I don't like to talk about sad things on an otherwise upbeat blog, but Australia has lost two of its favourite sons in the last week.
As you no doubt know, Steve Irwin, 'the Crocodile Hunter' was killed by a stingray barb. And yesterday, legendary racing car driver Peter Brock, died in a car accident.
Peter Brock is probably not as well known outside Australia as Steve, but within Australia he is a much loved hero, having won our biggest car race (the bathurst 1000) a record nine times.
I think there's some consolation that in each case the men died quickly, doing what they love. It would be akin to Scott Hanselman getting zapped by a lightning bolt while installing a new wireless hub on his roof.
I've tried hard to come up with a cheerful joke revolving around the death of these two heroes, on the proviso that it is neither degrading nor exploitive. Here's the best I could do (and of course this is based on an old old joke of my father's):
So Peter Brock gets up to heaven and after a day or two he goes to have a chat with Saint Peter back at the gates.
So how are you enjoying it? Asks the saint and Brockie replies, Oh it's heaven, you know, everything's wonderful. But something I keep noticing is that everywhere I look: there's Steve Irwin. I see him in one place, then I turn my head and wow! There he is again! I know he's hyperactive, but it's amazing, it's like he's everywhere at once. How does he do that?
Oh no, says Saint Peter, That's not just Steve Irwin. One of those people is Steve Irwin, but the rest of the time, that's not Steve Irwin, that's God you keep seeing. He just thinks he's Steve Irwin.
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