Do you ever have the sort of morning when something so wonderful happens that you're positive the day can't possibly offer anything sweeter? Today I got to rub an alligator's bony back, play with a toddler kangaroo, tickle a cockatiel, cuddle a baby wallaby, and sit two inches from a pair of baby white Bengal tigers (named Willie and Axl after two great American musicians). This morning also revealed that Steve Irwin, that crazy Australian bloke they call the Crocodile Hunter, is not really an animal hunter. For years I had steadfastly refused to watch him, imagining that his program followed him around Australia as he hunted and killed crocodiles, a tireless, wacky killer in khaki.
As it turns out, Steve is actually a friend to animals. He's not the crocodile hunter, he's the crocodile helper. He finds scary reptilian beasts and rescues them from poacher and environmental peril alike. He even saves the terrifying ones that would sure-as-shit eat you alive if they had the chance, like snakes and bunnies. Why didn't anybody explain this before?
In doing some further research on our friend Steve, his patient wife Terry, and their daughter Bindi, I discovered that Steve is not a vegetarian. This seemed at odds with his whole "animals deserve to live" philosophy. Doesn't Steve think it's more than slightly odd that he devotes his day to helping his little friends, only to shove one of their less endangered brethren down his throat for dinner? His explanation to Scientific American was that it takes less land to raise a cow than it does to raise the proper amount of vegetables for him to survive. But what about the land it takes to raise the vegetables for Bessie to eat, Steve? Not to go all PETA on your ass, but why don't you just say that you simply can't pass up a Filet-o-Fish? That whole situation reminds me of my hometown's annual Humane Society Help The Animals fundraiser, which is… you guessed it, a chicken dinner.
As it turns out, Steve is actually a friend to animals. He's not the crocodile hunter, he's the crocodile helper. He finds scary reptilian beasts and rescues them from poacher and environmental peril alike. He even saves the terrifying ones that would sure-as-shit eat you alive if they had the chance, like snakes and bunnies. Why didn't anybody explain this before?
In doing some further research on our friend Steve, his patient wife Terry, and their daughter Bindi, I discovered that Steve is not a vegetarian. This seemed at odds with his whole "animals deserve to live" philosophy. Doesn't Steve think it's more than slightly odd that he devotes his day to helping his little friends, only to shove one of their less endangered brethren down his throat for dinner? His explanation to Scientific American was that it takes less land to raise a cow than it does to raise the proper amount of vegetables for him to survive. But what about the land it takes to raise the vegetables for Bessie to eat, Steve? Not to go all PETA on your ass, but why don't you just say that you simply can't pass up a Filet-o-Fish? That whole situation reminds me of my hometown's annual Humane Society Help The Animals fundraiser, which is… you guessed it, a chicken dinner.
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