the crocodile hunter died yesterday.
i read it on cnn. com as i was getting ready to head out for my run. i had to reread it- twice. to sound cliché, i literally couldn't believe my eyes.
sure- hes hurt.
critically injured even.
i mean, honestly, it was bound to happen. he lost a hand. hes being rushed to the hospital for an anti-venom shot. i always thought that news would be funny, and cause him to consider a second career.
but not dead.
the news is on par with the death of princess di, or the death of pluto as a planet.
we used to watch him in college at the boys house. we used to make fun of him. he was so overdramatic and WAY too excited about the snake holes he was reaching into. but he was so sincere and passionate.
he was killed, as beth poignantly pointed out, by something without teeth.
r.i.p.
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We were watching an AWESOME LA car chase from our penthouse suite in the city of Angels, and switched the channel breifly to get better helicopter coverage and the news flashed on with Geraldo talking about how the Crocodile Hunter was dead. a small tear popped out... you could even say it was a crocodile tear.
No I am kidding (i couldn't pass up that opportunity), it wasn't a fake sadness, but it saddens me that one of the toughest--not in muscles or magazine spreads, but true real-life survival toughness--men alive is now dead.
Now there is only Survivorman left to carry on the legacy.
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