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Wednesday, October 11, 2006
So, to the absolute surprise of no one, Bindi Irwin has already fulfilled the first stage of her new contract with Irwin Corp. I of course, find this quite appalling. And I don't just mean because of her hideous hair crimping. I mean, girl, if you are going to go for the crimped look at least do the fringe too and then rock an outrageous side-pony or something. Actually, I find the hair crimping a bit... well, creepy and sad. It's sort of like she has tried to beautify herself somewhat--well, as much as an eight year old at the Nickelodeon Kid's Choice Awards can be beautified--but she is still forced to wear her father's khakis like some sort of bushwhacked straight jacket. I hear a few lame murmurs that Bindi is being unreasonably forced into a life-path that she may not want, but how much of that is just for show? I saw the "red carpet" on the news; people were screaming for her. They interviewed some girls, and they were all "she's such an inspiration! She's the next Steve Irwin!". And these girls were like, teenagers. I'm sorry, but when I was a teenager, expressing sentiments like those retards would have consequences like broken jaws or chipped caps. Fools, buying into the media like that. But it seems so widespread! According to New Idea (yes, lame, I know), 90% of readers think that Bindi should follow in her father's footsteps. And while those results are more of a comment on the readership of that particularly vile magazine than an informative, relevant poll, I still think those figures are quite scary. How about asking her for a change?

Well, I suppose that wouldn't make much difference. Because Bindi Irwin is a robot. I'm sorry, but that's about all I can conclude about her. You can't really tell from that photo, but Terri looks like hot ass at the moment. And so she should be! Her husband just died! Bindi, on the other hand, is glacially cool. She greets reporters like they are her best friend, and she is so professional and slick she makes seasoned television personalities like Bert Newton look like one of those bumbling reality-TV hopefuls who have been shoved into some random program to fulfil some contractual obligation. Bindi, I fear, is going to have some major repression issues down the track. Hopefully they will only present themselves in the manner of Ashley or Mary-Kate Olson: I can imagine her wandering the streets of (Nambour?) holding giant containers of coffee--ultra-slim--swaddled in endless layers of fabric from Lincraft. Unfortunately I think it's more likely she will either ice herself, or feed Baby Bob to a lion or something. Eek.

And as for those who say that she knows what she wants to do and is willingly following her father: she's friggin' eight! Eight year olds will do anything you say! That's why they get in the big black car for Gummi Bears and pick up things off the ground and put them in their mouths. When I was eight... well, I can't even remember what I was doing when I was eight. I think I was in the second grade, and that my objectives for the year were to finish school and race home fast enough so I could play He-Man with my next-door neighbour. Give Bindi a year off and I bet she starts rocking a croc-skin Herm├Ęs valise to primary school next year.

And really, come one, girlfriend is kinda strange looking.