Poor mate... getting killed by a nasty, nasty, nasty stingray he had met only a few minutes ago!Hey, don't get me wrong - I kinda liked the guy. He sometimes said outrageously funny things, but I could never really understand how somebody would hug animals most others wouldn't touch with a 50ft pole. Oh well, some people need a hobby - and he made a living out of it.
What I (once again) can't understand is the hype around his death. Sure, he was somewhat famous, sure he had his own animal protection society (which I definitely approve of), but hey, sure he had money! He knew what he was doing, he knew he was stepping into dangerous situations every day of his life, and he must've know that this would eventually get him killed.
C'mon! If the probability of getting killed in an airplane is one in a million, and you fly one million times, the probability of you getting killed is exactly 100%. So there!
Let him rest in peace, but don't tell me I have to mourn him, 'cause I don't.
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