Limed for the Truth

Like many of you, I spent the long weekend attempting to relax between the occasional fits of a terrible raging drunkenness. Though my memory of the events that transpired can be described as hazy at best and bordering on possible fiction, I will always remember this Labour Day weekend for the day the world lost its innocence. On Monday afternoon I was relaxing on the car ride home attempting to realign my chi and sweat out a variety of toxins, when I received a bombshell via text message. Simply put it stated: “Holy fuck the croc hunter is dead. Stung by a sting ray.” I read the message several times in disbelief, unable to come to terms with its meaning. And when it finally hit me, all I could think was… Crikey.
Now, you may tell me that you saw this coming, that it was only a matter of time before he pissed off the wrong animal. And I agree that seeking out poisonous rattlesnakes and then provoking them until they are more furious than an alligator that has just been dropkicked by an Australian is a dangerous game, and not one to be taken lightly. But none of you can honestly tell me that you thought he would die as a result of a sneak attack from a bloody stingray. You all expected something far more brutal and visceral. A real mans death where Steve Irwin was locked in a death embrace with an angry croc, choking it to death as it savagely bit his chest, all the while telling the camera that “she’s a feisty one.” But a fucking stingray? The goddamn pancakes of the sea? That’s just plain bullshit, who gets killed by a goddamn aquatic doormat? This is more surprising than Kennedy being assassinated rather than dying in a wild sex orgy, or that Stephen Harper is in fact not a robot sent back through time (though the jury is still out on that one).
According to Australian wildlife filmmaker David Ireland a stingrays barb is as deadly as a bayonet, a bayonet dipped in poison, that these were dangerous animals and it is terribly unfortunate what happened. I say that Steve Irwin was assassinated by a rogue stingray and we shouldn’t take this sitting down. Sure he might have aggravated it by snorkeling to close to its comfort zone, but when a person walks into your personal bubble do you really consider bayoneting them in the chest to be a reasonable solution? Now I’ve checked Wikipedia, and according to them there are a variety of different (and apparently tasty) dishes that can be prepared with stingray, so revenge can be a dish served either hot or cold depending on your preference. And as we together dine around a bonfire on the meat of our stingray enemies, we can all sing:
Bye, Bye, Mr. Australian Guy
Drove my Harley to the Barbie but the shrimp were all dry
And good old boys were drinking fosters and rye
singing this’ll be the day that I die

Note: The Crocodile Hunter was actually able to remove the stingray barb from his chest before passing out which is quite incredible and I have nothing but respect for this man.