Benny Hoh Blog

A way down under there was a fella, a fella I want to tell you about, fella by the name of Steve Irwin. At least, that was the handle his lovin' parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. This Irwin, he called himself the Crocodile Hunter.

Now, Crocodile Hunter, that's a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about the Crocodile Hunter that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where he lived, like- wise. But then again, maybe that's why I found the places' and his adventures durned innarestin'.

They call Australia the Outback. I didn't find it to be that exactly, but I'll allow as there are some nice folks there. 'Course, I can't say I seen London, and I never been to France, and I ain't never seen no queen in her damn undies as the fella says. But I'll tell you what, after seeing the Crocodile Hunter and his there stories unfold-- wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever' bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any a those other places, and in English too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin' like the good Lord gypped me.

Now his stories that unfolded on TV began back in the early nineties-- just about the time of our conflict with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I only mention it 'cause some- times there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro, 'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes there's a man.

And I'm talkin' about the Crocodile Hunter here-- sometimes there's a man who, wal, he's the man for his time'n place, he fits right in there--and that's the Crocodile Hunter, in Australia.

R.I.P. Crocodile Hunter