If you haven't heard, the Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin is dead. We all figured he was about due. We thought he'd be decapitated by a crocodile or poisoned by a Black Mamba. Heck, I even thought he might get stomped by a Wallaby. But, if you haven't heard, he was stabbed through the heart by a Stingray. He was only the third human fatality in recorded history. Apparently, while poisonous, their tail is actually as sharp as a bayonet. Honestly, I am really sad to see him gone. He seemed like one of those rare people who was genuinely strange, yet genuinely good. So many times we see weird people become popular or famous, only to discover that their weirdness doesn't end at their hobbies. Too often being weird extends to being freaky before we realize it. Steve Irwin seemed like the kind of guy you'd consider being friends with. Granted, he'd be a weird friend, but not a freaky acquaintance. For his sake, I hope there are animals in Heaven.
SunFyre is written by a guy in a wheelchair, thus "...words from a seated position." However, this journal isn't about being disabled. I'm a husband, father of twins, entrepreneur, author and occasional political pundit.