
Whenever I think of the late Steve Irwin what immediately springs to mind is a grown man in uncomfortably short khaki shorts chasing after a crocodile, leaping atop it, and wrestling it into submission, all the while providing a running, huffing, and occasionally grunting commentary peppered with “Crikeys!” Irwin revolutionized nature programming—well, at least up until the Wildboyz came along, that is, but even then the inspiration was more than apparent in whatever absurd form it took—and made it excitingly fun and accessible for kids again, not just bird nerds like Jeff Tremaine. Anyway, this freshie’s for you, Steve, but should you ever find your way back to Earth via the Hindu beliefs of reincarnation I hope it is as a monster saltie. You earned it.
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Now let me preface what I’m about to say with the fact that I would never ever in a million-billion years consider going back in time to toy with my twisted fate like some punk-ass Michael J. Fox. I’m quite fine with where I’m at now and wouldn’t even think about jeopardizing my present spot in life. But … I sometimes wish I could have witnessed this scene with entirely fresh eyes in the movie theater like so many million-billion others did in October 2006 [correction: September 2006]. What would that have been like to sit down and feel the warm thrill of confusion, that space cadet glow, as two grown-up hetero men suddenly get jiggy with a puppetry spun penis on the very same screen past graced by the celluloid images of Robert DeNiro, Brad Pitt, and Mark Hamill? I don’t know. So you tell me.