I plan to write more about what prompted the insane little dash down memory lane in my last post later.

But for now, can I just say that the whole thing with Bindi Irwin has just creeped me out? Her father died tragically and unexpectedly, and she's delivering a eulogy without tears at the funeral? And ever since she's been on this media swing where she's been all peppy and happy. I don't understand it.

When my dad died, prosaically and expectedly, I had planned to speak at his funeral. But when the time came, there was no way I could do it. I was totally non-functional. And I didn't recover from that easily. In fact, I still don't know if I am recovered (although I was able to make a joke yesterday about the fact that he died on April 15th, income tax day here in the US).

If it is her mother pushing her into this, then she ought to be ashamed. If this is really how the child has been, well, then I worry about what the fallout will be when reality sinks in.

Oh, and the media themselves should be ashamed as well, for all the play this eight year old has gotten.