one–seems kind of like a slap in the face, doesn’t it? Ungrateful sting ray.

  But later on, as I thought about it more, I started to believe that if the Crocodile Hunter was going to die, then this was the best way for him to go. It was tailored perfectly to his life and what he stood for–if anything was going to do him in, then it should be an animal because that was his only weakness. It would seem less fitting, almost pussy, if he died from illness or a car accident…but death by a sting ray to a heart…that’s Gangsta.

  While I find no pleasure in death, and I feel terribly sad for the small children the Crocodile Hunter left behind, I can’t help but admire him for leaving this Earth the way he did. If only we all could have perfectly-made passings to represent our lives as well.

  • 9:33 pm
  • 1 Comment