Memorial Day

I didn't even know. I didn't even know that one of my heroes died on Friday. Where have I been? More importantly, why wasn't his death everywhere, making it impossible to miss? What's going on? He died on Friday. Friday!

Charles Nelson Reilly is one of my heroes. You can see his face on my myspace page under the "heroes" section. You can see me dressed like him here. You can visit the cheap webpage I made for him as part of a computer class four years ago here. I can't express how important that man was to me. Ask me about it in person, maybe I can elaborate.

Chuck (as I call him, lovingly) was born in the Brox. I've been to the Bronx a couple times and I'm surprised I survived the experiences. I was always amazed that Chuck survived growing up there, but I'm sure the hardships are what helped form his insane sense of humor. That sense of humor was always on display on Match Game (albeit helped by a couple bottles of various liquors), a show that I came to love and be obsessed with a couple years ago. Chuck's honesty, charisma, and ability to be himself in the 1970s is something I admire. He really didn't let societies hang ups get to him. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was sitting above a raging sexaholic (Richard Dawson) and a host who could never hold his booze. Compared to them and his Flaming Contemporary Paul Lynde (who may or may not have died in bed with a male prostitute after using nasal stimulants), Chuck was a supremely classy guy. Actually, compared to most everyone, he was a supremely classy guy. Chuck's life was filled with blanks, wigs, and ascots, and I think the world of 1970s TV was a better place because of it. He is survived by Patrick Hughes, his partner of 27 years. Twenty seven years.

I'm gonna miss you, Chuck.