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Saturday, Sep 09, 2006 - 02:49 SGT
Posted By: Gilbert

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All Crocs Go To Heaven

RIP Steve Irwin, laid low by a stingray at the age of 44. Lived and died doing what he loved, and had a wider reach than I thought, as testified to by the many turtles (no built-in croc emoticon) popping into nicks and personal messages as a tribute on my MSN. I confess I haven't seen him much on TV, maybe once or twice, but all reports point to a vibrant personality. Who wrestled crocs. 'Nuff said.

I guess what made a lot of people instinctively like him was that he was a down-to-earth bloke, not the kind to want a state funeral, as his dad said (though I have a sneaky suspicion they might just push one on him). Y'know, the sort who would throw another shrimp on the barbie for you. I'm sure many slices of sambal stingray will be consumed in his memory locally, and the TCHS boys will have no trouble wearing khaki as a tribute.

Though he might have been a "refugee from the law of averages" in his not exactly insurance-friendly line of work, Irwin's death at a relatively young age was still tragic in its unexpectedness. That, and the fact that his kids are pretty young. Off the top of my head, people like Eddie Guerrero, Princess Diana and "Maradona good, Pele better," George Best all went without warning (okay, less so in Best's case), and unfortunately Death seems to contrive to reap some of the tallest stalks early, to keep the rest of us on our toes.

Dying young does give a certain cachet - think Che Guevara, Yukio Mishimo and Duncan Edwards - the crisp, spotless glory of a blossom in first bloom, forever untouched by the unforgiving ravages of time, a promise never fulfilled but because of that, elevated to the realm of perfection; But many more are those who cannot in any subjective way be considered special, who walk the long road to its conclusion.

Now I think of an old Malay gentleman, always with a green skullcap, who could be seen cycling slowly in the neighbourhood when I was a small kid. He was always amused when I recited Malay numerals up to ten, as my grandma taught (she's fluent in Malay by the way).

I have not seen him for many a year, and naturally one hopes that he might be holed up cozily in his flat somewhere, perhaps too frail to venture out but still hale and hearty. But I fear it is more than likely that he has also moved on, to whatever paradise he believes in, be as it may.


Blup blup blup

It's getting late (or rather, very early), so I leave with a quick spoiler - I'm due for Splashdown! 2006 tomorrow! Er, later today. The last time I swam like twenty laps at a go was probably back in primary school, when I was still collecting certificates. Wish me luck...



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