I can only assume, America, that you have somehow gotten me confused with the beloved television host and wildlife enthusiast, Steve "Crocodile Hunter" Irwin, and his recent tragic demise. We all mourn this loss. However, while in the throes of grief, it is important to not allow such emotions to cloud the mind. I am not a hyperactive Australian adventurer. I am a sardonic Brooklyn writer/ performer. Also, I rarely wear shorts.
Thus, while I appreciate the several large donations made to wildlife preservation organizations in my name, I simply do not understand why such donations have been made. Honestly, as a man with significant student loan and credit debt, I would prefer that, should you wish to make a Dan McCoy-related contribution it be sent directly to me, in the form of large checks made out to cash.
Perhaps there has been a misprint in some widely-read obituary column, but even so, people-- please use your heads. I am a land-based mammal living in a northern state. Stingrays are tropical marine creatures. How plausible does my death sound now? Huh? Don't you feel silly?
In fact, I've compiled a short list, detailing the incidents in my life that come closest to a stingray encounter.
1990 - Stung by bee in foot (unconfirmed - bee unseen)
2001 - Present - Lived in NYC, city with largest per capita concentration of pizzerias with "Ray" in the name
2005 - Felt slightly "stung" by the length of the film Ray starring Jamie Foxx.
That's it! Hardly an extensive list!
So in conclusion, I'd just like to say, please stop sending cards and letters, as I'm totally... AAAGH! I'M BEING EATEN BY A BEAR!