It’s rare when I stare at the TV and don’t believe what I’m seeing; Huell Howser is that thing you have to pinch me to bring me back to my senses from.
Mr. Howser has been doing a public access show on cable for the past somewhat 15 years where he visits local southland destinations. If it’s remotely of interest, you can bet Huell will run the other way. Why would he go to the museum of neon art when he can visit the twig museum (true)? Or visit the Pan-Asian festival when he can visit an elderly Armenian man who speaks no English who makes his own yogurt and then has his camera man film him eating it for half of the show?
Huell is the bumpkin who drives the turnip truck that drops off other bumpkins. His “awe shucks” way of talking is like smacking me with violin strings sitting through one of his shows. He use to have a camera man named “Louie” who all of a sudden you don’t see anymore. My theory is Louie got drunk and tried to play grab-ass with Huell before falling into a stupor and it was goodbye for Louie. Many times Huell would tell him to get a shot of something (one time it was a bush shaped like a sofa) and the camera would stay on Huell. Louie’s fixation is all caught on film, not smart Louie.
Many see Huell Howser as an LA institution; I don’t see it, not from a guy who looks like he would say “big city folk” in private conversation.
I shouldn’t be too hard on him. He’s older now and I’m starting to see less and less of his childish child-like innocence on television, and most of the time it’s reruns of his old shows. I won’t miss him when he finally buys that corn acre in the sky, but I’ll say I did.
Follow up on his death: http://aholeboyfriend.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-effects-of-huell-on-gamma-rays.html