A few days ago my easy, squirrel-in-a-barrel, target called a Huell Howser passed away. I got comments that I went ahead and posted because maybe these people will see it as like a little nod to the man in telling me off. Now Huell will be pestering the inhabitants of Hell with; "Is that the Lake of Fire? Well I'll be darned, my gosh, the Lake of Fire. It's hot in here, you could almost bake bread. Is this part over here also part of the Lake of Fire? What kinds of bread do you bake here? How do I get to Cliffords Cafeteria from here because now I'm hungry..." He never did come out of the closet and in a way he got off easy in this life. He wasn't true to the public he claimed to love with thinking who he loved wasn't their business, that shows it was just a job to him. Maybe he didn't come out of the closet because he believed the love for him would have been just a little less, it wouldn't of have Huell.
L.A. natives are a rare bird, one of them should have gotten his job, someone was asleep at the controls at KCET. It's cute to see the awe of a stranger from Tennessee visiting the old Bullocks building, but it would've been better to get the reminiscence from a man who actually visited the tea room as a boy in it's heyday, you get where I'm going with this.
Huell will live forever on film, late at night, on some public access channel after all the non-stick pan commercials are over and the sun is about to come up. Do I miss him? No. It's not like he was all over the place and now isn't. He crafted and molded a persona he lived and he lived it perfectly. You deserve the hearts in the pocket Huell, you did good in spinning useless stories when you were the story all along.