Quite a shocker about the strange death of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. He'll be missed by many, and I feel sad for his young family. I fully expected that one day his reflexes would be just a tad too slow and one of those crocs would make a meal out of him (or one of his kids or his dog, Sue), or he'd get bitten by a cobra or one of those venomous spiders or other deadly creatures he was always handling in such a cavalier manner. But who would think he'd be impaled in the heart by a sting ray's barb? That's a real fluke. Tempt fate often enough and she finally takes the bait. I thought he was very entertaining and a funny guy, though. I enjoyed watching his TV show and loved his movies (although they often made me cringe), but I think you have to treat wild animals like wild animals. They're not pets, and it's better to treat them with a healthy respect and keep your distance. It's brave and rather foolhardy to kiss one, as Steve and the Grizzly man (who was killed by one) did, but sometimes it's the kiss of death. There's a reason why they call the feel-good hormone that's released in the brain of such brazen risktakers DOPEamine.