A Gent's Outlook

A Literary Agent Divulges the TRUTH about Publishing

Monday, September 04, 2006

So Long, Mate...

Being that I am a reprehensible cad, I tend to judge a man by the number of women I have to console after he dies, and this morning I discovered, to my bedmate’s utter horror, that I am going to be a very busy teddy bear this week.

As many of you might have heard, Steve Irwin, the guy known as the Crocodile Hunter, died some hours ago after an encounter with a stingray that ended, unfortunately, with the ray’s barb stabbing Irwin in the heart. Since the news broke, my phone has been ringing off the hook (even though phones don’t technically have hooks anymore) with messages from my stable of beauties in near hysterics over this. In a desperate effort to appease some of my ladies (while fending off Violet's wrath) I promised I would write a short tribute to the guy on my blog, even though none of them know where or what it is. Apparently, just knowing that someone is posting in his honor is enough for them. So here goes…

Steve Irwin is the only guy that I ever knew of that--by just being himself and without even ever having talked to her directly that I know of--got Underwear Woman to quit wearing shoes made out of real crocodile hide.

For those of you who don’t know Underwear Woman, and I count you in the lucky sector on that one, she is a shrew of an ex-wife who won’t listen to anybody about anything because she is always right. The only thing that I have been sure she was right about was that I was diddling one of her friends, but I guess she was a regular fan of Irwin’s and decided that if a guy could generate that much enthusiasm for a creature that had a smile almost just like hers, then she would make the gesture. Not an empty one for a woman so vacuous and vain that she puts most show dogs to shame. A feat like that definitely indicates a higher order mammal of the most excellent kind (okay, I am quoting here).

Also, out of ten or so lovelies that I consider my steady girlfriends, eight of them called me needing comfort. Of course, one was fuming beside me because the phone kept waking her up, so on the Sammy Scale of Importance, Irwin ranked roughly eight out of nine, a feat unmatched to this point by any famous dead person. The highest the scale ever went was three out of ten, if that gives you any indication. And Irwin never even bonked any of my girlfriends either, so he earned this adoration just on his charm alone. I literally stand in awe.

I have to admit that I watched his stuff a few times myself, being a snake fan. Yeah, there’s some irony for you. I guess when you get compared to the slithery little guys enough, you get curious, so I tuned in. I can definitely say that, while we would have never gone out scoping women together (he was a dedicated family man), I would have definitely enjoyed hoisting a few with this bloke and listening to his exploits. He seemed genuine in everything that he did, and I don’t get to be around many folks like that in my industry. As one of my darlings sobbed, he was real like the Velveteen Rabbit real (I don't date all of my ladies for their brains alone). There were some people who got all bent out of shape over him holding his kid while feeding a crocodile—I remember this incident—and I remember thinking that they should fuck off. This guy knew what he was doing because he knew his shit, unlike most piss-brained parents nowadays who put helmets on their kids the minute they get out of bed in the morning. He knew what he was doing, and he was confident about it. The world is so filled with pathetic wannabes in every occupation (especially writers, don’t think that just because I am writing a tribute that you dickheads are off the hook) that no one seems to understand this anymore. I don’t meet too many of those folks in this industry either.

Jesus, I am getting more bummed as I write this.

On a bright note, I think that Irwin went the way he would have wanted to go if he knew he had to. I think that the best tribute to Irwin is that the Great Spirit (or Yahweh or God or whatever higher being you believe in) honored him by transitioning him to the next realm in a way that celebrates everything he ever stood for in his life. We should all aspire to such greatness.

Enough said.--SammyK


  • At 6:57 AM, Blogger AnimeJune said…

    I can only hope that I will eventually rack up enough karma points to end up stabbed in the heart by a stingray barb, on tape, while filming an episode of my eight-year-old daughter's television series.

    But I agree, I think he would have rather had a quick, painless, and adventurous death, then a slow one to illness or age. I could have done without his silly movie, which will doubtless now become some sort of Rocky Horror cult film, but I can't help but admire a man who always looked unbelievably happy doing the unbelievable things that he did.

    Real writers are the ones who are as enamoured with the act of writing as Irwin was with confronting wildlife.


  • At 1:55 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I just have to know--why is she called underwear woman?

