23 January, 2007

Crikey, she's a cutey

Being a Children's (and youth services) Librarian and father of three, I get to see children in their natural habitat on a regular basis. Some of them are stupid smell little gits, others are precocious little turds most fall somewhere in the middle ground. So I am appalled by the attention that is being thrown at Bindi Irwin a girl younger than my eldest daughter who has been thrown into the spotlight since her father's death in a way which would make Lady Diana Spencer consider herself rather fortunate that she was comparatively anonymous.
It has gone beyond the WTF stage of things into the realm of the sick, twisted and bizarre. If Terry and her associated hangeroners are willing to hang onto the coattails of a prepubescent girl in order to maintain their high level of media attention, well then fair enough I can accept that there are all sorts of parasites in the world. But somehow you average schmo off the streets seems to think this is quite a normal state of affairs. I remember how long it took my own daughter to grieve when her step-great grandfather died and quite frankly I would be insulted if it turned out that girls found it easier to deal with the deaths of step-great grandfathers than of parents.
If I were to suffer a workplace accident tomorrow, struck down by the sting of a heavy encyclopaedia, I would not expect my wife to force my daughter to replace me in the library. I would not expect my daughter to do anything much for a while.
And if anyone else felt like trying to get my daughter to replace me I would expect my wife to snap out of her grief long enough to attack them with a spork until they went away. Moreover, if my wife were grief addled enough to think this seemed like a good idea I would expect our friends to tell her to wake up to herself. And in this, I wouldn't care what my daughter said she wanted because she'd be a grieving child and a child who is grieving is not in the best position to make life decisions.

I think Iggy Pop said it best...

Its a sunny afternoon
In 2006
Your father dies, surprised he survived 44 years-
Bindi-you were so young

Exploited exploited
Girl from the bush
You touched their heart
A little too much
You had a dream that no one else could see
You were allowed to be free

Bindi, bindi , bindi press won't let you go
All your life ahead of you
Has become a show

Crikey, crikey, crikey I just wish you'd go
Life is crazy
Bindi baby

Yeah, must 'a hurt you real bad when dad died
I wish you'd get out
Just be you
You've had a hole in your heart
For so long
Must have learned to fake it
With crocmen and song

Down in the zoo
Those folk are all the same
They want a star
A name
A name

Bindi, bindi, bindi I just wish you'd go
Becides which you're annoying me
Isn't that so
Bindi, crikey, crikey I just wish you'd go
Life is crazy
You're a baby
Bindi baby

Bindi, bindi, bindi they won't let you go
All your life you're merchandise
It's just so

Bindi bindi bindi
Life is crazy
Just a baby

Bindi baby,
Bindi, bindi

1 comment:

CW said...

Thanks for this - I am starting to cringe everytime I see Bindi on the telly! I can't help but wonder what their family dynamics must be like...