We watched Grizzly Man last night. Timothy Treadwell was a freak. A good natured freak. A freak who thought he was helping grizzlies by violating national park regulations. A bipolar freak whose monologues directed toward his video camera are priceless. A freak whose summer hobby of living among grizzlies ended the only way it possibly could have, by his being eaten alive by an hungry bear.
Watching the movie you really can't help but come to the conclusion that living among those gizzlies for thirteen summers that Treadwell didn't necessarily help the grizzlies all that much. He probably helped himself a great deal. It's too bad he couldn't just be satisfied by camping in the wilderness every summer and moving around instead of attatching himself to these bears in one particular valley. He needed to feel important, I reckon. If he needed to be validated that badly he probably should have just joined a church, it works for most people.