Look, I’m sorry that you’re gone; really, I am. You had a lot of family members probably and this is inevitable at 82 years old and I’m sure that a handful of them are sorry that you’re gone (except those that stood to inherit something. I’m sure they’re probably pretty stoked, and why not?). Point being, you’re dead.
But what did you add, really?
Oh sure, I remember Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rocking Eve throughout my youth. I remember a man aesthetically youthful beyond his years, a virtual teen foraging deep into his 60’s, as it were and then a 70 year old, and then, unsurprisingly, an octogenarian riddled uncomfortable by a stroke and the damage of time.
You kept giving it your best, however, whether you were under pressure from the Stroke League of America (I’ve seriously heard that this was an issue) or from simple vanity.
Regardless, there you were, struggling through yet another year-end telecast, making us all uncomfortable. Godbless. All we wanted was another pre-midnight swig from the bottle of Mad Dog, and there you were, reminding us of our secret/disgrace grandpa.
God-fucking-damn-bless-you, Dick Clark, World’s Oldest Teenager, or whatever in the fuck you were called.
You were worthless, quite honestly. A trained chimp could have lived your life from the $25,000 Pyramid to your pointless mic-throws on New Years Eve, you did nothing.
And yet you managed to make a fortune out of ridiculousness, and for that, I salute you. Who else but Dick Clark could have stood there with a microphone asking if the interviewee was happy that a New Year was approaching?
Jesus shit, life used to be so much simpler. And you’re lucky for that.
I’m fairly certain your follow-up question was always, "So what’s it like to be in Times Square on New Years?" You know the real answer to that, Dick? It’s so much more pleasant to be dead.
Congrats, buddy. You lived the life of the eternal teen, but you died a discarded old man, just as most of us do. Nobody’s special, really, we’re all just judged by what we’ve done in life.
Pretty cool that you hosted the $25,000 Pyramid. Nice job.
Now I’ll just go back to confusing you with Frankie Avalon; I can’t control my brain
All I know is that sounds really fucking good right now.
AND– if we took an HONEST look at history– all nostalgia aside– no one would be impressed with your life. No offense. History isn’t kind, Dick. Sorry.