  • At 6:59 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    From the archives: The explanation makes it all the funnier.

    Sunday, July 24, 2005
    My first wife, who I will call Underwear Woman, had a strange habit that eventually led to the demise of our marriage. Well, that and the fact she was a shrew and I was dating my second wife while still married to her. When we first started dating, I thought it was sexy, even a little kinky, that she liked to keep her underwear on (not panties, mind you, underwear) when we made love. Then I realized it wasn’t just a fetish that she did sometimes, but ALL the time. Every time we made love, there were three of us—me, her, and her underpants. I went along with it for a while, but finally I asked her if we could try doing the nasty all naked, or maybe even all clothed, just for a change. The resounding “No!” was the shockwave that crumbled the shaky foundation of the rocky mountain that had been our marriage. No discussion, no explanation, no dialogue, and definitely no resolution.

  • At 11:14 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    After lurking for so long, I hate to remove my cloak of invisiblity for a diatribe so unempathetic. But the fact is that Erwin was a reckless moron. SAY G'DAY TO DARWIN, STEVE! Then go sit next to Timothy Treadwell on God's short bus.

  • At 8:12 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I'm sure Dwight is being facetious, but in the off chance he's not--better to be a reckless moron than to spend one's life rotting in a office, a slave to someone else, & spending the bulk of your life energy making rich people richer.

  • At 7:17 AM, Blogger AnimeJune said…

    Hmmm....maybe your Underwear woman is a NeverNude - is she fond of denim cutoffs? Because I know an Anal-Rapist (that's short for Analyst-Therapist, natch) who might be able to help. ^_^

    I wouldn't say Steve Irwin is a victim of Darwinism, Dwight, unless you consider firefighters and soldiers in the same boat.

    I'm not making a half-assed patriotic statement - I agree that Steve Irwin had a risky job, but he was more than qualified for it. He wasn't some moron with a 6th grade education who just woke up one day and said, "I love animals!" ("And I'M BRIAN FELLOWS!").

  • At 9:12 AM, Blogger Shesawriter said…

    Here, here, Deez Nuts. Couldn't have said it better.

    RIP, Steve. We love ya.

  • At 8:48 PM, Blogger Knitty Yas said…

    is it wrong that I don't mourn for people I didn't personally know? I mean yea... I'm a little sad. Maybe. but I'm not all devistated. I respect the man for doing what he loved and dying in an ass kicking way that made him happy in so many ways, but I'm more envious of his freedom.

    other then that, meh! shit happens.

  • At 9:46 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    yasamin, I would say there is a difference between mourning, and paying tribute.

  • At 5:24 PM, Blogger Knitty Yas said…

    is there? except for the being alive thing. you can pay tribute to what is still here.

    but then philosophically... if you think about it, I am sure you can mourn what is still technically still here.

    All I am saying is that unlike Gent's many women calling and crying needing consoling... i felt none of that. I had a moment of "wow thats unfortunate" but nothing more. Is it wrong that I do not mourn the way his women did? That is what I was saying.

  • At 6:32 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…


    No, there's nothing wrong with that. I don't even mourn 9/11 victims.

    One thing about life is nobody gets out alive.

  • At 10:09 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Steve Irwin was no firefighter and he was no soldier.

    Soldiers and firefighters are the ones who put their lives on the line to rescue the Steve Irwins and Timothy Tredwells of the world when their own stupid jackassery catches up with them.

    "Better to be a reckless moron than spend one's life rotting in a office, a slave to someone else"

    Uhm... That's logic so specious that I'm not even compelled to call it out for the moronic ideal that it purports to champion.

    But I'm sure it will look good carved into the headstone. That way when his kids go to visit his grave, they can look at each other and say, "Well, at least dad wasn't a pawn of The Man, huh?"


  • At 8:44 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Didn't the whole stingray incident bring into question Steve's ability to judge dangerous creatures?

    Would you say it was okay to taunt a crocodile with his baby if he'd been killed by a crocodile instead?

    Besides, dangling babies was such a cliche that year, he should've just thrown the poor thing up into the ceiling fan like most dads do, at least he'd have support from other silly dads that have injured babies playing 'Upsie Daisy'.


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