Crocodile Tears
Crikey! Weren’t we all just soooo surprised that Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin died last week?
Give me a break. This was a guy that lived to the age of 44. For an Australian who lives far on the cusp of the Outback, way out of reach of the Southern Platte County Ambulance District, I understand that’s a pretty good life expectancy.
I mean really…how long did we expect this guy to live? He dangled his body, chicken legs – heck, even his kid – in front of crocodiles for the better part of his life. How did you see this story ending?
When I grew up, we watched “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom,” which came on after “The Wonderful World of Disney.” Both shows were among the many highlights of my week as a happy, well-fed, American kid. Wild Kingdom was a great show. They used to drive into the middle of the Serengeti – and we would watch, marveling that they had the seeds enough to ride into the middle of the African plain in a roofless Jeep – and show us a pride of lions, basking in the shade. I thought it was incredible. I mean, who can imagine a time when there were still direct flights to Tanzania?
Anyway, a few lions under a tree wouldn’t be enough for today’s television audience. Today’s viewers would be clamoring for Marlon Perkins to jump out of his Jeep, skateboard up to the pride and slap one of the lions on the ass before spouting some meaningless catch phrase while slamming a Red Bull and vodka.
That’s entertainment?
The fact of the matter is, if you play with fire long enough, you get burned. Just like if you write late enough, you will resort to using cliche’s. Mr. Irwin’s death was certainly sad, and he will be missed, but please spare me the dramatics. You only watched because you knew it was only a matter of time.